#thecannery

HOW LONG HAVE XE REMAINED IN THIS HOUSE ?   Xe thinks it is only a few days ,  but xe feels like weeks had passed by already ,  breathing and burning all at once .   [   Such time and space does not ever apply to a being ( ? ) like xem   ;   you are not living or dying ,  but simply existing   /   suffering   /   existing .   ]   Slowly ,  xyr bruises lose the dull continuous aches while xyr cuts become faint memories ,  healed under the touches of Roman .   Though ,  every time xe places xyr body down ,  even with the most gentleness that xe can give to xemself ,  xe still recalls the falling  —   xe believes xe is and xe can not stop crying .   IthurtsithurtsithurtsRoman .   Now , as xe sits on the couch in the living room , xe is accompanied by Roman ,  and then the heaviness fill in xem at his soft question , a bringing of violence  :

❛   Do you have a home ?   ❜   [   *   @thecannery   ]

THERE IS SILENCE .   There is wondering   —   where do you belong to ?   You are the Fool ,  the newborn wanderer ,  ever travelling in between the sky and the sea   [   where the stars burns harsher with your eyes on them so they can die faster   /   where the waves only wants to consume you whole and raw   ;   the world is telling you   /   reminding you that you belong to nowhere   /   no one   /   nothing , that you are never meant to belong in the end .   ]   You realize that you have been travelling across time and space for so long   —   forever and more ,  yet there is no place that does not need   /   want you here or anywhere .   (    I am all unneeded , unwanted , unloved .   )   Tears fall ,  as so is xyr strength .   ❝   No , Roman , I - I - I do not .   ❞   It tastes of blood to say this confession out loud in a whisper .   It feels wrong .   ❝   I . . .   never have a home . . .   ❞   But xe still thinks itstrueitstrueithurtssomuch —  

XE STARES DOWN STILL ,  AFRAID TO SEE HIS REACTION ,  but there are only hands reaching out ,  silent tenderness enveloping xyr shaken existence  .   In response , more tears fall ,  as so is xe now .   ❝   I never . . .   ❞   Xe covers xyr face and leans xemself closer to Roman ,  xyr one arm pressed against his chest .   [   Xe thinks xe hears him saying something to xem ,  but all there is are static statics it hurts statics statics .   ]   Harsh breathing with whimpers build and his arms around xem tighten then ,  calming xem down from the horrible realization .   He keeps rubbing the nameless figure on the back to keep xem from leaving the reality to the fog with broken colours and blurry shapes ,  and xe closes their eyes  falls deeper into his embrace to have that rare kindness closer to xem ,  xyr mind telling xem   :   Is this a home ?    Is it ?    Is it ?

MADISONS PHOTOGRAPHY OF CHANEL ( @thecannery )

What a BEAUTIFUL night at The Cannery Bar n' Grill #BiloxiMS!

We had some people show up from YEARS ago to rock out and say hello! Special thanks to David Gaethe for gracing us with his and lady friend's presence! We appreciated you all so much for being so kind!

Thanks, Matt Mavar for having us! It was EXPLOSIVE! 🤪🥸

Thanks to our sound and lighting gurus also! PURE TALENT!

MORE RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS | accepting

“don’t eat that! i made it ‘specially for our guest.” -  @thecannery​ ( poppy )

        “Awe  man!”  Baby  huffed  and  crossed  her  arms,  and  leaned  back  in  her  seat.  “Don’t  Eat  that!”  Poppy’s  words  mimicked  in  Baby’s  most  high-pitched  tone.  It  wasn’t  often  that  she  was  told  no,  and  she  rarely  took  it  well  when  she  was.  “What?  You  sweet  on  them  or  somethin’?”  There  was  no  point  in  giving  them  such  good  cuts  of  meat.  They  were  just  gonna  kill  them  anyway.

@thecannery​ inquired: ❛ their blood is on your hands. ❜ - Opie

Somehow, it sounded worse coming from his best friend; the weight of what he had done had been easy to swallow in the moment. But the look on his best friend's face said it all. ❝ What choice did I have, Op? ❞ His words were filled with anger, a cornered dog lashing out at anyone who came near him. He knew his hands were stained with blood and he knew that if he ever went to heaven he would keep on knocking. Not that it was justified, but he had done it for the sake of the Club. He had done it to keep his brothers safe and in his mind that was justified.

He longed to be a good law-abiding man, a father his kid could be proud of. But the violence always brought him back; it had a clutch on him that he couldn't break free of. It was all he knew; everything else seemed foreign. Perhaps he had lost himself somewhere along the way, and perhaps he was no longer a man he recognized in the mirror. But it was all for the Club, his father's Club.

❝ I can't keep my family safe while not taking care of the business that threatens them. What would you have done, Opie? ❞ Once more, his words fell angrily from his lips, his hands balling into fists at his sides and shaking slightly. How do I be a good man, a good father, a good friend? The question was something that weighed heavily on his mind at that moment, but it was something that part of him knew he could never be. He had accepted that fact long ago.

@thecannery​ asked: ❛ you already know how this will end. ❜ - Tig

And maybe he did know how it would end, and just maybe he could hear the tolling of the bells. The ghosts that haunted him were an indication of the path he was heading down, but he didn't want to end up like his old man. There was part of him hated how right Tig was. He hated the rationality behind his words. Jax knew the Club could see through him, scrutinizing everything he did and said. It would end in a vote — a decision that would seal his fate, a fate he would accept without pushback so long as one promise was kept: his boys would be kept safe

❝ I know, I know, man, and I know I led this Club a stray — there's no one to blame but me. ❞ He responded finally, no longer finding absolution in the gavel, no longer believing that he deserved to wear the patch, to don the REAPER. Redemption could never be in his grasp, but he would do this on his own terms. ❝ Just like Wendy and Nero, you've got to promise me that they will be safe, and they will grow to loathe the very idea of me. ❞ He added after a moment, the final request of a man condemned to his fate.

But who was he to make such requests when he had been the one to nearly run to Club into ruin? Truthfully, he wasn't sure he should get anything. Things perhaps could have gone differently had he worked through his own anger and grief had he talked to someone in the Club. He knew all decisions were final; there would be no chance for him to seek redemption. In the eyes of the Club, he knew he was already a dead man walking.