CasualWanderer82

@HHP67 @pvtguy @Modified Cub @The Donling @austinbiguy @Cane23 @Seraph28 @Jjeffalch and all the other readers (some more silent than others), I can only thank you for being so vocal, so nurturing, and frankly, such generous supporters on this incredible journey that was "Down In The Holler". I will take a break. Gather my strength. Focus on my exclusive content and private platforms for a while. I'll be back to finish my "pending" projects. Eventually...😅

My sweet @austinbiguy I would respond by asking you to return to the balcony scene between Blake and Jackson. I wrote it to serve as the emotional fulcrum of their entire journey. A soft, aching threshold between what was and what must now be left behind. On the surface, it's a quiet, tender moment. But beneath that stillness lies the deeper truth of the story: the acceptance that their road, once one long stretch of shared hunger and survival, is finally splitting into two. Throughout "Down In The Holler", Blake and Jackson's love is defined by motion: the trailer wheels, the rodeo circuits, and the endless chase for desire and purpose. For years, the road was their sanctuary and their prison. It gave them a language but denied them the luxury of stillness. On the balcony, their road pauses, and for the first time, they see each other not as they were, lover and teacher, wanderer and student, but as men who've reached the natural bend in their shared map. When Blake says, "You're my light," it's not a plea but a confession. In that brief exchange, he articulates the quiet tragedy of their bond: Jackson has become everything Blake never believed he could deserve. Meanwhile, Jackson hears both a blessing and a farewell in those words. The intimacy of the moment becomes an act of parting disguised as tenderness. The scene encapsulates who they were and who they became. It doesn't end with a promise. It ends with peace. Blake will keep moving, carrying the road for both of them. Jackson will stay, building something lasting, something rooted. Yet they will remain tethered, not by geography, but by gratitude. The balcony moment serves as their quiet covenant...a love that has burned itself clean, a love that survives in memory and in the shared knowledge that it mattered. What we witness there is not an ending, but a transformation, the wild, road-born love that once demanded everything giving way to a gentler, enduring kind. The kind that lets go...

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It was a pleasure to have you join @picaflorguy 🙏

What an amazing, beautiful, long road it was @Seraph28 worth every minute. Thank you for being here and for your constant enthusiasm!

That's the point @peter rietbergen The scene's meant to show that when it comes to Jackson's heart, his emotion and logic, most things moved forward...but some things were left behind. Thank you for reading and for the words of encouragement.

The last pass before sleep found Jackson wedged between both lovers, his head pillowed on Cash's bicep while one leg draped lazily over Blake's thigh. Their hands were a puzzle of interlaced fingers spread across his chest, each touch grounding him in ways words never could. "This is what I wanted," Jackson admitted into the dark, his voice hoarse but steady. "This exact stupid miracle." Cash turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to Jackson's temple with a certainty that surpri

PREACH! ❤️

Welcome to the marvelous world of @Cane23 insights. I could pick is brain all day!

Stealing this.

Saint Cane the XXIII? 😜

I commend your level of attention to detail. But you know...room service is a thing, @pvtguy I just didn't think including a scene of the boys calling the lobby and asking for a change of sheets would "enrich" the narrative...🤣

I think you read half the comment. My bad! 😅

This particular chapter was written to feel like a "fever dream". A glimpse of the "happily ever after". For the ones who are familiar with my work, they'll know the story will end in a way that fits the characters and their journeys, which doesn't always align with their own wants and needs...

I hear you. Those are fair, bristly questions, and frankly, the ones the story asks as we move from heat to architecture. A few thoughts, with respect for your reading and the characters on the page. First, on “condition” and coercion: what Jackson does is not a ransom note. It’s a confession. He says, out loud, “I won’t choose,” but he also tells Cash plainly: if you can’t stand this, say so, I’ll still love you from whatever distance you need. That’s not perfect (he’s hurting and selfish and twenty-something), but it’s not a trap. Neither Blake nor Cash is meekly acquiescent. Cash literally puts his body where his boundary lives, he walks, he rages, he throws a punch, and he tells Jackson, “Choose.” Blake, too, has agency. He doesn’t chase, he sets his own terms, he says “no” at the trailer door to a pretty boy because it’s wrong for him. When Cash finally says, “I want to try,” the hinge has swung from Jackson’s want to Cash’s consent. That shift matters. Second, the “not talking” critique is earned. Jackson is a kind boy with a bad habit of running on weather and apologizing later. The story doesn’t endorse that. It shows the cost. Daisy calls him on it. Cash stops the truck to say, “You left and dragged me with you without a plan”. What you’re seeing now is not the end state. It’s the pressure-cooker before the kitchen table talk. We’re not done until we’ve had the daylight conversation about rules, boundaries, and what each man can live with. Third, “compatibility” between Blake and Cash. You’re right: they are not obvious best friends. They’re flint and steel, alpha, wounded, careful with softness. But the story has laid several seeds that aren’t just naked-Jackson glue. They share the same “deep cut.” That mud fight turns when Blake names Cash’s pain and refuses to hit him where men have always hit him. Cash collapses, not in defeat, but in recognition. That’s the first non-sex bond: "I know you because I AM you." They can play. The shower scene isn’t smut garnish. It’s the first time they rib each other without Jackson's presence, and neither burns. Banter is trust in Southern. Right now, it’s a V with Jackson as the hinge. The writing is already turning the V toward a triangle. But even triangles have many shapes, angles, and sizes. Fourth, your sharpest worry, the power dynamic in bed. The line you’re reading (“Jackson wants Cash the top to spread his legs for Blake”) is intentionally unsettling. I wrote Cash’s “I want to try” as his sentence, not Jackson’s. Reciprocity isn’t a porn ledger. It’s trust in finding the shape it can live in. Will Blake reciprocate for Cash? Who knows. I think the question one should be asking is: does it matter? Nothing about their sex is a debt to be paid. It’s a language they’re learning how to speak without reopening old scars. And may I add that I find this obsession with "roles" regarding gay sexuality to be particularly boring and dated. Relinquishing "power" during a sexual act is, in my eyes, a potent form of expression. It doesn't weaken the person, it empowers them. So, with all due respect, no, this isn’t “Jackson sets terms, two men submit.” It’s three men at the messy frontier between desire and duty, trying not to turn each other into fixes for old pain. Heat is the bait. Home is the test. And the story is not going to skip that test. If the triad can’t build a house that keeps the weather out, the story won’t pretend they did. If it can, it’ll be because the triad earned it. One chapter to go. And even then, even after I type THE END, it's not really the end. 😉

"You hate it?" Blake asked, palm still braced on the jamb, rain running off his jaw. Jackson smiled without hiding it. "Gives you a respectable look now you're old." Blake's mouth twitched. "Old as a Friday night." "Old as a deacon who knows where the good pie's hid." "That...respectable?" "Respectable enough Mama might let you in her kitchen without keepin' one hand on the broom." A breath of laughter moved through Blake's chest, light as steam. They slipped into t

If only manking could collectively do this. One can hope...

Just another day in the life of a Wanderer!

Preach!

Not the first time I've heard this. 😜

Amen!

Thank you @Quixo for taking it with me. With us. 💙

I'm sure Jackson will challenge that statement...🤭

"Now that right there was ’bout the sweetest thang I ever did read in all my born days." Casual W.