moving to asheville

anonymous asked:

You can't leave Vietnam AU like that, we need to know the resst ;)

Vietnam AU

“This is the day the Lord has made,” Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser intoned from the lectern of St. Bride Church. “Let us rejoice and be glad.”

Jamie sat up a bit straighter at the end of the front pew, twining his fingers through Claire’s, exchanging a small smile with his godfather.

For as long as anyone could remember, every Sunday morning the Fraser-Murray clan had attended eight o’clock Mass at the church their forefathers had built at the turn of the nineteenth century. Just a ten minute drive from the Big House, it had originally served just the family and tenants of the Fraser estate. Jamie, Jenny, and Murtagh were the only Frasers remaining in the area – most of the extended family had moved to Asheville or Raleigh after World War II – but those three stubborn Frasers had held strong.

Jamie and Jenny’s parents had been married at St. Bride’s. The three Fraser children – including the eldest child, Willie, who had died of smallpox when Jamie was small – had been baptized there. Murtagh – who lived in his own cottage on the estate with his wife Suzette, who he had brought home from France after landing on the beaches of Normandy – ran the lector program. Jenny and Ian had been married there, and Young Jamie and Maggie in turn had been baptized there.

And as Claire rose with Jamie, watching Father Kenneth kiss the Word of God, smile out at the congregation, and begin reading from the Gospel of Luke – she saw herself and Jamie standing before the priest at the altar. And standing off to the side below the gorgeous stained glass window of Michael the Archangel, just behind the baptismal font, gently holding a fussy newborn while reciting the baptismal promises. And exchanging proud smiles with Jamie as a beautiful red-haired girl received her First Communion. And holding Jamie’s trembling hand as they watched a handsome red-haired boy be confirmed.

This was her place. He was her place.

“Thanks be to God,” she whispered. Serene.

“I was thinking of taking Claire up the mountain – to the old cabin. I can check on it, and maybe bring back a bottle or two for dinner?”

Murtagh chewed thoughtfully on his pancakes. “I haven’t been up there since the fall – would be good to make sure it’s gone through the winter without any major damage. Take note of what would need a repair, all right?”

Claire nodded her thanks as Suzette poured another cup of steaming coffee. “What’s the old cabin?”

“It’s the house that was built before this one – on the highest part of the Ridge.” Jenny wiped maple syrup off Young Jamie’s face with the corner of her blue-and-white striped napkin. “It’s just a few rooms – we haven’t updated it much over the years, except added a generator for electricity.”

“We stay there overnight sometimes when there’s a lot to do in the whisky caves,” Jamie added, serving Claire another slice of Mrs. Crook’s excellent bacon before nibbling on one himself. “It’s where we let the bottles age. We only take them out once a year, to sell them to the restaurants and bars in town – but I want to find a good one for us to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’ve got Jamie smiling again, Claire,” Ian said quietly from across the table. “And Lord knows, Jenny and Murtagh and Suzette and I have been trying to do that since he got back from ‘Nam.”

Claire dropped her eyes to her lap, cheeks flaming. Under the table, Jamie lay a gentle hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

Murtagh coughed.

“Well then. Can you pass the strawberry jam please, my dear nephew-in-law? These bannocks won’t eat themselves.”

Fresh air. Pine. The soft, damp smell of decaying leaves. Flashes of green as the first grasses and flowers shot up from the forest floor.

And Jamie – solid and quiet beside her, never letting go of her hand, silently savoring the stillness.

It had been about two hours since they’d left the house – Jamie toting a backpack full of snacks from Mrs. Crook, Claire wearing Jenny’s pre-pregnancy jeans and hiking boots. They hadn’t spoken very much on their journey – both lost in their thoughts, both afraid to pierce the quiet with the sound of their voices.

“It’s just up over the crest of this hill,” he said softly, after a while.

“How can you even tell where we are? It’s just trees and more trees,” she teased.

He flashed a brilliant smile. “My father started taking Jenny and Willie and I hiking in these woods as soon as I could walk. He’d take me up to the caves and let me play with the spare pieces of wood while he and Murtagh and my grandfather Simon sorted the bottles. Believe it or not, there are plenty of landmarks along the way – trees and rocks that you’ll recognize in time.”

In time.

For Claire would be coming back.

Right?

They hadn’t talked about it – hadn’t even broached the topic. But it was Sunday afternoon, and Claire’s plane ticket back to Boston was for tomorrow morning.

Panic surged.

Jamie – ever perceptive – stopped as they crested the hill.

There it was – a small cabin, simply shingled and with just a few windows. It was immediately clear why the first Frasers had chosen to build there – for the ground in front of the cabin gently sloped into a grassy clearing.

“There used to be a barn here as well, but it was gone even before my grandfather was a boy. This place – it’s always been a refuge. A – well. I knew a guy in the Marines whose parents were German, and he told me of something called a ‘fridstool.’ A private place where you can be alone with your thoughts.”

Claire turned to meet Jamie’s eyes. The one-o-clock sun streamed on his face, sparking his hair like fire.

“And you’re OK taking me here? To your private place?”

He sighed and settled his hands on her hips, turning her to face him. Licked his lips, and burned his eyes into hers.

“I want to share *everything* with you, Claire. Here – in my most private place. Where we can pretend we are the only man and woman in the world.”

Another surge – but this time of love. And want.

And need.

“Yes,” she replied to his unspoken question. “Of course. Yes.”

He swallowed, and smiled, and gently led her down the hill.

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Old Home Place 1985 von anoldent
Über Flickr:
The summer after I finished school I set off into the mountains of North Carolina to build a log cabin, armed with a few books, and hand tools, but no experiance or skills. I set up my tent and expected it to take six weeks to build. Six months later I still hadn’t finished the chimney or started the roof. But this is what it looked like on a misty November morning a few years later. I lived here for about eight years, and owned it for about fifteen years after I built it in 1976 with local fieldstone and oak logs I cut, peeled and notched on the site, working alone with hand tools. It had no plumbing, I carried water from a nearby spring, and I heated it in winter with about half a cord of wood a week which I cut and burned in the open fireplace. Eventually I moved into Asheville and had to sell it, but it was a large part of my life, and I miss it more with each passing year.

Soundtrack of Us (Part Seven) - Runaway

Originally posted by supernatural-imagine-fanfiction

Word Count: 2100+

Pairing: AU!Dean x musician!reader

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Jess, Ellen & Jo Harvelle, Castiel, Russell (OC), Dan (OC), Lisa

Warnings: some fluffz, angst, lisa drama (again), marijuana use 

Summary: Y/N is a local artist with standing gigs at a coffee shop and a bar in a small town in North Carolina. She’s run from some things at home, but life has finally fallen into place in Asheville. Music is her life and her only worry in life, until she meets a pair of hypnotizing green eyes.

Author’s Note: wow, we’re almost done! (don’t worry, still got three more parts!) part seven…. wow, didn’t think I’d get here honestly, lol. thanks so much everyone for sticking through! I’m sorry for this chapter, I want reader to be happy, but things keep getting in the way! 

Song is Runaway by Cartel. Lyrics are bold and italicized.
Inner thoughts and text messages italicized.

Catch up here


You glanced at the clock and noticed it was only 8:45 in the morning. Even after a long night of drinking, you still managed to wake up early. It was programmed in your body. You figured that Dean, and maybe even Sam, would still be asleep and so you decided to go shower and get ready for the day. You definitely needed some greasy, greasy food to cure your hangover and maybe even a hike to sweat it out. The arboretum trails sound nice, you thought. Those trails were easy to walk as well as beautiful. Your shower consisted of daydreams of Dean’s hand engulfed around yours as you walked along the creek, crunching fallen leaves under your ratty tennis shoes. You had it bad.

It didn’t take long for you to finish your shower. You had your music playing off your speakers, filling your whole apartment. For some reason, your mood pushed you to listening to your old pop-punk and rock playlist from your younger years. You picked out your outfit for the day; spandex leggings, strappy sports bra, a comfortable tank and tennis shoes. In case you weren’t able to push yourself to go on a walk, at least you’d still be comfortable and acceptable to the public eye.

Wow, all of these songs make me feel like a kid again, you said to yourself as nostalgic band after nostalgic band filled your home with warmth. But maybe it was also the fact that you realized you had fallen in love again. Just the thought of Dean’s smile shot a shiver through your body.

It was the hundred-and-seventh time you thought of Dean today that made you want to finally up and leave the apartment to go see the man who made your heart flutter. The drive was excruciatingly long, but you could have just blamed that on your infatuation with the burly man. Your new realization of your feelings for Dean had you giddy and impatient. You had to tone it down in case Dean didn’t feel the same way, but there was no way that you could think your feelings were one-sided by the way that Dean treated you. He made you feel like a goddess, no matter the circumstances.

Keep reading

This is the window sticker for The Rooster. She came from MS, I bought her in AR(kansas), and brought her home to TN. That was 12 years and 191,500+ miles ago.

I bought my 2005 Forester because the research kept leading me right back to it. I needed a vehicle I could drive anywhere at anytime and feel safe and confident. So I finally bought the car I’d been dreaming about.

I’m still in love with my Forester today. 
I walk out into parking lots and look at it and think, “I friggin’ love this car.”

And when a life change came around and I was moving to Asheville, I thought to myself, “What do I want to do (for a living)?” 
I want to be of service, whatever I do. And…
1. I love working with people.
2. I enjoy teaching.
3. I love my car.

**Poof!**  
You should sell Subarus., I thought.
Wait, what?, I replied to my epiphany.
You should sell Subarus!, my epiphany said again emphatically.
**long skeptical pause**
Hmm. Interesting., I thought.

And, voila! I’m a Subaru Sales Specialist/Internet Sales Manager at Prestige Subaru in Asheville, NC. Started in October 2014 having never sold cars before. Intimidating? You bet. Rewarding? You bet. 

I’ve helped young folks buy their first Subaru and see a dream come true.
I’ve helped parents trade up into a bigger Subaru as their families grow.
I’ve helped grown women negotiate the process of buying a car for the first time ever.
I’ve helped widowers trade in two cars for one because they can’t bear to drive their wife’s car anymore because it still smells like her.
I’ve helped seniors buy what will “probably be the last car [they’ll] ever own.”
The people I’ve met along the way are the unexpected reward of this job. 

1.  I help people buy Subarus.
2.  I teach people about Subarus.
3.  And I STILL love my car.

anonymous asked:

Have you looked at/considered moving to Asheville, North Carolina? It's very outdoorsy, southern hospitality, and VERY lgbt friendly. Stores and everything downtown even have signs up saying they welcome and accept everyone. Plus the mountain views are spectacular and the hiking trails are amazing. Breweries everywhere too. It's worth looking into, especially if you're looking at wanting to be in the South. Chattanooga, Tennessee is another great option though.

I’ve actually thought about the Carolinas!
It’s totally something to think about. I want to be contracted and travel everywhere I can. I’d love to have a small place somewhere. I’ve got 2 years to work my ass off and figure it out! Thank you for the suggestion!

And good news everyone, my big move from Pittsburgh to Asheville is finally over! Okay there was a brief in between at my grandparents in D.C. but other then that, it’s all over. So now that I’m with my dad, I’m slowly going to ease back into everything, work on chatting with folks that liked the plot call, and everything else that I need to do to start this next chapter of my life.

Be on the lookout for something neat, but either way, thank you for being super supportive with me about everything. You’re all the best <3

flickr

My Log Cabin 1985 von anoldent
Über Flickr:
I lived here for about eight years, and owned it for about fifteen years after I built it in 1976 with local fieldstone and oak logs I cut, peeled and notched on the site, working alone with hand tools. It had no plumbing, I carried water from a nearby spring, and I heated it in winter with about half a cord of wood a week which I cut and burned in the open fireplace. Eventually I moved into Asheville and had to sell it, but it was a large part of my life, and I miss it more with each passing year.

In Serious Need of Life Advice

My struggles with housing and job/finances in the last few years have been no secret. I’ve been humbled and blessed with the outpouring of love and generosity of friends, more times than any single person deserves, probably.

We’re just shy of moving back into our house (lol now THAT’S a long story), but then I lost my latest job when the company folded, which made pushing that last little bit completely pointless… what’s the impetus to move into a house when I can’t pay the power bill, you know?

There’s a dearth of the jobs in my field, the stuff I could see myself settling down and doing for the next twenty years, here in my area. An hour and a half away, in Asheville NC, however… 

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Patrick - Asheville, NC

Patrick: I was born in Southeast Texas in the swamps. When I was 10 we moved to Saudi Arabia. All my relatives lived in double-wides and stuff so it was a really big change. It was a good thing because I got a really good education over there and I got to experience a multi-cultural environment. 

I went to college in Austin. Right after I graduated from college, I started using heroin, which didn’t pan out to well, as you can imagine.

BW: How did you get started using heroin?

Patrick: You know, I got my wisdom teeth out when I was 17 in Saudi and they gave me codeine to start out with and it didn’t do anything. I was in so much pain, so, my dad golfed with a doctor there and got some Percocet, which is Oxycodone. I should have known at that point that I needed to be very careful with opiates cause that stuff worked well for me. 

But, I kind of ran the gamut of the whole drug thing but starting to use heroin was a big turning point for me. I was on a path to success and my life quickly became this downward spiral of failure. It’s such a terrible thing to get into.

BW: I can relate. I sabotaged myself for years. Deep down, I didn’t feel like I deserved anything good so I’d screw everything up.  Why do you think you chose that path?

Patrick: Yeah, I get that. I get that. You know… I’m gay. I kind of tried to come out when I was 10 years old. This was right before we moved to Saudi and they weren’t having it. They told me, “No don’t act like that. You’re just going through this faze.” So, I’ve kind of had that feeling deep down inside of me for a long time, that it’s not acceptable. Even though, since that time period, I’ve experienced nothing but acceptance. I think that might be part of the self-loathing, which is ridiculous to me. I don’t understand it. 

But man, I’m happy now. My life is pretty dang good. I just moved to Asheville about a month ago and I just got a job today, actually. It’s at the Goodwill, but it’s a job. 

BW: I’m glad you got a job. They aren’t easy to come by in this town, from what I hear. Are you still using heroin?

Patrick: No, absolutely not. I haven’t done heroin in six months, so it’s been a while.

BW: How did you kick it? Cold turkey?

Patrick: Yeah, I actually ended up going to jail in Austin. I had no choice but to go cold turkey. When I was in jail, I made the decision that I needed to leave Austin. It’s not like I can run from drugs. There’s drugs everywhere. But, everybody in my life who cared about me had been telling me I needed to get out. I ignored them for five years but I finally listened. It’s been really positive, man. 

I’ll tell you what, it’s great to wake up in the morning and not feel sick and not have to worry about where I’m going to get money to get well again. Every morning I wake up and thank God that I’m not addicted to that stuff anymore. 

Hey, I just moved to Asheville and I’m living completely on my own. I’m getting myself set up down here but getting a job is going slower than I expected and I’m running out of money fast. If anyone has anything at all to donate please send it to my paypal at lavenderjane1996@gmail.com, it would be extremely appreciated.

I would probably need a couple hundred bucks to make this transition into this new place much smoother and to pay for gas, food, health insurance, car repairs, etc. Anything would make the world of a difference, thanks so much for taking time to read this, and please share and donate if possible 💕✨