#significant truck driver gifts

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I have all these incredible request prompts that want to turn into something but my jobs have got me exhausted! I'm having a hard time not just going asdfghjkl b-bellies

So, the best I can offer you for now is my latest brain worms about fat mechanic Steve Rogers and diner owner Bucky Barnes.

Steve starts out as this burly mechanic, always in his dusty, dirty dark blue coveralls and work boots with grease stains on his face and hands. His blond hair is fucking mess so often from running his fingers through it and getting it stained and rumbled. So, Steve is just this huge dude working on cars and trucks and even big rigs because-! His auto shop is next to the truckstop just off the interstate.

I can not stress this enough. He's a big, capable guy. Lifting heavy shit with teeth-gritted grunts, putting in the elbow grease to turn the most locked up lug nuts, sweating and swearing his way through jobs that look grim but always pulling the car or truck through. He's a damn good mechanic, so much so that he has clients that want to repay him. Truck drivers that come back through after he did them a solid with a damn good job on their rigs will bring tokens from other states, drop off homebaked food if their significant other happens to live around there, or some of them even bring gift cards. Gift cards like one to the newly opened diner just across the street in the heart of the actual truckstop.

It's an all-American diner, so at first, Steve passes it up. He can eat American food whenever he wants! He can at least make burgers on the grill. He isn't a totally helpless cook. C'mon. But when he has a gift card and works late for a client to get them back on the move... he doesn't have dinner with him, so... might as well try it.

The diner is seemingly run by this one guy, Bucky, despite how much foot traffic this place has to get with all these truckers and road trippers stopping in. Bucky's a damn fine cook, though, Steve finds that out quick. Everything he orders for dinner is moan out loud good.

The first night, he has a greasy, heavy American food feast. A bubbly coke with a thick bacon double cheeseburger and a side of heavy loaded fries. For dessert, he splurges on a wide slice of pie and a healthy scoop (scoops, really) of ice cream. Before he leaves, taking time to digest before he has to walk back, Bucky even sweet talks him into adding a milkshake to his dessert. Steve has to eat it with a spoon, the shake is that thick. It's so sweet that he can feel it in his teeth.

Bucky's food has to be enhanced somehow, though, 'cause he can't stop. It's too good. Steve's never lost control with food like that before. Woof. Steve waves it off that first night, though, he'll work off the calories easy. It's just one night.

It's not just one night.

Steve first goes back every once in a while, which turns into a few times a week to every day for lunch to... he has lunch there and then heads back to the diner for dinner, too, even if he's not staying late at the shop. Sometimes, he has dinner at the diner, and by the time he gets home, he's hungry again. So he makes himself dinner, too.

With all the greasy, stick to your ribs diner food Steve's coveralls change from baggy to fitted to tight.

His whole body gets wider. His thick, strong neck welcomes a friend in the form of a thickening double chin. His shoulders start to slope, soft and fat, not hard chistled stone. His big arms are bigger, muscle covered with this layer of pudge. His chest gets soft, so soft that his stretched nipples start to poke through his grease and sweat stained white undershirt when he rolls his coveralls down and ties them around his (fatter) waist on hot afternoons. His belly and waist are the real goners, though. His butt rounds out, and his thighs pack on enough to jiggle - something he's never experienced before - but nothing comes close to his gut. And it's a GUT. Round and firm and huge.

Even when he hasn't just stuffed himself to the point of groaning and sweating with excess, his fingers don't sink into that fat. It's hard fat that gets in the way. He presses himself harder and harder against the cars and trucks he works on, trying to get as close as he wants to be to work, but he can't get there. His belly doesn't squish nearly as much as he thought it would but... maybe he's just never empty. His stupid belly's in the way. It's in the way constantly! When he's zipping up his coveralls (and when they're already done up, his rounding stomach presses against the heavy fabric like it's trying to break free), when he's on a creeper under the chassis, he has to jack up the car more than normal now, just to make sure he fucking fits underneath the thing, when he's looking in a client's trunk for a spare tire or whatever and he has to bend over and there's his gut, oof, when he's taking the vehicle for a test drive and he has to suck in to attempt fitting behind the wheel... usually, he ends up having to adjust the whole seat, and still, his gut pushes up against the wheel. His gut can't stop being in the way but... Steve can't stop eating. He's weak for Bucky's cooking even if it's making him feel heavy duty himself, or like his body has gone from a regular truck to a big rig.

He feels it most after he's gorged himself on another unending diner meal, leaving the place bloated unbelievably, having had to unzip his coveralls or burst the zipper with all the pressure of his overfull belly. He waddles back across the street to his shop, stomach gurgling and churning audibly the whole way. Hell, as he goes, he's stifling burps behind his fist from jostling his gut too much, half-running across the road to get outta the way of traffic. He's not getting any work done like this. He can't. Too full.

He's gonna fucking lie on the floor and wait for his bloat to go down or something. His coveralls are unzipped to his big waist, and his undershirt has rolled up to expose his tight, shiny, stretch-marked gut where it sticks out between the open half's of his coveralls. Someday soon, he's not gonna be able to fit into those things. Too, soon, he's gonna get stuck in a car or underneath it or some shit, he swears. It's worth it for that food, though, God, he's addicted to it. The greasy, salty, fatty flavors. The aching fullness of too much. The way Bucky stares at him like he wants to have him for dinner as he sweats and groans and burps through his hearty meals. Lunch and dinner.

Suddenly, with an uncontrollable craving in the pit of his overgrown stomach, Steve wonders what the breakfast menu of the diner is - he's never had it. Maybe... if he heads home now, he'll get to bed early enough to digest in his sleep and wake up in time to make it here for breakfast? He can't drive with his belly in the way like this, though! What if... what if he sleeps in his shop and gets to the diner first thing? Then he can eat his heart out before work 🥵

[delopsia]

what remains of wabang | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 6,900   Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB Reader, the plot is inspired by a bizarre nightmare I had. A fumbled proposal. This could count as a dystopian AU, depending on how you interpret it (it wasn't intended). Unprotected sex (with lots of feelings!), reader comes untouched, cunnilingus. One (1) mention of the reader owning/wearing a babydoll. Royal has passed a 'gift' on to his sons.  Brief Summary: Two months after Rhett mysteriously went missing, he appears from nowhere to ask you to run away with him. You don't expect to see what havoc BY9 has wreaked upon Wabang. Nor do you expect to learn new things about your cowboy.  

This old trashcan couldn't be any louder. 

Plastic wheels grind against the pavement, the echoes of it bouncing off the walls of identical homes. Alerting everyone on this street of the fact that you're once again taking the trash out at eleven o'clock at night. It's strange, being this close to other houses; you've grown so accustomed to your rental home in the outskirts of Wabang that you now struggle to adjust to the customs of neighborhood life. All of you packed into the same microscopic homes, like a bunch of sardines. 

Temporary homes, they'd said, in the emergency evacuation notice. Meant to last no longer than a week, just long enough for them to clean up the nondescript biohazard spilled into Wabang. 

But the trash runs bi-weekly, and this is the third time you've brought the can out to the curb. 

Yet, when you let go of the container, ready to walk back into the shoddily constructed building you're supposed to call home, there's a rumbling that doesn't quite stop. A distant sound that seems to grow louder the longer you stand here. Sounds like a truck, but the street suffers a significant lack of headlights. You squint. Fighting to see what lurks down the dark street, unlit and empty. 

It's a truck. 

Too small to be anything modern, its headlights shut off as it slowly creeps down the street. Intent on not being seen, like the driver is afraid of drawing even the slightest bit of attention to themselves. And so far, they seem to be doing a great job of it. If anyone had noticed, BY9 trucks would be swarming the area by now. 

Your shoes scrape against the concrete driveway as you stumble away from the road, ready to get inside before the truck crawls past your home but unable to look away from it for even a second. 

It stops just short of your mailbox. Engine dying as the door opens. 

A figure steps out. Dark. Still. 

You bolt at the same time it does.

Racing for your half-open front door. Feet pounding against the ground as you all but tear past the crudely placed bushes by your sidewalk. Throat tight. Mouth open but can't make a single noise. Who is this? Who is this? Who is this?

 "Wait!" 

You know that voice.

You know that voice. 

That figure doesn't slow down as he all but hurtles toward you. Shoes skid against the dirt as frenzied feet try to stop. His body slamming into yours. A runaway train that's gone off the rails. The arms that wrap around you are the only reason you don't fall.  

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," words frantically uttered into the crook of your neck. Words spoken by a voice you thought you'd never hear again.

"Rhett?" Asking it feels like a dream. A sick fantasy played upon you by your own imagination. But your arms are wrapping around a firm torso, just as warm and alive as you remember. The labored breath tickling your skin feels too real to be a trick. 

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you try to speak again, struggling to so much as lift it. "Rhett, where have you been?" And even though you're asking it, you're not sure if it's really him. "It's been two..." He smells exactly how you remember, something airy and crisp, maybe a little bit sweet, like the autumn breeze. "You've been missing." 

"I know, I'm so sorry," Rhett's pulling away, and you're already clinging to him. Unwilling to let more than an inch of space between your bodies. Nose to nose. So close that maybe you'll be able to keep him from disappearing again. God, those eyes. You've missed those eyes. "Please just, please, I don't—please, I don't have time to explain." 

He's so worked up and all over the place that you can't follow. Palms trembling against your cheeks. Eyes so wide that you almost see nothing but the whites of them. Where has he been? Why is he so nervous? 

You've never seen him like this. 

"I have an apartment, and I have a job at a ranch, and I want, I want," voice wavering as he pauses to push your foreheads together,  "I want you to come with me."

"Rhett, what are you—"

"I never meant to leave you behind," he's still talking. Speaking so quickly, you can't keep up. Body shuddering against yours.  "I promise I was comin' to get you the night I left, but then those people started followin' me and, and, and, I'll explain it all if you come with me."

You don't... 

You don't understand. People chasing him? A job? An apartment? Why didn't he come back sooner? What people is he talking about? You don't even know if you're hearing him correctly. If this is even real. There's no way this is real.

Headlights pierce through the dark. Attached to the front of a white Chevy Tahoe, bearing a familiar triangular logo on its side. BY9. Belongs to the mining group that put you all here in the first place. 

Rhett's tugging on your arms. Downright drags you down behind the bushes. Crouching. Barely concealed from the view of the officer driving the vehicle as it rolls past. Eerily slow. Looking for something.

Or someone. 

"Please. I can't...I can't leave you here," Rhett whispers, and you don't know if that's his heart pounding like a drum or if it's yours. A loud thump, thump, thump in your ears. So loud you're surprised the patrol officer doesn't hear it.  "You're not safe here." 

You don't know where he's been for the past two months. Don't know what triggered him to leave in the first place. Or why he's come back now, in the dead of the night, without warning or notice. Does this have something to do with the interview BY9 had with you right as you were moved into this temporary residence? All those questions about Rhett...were they ever meant to help you find your missing cowboy? 

So many thoughts fluttering about your head. But as you watch that cruiser stalk past your driveway, and you feel Rhett tremble against you, something clicks. Your confused mind made up in an instant. 

"Alright," and as soon as that vehicle is out of sight, you're rushing toward your front door. 

The hinges squeal as you rush past. Snatching your blanket from the couch, on your way to the tiny excuse of a bedroom you've been given. Rhett's boots thump behind you. Spurs chiming with every step. 

"You're already packed?" He's hardly stumbled into your bedroom before you're shoving one of your two suitcases toward him. The wheels rumbling across the cheap linoleum, catching on the planks that are already beginning to curl up from the ground. 

"Correction, I never unpacked," you're scrambling, shoving your few belongings back into your open bag; a toothbrush, blanket, a stuffed cow Rhett bought you for your first anniversary,  "We were only supposed to be here for a week." 

Never did you expect him to sling that heavy suitcase over his shoulder. Bicep bulging under the weight. Knuckles white as his fingers cling to the handle. "You let 'em move y'here?" Hearing that low drawl doesn't feel real.

Reaching out and squeezing his wrist doesn't feel real, either. 

"We had no choice," you mutter under your breath, almost mindless as you let him take you by the hand, guiding you back to the front door. Through an unfamiliar hallway and past a bathroom you know you've spent time inside but have little recollection of. "They issued an evacuation order and sent us all here."

Evacuation for what you're not quite sure. The paper had claimed it was a biohazard, but if it was so serious, then how did they have the time to build these miniature homes? An answer doesn't come, too distracted by Rhett leading you through the yard, shoving your suitcases into the bed of his truck. 

At the end of the street, a pair of blinding headlights flicker on. Siren wailing to life.

"Shit." And Rhett doesn't need to say anything further. 

You don't understand why you're scrambling for the passenger door. Hands missing the handle on the first try. Barely clawing it open on the second. All but falling into the truck, door slamming behind you. The engine roars to life. A deep rumbling that you can hardly hear over the squealing siren. Red and blue flashing from the roof of a BY9 SUV. 

Rhett's hat flies off the dash as the truck lurches forward. His hands flying across the steering wheel. Rolling up into the neighbor's yard as he turns. Front bumper slamming into the corner of a mailbox. 

A second pair of lights appear on your right. A sleeping car awakening. Another on the left. Then another. And another. The street alight with white, red, and blue. Sirens screaming. A sea of color that chase you down. Hot on Rhett's squealing tires as he veers to the right. Barely clinging to the pavement.

"Rhett, what's going on?" You squeak. Bouncing in the passenger seat. Scrambling for purchase on something. Anything. Your suitcases audibly slam into the side of his truck bed as he swings to the left. Narrowly avoids hitting the front end of a Wabang police cruiser. "Rhett?"

"I don't know," his voice shivers through clenched teeth. Frantic eyes bouncing between the road and the mirrors. Back and forth. Up and down. Never still for more than a second at a time. "All I know is that they ain't gettin' you and me."

Your seat belt tightens as he hits the brakes. Tires smoking as the old GMC careens to the left. Barreling down a one-way street. In the wrong direction. Blowing past the barrier arm that tries to block your path. Wood splintering. Too flimsy to stop Rhett from tearing out of this copy-paste neighborhood. Fleeing back to the safety of familiar Wabang streets. 

Streets that you don't recognize. 

You know there should be a little white farmhouse off to your right. Nestled next to a towering Oak tree that serves as home to a small wooden swing, and the lawn littered with children's toys. But now, all you find is a parking lot. Opening up to a sea of drill rigs. Swinging up and down.

God, they're everywhere.

"They found somethin' on our land," Rhett's saying. As if he can see the questions fluttering through your head. "Whatever it is, they're rippin' the whole town apart to drill for it." 

Wabang isn't your hometown. Not by a long shot. But the sight before you has your heart twisting in your chest. That old, fairytale small town no longer exists. Those old family ranches were bulldozed weeks ago. Historical buildings and small mom-and-pop shops reduced to empty land, fodder for newly built drill rigs. 

All that remains of Wabang are the streets. 

Light appears in the distance. A tiny speck that splits into two. Three. Four. Five. Until all you see is blinding white. An army of vehicles speeding toward you. A flurry of red and blue flickering. A clash of voices echoes over PA systems. Orderings to stop the truck. Pull over. Surrender. We mean you no harm. 

Rhett jerks the wheel to the right. Jumping the ditch and tearing straight into an open field. A small farm once stood here, but not anymore. Nothing but flat land that this old truck tears through like it's nothing. Bouncing you in your seat. Luggage slamming into the sides of his truck bed, leaving a myriad of dents in their wake. 

"I hope you planned for this," yelping as you cling to the seat. Fighting to stay put. 

Rhett's right-hand rises up from the wheel. Making a fist. You can almost swear that you see something move in the distance. 

The truck hits a bump. Wheel jerking out from his grip. Forcing him to scramble with both hands. Forearms flexing as he forces the truck back in the right direction. "I did." 

But you're running out of drivable land. A thick collection of trees drawing closer and closer. Too closely packed for his truck to fit between. He makes a fist again. So tight his hand turns white.

The trees warp. 

Twisting in a circle, like a cloth spun from the center. Wrinkling and blending into a plume of blackened dust, sparkling as it dances past the truck. A bunch of tiny stars that lead to a deep, dark abyss. Towering before you, circular, like a tear in the seams of your reality. 

Rhett drives straight through it. 

Like a door, the hole spits you out into another field. Empty and dark. Devoid of any other vehicle but your own. The only light coming from Rhett's busted headlights and a lone street lamp, not too far away.

As you look over your shoulder, the hole closes. That cloth untwisting, returning the land to its former, peaceful glory. In an instant, those daunting lights are gone. Whisked away by the black smoke that twirls up into the night sky. 

Maybe now is a good time to take a drug test because there is no way that just happened.

But the squeal of Rhett's brakes sound real, the vehicle slowing to a complete stop. Rhett's chest heaving is heaving, sweat rolling down his forehead and past reddened cheeks, as if he's just run a marathon. And that looks pretty real, too. 

"I ain't pinchin' ya," he breathes, the corner of his lip quirking upward as he says it.

And that's exactly what he would say after such an event. 

It takes you a moment to find your voice. "What the hell just happened?" Comes out as nothing but a croak, your throat far too dry to produce anything more. 

Rhett's head shakes back and forth. Like he doesn't have an answer himself, "the folks chasin' us or the whole...hole thing?" 

"Is both an option?" 

That gets a smile out of him, lazily sprawling across his scruffy face. The first one you've seen in months. Hand leaving the steering wheel, reaching out to squeeze your knee. You reach down, curling your hand overtop of his, fingers slotting together. 

"I think it's 'cause of somethin' related to my family," he says, after a moment, his gaze locked on your hands, "After them BY9 folks took the land, they came knockin' at our door. Took Dad...came back for Ma 'n Perry a couple hours later, sayin' somethin' 'bout how we all had a gift."

You suppose you can infer what that gift could be. "They didn't come for you?"

The hand on your knee squeezes a little tighter, making sure you're still here, "Ma told 'em I wasn't home, 'n one of  'em said they'd come back for me later." His tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek. Pushing back and forth, thinking. "I grabbed a bag 'n went lookin' for you...figured I'd ask to hide with you for a bit." 

In the back of your head, you can't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd gotten the chance to hide in your home. Would they have taken you too? Would they have even known Rhett would be hiding from you?

"But then they started trailin' me," his index finger twitches against yours as he continues, "I got frustrated 'cause they wouldn't let me on your street...next thing I know, I'm goin' through a hole."

You catch yourself glancing up at the rearview mirror. Searching for any instance of the hole you just drove through, almost expecting it to still be there. But all you find is an unfamiliar pasture and a lamp post. "Where did it take you?" 

"South fuckin' Dakota." 

Your eyes might pop out of your head. "We're in South Dakota?" 

His sheepish grin is the biggest 'yes' you've ever received in your life.

Rhett's definition of an apartment is very different from your definition of one.

When he'd said it, you pictured a small place, one bedroom, one bath, tucked into a housing complex that served as home to more people than you could ever count. A laundromat in the basement and a slightly too big parking lot with more spaces than there are tenants. 

But this isn't that at all.

No, it's a bite-sized cabin tucked away in the forest. A little worse for wear, part of the railing on the porch could use replacing, and the door doesn't want to shut at first, but it's more than you could have imagined. With a tiny kitchen and an even tinier living space attached, nothing but a thrifted couch, a plaid blanket, and a television, he found on clearance. 

"You got this all together in two months?" You ask, reaching out to brush your fingers against brown plaid curtains, unsurprised to find them here. You've yet to see his bedroom, but you can already imagine his comforter must bear a similar pattern and color. 

"Yeah," Rhett's scratching the back of his neck. "I know it ain't much, but..."

"It's perfect," words delivered a little too quickly, not letting him finish that sentence. 

His eyelashes flutter; surprised. "Yeah?" Smiling as he speaks, big and dopey, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with it. A touch proud of what he's built here. His socked feet thump across the floor, eager to minimize the space between the two of you. Big palms settling on your hips, smoothing up your sides, drawing you in. 

When you daydreamed about him coming home, you'd always imagined that you'd throw yourself into his arms. Cling to him and never, ever let go again. But it's been well over an hour and a half since he raced down your driveway, and you're terrified to lift your arms and wrap them around his waist. 

Because maybe this is just that. A daydream. A trick of the mind that will end when you pull him close to you, disappearing into a misty dreaminess that throws rocks at your glass heart. 

"I'm so sorry I left you," he whispers into your ear with the faintest shiver in his voice.

On its own, one of your arms begins to move. Wrapping around him, weakly squeezing that big, warm body against yours. Feeling his chest rise and fall, warm and full of life. The same old cowboy that you remember from two months ago. 

He doesn't disappear. 

Rather than vanishing from your arms and floating away, he pulls you a little closer, arms a little tighter. Scruffy cheek scratching against your softer one as he buries his face into your neck. His breath tickles your skin, fingertips drawing invisible shapes into your clothed back. 

"Just a one-arm hug?" His voice rumbles down your spine like thunder; can never stop himself from teasing, even in times like these. 

Blindly, you reach up with your other arm, no longer allowing it to dangle limply at your side. Hoping to find purchase between those perfectly strong shoulders.

Your knuckles catch on the edge of something hard.  

It falls, hitting the floor with an explosive, metal clatter. Silver bursts out of the tiny wooden box. Rolling in all directions. Heading into the living area, some even stretching to the kitchen, others race to the bathroom, a few strays wander between your legs, and two let themselves right into the bedroom. 

"Are these...rings?" You chirp, watching one as it spirals, circles growing tighter and tighter until it falls on its side with a soft sound. They certainly look like rings, but there's such an obscene amount of them that you're unsure. 

Rhett's quiet as you step away from him, crouching to pick up one of the little things. Doesn't make a sound when you roll it between your fingers, feeling the way the uneven metal rubs against your skin. This one is far too big for any of your fingers, and so are the next two you scoop up. Another is too tiny, and the one that seems the right size suffers a big crack in the side. 

"I..." he starts, twisting at the hair resting on his nape, "they're...yeah. They're rings." 

But that doesn't make any sense. Why would he have so many? From what you can gather, they're all similar. Made of the same silvery material, visibly handcrafted; some with etchings of letters inside, others bear empty brackets meant to hold a stone. 

Rhett hardly moves as you reach for the one next to his foot. Just as identical as the rest, plain and with rough lettering on the inside of the band.

'Marry me?'

You nearly drop it. Caught off-guard by the sudden text.

"That's not..." Rhett's crouching next to you, teeth worrying his bottom lip, staring down at the engraving like it owes him money. "I...I was tryin' to make you an engagement ring." 

He reaches over, scooping up a handful of rings that have collected against the wall. Moves them in such a way that you can see his attempts at asking you to marry him within the ring itself. Along with all of his deviations from the concept and the failures that came along the way. One has your name on it, the letters overlapping with the edge. Another has 'marry' written as 'mary.'

"Couldn't get it right, so I figured I'd..." One of them falls from his hand, bouncing across the floor and rolling into the bedroom. He doesn't speak again until it falls. "You know...wait 'till I could afford a proper ring." 

You hum, tracing your nail against the rugged markings. Messy yet lovingly crafted. "Did you still want an  answer?" 

That gets him. Head snapping up to look at you, then jerking his attention back to the floor. Unable to take in your expression, fearing what he could find hidden there. "It ain't...it doesn't have to be right now. If you don't want to..."

You twist this little ring down your finger. It's uneven, not perfectly round, but it fits near perfectly, only the slightest bit loose. Made just for you.

His eyelashes flutter. Jaw slackening. 

Your answer never leaves your tongue, but it's the loudest thing you've ever said.

Gradually, the corner of his lip wavers upward, "yeah?" 

"Yeah," the ring feels foreign around your finger; you can't wait for the day that it feels naked without that little bundle of metal. 

It glints in the light when Rhett takes your hand in his, smiling giddily to himself as he runs his finger over the ring. And it probably isn't the one he would have picked for you; there are likely nicer ones in this scattered mess of silver, but it's the only ring you want. 

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, avoiding your eye as he does so. Like the slightest eye contact will cause him to crumble into nothing. The presses another to the inside of your wrist, then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Slowly crawling up your arm until he's close enough for the tip of his nose to bump into yours. 

Kissing him while crouching isn't easy; the gentle press of his lips against yours is enough to have you worrying about losing your balance. But then he's rising to his feet, drawing you up with him, and it's so, so easy to stumble forward and close that gap once more. Hearing him grunt against you, warm arms coiling around you in the same fashion they always have. 

Oh, how could you have forgotten that he tastes like honey? Warm with a hint of butterscotch, can never seem to keep himself out of those darned little candies. Sliding your arms around those broad shoulders, fingers winding into his hair, listening to his breath catch in his throat. 

It's been two months since you've last felt him part your trembling lips with his own. 

Two months too fucking long.  

"Rhett," you don't mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it does, and you can hardly stop yourself from hiding your face behind your hands. A little too needy, a little too fast. 

But Rhett's rumbling your name in return; doesn't seem to notice your embarrassment, only pulls you closer to him. Hands roaming, soothing up and down your sides, as he pushes you backward, doesn't stop until you're right up against the wall. No way to escape from the rough hand that curls around your cheek, bringing you in to meet his burning mouth again and again and again. 

Rings chime against the floor as he steps forward, jean-clad knee sliding between your legs, fits like it belongs there. Muscled thigh pressing against you, grinding up into your heat. 

You don't realize you've made another noise until he grins into your mouth. Proud. A little too eager to repeat the motion, rolling upward in loose circles. Your hand falls from his hair. Nails biting into his shoulder. Panting against his lips. 

"Fuck, I missed you," he's whispering as he breaks away, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, working toward your neck, "so, so much."

Words are hard to come by. Don't know what you want to say; all you know is that this shirt of his needs to come off. Tugging on the thin material, fumbling with tiny buttons that you can't seem to get ahold of. 

Rhett lets go of you. Breath burning against your neck as he yanks the flannel open. Buttons flying, bouncing across the hardwood, quickly joined by his now ruined shirt. 

"Need this yellow off you," grumbling directly into your ear, big hands returning to your sides, lifting the hem of your shirt. Your arms rise, and in one quick motion, he pulls it off. Dropping it to the floor, drawing you up against him, away from the wall.

Rings scatter beneath your feet as the two of you stumble into the bedroom, metal clinking and rolling with every uncertain step. Uncaring of paying attention to where you're going, distracted by wandering hands, breathy kisses, and noses bumping together.

Your back hits the mattress with an unceremonious thump, the springs squealing their dismay. That wild-eyed cowboy is on you in an instant, lithe hips slipping between your parted thighs, bare chest against yours, nipping at the shell of your ear. His forearms brace themselves on either side of your head, bracketing you in. Gives you an eyeful of the wicked veins that snake down them. 

"Fuck, Rhett," sucking in a sharp breath of air. The layers of clothing between your bodies aren't enough to stop you from feeling that bulge grinding against you. 

"'s it too much?" His lips brush against your ear, sends a shudder down your spine. 

Your head shakes, rolling back and forth against the sheets, "not enough." 

"Yeah?" Pressing his lips to the meet of your jaw, then again to your collar, "take it y'missed me, then."

He's skipping over the courtesy of more kisses, absolutely shameless, as he wraps his lips around your nipple. Big hand curling around your neglected breast, thumb working circles into it. 

"Of course, I fucking missed you," it's hard to keep the bite in your tone, with that wet tongue laving over you like that, downright messy. "Idiot." 

Just as quickly as he jumped to your breast, he's leaving it alone; your skin glistening with his saliva as he licks further down. Darkened eyes peer up at you all the while, once ocean blue, now dark as the night, eagerly drinking in your every reaction. Hungry for everything about you. 

He doesn't need to ask you to lift your hips; they rise the moment his fingers curl beneath your waistband. Then he's pulling down those pastel yellow sweatpants, the soft ones that were in the gift BY9 left for you during the beginning of that so-called evacuation. 

"Fuck, I was hopin' you were wearin' these," Rhett breathes, devious fingers skittering up the inside of your thigh, not stopping until they can slip beneath the edge of your underwear. Always so obsessed with these, despite being the simplest thing you own. Something about the dainty little bow at the top just does it for him. 

"You should've warned me you were coming," you're trying to tease, but fuck is it hard to focus when he pulls your underwear to the side, exposing you to those hungry eyes of his. "I could have put on that matching babydoll." 

A rough index finger strokes up between your folds, collecting your wetness. Rhett so mesmerized by the sight that he struggles to speak, "Baby, I don't think we'd even make it back t'the truck."

Historically, every time you've worn that soft lace garment around him, you've never even made it out of the room. 

There are words sitting heavily in your mouth, already formulated and ready to go. But you don't get the chance to say them because Rhett's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your sex. His tongue pokes out of his lips, eagerly licking a fat stripe up your wetness.

"Can y'get the lube off the table, darlin'?" He's speaking right against your clit, lips tickling it.

The bottle is within reach, but it might as well be on the other side of the room. Rhett's lips are wrapping around that sensitive little button, makes it so, so hard to keep yourself from tangling both hands in his hair instead. Thighs fluttering around his head, hand shivering as it wraps around the small container.

It's new; the plastic still wrapped tightly around the cap. And though Rhett's short nail claws at the edge of it, the plastic refuses to tear off. 

"Come on, you damn..." giving up on the correct way of removing it, he raises it to his mouth, biting at the material until it tears. 

His nose wrinkles. 

"Did you hurt your tooth?" Asking despite knowing the answer. 

How dare he look so shy when he's coating two of his fingers with lube. Meekly grinning to himself, the tips of his ears flaming with crimson as he mutters a soft "maybe."

Dumb cowboy hasn't learned from the time he chipped his tooth while opening the last bottle. 

Wet fingertips circle around your entrance, his mouth returning to your core, deviously lapping at you. Fuck, fuck, fuck that's a lot. 

Sensitivity has jumped a couple of notches during his absence, squirming against the bed, unsure if you want more or if you want to run away from it. So distracting that you don't realize his fingers are pushing into you. Slow, letting you loosen for them on your own accord. 

"That's it," he praises, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes, "take my fingers for me, baby."

They're impatient, curling up, massaging against your walls as he gingerly works them in and out to the tune of his lazy tongue. Drool sliding down, wetting his fingers even further. You whimper before you even realize he's found that little spot. The pad of his index finger rubbing against it. Has your hips lifting off the bed. 

On their own, your hand wanders down, tangling in his messy hair. Rhett all but moans as you pull on it, wet tongue audibly working you over. 

"Another," you whisper, can't get your voice any louder, "please." 

That third finger isn't what you wanted. Isn't thick or long enough to give you that full feeling you've been so desperately craving. But it's a necessary evil that you've learned to put up with in exchange for no soreness the morning after. 

Rhett groans, eyes falling shut as he works into a rhythm. Slow and sloppy, unconcerned with the intricacies of perfect movements, his hips grinding down against the bed. Massaging his neglected cock, still straining against his jeans. 

Fuck, it's such a simple sight, but it has your head spinning. Heat burning between your legs, spreading up into your chest, heart jumping. 

"St..." you can hardly speak, "stop." 

Rhett freezes. Tongue halfway out of his mouth and all. 

Your lungs ache for a breath that you can't quite catch, panting, fighting to form words, "close."

"Were you wantin' to cum 'round my cock instead?" He asks, lifting his head the slightest bit. His chin wet, shiny lips swollen. 

You can't find the words you need to answer him, but something in your face must tell him all he needs to hear because he's moving again. Wet fingers slipping out of your pussy, reaching right for his belt buckle. It jingles as he opens it, the button hidden below damn near hanging on by a thread. 

No matter how many times you've seen this exact scene, it never seems to get shorter. Time downright dragging by as Rhett tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. Cock popping up, smacking against his left hip. The tip dripping and flushed red, angry, begging for attention. That should be all the waiting you need, but now he's reaching for your underwear, properly tugging them off, like the gentleman he just has to be. 

You reach for the lube, pouring some into your palm, and admittedly, it's way more than you needed, but you just don't care. Reaching out to wrap your dripping hand around him, feeling him jump. 

"Fuck," Rhett gasps, eyelashes fluttering like tiny butterflies, "didn't see you reachin' for...God, jus' like that." 

It seems you're not the only one whose gotten sensitive during your time apart. Rhett's head tilts back, mouth agape as you loosely stroke him. Simple little ups and downs, with the slightest twist of your wrist. 

Then you're impatiently guiding him to your entrance, already so wet with your own wetness,  lube, and saliva, never mind the extra lubricant you've coated him with. His hips tilt forward, leaving no room for further teasing as he begins to push into you. 

All that wetness, and he's still a stretch. The kind that has you biting your lip and your eyes screwing shut, feeling that fat head gradually open you up.

"Shit," Rhett's swearing, leaning back down, chests bumping together, pressing kisses to your quaking jaw, "forgot how tight this cute 'lil pussy of yours gets." 

If you could speak, you'd remark that you forgot how obnoxiously thick he is. 

But you can't. All you can do is curl your hands around his thick biceps and fight to relax. Feeling the tip of him fully slip inside. Just the tip. Fuck, there's still a whole six inches of him left, and you don't know how he's going to fit. 

"Y'need me to stop?" He murmurs, scruffy chin bumping into yours. You think his voice has dropped a little.

Shaking your head, "Keep...keep going." 

Looking between your parted legs is the biggest mistake you've ever made. Because the moment you make eye contact with the sight of Rhett's thick length slipping inside of your spasming cunt, you can't look away. Absolutely transfixed by the way he works his way into you, balls hanging low and heavy.

"There you go," Rhett's cooing, pressing kisses to your cheek, "takin' my cock so damn well for me, doll."

His pelvis comes flush with yours, and you think you may float right up into the clouds. Lightheaded, panting, can hardly keep your eyes open. Can't even look down again when he cautiously swivels his hips into you. Does nothing more than jostle his cock inside of you, yet it knocks the air from your lungs. 

"Want me to move?" Yeah, his voice has definitely dropped a little. Rough and gravelly as he speaks. 

Weakly, you hum. "Uhuh." 

Oh, you've missed how his cock head drags against you, so thick that he's always massaging against that little spot. Drawing back a little under halfway, pushing back in just as slowly as he did the first time. 

This is what you needed.

Your favorite cowboy on top of you, his face nuzzled against yours while he slowly fucks into you. Long, deep strokes that are so undeniably him, reaching deep into the farthest parts of you. The kind of thing you struggle to recreate with a toy. Isn't quite as thick and never brings the warmth that Rhett does. Toys don't come with a big, strong body and untamed hair that falls down to tickle your cheek. They don't give you kisses or pant against your lips with every thrust.

"Missed you so damn much," Rhett whispers against your lips like it's a secret meant to only be shared between the two of you. "Y'don't know how many times I've come back tryin' t'find you."

On its own accord, your hand reaches up to rest against his jaw. "I was so worried that you'd never come back," his hips twitch upward, cock driving directly into that little spot. It takes a second to unscramble your words. "Or that something happened—"

"No, no, hey," he's reaching for your hand, bringing it up to rest fully against his cheek. Presses a kiss to your wrist. "There ain't nothin' in this world that's gonna take me away from you, ya hear?" 

Your eyes water. 

So do his.

It's so much. So many feelings and emotions and thoughts floating through your foggy mind. And there's more you need to say, but you're pulling him into you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, letting him bury his face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him tight as he gently thrusts into you. 

Slow ins and outs that completely fill you with him. Kissing your sweetest spots, bringing you to flutter around him, spasming in the way he's always loved. The soft squelch of wetness, balls softly thumping against your ass each time he bottoms out. So much of this cowboy. So, so much.

The ring on your finger glints in the dull light. Imperfectly crafted but looks perfect around your finger. You don't want a new ring with a precious gem and a highly valued metal. You want this one. 

"Rhett," you whimper, muffled by his broad shoulder. There's a warmth settling between your thighs. The soft kind that has your skin prickling and thighs quivering.

"I know," Rhett's groaning. Unable to keep himself quiet any longer, "I am too."

He's panting into your collar, thrusts growing uneven. A little shaky. Your legs are wrapping around his hips, squeezing tight, anchoring him to you. You could reach down, pay attention to your forgotten clit, and bring yourself to the edge faster, but all you want is this. Your cowboy in your arms, fucking you like you're made of glass, the most precious thing he's ever seen. 

Your mouth falls open, whimpering into the open air, "Rhett, Rhett, Rhett." Over and over, like a mantra. Like it'll make up for all the time you've spent apart. And he's murmuring your name, whining high in his throat, your voices weaving together into a wistful melody.

One, two, three more drags of his cock against that sweet little spot, and you're gone. Head falling back against the bed, his name still shivering off your tongue as you spasm around him. Heat washing over your body, floating up into the heavens on a plush, cowboy-shaped cloud. 

Distantly, you think you can feel Rhett shudder above you. Breath hot against your neck as he cums with the softest whine. You never, ever thought you'd feel this again. The involuntary jerk of his hips. The kisses he tries to press to your skin when he's too incoherent to move his mouth. The heaviness of his body as he settles against you. 

It's hard to tell how long it takes you to find the strength to open your eyes. Feels like hours before you pry them open, but it's probably closer to a minute or two. The first thing your gaze drifts toward is the bed.

"Of course, you would have a brown plaid comforter."

Rhett sputters against your neck. God, you've missed that laugh. "That's what happens when 'm left by myself."

This room screams his name in every way it possibly can. Cowboy hats scattered in places they don't belong, blankets occupying every surface. There's a basket of dirty laundry in the corner, what you suppose is a bag of chips laying in the middle, and there is absolutely no reason for one of his socks to be on the ceiling fan. 

You love it.

You love this.

And you don't need to say it out loud. Rhett already hears you, and your heart hears him in return. 

"This place has a clawfoot bath," he says, after a moment, "d'you wanna...give it a shot?" 

Why this old cabin has a clawfoot bath, you'll never understand. What other odd things have you to learn about this place? "Would this entail me having to use your three-in-one body wash?" 

He's quiet at that. The biggest goddamn yes you've ever heard. "...I have bubbles?" 

In the morning, the first thing you're going to do is haul his half-feral ass to the store to do some shopping. Get him away from whatever the hell monstrosity lies in that three-in-one bottle and replace the couple of items you've forgotten back in Wabang. Maybe you'll make him explain how the hell he took you to South fucking Dakota in the blink of an eye while you're at it.

But for now, you're happy to nod your head, "bubbles sound nice."

[evelynshq]

[EVELYN HARPER]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [AISHA DEE]. You must be the [27] year old [BARISTA AT BLACK CAT CAFE]. Word is you’re [RESILIENT] but can also be a bit [IMPULSIVE] and your favorite song is [BAD INTENTIONS BY NIYKEE HEATON]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS] || @aurorabayaesthetic

tw: mental health, substance use, death

Full Name: Evelyn Hope Harper 

Nicknames: Evie, Eve, Harper

Gender / Pronouns: Cisfemale, She/Her 

Sexual Orientation: bisexual w a preference for women

Birthday: October 30th, 27 years old, Scorpio 

Hometown: Aurora Bay, California - born and raised, left for 10 years and returned three months ago

Residence: Ocean Crest Apartments 

Personality Traits: Impulsive, Indecisive, Creative, Adaptive, Resilient, Deceitful, Guarded, Resourceful and Independent

Face Claim: Sarah Jeffery

Height: 5’3” 

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Light Brown

Piercings: Ears 

Tattoos: planet & stars on her inner hip 

Hobbies/Interests: playing guitar, piano, flute, ukulele, swimming, hiking, biking, writing, reading, drawing, painting, crocheting, skateboarding, hockey, basketball, partying

can be seen dressed in a variety of styles- prides herself on her eclectic fashion-sense 

likes anything oreo

night owl over early bird

prefers warmer weather (spring / summer) 

favorite holiday is halloween 

favorite animals are giraffes 

favorite color is green 

smells like vanilla and honey 

favorite artist: Halsey 

Evelyn Hope Harper was born to a nurturing and supportive family. The only child to Erin and Anthony Harper - their pride and joy. It was a typical start with occasional disagreements, parents volunteering for school trips, last minute outings to parks, libraries, beaches, and vacations all around the west coast. Evelyn’s mother, Erin was a receptionist for the local dentist office with welcome all with the kind of smile that could allow the most pessimist an opportunity to smile. Erin was a warm hug through and through whereas Evelyn’s father, Anthony, was a marshmallow wrapped around sand paper. Anthony was a truck driver who would have to leave his family for long periods of time, always returning back to where he belonged. Anthony participated in as much as Evelyn’s life as his job allowed. He was the most vulnerable when it came to his daughter and the relationship they shared. Evelyn spent a significant amount of time with her father growing up, learning a variety of skills from how to play various instruments, how to start a camp fire, ice skating, how to unlock a locked car, and practicing situational awareness. Evelyn had scored the ultimate gift of a cohesive family unit. 

Evelyn was the type of child who wanted to explore the world’s greatest treasures - a true adventurer. If there was something that sparked her interest, she was going to give it a go. Evelyn loved to learn and treated the world with kindness. Her spirit had radiated a vibrant yellow, thanks to the environment that she grew up in. However, it wasn’t always peachy keen. At times there were days that had been filled with sadness, mistakes that were made and hard to forgive, and apologies that needed to be given. The world was a place with so much darkness to where Erin and Anthony made sure that Evelyn minimally had to experience those instances. While Anthony and Erin were great parents, they hadn’t always been so as partners to one another. Evelyn’s parents had decided that through all the rough waters that had faced together, they were going to put in the work, go to counseling, keep their little family together. 

Little did she know that her world was about to get smaller a short few months after her tenth birthday. Despite all medical interventions, Anthony had passed away due to injuries that he sustained during a fatal car accident. Anthony was on his way to a school concert for Evelyn after work and never made it there. Her father had anticipated in surprising Evelyn with a new guitar and Erin, a vow renewal ceremony. There was nothing that felt more catastrophic to the Harper women than the loss of Anthony. Their loss brought them closer together for a period of time and they were the anchor for the other. Although life was hard, they had the support of family and friends to lift their spirits. 

After three years, Erin had begun her own spiral of grief with limited availability to care for Evelyn. It had felt like a lifetime already without Anthony. Being the only parent, Erin had begun to feel the weight of how difficult raising a child was alongside all other life’s expectations. Evelyn moved around after school to various relatives and family friends because Erin had to “stay late at work” or some other rationale, which in reality,  she was driving to bars around town and finding her own way to silence the suffering. Evelyn watched her mother from afar fade away into a person that she no longer recognized. She starting showing up late to school events, was calling out of work in the middle of the week, and spending less time creating home-cooked meals. As a child, Evelyn was rather naive into the understanding of what was happening with her mother. 

Evelyn had her own struggles - grieving the loss of her father while also experiencing the distant of her mother. Evelyn couldn’t put her finger on why but started to wonder if there was something she had done to cause the change in the relationship. When confronting her mother about these feelings, Evelyn noticed how cold, withdrawn, and angry her mother had become towards her: she was a reminder of her husband.  Evelyn had a practice that was cancelled last minute and she went home on the bus that afternoon. During that afternoon home alone, Evelyn was going to surprise her mother with a home-cooked meal that a thirteen year old could do on her own. In the midst of looking for supplies, Evelyn had stubbled upon Erin’s drug paraphenlia.  When discussing this with another adults in her life, they had realized that the Harper residence was no longer a safe environment for her. This allowed for an intervention that Evelyn’s mother desperately needed. Erin went to receive support for her substance use, in addition to her mental health in order to be able to take care of her daughter again. It was a long road, but after two years between inpatient and outpatient treatment, she would gain her rights again. There were a couple of solid years where her mother stayed on the right path, and things seemed as if they were going to be better for the both of them. Evelyn’s mother ended up with a relapse when she was seventeen years old. Evelyn stayed with an aunt, finished out the rest of high school and decided to move to the east coast. 

Evelyn was trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her life and what her life was going to look like moving forward. Keeping it light, Evelyn got herself a job on the boardwalk selling typical tourist merchandise. While working her first summer in the new city, Evelyn met a man that instantly had her at hello. She got herself into a relationship that ended up being toxic, emotional, and controlling. She had been craving the ability to give and receive love that she had been blind for some time about what it looked like to have a healthy relationship. This relationship last for two years and so did the job at the boardwalk. Evelyn eventually found herself in a variety of working environments while living on her own and establishing her social network and other hobbies. Some of these places include: restaurants, ski resorts, record shops, animal shelters, coffee shops, arcades, bookstores, etc. She learned so many skills that Evelyn was able to connect with a wide range of individuals. Evelyn was the woman that nearly everyone could get along with. She was outgoing, adventurous, intelligent, bubbly, and confident. 

During one of her many employments after the boardwalk, Evelyn fell into a relationship with a man who would eventually cheat on her with a coworker. This wouldn’t be her last taste at poor intuition. Evelyn had been working at another one of her jobs and began a friendship that she hadn’t known she needed. It was the first time in a long time that she felt cared for. The woman brought back that vibrant yellow aura in Evelyn, allowing her to be an authentic version of herself without attempting to change who she was. It was refreshing to envision the future with a potential person that could provide her with the compassion that she had been desperately trying to replicate from, in different ways, the loss of both of her parents. After disclosing intimate feelings for the woman, Evelyn’s world once again came crashing down. The feelings were not reciprocated. 

Evelyn went into her own maladative patterns of destruction: shopping sprees, staying out until early in the morning, periodic hook-ups, and even her own drug use. Her feelings of hopelessness, isolation, and grief were so strong that Evelyn had to seek her own mental health treatment. For her, it was dark and uncertain. After receiving the support that she needed, Evelyn was stable enough to return to life. 

Evelyn decided then and there that she was going to go college and find something that she could turn into a passion. Evelyn wanted to give herself a real opportunity to establish a career. She eventually found herself returning back home not only to take courses, but slowly attempting to mend her relationship with her mother. Evelyn has been back in Aurora Bay for about three months. In that time, Evelyn has been helping her mother clean up the house and adopt a furry friend to provide her with some company. In order to pay for tuition, Evelyn seeked employment at the Black Cat Cafe. 

Evelyn recently moved out of her mothers house and moved into Ocean Crest Apartments, along side her partner in paws, Marley. She is looking for a fresh start in the place that she had always know as home. While feeling fueled with optimism of her new start, she still is on edge of others. She has lost trust and remains rigid on allowing anyone in about what she had experienced when she was on the east coast. For those who knew Evelyn before would had trouble picking her out of a crowd now. She’s superficial and vague but can carry a conversation if it’s what she truly wants. 

[automotive-75]

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[gdmbrwiththerealcrew]

Day 4 - July 2nd

Getting started on a long ride like this requires time, adjustments, and rest. We knew we were not in the best touring shape. We knew we didn’t have enough experience on our bikes when loaded with gear. Travel, in general, can be tough on the body.

Since Ed needed a bike adjustment and we all needed a rest we decided to take some extra time in the morning and shorten our ride in the afternoon. 20 miles instead of 56 seemed reasonable. And it boasted our spirits to think that we might be in camp before 5pm.

Understand that we had a target destination but no idea on nightly accommodations. We believed there was camping but we didn’t have details. Regardless, this is an adventure right! We moved forward.

We left Fernie after lunch and found gravel roads to avoid some tough single track. We didn’t realize that we also shaved about 5 miles off the day and we were happy to discover that later. While the road was generally up and down, we all felt good and we were not fatigued by the effort.

Lovely scenery.

Our destination was Elko, a town of 140 that supposedly had camping. Three or four miles out of town we started to notice more cars on the road and a few potential primitive campsites. As we rolled along, three people walking with towels and backpacks asked if we passed the trailhead for Silver Spring. Within a tenth of a mile there were at least 100 cars parked along the road with more coming in. We learned that there was a big party going on at Silver Spring. If it wasn’t a 1500’ hike with a significant climb we would have gone to check it out.

A mile or so later we dropped across a river and saw a few more primitive campsite in the hills near the water. We passed on those in the hopes of finding better. Elko had nothing.

We rolled out of town to find construction on our route. We stopped at a C-Store that was packed with Silver Spring party goers buying ice and beer. There, we researched camping and found an RV park about 10 miles down the road. Oh well, so much for a short day!

We bombed down a hill, crossed the Elk River, and climbed up the other side. Seconds later we rolled up on a dairy bar with a line of people placing orders. We jumped on line too! What the heck, it was a short day so why not hit all the stops!

David and Jose ordering excellent ice cream.

David with a cone.

After a couple miles of highway we turned off into a gravel road that took us through meadows and lightly forested hills. Generally downhill, we cruised through the miles. The road was quite dusty and any approaching cars weren’t exactly happy to see us. We wondered what camping in a nearby RV park was going to be like.

Nope, we’re not going that way today!

PR RV Park and Campground was near capacity with full time trailers and RVs. There was a shower, laundry, and, unfortunately, an outhouse. They gave us the first space next to the entrance. The camp host made a special point of telling us that they test their water weekly and it met all standards. If he told us twice he told us four times.

Not bad at all!

We were settling in when our neighbors in the next lot came home. Kevin & Shelley had a full time space in the park as did a few of their relatives. They immediately offered us chairs, firewood, and weed. We accepted 2 of the 3. Kevin came back with beers for all of us a few minutes later. He gave us a little of their story and then went back to his place. He’s a truck driver, Shelley is an account for an oil company and does the books for a few companies on the side. She also has a janitorial services company. They come down to the Baynes Lake area from Calgary and spend as much of the summer as they can there. They have a pontoon boat and they go out on Lake Koocanusa to fish for their 15 limit of Kokanee Salmon on a regular basis. It ticks them off that Americans have a 50 limit on the same lake.

Kevin bearing gifts! (And Vladimir Putin in the background).

Oh, and Kevin is a musician. He plays guitar, banjo, and mandolin. He loves to rock out the RV park on special occasions. He was good enough to leave country music playing for us until 10pm.

And a little while later Kevin came back with more beer and more stories. He just met his 67 year old 1/2 brother who his mother had given up for adoption when she was 16. The brother and his wife like their liquor and usually start drinking after their morning coffee. They usually polish off a 40 (1/2 gallon) every day.

Kevin with more gifts.

Regardless, Kevin and Shelley are salt of the earth people. They were generous and engaging. They didn’t hesitate to tell us their story and ask us ours.

After Kevin and Shelley headed down to the relatives to play cards we burned some firewood and hit the sleeping bags by 10:30pm.

All in all, a very good day.

Jerky, dried mango, dried apricots for snack.

Thanks for the firewood Kevin!

Winding down!

Cheers!

Ride stats:

Miles ridden: 31.1

Elevation gain: 1,151 ft

Max elevation: 3,494 ft

Start time: 12:49pm

Moving time: 3:10:09

Elapsed time: 4:52:17

Ave speed: 9.8 mph

[progiftreview]

Lady Trucking T-Shirt Female Truck Driver

Lady Trucking T-Shirt: A Perfect Gift for Male and Female Truck Drivers When it comes to careers that require dedication, skill, and determination, truck driving is certainly at the top of the list. And in recent years, we have witnessed a significant increase in the number of women joining the trucking industry. To celebrate the accomplishments and hard work of female truck drivers, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is the perfect gift that can be worn proudly by everyone. The Lady Trucking T-Shirt is a unique design that beautifully combines femininity and strength, making it an ideal gift for both men and women. The striking graphic on the shirt depicts a truck with a trail of stars behind it, representing the journey of a female truck driver as she conquers the open road. The words "Lady Trucking" are boldly displayed, emphasizing the pride and empowerment of being a woman in a predominantly male-dominated profession. One of the best things about the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is its versatility. It can be worn by anyone who appreciates the hard work and dedication that goes into being a truck driver. Whether you're a truck driver yourself, have a loved one who is, or simply admire the industry, this shirt is the perfect way to show your support. Aside from its stylish design, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is also made of high-quality materials, ensuring comfort and durability. Made from soft and breathable fabric, it is perfect for wearing during long hauls or casual outings. The shirt is available in a range of sizes to suit both men and women, making it a unisex gift that can be enjoyed by everyone. Moreover, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt serves as a conversation starter, allowing wearers to showcase their passion for truck driving and inspire others. By wearing this shirt, you not only show support for female truck drivers but also help break stereotypes and encourage more women to pursue careers in the industry. It sparks curiosity and serves as a platform for discussions about the importance of gender diversity and inclusion in traditionally male-dominated fields. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or a simple gesture of appreciation, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is a gift that will be cherished by truck drivers, their families, and their supporters. Its unique design, comfortable fit, and powerful message make it a memorable and meaningful gift option for anyone who understands the challenges and triumphs that come with being a truck driver. In conclusion, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is a gift that celebrates the strength and resilience of female truck drivers. Its versatile design, comfortable fit, and powerful message make it the perfect gift for male and female truck drivers, as well as their supporters. By wearing this shirt, you not only show your support for women in trucking but also inspire others and promote inclusivity in the industry. So, whether you're a truck driver yourself or simply admire the profession, the Lady Trucking T-Shirt is a gift that will be cherished by all.

Get it here : Lady Trucking T-Shirt Female Truck Driver

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

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[bestshirtcanbuy]

Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House Female Truck Driver T-Shirt

The Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House Female Truck Driver T-Shirt is more than just a piece of clothing; it is a powerful statement that challenges gender stereotypes and celebrates the strength and resilience of women in the trucking industry. This t-shirt is not limited to women truck drivers alone; it is a gift for everyone who supports gender equality and appreciates the hard work and dedication of women in traditionally male-dominated fields. Trucking has long been considered a male-dominated industry, with women making up only a small percentage of truck drivers. However, in recent years, there has been a significant increase in the number of women entering the profession and breaking down barriers. The Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House Female Truck Driver T-Shirt serves as a symbol of empowerment for these women, reminding them that they are capable of achieving anything they set their minds to. Wearing this t-shirt sends a powerful message to society as a whole. It challenges the notion that certain jobs are meant for men and proves that women can excel in any field they choose. By proudly displaying the phrase "Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House," this t-shirt encourages conversations about gender equality and the importance of breaking down societal norms and expectations. Moreover, this t-shirt serves as a gift for everyone who understands the value of diversity and equal opportunities. It is a way to show support for the women in our lives who work tirelessly to make a difference in their chosen careers. Whether it is a daughter, sister, mother, or friend, anyone who wears this t-shirt expresses their admiration and appreciation for the women truck drivers who navigate the roads, delivering goods and keeping the wheels of commerce turning. Beyond its powerful message, this t-shirt is also a stylish and comfortable garment. Made from high-quality materials, it is suitable for both men and women, ensuring a perfect fit for everyone. The design features a bold and eye-catching graphic, making it a fashionable choice for casual wear or as a statement piece at industry events and gatherings. In conclusion, the Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House Female Truck Driver T-Shirt is more than just a gift or clothing item. It is a symbol of empowerment, a conversation starter, and a tribute to the women who defy gender stereotypes in the trucking industry. By wearing this t-shirt, individuals express their support for equality and celebrate the strength and resilience of women in traditionally male-dominated fields. It is a gift for everyone who believes in breaking down barriers and recognizing the contributions of women in diverse professions.

Get it here : Women Trucks Drive Trucker Play Girls House Female Truck Driver T-Shirt

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://bestshirtcanbuy.tumblr.com/post/719110974193467392/university-of-colorado-boulder-graduation-gifts

[mariacallous]

Since Hamas’s brutal attack against Israel on Oct. 7 and the resulting Israeli military campaign in the Gaza Strip, tensions and hostilities across the Middle East have reached fever pitch. And with such a complex regional crisis playing out, it should not come as a surprise that the Biden administration is reconsidering its military priorities in the region.

It should be cause for significant concern, however, that this could involve a full withdrawal of U.S. troops from Syria. While no definitive decision has been made to leave, four sources within the Defense and State departments said the White House is no longer invested in sustaining a mission that it perceives as unnecessary. Active internal discussions are now underway to determine how and when a withdrawal may take place.

Notwithstanding the catastrophic effect that a withdrawal would have on U.S. and allied influence over the unresolved and acutely volatile crisis in Syria, it would also be a gift to the Islamic State. While significantly weakened, the group is in fact primed for a resurgence in Syria, if given the space to do so.

The unprecedented international intervention launched in 2014 by the United States and more than 80 partner nations to defeat the terror group’s so-called territorial state was remarkably successful, with the final pocket of territory in Syria liberated in early 2019.

In Iraq, too, the Islamic State has almost vanished, degraded to such an extent that in 2023, it averaged just nine attacks a month—down from about 850 per month in 2014.

But the situation in neighboring Syria is more complex. With approximately 900 troops on the ground, the United States is playing an instrumental role in containing and degrading a persistent Islamic State insurgency in northeastern Syria, working alongside its local partners, the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF).

Yet the threat remains. Early on Jan. 16, an Islamic State rocket attack was launched on an SDF-administered prison holding as many as 5,000 Islamic State prisoners, triggering a mass breakout attempt. While that operation was ultimately foiled, the U.S. deployment also plays a vital role in stabilizing an area in which 10,000 battle-hardened Islamic State militants are detained within at least 20 makeshift prisons and a further 50,000 associated women and children are held in secured camps. As the U.S. Central Command has repeatedly warned, keeping the Islamic State’s “army in waiting” and its “next generation” secured is a vital U.S. national security interest.

While U.S. troops and their SDF partners have managed to contain the Islamic State’s recovery in Syria’s northeast, the situation is far more concerning to the west—on the other side of the Euphrates River, where the Syrian regime is in control, at least on paper.

In this vast expanse of desert, the Islamic State has been engaged in a slow but methodical recovery, exploiting regime indifference and its inability to challenge a fluid desert-based insurgency. In the past few years, the terrorist group has also reestablished an operational presence in regime-held Daraa in southern Syria and markedly expanded the scale, scope, and sophistication of its operations throughout the central desert, temporarily capturing populated territory, seizing and holding gas facilities, and exerting considerable pressure around the strategic town of Palmyra.

In eastern and central Syria, the Islamic State’s shadow influence has returned. The group has reestablished a complex extortion operation, extracting so-called taxes from everyone from doctors and shopkeepers to farmers and truck drivers. With increasing frequency, the Islamic State is issuing them bespoke extortion demands based on acquired knowledge of local business revenue streams. In some cases, Islamic State-branded receipts are issued and when required, and threats are sent to cell phones and relatives.

While much of this activity was initially focused on rural Syria, it is now urban, and in many rural areas, the Islamic State is increasingly recognized as a shadow authority. These far less visible activities may not make media headlines, but they are the core ingredients for a resilient and deeply embedded terrorist insurgency.

For the past several years, the Islamic State has purposely concealed its level of operation in Syria, consistently choosing not to claim responsibility for attacks that it was conducting. Triggered by Israel’s war against Hamas in Gaza, however, the Islamic State has, for the first time, begun to reveal the extent of its Syria recovery for all to see. ISIS thrives on chaos and uncertainty, and there’s no shortage of that in the Middle East these days.

As part of the group’s worldwide campaign to “kill them wherever you find them”, the group conducted and claimed 35 attacks across seven of Syria’s 14 provinces in the first 10 days of 2024—out of 100 attacks worldwide. While the Islamic State remains far from where it was in 2013 and 2014, the group retains concerning capabilities, plenty of confidence, and a newfound sense of momentum. War in Gaza and a spiraling regional crisis are adding fuel to its fire and creating opportunities for the terror group to exploit the situation for its own advantage.

Moreover, the Islamic State’s campaign of intimidation and attacks is beginning to pay dividends in central Syria, where morale within local regime militias is eroding. Throughout the Syrian Badiya, or central desert, the Islamic State has exerted consistent attention on attacking regime security forces along key roadways and outside the region’s extensive network of oil and gas facilities. The scale and sophistication of those attacks increased markedly in 2023, as did their deadliness. According to the Counter Extremism Project, in 2023 alone, the Islamic State conducted at least 212 attacks in Syria’s central desert region, killing at least 502 people. As covert threats and overt attacks increase, reports are emerging with increasing frequency of desertions within regime ranks.

While there is little that U.S. forces can do to alter Islamic State activities within the regime-controlled regions of Syria, U.S. troops are the glue holding together the only meaningful challenge to the Islamic State within a third of Syrian territory. Were that glue to disappear, a significant resurgence in Syria would be all but guaranteed, and a destabilizing spillover into Iraq a certainty.

In many respects, Iraq is key, as the U.S.-led coalition against the Islamic State is effectively headquartered on Iraqi soil. But amid unprecedented hostilities between Iranian proxies and U.S. forces in Iraq, with retaliatory U.S. strikes returning to Baghdad and Iranian-made ballistic missiles targeting U.S. troops on Iraqi soil, pressure is rapidly rising within the Iraqi political system to force a U.S. troop withdrawal from the country.

With Iraqi Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al-Sudani now publicly pushing for a U.S. withdrawal in his own country, some hope remains that the U.S. military’s presence in Iraqi Kurdistan could sustain counter-Islamic State operations, including next door in Syria. This may explain why Iran’s proxies have so frequently targeted U.S. forces stationed at Erbil International Airport in recent weeks.

However, shifting counter-Islamic State coordination from Baghdad to Erbil would present its own complications, sharpening intra-Kurdish tensions between the regional government of Masoud Barzani and the PKK-linked SDF administration in northeast Syria, likely triggering unfavorable Turkish interference. Emboldened by a sense of victory in Iraq-proper, Iran and its proxies in this scenario would then undoubtedly sharpen their attacks on U.S. troops in Syria, seeking their withdrawal too.

Ultimately, events since October have placed the U.S. deployment in northeast Syria on a fraying thread—hence recent internal consideration of a Syria withdrawal. Given the disastrous consequences of the hurried exit from Afghanistan in 2021 and the impending U.S. election later this year, it is hard to grasp why the Biden administration would be considering a withdrawal from Syria. No matter how such a withdrawal was conducted, it would trigger chaos and a swift surge in terror threats. But there can be no denying the clear sense in policy circles that it is being actively considered—and that it has been accepted as an eventual inevitability.

Some within the U.S. government are currently proposing a collaborative arrangement between the SDF and Syria’s regime to counter the Islamic State as an apparent path towards a U.S. withdrawal. That would not only be a phenomenal boon to the Islamic State, but simply impossible on its own terms. Part of the SDF may have periodic contact with Assad’s regime, but they are far from natural allies. The regime would never allow the SDF to sustain itself, and Turkey would do everything possible to kill what remained.

The last time that the Islamic State surged in Syria, in 2014, it transformed international security in profoundly negative ways. Should a U.S. withdrawal precipitate a return to Islamic State chaos, we will be relegated to mere observers, unable to return to a region that we will have placed squarely under the control of a pariah regime and its Russian and Iranian allies.

[aadhya334]

The Way to Progress: Exploring the Universe of CDL Driver Training and Procuring Your CDL Driving License

In the huge and steadily developing scene of transportation, the interest for gifted and qualified business transporters stays consistent. These experts are the foundation of the inventory network, guaranteeing that products are conveyed securely and proficiently the country over. To leave on this satisfying and rewarding profession, one must initially figure out the significance of CDL (Business Driver's License) driver training. In this article, we will dig into the universe of CDL driver training, the requirements, the cycle, and the meaning of getting a CDL driving license.

The Significance of CDL Driver Training

Business driver training programs assume a critical part in planning hopeful transporters for the intricacies of their calling. These projects are intended to ingrain the vital information, abilities, and mentalities expected for working business vehicles securely and effectively. Here are a few key motivations behind why CDL driver training is of principal significance:

Security: The wellbeing of both the driver and other street clients is a main concern in the transportation business. CDL driver training accentuates protective driving strategies, legitimate vehicle upkeep, and adherence to traffic guidelines, decreasing the gamble of mishaps.

Consistence: Business transporters are dependent upon a horde of government and state guidelines. CDL training programs instruct drivers on these guidelines, guaranteeing they stay agreeable with long stretches of administration, weight limits, and other basic guidelines.

Ability Advancement: CDL driver training levels up fundamental abilities like vehicle investigation, moving, and taking care of. These abilities are urgent for fruitful everyday tasks, including backing up, stopping, and exploring restricted spaces.

Industry Information: Grasping the coordinated operations, administrative work, and strategies inside the shipping business is critical. CDL training furnishes drivers with this information, setting them more ready for the expectations of the gig.

Requirements for CDL Driver Training

Prior to setting out on your CDL driver training venture, there are a couple of essentials you should meet:

Age Necessity: In many states, you should be something like 18 years of age to apply for a CDL, however for highway driving, you should be 21 years of age.

Qualification: You should be qualified to work in the US, hold a substantial driver's license, and have a perfect driving record.

Clinical Confirmation: A Spot (Branch of Transportation) clinical assessment is compulsory to guarantee you are healthy and able to do securely working a business vehicle.

The CDL Driver Training Interaction

The CDL driver training process is exhaustive and includes a few stages. It is fundamental to comprehend the interaction to amplify your odds of coming out on top.

Get a Business Student's License (CLP): To start, you should get a CLP. This requires breezing through a composed assessment covering general information and explicit supports, for example, for perilous materials or traveler transport.

CDL Training System: Sign up for a respectable CDL training program. These projects are normally presented by truck driving schools and junior colleges. They consolidate study hall guidance with involved training, including time in the driver's seat.

CDL Abilities Test: In the wake of finishing your training, you should breeze through an abilities assessment. This viable assessment surveys your capacity to perform pre-trip reviews, fundamental vehicle control, and on-street driving.

CDL License Application: Whenever you have finished the abilities assessment, you can apply for your CDL. The specific cycle might differ by state, yet it commonly includes presenting your experimental outcomes, paying a charge, and giving the essential documentation.

Supports: Contingent upon the sort of business driving you expect to seek after, you might require extra supports on your CDL. These can incorporate compressed air brakes, big hauler, twofold/triple trailers, or perilous materials.

The Meaning of Procuring Your CDL

Procuring your CDL is a critical second in your excursion to turning into an expert transporter. Here are a portion of the key motivations behind why getting a CDL is critical:

Open positions: With a CDL close by, a wide cluster of open positions become accessible to you. Whether you need to ship products locally or leave on long stretch excursions, the CDL opens ways to satisfying vocations in the shipping business.

Serious Pay rates: Business transporters are among the best-paid experts in the transportation area. Your CDL can prompt a steady and very much remunerated profession.

Autonomy: Many transporters value the freedom that accompanies the work. You'll get the opportunity to work independently and experience the open street.

Commitment to the Economy: Transporters assume a crucial part in the country's economy by guaranteeing products are conveyed immediately. Your work straightforwardly influences the prosperity of networks.

Expertise Improvement: Procuring a CDL qualifies you for a particular occupation as well as furnishes you with significant abilities, for example, using time productively, critical thinking, and versatility.

Difficulties and Prizes of a CDL Profession

While getting your CDL makes the way for a promising vocation, understanding the difficulties and prizes that accompany it is fundamental:

Challenges:Expanded Time Away from Home: Long stretch shipping frequently requires broadened periods from home, which can be trying for certain people and their families.

Actual Requests: Truck driving can genuinely request, as it includes sitting for extended periods, dealing with weighty freight, and managing severe weather conditions.

Adherence to Guidelines: Remaining consistent with guidelines, including long stretches of-administration rules, can be requesting and may restrict your adaptability out and about.

Rewards:Employer stability: The shipping business reliably extends employment opportunity security, as there is a tenacious interest for merchandise to be moved.

Monetary Security: CDL drivers appreciate cutthroat pay rates and advantages, settling on it a monetarily remunerating profession decision.

Experience and Opportunity: For the people who appreciate experience and a feeling of opportunity, truck driving gives the chance to investigate new spots and partake in the open street.

End

Procuring your CDL and turning into a business transporter is an excursion loaded up with difficulties and prizes. CDL driver training is a fundamental stage in guaranteeing that you are completely ready for the obligations that accompany the work. While it might require investment and exertion, the way to getting a CDL driving license can prompt a satisfying and rewarding profession in the transportation business. It's a lifelong that offers monetary security as well as gives a remarkable feeling of experience and the fulfillment of assuming an essential part in the country's economy. In this way, in the event that you're prepared to guide your life toward another path, consider the universe of CDL driver training as your street to progress.

[quickfloridacouriers]

Efficient Package Delivery Services in Miami and Coral Gables by Quick Florida Courier

Welcome to Quick Florida Couriers, your reliable partner for efficient package delivery services in Miami & Coral Gables. With our commitment to prompt and secure deliveries, we provide a hassle-free solution for all your package transportation needs. Whether you’re a business looking to send important documents or an individual sending a gift to a loved one, our dedicated team is here to ensure your packages arrive safely and on time.

Quick Florida Couriers is the leading provider of quality same day delivery services and rush delivery service solutions for the State of Florida and its surrounding cities. Whether you need a small package like a retail item, an envelope, lunch, dinner or groceries, even large cargo items like 20,000 pounds of palletized freight destined to any city in Florida—Quick Florida Couriers can handle it all. All of it is possible with the power of our large fleet of cars, cargo vans, box trucks with lift gates, and mighty 53-foot trailers trucks. Every shipment is carried out by experienced, bonded drivers, licensed and insured drivers each equipped with state-of-the-art DISPATCH technology to ensure a timely, safe, and professional delivery with every package.

Package Delivery Miami

Miami, known for its diverse culture and bustling economy, has a high demand for package delivery services. Whether it's a small parcel or a large shipment, businesses and residents in Miami frequently require packages to be delivered swiftly and securely. Package delivery Miami is a vital keyword because it reflects what customers are searching for when they need their items transported within the city. Quick Florida Courier, a renowned courier service provider, understands the significance of efficient package delivery in Miami and has tailored its services to meet these demands.

Package Delivery Coral Gables

Coral Gables, a beautiful city located adjacent to Miami, is another hub of economic activity and residential life. Its residents and businesses also depend on reliable package delivery services. Package delivery Coral Gables is a keyword that emphasizes the specific needs of this community. Quick Florida Courier recognizes that Coral Gables requires a dedicated approach to package delivery due to its unique characteristics, and it has positioned itself as a trusted partner for this region.

Why Choose Quick Florida Courier?

Now that we've explored the importance of package delivery in Miami and package delivery in Coral Gables, let's understand why Quick Florida Courier stands out as the preferred choice for efficient package delivery services in these areas.

Experience and Expertise: Quick Florida Courier boasts a wealth of experience in the industry. Their team is well-versed in navigating the Miami and Coral Gables areas, ensuring timely and accurate deliveries.

Diverse Service Range: The company offers a wide range of delivery services, including same-day delivery, medical courier services, legal document deliveries, and more, catering to the diverse needs of businesses and individuals in Miami and Coral Gables.

Reliability: Quick Florida Courier prides itself on its commitment to reliability. They understand the importance of every package and handle each delivery with the utmost care and professionalism.

Cutting-Edge Technology: The company utilizes state-of-the-art technology to track and manage deliveries, providing real-time updates to customers and ensuring transparency throughout the process.

Conclusion

Choose Quick Florida Couriers for your package delivery needs in Coral Gables and enjoy reliable, efficient, and secure transportation solutions for all your packages. Quick Florida Courier has emerged as the preferred choice due to its experience, diverse service range, reliability, and utilization of cutting-edge technology. When it comes to package delivery in Miami and Coral Gables, Quick Florida Courier is a name you can trust for swift and secure deliveries that meet your unique requirements.

Visit our official website to know more: https://www.quickfloridacouriers.com/.

[wmenterprise]

Hire a Smart Commercial Snow Removal Service Expert in Town

Snow and ice are more than just trouble. Winter weather can be a danger to pedestrians and drivers and a significant responsibility to property owners. Reducing your liability and keeping your residents, clients, or customers safe is vital to protecting yourself legally and financially.

As winter arrives and landscapes transform into enchanting white wonderlands, the beauty often comes with the challenge of snow accumulation. While snow can create attractive scenes, it can also pose risks to safety and accessibility. That's where professional snow removal services come to the rescue.

If you require commercial snow removal services in and around DMV Areas, WM Enterprise LLC is here to help. We understand that it can be challenging to keep up with snow removal during the cold winter months, which is why we are here to help. We have the right tools, equipment, and a qualified team to provide professional snow-plowing and snow-blowing services. In case plowing and shoveling is not enough, our team also offers to de-ice to reduce snow build-up.

Our experts will speak with you to learn what you need and offer the best solutions for removing snow from your property, ensuring it is easily accessible. We also accept requests for winter landscaping and snow removal services to be provided at a predetermined time so that the work is scheduled at your convenience.

WM Enterprise LLC is an efficient snow removal company in Beltsville, MD. In addition, they offer commercial services such as asphalt and concrete restoration, excavation, saw cutting, traffic control, snow removal, trucking, pavement marking, and line striping in DMV areas.

The professional team works hard to guarantee your routine operations don’t stop when snow piles up, our team takes up the hardest grounds care challenges, particularly those gifted by winter storms and other extreme weather conditions.

Benefits of hiring a snow removal service

Why Professional Snow Removal Important

Snow and ice build-up can turn driveways, sidewalks, and parking lots into the wrong track. Professional snow removal services offer the expertise and equipment necessary to effectively clear these spaces, reducing the risk of slips, falls, and accidents.

Types of Snow Removal Services

WM Enterprise LLC offers a range of services tailored to various needs for commercial properties and street

Safety First

One of the primary advantages of professional snow removal is the focus on safety. Trained professionals understand how to manage different snow and ice type

Preserving Property and Landscaping

Improper snow removal techniques can damage surfaces and landscaping. Professionals know how to clear snow without harming lawns, plants, and structures, preserving the aesthetics and value of your property.

Customized Solutions

Each property is unique, and so are its snow removal needs. We offer customized solutions based on property size, layout, and specific requirements.

Relieving Stress and Saving Time

Snow removal is physically demanding and time-consuming. Hiring professionals lets you focus on other priorities, knowing that experts handle snow removal tasks efficiently.

We understand that snow removal can become a huge headache, especially when it disturbs acts and takes away your focus from your core business. Let our experienced team look after clearing the snow while you focus on serving your customers. We can clear snow from your building or business using the latest tools and equipment whilst making sure edges and sidewalks remain unharmed. We will restore the safety and visual appeal of your property through our commercial snow removal service in Washington DC, Virginia, and Maryland.

Discuss the services that will best meet your needs during the winter season. From roadways and parking to main pathways and walkways, you can trust WM Enterprise LLC to guarantee surfaces are clear of the risk that snow brings. We pride ourselves in controlling solutions to help you prevent potential risks or damages due to snow plowing because of a slippery surface. Reach out today to a snow removal service. Contact us at +1 240-308-7300 for more details.

[angeleslosless]

Here are a few critical parts of crisis 24-hour towing administrations:

By drawing in the administrations of a tow truck administration that puts the most noteworthy accentuation on wellbeing, Towing near me clients can find harmony of psyche realizing that their vehicles are safe and sound. These administrations focus on the prosperity of both their clients and their administrators, guaranteeing that all towing tasks are directed with extreme attention to detail and incredible skill.

Crisis 24-hour towing administrations are a fundamental asset for drivers needing prompt help beyond ordinary business hours. These administrations are accessible nonstop, 365 days per year, to give brief towing and emergency aides to people who experience unforeseen vehicle breakdowns, mishaps, or different crises whenever of the day or night.

all day, every day Accessibility: The essential trait of crisis towing administrations is their accessibility consistently. They comprehend that crises can occur all of a sudden, and having a dependable towing administration that works 24 hours daily guarantees that help is only a call away. Whether it's the late evening, an end of the week, or an occasion, these administrations are consistently on reserve to help drivers out of luck.

Fast Reaction: Crisis towing administrations focus on speedy reaction times. At the point when a driver contacts the help, they dispatch a tow truck and experienced administrator to the area as quickly as could really be expected. Brief appearance is vital, particularly in circumstances where a vehicle is impeding traffic, representing a peril, or on the other hand on the off chance that the driver is in a weak position.

Emergency aides: as well as towing, crisis 24-hour benefits frequently offer far reaching emergency aides. This can incorporate administrations, for example, kicking off a drained battery, giving fuel conveyance in the event that the vehicle runs entirely dry, replacing a punctured tire, or opening a vehicle if there should be an occurrence of a lockout. The objective is to get drivers back out and about or to a protected area immediately.

Different Towing Capacities: Crisis towing administrations are outfitted with a scope of tow trucks and concentrated hardware to deal with different sorts of vehicles. They can securely tow vehicles, cruisers, trucks, vans, and, surprisingly, bigger vehicles like RVs or transports. A few administrations may likewise have flatbed tow trucks accessible, which can ship vehicles with next to no wheels contacting the ground, giving added security and insurance.

Prepared and Affirmed Administrators: Crisis towing administrations utilize gifted and prepared administrators who are knowledgeable about managing crisis circumstances. These experts have the vital ability to deal with different side of the road issues, secure vehicles appropriately for transport, and explore through testing traffic conditions securely.

GPS Innovation and Dispatching: Numerous crisis towing administrations use GPS innovation and mechanized dispatching frameworks. This permits them to proficiently find the closest accessible tow truck to the client's area, limiting reaction times and improving their administration.

Security Conventions: Wellbeing is of most extreme significance in crisis towing administrations. These suppliers stick to severe security conventions to guarantee the prosperity of their administrators, clients, and other street clients. They follow industry guidelines, utilize appropriate hardware, and execute safe towing practices to limit the gamble of mishaps or harm during the towing system.

[tenaciouspandafan]

20 Gifts You Can Give Your Boss if They Love cars Wakefield

Advantages of Used Automobiles

Acquiring a made use of automobile includes a various collection of benefits than getting brand-new. You'll have: Slower depreciation: You're allowing another person take the biggest hit in terms of devaluation when you choose an utilized vehicle. Consequently, you might also have the ability to market the cars and truck for regarding the very same amount that you paid for it if you desire a modification in lorries in the next couple of years. Though you will not be able to secure a zero-interest financing as you might with a new cars and truck, you might still make up the difference if you get a great financing choice through a financial institution or cooperative credit union because you will not lose cash on devaluation. A previously owned car will certainly cost less than a brand-new design. Simpler to pay cash money: Since you're not paying as much up front for a made use of vehicle, you can conserve money in advance and also pay cash money for your deposit. Reduced added expenses: You'll likewise pay less in taxes and most likely get a lower insurance rate when you go with a made use of vehicle. If you're paying high insurance coverage rates already (such as chauffeurs in their very early 20s), your lower price on a used vehicle can cause significant savings. Dependable design information: When you acquire a pre-owned auto, you can examine data from Customer Reports to see exactly how that design has actually carried out. You can utilize this details to choose a version that performs well.

Privacy

When you possess a car, one of the advantages is privacy. If you never live in one location for too long, your cars and truck can serve as your residence. One of the benefits of possessing a vehicle is that you don't need to share room. If you're searching for a safe place to save your valuables, you can keep them inside your car. If you ever before really feel the requirement to be alone, you can stay in your cars and truck. Your auto works as an extension of your exclusive area. If you value privacy, owning a vehicle is a terrific selection.

Safety and security

Public transport and also relying on others puts you in the hands of various other chauffeurs. Among the advantages of having a cars and truck is control over the vehicle driver seat. Being in the vehicle driver seat cars Wakefield gives you extra control over the results of your drive. You can't constantly make up various other motorists when traveling with you. Nevertheless, if you're a clever chauffeur, you can be risk-free despite others. Being a wise motorist means that you recognize when to make use of turn indicator, most likely to the rate limit, or quit. It's vital to obtain a great car insurance policy carrier. Even if you're a secure driver, insurance policy can profit you in case of undesirable occasions. Possessing a car and obtaining insurance is a lifelong investment that is sure to benefit you in the future.

Conserve Time

Owning a cars and truck can help you conserve time. Without a vehicle, your timetable might focus on the availability of public transport. Without an auto, your day-to-day schedule may deal with lots of undesirable changes. If you run a stressful life, obtaining a cars and truck will certainly aid you obtain excellent use of your time. Time is gold, and also owning an auto can help you reduce downtime. You can additionally choose which route to take when you require to visit school or job. You can prevent congested highways and also main roads. The only downside of possessing a cars and truck is seeking car park. Nevertheless, if you're searching for car parking made easy, take a look at this overview!

[roll-da-credits]

Lycoris Radiata Pt. 2 -Deku x Reader-

Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.

Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

[1] [2] [3]

Word Count: 1.7k

When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.

!WARNING!

(This is for the entire series and not just this part)

BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,

Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around

A/n: I hope all of my little details are noticed by you guys because it did take a long time to take into consideration all of the details, I hope you enjoy this.

After reuniting with you in that park, Deku found himself longing to hang out with you even more. Longing to hear your stories and longing to tell you his adventure as a pro. So, that’s exactly what he did.

Every time he had an off-day or a patrol near where you worked or resided. He would always stop by, say hello, catch up, talk about your day.

On not so rare occasions he’d also meet your boyfriend at the same place. When questioned about it he realized your boyfriend worked at the same place you did. It wasn’t very odd to him so he simply laughed it off and considered how lucky you were to be in the same place as your loved one very often.

“There was also this one time where they tripped and spilled the coffee on another barista! It was hilarious!!!” Your boyfriend laughed out loud behind the display of pastries, chatting with Deku.

You looked away rather quickly after he talked about that moment, “Are you ok Y/n?” Deku queried. “Ah they’re fine, they’re just embarrassed. I mean who wouldn’t be, it was their first day.”

Deku grinned and shook his head slightly, reminiscing about all the times he’s embarrassed himself with you in front of people or embarrassed himself in front of you. He smiled at it, without realizing his gaze slowly becoming pinker. Pinker with adoration and love for you.

After all these years, you still held the same grace in his eyes. Of course, you changed a little bit, people change over time. But to him, the best parts of you still remained. You were still the perfect person he would’ve loved to spend his entire life with.

He quickly darted his eyes away from your form making another cup of coffee for a customer, realizing the fact that your boyfriend had gone quiet. Most likely because of the fact Deku was staring at his lover.

“I’m sorry I blanked out,” Deku tried his best to apologize, “What were you saying again?”

For a split second Deku could feel rage beneath your boyfriend’s eyes, it was expected of course. No one would want their significant other to be stared at.

But just as quickly as that rage rose, your boyfriend switched the topics and went back to his chipper move. Though from his already pink-tinted eyes, Deku missed the way his hand gripped the metal prongs used to get the pastries, a little bit tighter.

The next day he came over to the café you worked at, and unlike usual you didn’t greet him from behind the counter. You stayed focus on your work.

Deku couldn’t help but stare once again at your adorable focusing form. Every time he looked at you, though he has yet to come to terms with it, everything else in the room disappears. His eyes, mind, soul, body, and heart all focus on you.

“You must really like our stuff huh?” Your boyfriend interrupted his train of thought and Deku had to mentally scold himself for staring once again.

You also seemed to snap out of your trance and locked eyes with him, you offered him a small smile before rushing back to take the orders of other customers.

Deku, like he would always every other day, ordered his usual. Talked a little bit with your boyfriend, liking him more and more by the day. Then leaving after he had finished his favorite red velvet cupcake you made and morning coffee, oddly enough without talking to you the entire day.

It wasn’t until the next week would he be able to come to your café again, exhausted, tired, and drained.

The week on his last trip to your café swamped him with terribly mentally draining missions and failures. He had failed to rescue the final person from being trapped underneath rubble, after saving her entire family, before he could run in the rubble fell. Instantly killing the person.

A sprout of red blood spilled from her body as her family surrounded it and cried. Deku knelt down and faced the family, his hands stained red from the blood on the floor. He cried and apologized over and over again.

The family stopped his apologies and reassured him it was not his fault.

After clearing out the rubble, the family went over to Deku and invited him to a burial ceremony that exact night. Since their Islamic tradition pushed them to bury the body as soon as possible.

Deku obviously accepted, realizing this could be a way to get through with his own feelings. As if reminding him that people die and that he couldn’t save everyone.

The ceremony was held in a gravesite extremely close to your café, a graveyard he didn’t even notice when visiting your café. To him, the entire thing ended in a flash and after once again apologizing to the entire large family gathered there. He decided to stay and apologize to the girl he couldn’t save.

He felt a foreboding sense of fear of this ever happening again. She was in the wrong situation and no one could’ve saved her if they wanted to save the entire family as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw a beautiful red flower blooming and immediately thought of you.

To him, it was extremely odd to find a flower blooming in a graveyard but he thought it was fitting. The flower had long red petals that curved downwards, red strings of stigma protruding out holding pollen on its tips. He didn’t know what the plant was, nor did he care honestly, he thought it was an incredibly beautiful gem to grow wildly in a graveyard.

Deku stood and plucked a few of them, putting some on the girl’s grave and leaving with a few to bring to you.

Though he found himself unable to go to your café since once more he was swamped with work. He placed the flowers in water, but they seemed to die rather quickly. So, he threw it out before he got the chance to give it to you.

At long last, he was able to visit you. He was rather ecstatic when he saw that your boyfriend was absent from his work. Meaning during your break, he got to have you for himself.

Obviously, he was exhausted and drained, though that would never stop him from babbling nonsense to you. Which he noticed you were enjoying yourself, but you seemed a bit more fidgety than usual. He asked you what was wrong, only to have you brush it off.

He found it slightly frustrating that despite how close you were together, you didn’t trust him enough yet to tell him how you felt. Then the topic of what he did the last week came up.

Deku told you all about the girl he couldn’t save and the flower he found. He asked if you knew the flower and if you could make it bloom right in front of both of you with your quirk. You laughed at his rather childish request but obliged.

“Of course I can silly.” You concentrated your mind to the middle of the table and slowly the same red flower erupted from the middle of the table.

Deku grinned ear to ear and complimented you on your quirk. “You’re incredible as always. I’ve always wanted to ask you so many questions about your quirk but I don’t really think I have the time right now since I have to patrol very soon. But OH do you know what flower this is by the way? I know you love red flowers and I just like the way it looks and how it’s so pretty growing in a place where dead things are you know like in a gra-”

Your sweet laughed cut his rambling short. “Izuku, breathe, I see you still ramble a lot. No, I don’t really know what flower it is, I've just seen it from animes.”

Before Deku could prod you further about the anatomy of the plant or if you could find the flower’s name for him. You quickly turned the subject to a different thing. Letting the spider-like flower in the middle of the table die out rather slowly.

“Hey Izuku, I’ve been wanting to ask.” Deku hummed in reply, “What do you think of my boy-”

But a shriek of pain suddenly filled the café. Deku’s hero instincts caused him to stand up and run immediately to the source. Everything in his eyes went in slow motion.

A woman froze in her spot as a truck rammed against her, just mere inches from Deku’s grasps. The woman immediately got run over just as the driver pressed the breaks.

Deku knelt down on her bleeding body, warm pools of red staining his clothes. Yet another life he couldn’t save. He looked around half expecting to see the looks of disappointment in people’s eyes, and yet all he saw was a pity.

After all, he was a hero, he had to be ready to be able to deal with these situations. Even if it meant forcing himself to get used to the red tint on him from all the blood.

~

“Y/n look!” A middle-school Deku urged you to look at his hand, a tiny little spider crawled on it. He found the little critter rather adorable.

Yet you found it a little bit more terrifying than him. “How could you hold it so calmly Izuku!!!” You almost shrieked in horror as he tried to pass the spider over to you.

He laughed and continued observing the spider. “Where did you find it anyways??? There are barely any spiders here.” You questioned him further.

Deku merely shrugged, “I found it on that tree, it had pretty red flowers I want to give you…” Realizing what he just said his face turned red and quickly backtracked, “Because you got that perfect score in that final test!!! I just wanted to give you a gift and I know how much you liked red flowers and I’m going to go to a separate school very soon. I don’t know where you’re going, but you know I’m going to UA and going to be the number one hero after I graduate. But I wanted to give you a gift and red flowers seem really cute and if I picked them myself it would be even cuter and I know it's weird and I hope you don’t think I’m we-”

His rambling stopped when he felt something warm on his cheek. “It isn’t weird at all Izuku. I think it’s really cute. Also don’t think so much about that kiss. You seemed too lost in thought so I wanted to snap you back to reality.”

Your funny and mischievous ways of toying with him made his heart ache a tiny bit more. He knew you didn’t realize what you were doing to him was making him fall deeper and deeper to the depths of love.

“Anyways put that spider back on the tree, I want to tell you about this guy that I met the other day.”

He closely listened to your rambles about a boy you seemed head over heels for. He just smiled and agreed to everything. He tuned out every time you gushed about him, the ache in his chest growing heavier and heavier.

He had to be selfless.

After all, if he was going to be a hero, he had to be able to control his emotions. Even if that meant pushing down the urge to tell you to be with him instead, deep inside.

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[blissfulalchemist]

A Chance for Faith Ch. 9 What’s Your Name Agian?

Alrighty here’s some Chance for you all! Fairly short of a chapter really but its something and what more can be asked of my brain. Can be read below the cut or on Ao3

There’s a moment, a small moment where the grogginess meets the chill of the night air, and for just that moment Chance is hopeful. What a terrible dream, he thinks, how much did he end up drinking that night to warrant that kind of punishment. He probably hot boxed with some buddies as they left a bar to have an after party somewhere else. Last time I get cross-faded for a while. He just needed to open his eyes, maybe he’d find himself on the front lawn again. He could find that everything that had happened was nothing more than a dream he’s more than willing to forget. 

But it's only for a moment.

His brain speeds up, processing quickly what’s happening. This wasn’t a dream, this was real, and he had the aching pain in his thigh to prove it. A pinch in his wrists as he moved to try and stand back up, the voices deep over him. “This one?” One asks, his face too blurry, not that it would make much difference it's too dark to make out any significant features. There must have been some response he didn’t pay attention to as the man comes closer, Chance just slightly able to make out the matted pieces in his scraggly dark hair, “You sure? Don’t seem very worthy.”

Chance groans as the man bends down to grab his upper arms, “Pretty sure that’s cultural appropriation.”

“Wha’?” 

“Your hair,” Chance repeated, his vision becoming blurry, “Jus’ thought you should know.”

“You sure we have to take him to the cleansing?”

This time Chance could hear the second voice, “It's the will of the Father, “deeper, more calming, almost like Jerome’s, “and we are not to question him.” While unsteady Chance could feel his legs beneath him in an upright position, hands gripping him tightly, “Come let’s bring him unto the waters.”

He blinked, that’s all he did, right? No, he passed out and now he was wet. Or well his mouth and nose were starting to get that way. Air was harder to achieve too. An instant and he was struggling, he couldn’t swim, he was held down. Eyes burning trying to open them in the water, muffled voices just beyond the splashing. Just as quickly he was lifted out of the water, gasping his heart finally catching up to the panicking in the water. 

“And we will walk through his gate unto Eden.” If he wasn’t catching his breath Chance would have rolled his eyes, John, of course it was John. He glanced around as the other members repeated the last line, four others each with a member, and a few more on the shore of the lake, Pond, Chance, pond. Chance brought his left hand up, the other following close behind, Cuffs really?, pushing what hair he could out of his face. 

Chance stumbled as he was pushed back towards the shore, last in line as the other four, all seeming to be in various states of high with the Bliss, only paused to be anointed with a cross on their foreheads by John. He had just finished with the last one, the blessing whispered as his blue eyes slowly moved over to face Chance. As he became within ear shot he smirked holding up his hands, “Should have guessed you were kinky Sunglasses. Not sure I’m down with that drowning fetish of yours.”

John’s jaw tightened, blue eyes narrowing, “You really believe yourself to be clever don’t you?”

Chance laughed, “You’re not denying anything.”

“I don’t have time for your games tonight,” he leaned closer, voice lowering, “Deputy.”

Chance gritted his teeth bitting back the automatic correction of his name, “Aww, but it’s Thursday, Fashion Week, that’s our special game night.”

“You stole something from me,” This was about the plane?! Seriously, “and I intend to get it back.”

“Hm, gotta be a little more specific.”

“Small, valuable, and very important to me.”

“Your dignity?” Chance’s smirk grew, pointedly looking John up and down before shrugging, rolling his eyes, “Sorry wasn’t me. Can’t steal something you don’t have.”

He honestly didn’t think John could move that fast, or be that strong. If it wasn’t easy the first time to fight back, John made it harder as Chance found himself on his back, the rocks hitting pressure points, and a tattooed hand wrapped around his throat. A mouthful of the water went down his throat and another stayed in place and he felt himself be lifted to the surface once more. He was forced back into a standing position, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” John ordered through clenched teeth, face inches from Chance’s. 

Chance gave a quick smirk spitting out the held water dead center of John’s face. He laughed at the brief look of surprise on the Baptist’s face, “Oh there’s that signature flirting of yours,” Chance leaned closer, hands tightening on his upper arms, “That how you charmed that wife of yours?”

John’s hand closest to Chance’s neck gripped tightly, nails digging in, snarling as he moved to push Chance back into the water. Chance took a deep breath readying himself, “John,” one word and he hovered above the water, John’s face shifting from his anger to one of a younger man, child-like, caught in the middle of something he shouldn’t have been doing. Chance was lifted, blowing away some of the hair from his vision. There on the shore stood Joseph, dressed in a white button down shirt and dark vest, rosary wrapped around his left hand still, his yellow glasses still on despite the night sky, God do those ever come off?. “Do you mock the cleansing?”

John has yet to turn to face him fully, head lowered, “No, Joseph.”

Chance gave a snort mumbling, “I sure fucking do.” John’s eyes moved fixating on Chance, the emotion in them darkening, teeth grinding. 

“Come,” Joseph waved to the member keeping hold of Chance, “bring that one to me.”

Again he was pushed forward, stumbling over the smooth rocks below, “I can walk you know,” he hissed trying to shake free from the member’s grip. 

Joseph placed his hands on Chance’s shoulders, his stomach turning. John came into his peripheral view, back straight, his face neutral, eyes the only thing giving away any semblance of emotions. Joseph’s gaze moved to John, “You have to love them, John,” Chance raised a brow, frowning, seeing the flicker of pain in John’s eyes, Condescending much. Bit hypocritical too. 

“I’ll always be the exception,” Chance scoffed, “No amount Drama King’s love will change that. Or yours Man Bun.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed just the slightest as they bored into Chance. “Despite all that you have done,” Joseph’s voice, ever so calm, still managed to send chills down his spine, “you are not beyond salvation. You’ve been given a gift.”

“Well I hope you have the receipt still,” he snarled, “cause I don’t want your fucking salvation.” Chance hissed in pain, knife point near his kidney. He glanced over to his right, John had moved closer, left arm outstretched, Dude, I don’t owe your brother any respect.

His remarks were ignored, “You’re not here by accident or by choice,” Chance opened his mouth to protest, stopped by the knife digging in a little deeper, “You are here by the grace of God. Everything you are, everything you’ve experienced has led you to this moment….To your destiny.”

Chance pushed forward, hands holding him back. Joseph stepped back as the young deputy spit in his face, “Fuck your destiny!” He snarled shaking off the hands, placing himself inches from Joseph, voice lowering, “That line may work on your followers, but I know better. I know what you’ve done to get your damn bullshit prophecy brought to life.”

Chance glowered willing Joseph to move, to get angry, to lift the curtain on his calm leader persona. He didn’t, simply turning to John as he wiped away at his face, “This one will reach atonement.” He pulled his brother closer, touching their foreheads together, whispering, “or the gates of Eden shall be shut to you, John.” The volume may have been soft, evocative of guidance but Chance could hear it. The threat, hidden within the disappointment Joseph had put on for his younger brother.

“Yes, Joseph,” he whispered, head hanging lower, Chance looking between the two of them, Where’s the backbone you have for everyone else, Sunglasses?. His older brother turned making his way back towards the trucks, John and Chance watching as he moved farther from earshot. The moment he did, John’s face overtook Chance’s vision, “You will confess, no matter how long it takes.” John directed his men to place Chance into a van, placing his cuffs around a bar on the ceiling. He still tried to land a kick on one of the members as they did so, the butt of a gun meeting his diaphragm knocking the breath out of him briefly. 

The doors shut, leaving the young man alone in the van with the muffled engines of other vehicles driving away. “Either you’re dead or,” Chance whispered, “something much worse is going to happen.”

The driver’s door opened, a balding man sliding in, his stature feeling familiar, “Bring him to the room I have prepared at the bunker,” John instructed, the man nodding along. “Don’t leave his side once there, Mr. Powell.”

“I know John,” the driver snapped, Chance’s eyes going wide, It’s the guy from the Ranch, “You need to go before it gets too suspicious.” A moment of silence fell before the van started moving, radio turned down low. Chance caught the man’s eyes in the rearview, Powell, what’s your role in all of this?, he moved closer, the metal scraping against one another, “Stay put.”

“Not like anyone can see me back here,” Chance huffed finally bringing himself to the front of the van, “Besides I’d rather not yell to talk to you.” Powell stayed silent, “Let’s start with names; I’m Chance.”

“I know who you are.”

“But I don’t know you. All I know is you’re the guy that helped me get Nick’s plane back to him. So what’s your first name? I know it can’t be Powell.”

“What makes you say that, kid?”

“Cause no parent would hate their child that much to be name them Powell.”

“Your name is basically a pun,” he gave a quick smile, “What does that say about your parents?”

“Dad didn’t pick it out. I’d have been Jason if he did.”

“Probably best he didn’t then.” Chance tilted his head, “I knew your grandfather a little bit, knew he would have just called you JR.”

Chance rolled his eyes, small smile on his lips, Just keep him talking, that’s how they did it in the movies right?, “Point taken. You’re still not answering my question though.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because you’re not on their side. Not really.” Chance scrutinized his face, “Feel like I’ve seen you one other time.”

“I lived here, that’s probably what you’re thinking.”

“No, well probably but I mean when all this cult bs started to get worse,” Chance shook his head, looking ahead to the road retracing events, “The wedding,” he finally breathed out. The member glanced over at Chance, “You were there, you hovered close to John and his new wife.”

“A lot of people were at that wedding.”

He shook his head, “Sure, but no one else acted like you did. You stood between her and Joseph.”

“Part of my job.”

“You didn’t even look my and Whitehorse’s way, just focused on the Father,” Chance looked down to his muddied boots, “She didn’t really want to be there, did she?”

He slowed looking around, “No. She didn’t.” Powell’s eyes looked Chance over, with his hunched shoulders and distant eyes, letting out a sigh, “It’s easy to dwell on the what ifs and what could have been, but you and me? We can’t afford to. Best we can do is keep moving, hoping to do better.” The two approached the intersection with the main road, the member stopping ejecting the tape from the radio. “Speaking of which,” he turned to face Chance, “Better grab onto something.” Chance watched as the man slipped the tape into Chance’s pocket, “Don’t lose that either. Get it to your friend Wheaty.”

“Wait why?” The driver didn’t respond as he pulled out onto the road, with a truck quickly approaching from the left side. “Uh, hey I don’t-.” The impact hurt, no amount of gripping onto the bar prevented Chance from hanging as the van rolled. He could feel the metal cutting away at his skin, on its side, the zero gravity as he brought his knees to his chest, upside down, finally the impact as his body hit the metal siding. 

His vision went black as he oriented himself, the breaking of glass muffled among the groans of the van. Chance groaned hearing the muffled gunfire, blinking a few times to right his vision once again. Escape, that’s what he had to do, he had to escape. He still had a feeling of seeing double as he repositioned himself, bracing his legs on the ceiling of the van pulling on the rod holding the handcuffs hostage. The gunfire grew louder, the rod unmoving, “Oh come on adrenaline!” Chance growled, “Fucking work with me tonight!”

“He’s gettin’ away!” 

“Ah leave him be,” two voices yelled out, “He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough!”

The back door groaned open, slamming against the asphalt, Chance flinched at the sound. Despite the night sky, the low light hurt his eyes and he tried to shield them from it. “Well look at that,” Chance didn’t need to look at the man’s face to place the calming voice, “that tip we got was real.”

He looked up at the bulletproof vest clad pastor, eyebrows raising, “Someone tipped you off that I’d be coming this way?”

“Mhm,” Jerome moved inside the van, a thin piece of metal between his fingers, “Heard you had gotten taken earlier in the day, knew it had to be John. Thing is he’s gotten smarter about changing his baptismal areas, so we didn’t even know where to start.” The older gentleman’s fingers moved deftly along the locks of the cuffs, a small click heard as Chance’s right wrist was freed, “Then got word on the radio from Wheaty saying he saw the caravan moving from the Whitetails back down south.”

Chance stayed silent watching as Jerome worked on the left wrist, No way we were up that far north. We stayed in the valley the whole time. With his left wrist free Chance rubbed some feeling back into them, examining the cuts, “Thanks. For saving me that is. Overheard John having some special plans for me.”

“I bet he did,” the two men crawled their way back out to the small group of others, all letting out a cheer upon seeing Chance. “Like I keep trying to tell ya: it’d be a shame to lose you now, dep- I mean Chance.”

Chance scanned the area, checking his pocket, the cassette tape still in its place. This road didn’t go near the Whitetails, not for a while, and even then it would be on the eastern side of it, And we’re on the west. The windshield laid a foot away from the van, the glass still put together despite the cracks within it, I don’t think there’s enough cracks for it to have been impulsive. Powell, Powell knew something or this was part of John’s plan. Could have been, just the motivation wasn’t there. Wheaty told them that we were coming from the south of the Whitetails….

The tape in his pocket weighed heavily, his head pounding away, and his wrists still throbbing. Sleep might have been the best thing to do first. Jerome was in agreement as they approached Fall’s End, switching to a sedan for the drive to Chance’s house. The young man laid his head back, pulling the lever to lower the seat too, eyes closing. “Hey Jerome,” Chance asked, the pastor humming in response, “You know just about everyone in this county right?”

“Try too, but sometimes people slip by the wayside. Why do you ask?”

“Does the last name Powell mean anything to you?”

“Powell?” Chance gave a small nod, his stomach rolling, “Only know of one Powell and last I heard was one of the first to join Eden’s Gate once they got that compound of their going.”

Chance knitted his brow, “One of the first? That….feels surprising. Are you sure?”

“That’s what’s been said, he is a part of Eden’s Gate though, I know that much. Became one of Jacob’s chosen and then personal guard to John’s wife when she was still around.”

Does no one in this place know she’s still alive? Or do they just not believe it? “Now he’s just John’s personal guard?”

Jerome gave a shrug, “Couldn’t tell ya. I don’t think he likes John much either since Mary. Seemed real protective over her the few times I saw her.”

“You knew her?”

“Sort of,” Jerome glanced over at Chance, “Do I need to pull over?” Chance shook his head, “Alright just tell me if I do. But anyway Mary came by a few times wondering if I’d be willing to help in setting up some charity work she was wanting to do, told her no though. Didn’t hold much trust for them back then either.”

“What’s his name?”

Jerome chuckled, “You planning’ on getting to know all the members this much?”

“Nah,” Chance smirked, “Just the second time I’ve come in close contact with him is all. Feel like it can’t just be a coincidence.”

“What does your instinct say about it?”

That was the hard part, as it said to not trust him while also saying that Powell had his own agenda that could work well in his favor. Then again this was the same instinct that told him it was okay to bring probably the most dangerous of the siblings to his house to care for her. The same one that had him going back to Faith because there was some part of her that was good still in there. His gut instinct was the one that gave the notion that there was something amiss last year at that wedding, but then agreed with Whitehorse when he said there was nothing saying there was anything wrong. His instinct sucked.

The logic of it all though said that it wasn’t coincidence that he had encountered Powell twice. That fact that he let Chance go both times said that he needed him out in the county rather than with John. Powell knew of Wheaty and doubtful that he was just sharing his music tastes with someone on the other side of this. “Best we can do is keep moving, hoping to do better.”, that line meant there were regrets to be had. The facts were that Powell was also one of the first to join up with the cult willingly years ago. Made it high enough in the rankings to be personal protection for John’s wife, She had to have had some trust for him right? Or else how would he know what she was thinking that day?. 

Chance let out a sigh, “Instinct is saying I need more information.” He opened an eye looking up at Jerome, “Which will be easier having his full name, Jerome.”

The pastor chuckled, “His name is Lance. Lance Powell.”

“Lance,” Chance repeated, the name bringing up fuzzy memories, “He had a kid didn’t he?” Jerome hummed in confirmation, Chance clicking his tongue, “Huh, think I saw them once when I was a kid. One of those fishing competitions or barbeques or something like that.”

“Possible,” he pulled up to the quiet cabin, engine shutting off, “You want some help getting settled?”

Chance sat up stretching out his limbs, “Nah, I should be okay. Thanks though.”

“Alright, give a call on the radio if you need anything.” Chance gave a wave listening for the car to start again before turning towards the old cabin. Lance Powell, he mused pulling out the cassette tape, what’s your angle here?, Chance flipped it over. Nothing special about it, even had a label on it, Cowtipping Extravaganza! ‘85, he frowned looking at the name. Well that’s….cryptic. Chance tossed the tape onto the cd player, eyes scanning for the bottle of Tylenol, his head was still pounding and trying to solve a mystery wasn’t much help. 

He located the bottle knocking back four of the pills, reaching for the radio next to it, clearing his throat, “Hey Wheaty, you there?”

There was a moment of silence as Chance laid back on his bed, “Chance? That you?”

“One and only,” he gave a smile, “Hey do you mind comin’ down here in the next few hours?”

“Uh, gotta get that cleared with Eli, you know how he is about that stuff.”

“Yeah no, I know. Look I got a tape here that I was told to get to you.”

“Tape? As in duct tape or cassette tape?”

“Cassette.”

There was a silence, Chance closing his eyes, his breathing evening out. “Alright I’ll be there in the next few hours,” his friend sounded out of breath, “You at your place?”

Chance nodded, yawning, “Yeah. Just walk in when you get here.” If there was a response he didn’t hear it, falling quickly into a dreamless slumber. By the time he awoke again, his friend was nowhere to be found, the tape gone from where Chance had tossed it earlier. Guess you couldn’t stay very long, he glanced up at the clock reading three o’clock in the afternoon, Or I slept longer than I thought. Next time, next time Chance was up with the militia he’d make sure to get the answers he wanted about Lance. In the meantime he heard the local arsonist needed a little assistance and Chance was always down to help an old party buddy.