#well... that's oklahoma's weather for ya | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-eternal · 9 months

Text

Jealousy

They shouldn’t be jealous, but they are.

———————————————————————

“You’re sure about this?”

“Why would we lie about it?”

“I dunno, Gigi. It just seems like he hates us..”

“Funny, Adam said the exact same thing about you.”

“W-what?! We could never hate Papa!”

“Well, you’ll have to tell him that yourself.”

Several groans throughout the room, emotional conversations with the Father you thought was dead for a century would be difficult.

“If you don’t want to talk to him, you could just act like nothing happened and call him ‘Papa’.”

That wasn’t viable either, too much had changed since the 1800’s.

There are 20 States unafraid to call Gov their father or treat him as such: Minnesota, Oregon Kansas, West Virginia, Nevada, Nebraska, Colorado, North and South Dakota, Montana, Washington, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, Alaska, and Hawai’i. And not even to mention the Departments, Territories, and the Agencies– though the Agencies are more the mans grandchildren.

“Look, kids. I’m not gonna force ya, and neither are yer other Grandparents, but if yer gonna get jealous when he gives the others any affection, you have to talk to him.”

No one responded.

———————————————————————

Kansas was the last State to be inducted into the Union before the Civil War– 3 years in body and less than half-a-year- a State–, and the third oldest State to call Gov ‘Papa’ to his face. Nebraska was the seventh, both Midwestern States– pretty well surrounded on either side by States that watches them in jealousy whenever they called out…

“Papa! We’re out of ranch!”

“Evan, I bought 8 bottles three days ago.”

“There are 49 of us in this house and most of us in da Midwest eat it on everythin’, ya know that!”

“Hmmm…fine. I’ll buy another bottle on my way back from the meeting this evening– but I will not buy anymore until next week. Use it sparingly, all of you.”

“Papaaa…”

“No.”

They did it constantly, almost as if they were mocking the others.

“Papa! Come by mah house this weekend! I got another cow– and she’s just the sweetest thang!”

“Papa, lookit! The sunflowers are growin in, we’ll hafta keep an eye on ‘em!”

“Ey, Papa. Mama said ya haven’t been sleepin’ right lately, ya doin’ okay? Naw, naw– ya look like death warmed over! C’mon, we’re gonna take a nap.”

“Papa.”

“Papa…”

“Papa! Mama!” the Sunflower State beams from where he stands by the patio, the Cornhusker State perking up at the mention. It’s a summer day, the weather is warm and it was decided to be a perfect day for an outdoor grill-by-the-pool. It was still early afternoon, most of the South and a few of the Midwest setting up the backyard, “Thought ya were in Germany for the next bit!”

Gov, of course, looks out of place in his slacks, loafers, and pale blue polo, but at least he wasn’t wearing his usual turtleneck. At the very least, Assistant was wearing a romper in the same shade of blue and sandals.

They both immediately drop what they’re doing, settling the stacks of paper plates and silverware on one of the foldout tables, before running over to the other personifications. They both stood a few inches taller than the man and woman, like many States did, and a few inches broader. Most of the Midwest and South were similar, all larger than the Government personifications in some way. Nebraska and Kansas looked a lot alike in build, actually.

The man smiles– the bags under his eyes looked darker than normal, he’d been getting better sleep and they’d been fading. What happened– allowing his arms to fall open as Kansas skids to a stop in front of him, practically lifting the man off his feet in a hug. Assistant laughs from Nebraska’s grasp, though he didn’t quite lift her the same way, Gov letting out a quiet ‘oomf’ at the sudden shift.

Kansas grins, the gap in his upper front teeth adding to his boyish joy at seeing his parents. Nebraska’s smile more tame than the others, but still just as bright.

“Meeting got delayed,” Assistant chimes as they’re set back on their feet, “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, so we decided to come visit beforehand!”

The others watch in a mix of jealousy and grief.

They want that. To be able to call them Ma and Pa and receive the same type of hugs and hair ruffles and constant words of love and praise. They want that.

They just can’t have it.

———————————————————————

Nevada, Utah, and Colorado may not agree on much, but they did agree on one thing.

Utah’s human kids are the cutest.

Gov and Assistant agree as well.

“Really, dad?” Utah sighs, Colorado chuckling and Nevada snickering behind him as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I only asked you to babysit.”

“I am babysitting.” Gov retorts, pulling up his sunglasses from where he reclines on one of the patio chairs, “Look at how much fun they’re having.” None of them notice the other Western State at the sliding glass door. California just behind the wall, listening and leaning over to watch.

“Dad.”

“I really don’t see the issue, Micah.”

The 7-year-old triplets, Kayden, Brayden, and Jayden, were in a circle with several large lego sets— lego sets Utah knew he and Ilithiya hadn’t bought for the children.

12-year-old Kingsley fiddled with a fresh-out-of-the-box nintendo switch, and 14-year-old Kayleigh seemed to be dancing with a VR headset over her face.

16-year-old Jaxon was sitting close by the triplets, reclining on one of the patio sofas as he flew an expensive looking drone around the backyard.

Even Paisley, Utah’s youngest at only a year old, strapped to the Gov’s chest via a baby carrier, with her own mini sunglasses on her chubby baby face, seemed to be enjoying herself. And, judging by the pastel yellow mini truck just a few feet away, even the baby wasn’t safe from the Grandparent urge to spoil.

“You bought my baby a car.”

“It’s a little car for baby people, Micah. It even has seatbelts, and Paisley’s such a smart girl,” Gov turns to coo down at the happily babbling toddler, “Aren’t you, sweetheart? Know all about road safety, yeah? You’ll be the best driver, won’t ya?”

“Dad.”

“How much did this cost, daddy?” Nevada asks, still snickering, holding up her phone to record the interaction, “I had to be a lot— I know those toddler cars alone go for $200.”

“Eh.” The man waves the question off, moving to stand from the patio chair with a grunt, “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Utah stresses as the older man approaches, “It’s a lot of money, Dad—“

“Micah.” The man’s voice is softer, sunglasses held in his hand as he gently rests a hand on the Westerner’s shoulder, “It’s alright. I wanted to buy this stuff for the kids, I know they get a bit bored out there during the summer— you and Ilithiya have been complaining about how hard it is to keep them entertained. Consider this,” he gestures to the kids, “a Christmas present.”

“It’s June.” Utah says weakly, leaning into the touch.

“Early Christmas Present.” He corrects, “They can leave the stuff at your Mother and I’s house if you want. Don’t stress too hard, bumblebee.”

Utah sighs, smiling, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Awww,” Nevada coos as Colorado snorts, “How precious.”

California slips away, chests clenching painfully at the sounds of playful banter coming from the back patio.

———————————————————————

Alaska is one of the youngest States. He may be the largest State, the largest man in the house too, but he’s still younger than the others.

He’s not very good at written social cues, and even worse at unwritten social rules. He has no sense of direction, a habit of getting distracted and wandering off: this means that when they go out in public anywhere…

“Let’s go, Ivan.” Gov says calmly, tugging gently on the man’s wrist.

Someone usually has to hold onto him, either his wrist or his hand.

“Coming.” The younger mans’ voice is quiet and soft as usual.

They’re walking through one of the busier parts of the city, where all the stores and such are; it’s an unavoidable place when they need to stock up on necessities.

Other than Gov and Ivan, Oklahoma, Maine, Vermont, and Wisconsin had joined them on their shopping trip. To get everything they need, it takes a whole team.

Vermont is in charge of the cart and Maine in charge of the list, Wisconsin in charge of the second cart and Oklahoma sent to grab things across the store or to run back into previous isles if they forgot something. Gov is there purely to supervise and Alaska to lift anything the others can’t.

It’s going well, Oklahoma rambling about his university sports teams and tornados and such, Gov humming along and Alaska following dutifully behind. The other three watch from behind them, a scowl on Vermont’s face, a grimace on Maine’s and a simple frown on Wisconsin’s.

Each look away, Maine down at the list and the other two to opposite sides of the aisle.

But there’s a sudden presence looming over the Pine Tree State, a hand coming to carefully rest on his shoulder.

Despite the careful movement, he still flinches in surprise— not paying attention to his surroundings—, and the hand quickly retracts.

When he sees the purse of Gov’s mouth, he immediately regrets not paying more attention— cursing his subconscious reaction that lost the familiar, comforting touch.

“What else is there?” The man asks instead, scanning the list over Maine’s shoulder as the State clears his throat.

“We gotta get a few cases of watah bottles, Cal asked fo’ those kale chips they like, and, uh—“ Maine squints in an attempt to read the scribbled mess of words at the bottom of the paper, “I dunno what the hell they wrote down here.”

Gov hums, reaching out a hand. “Let me see?”

Maine hands the list over without a second thought, and watches the man’s grey eyes study the mess of pencil and ink at the bottom of the list.

He sighs, “Eugene, would you run and grab a few boxes of Hostess Sno Balls, Twinkies, and Coffee Cakes?” He closes his eyes tiredly as he hands the list back to Maine, “Just two boxes of each, they need to learn moderation.”

“Aight, Papa.” The ravenette says, vanishing around the corner after flashing the man a grin.

“We’ll head over to the water cases, and meet you there.” Gov said to the other three, referring to himself and Alaska, “Eugene shouldn’t be long.”

“Alright.” Vermont nods, “Meet ya there..”

Gov studies the three of them for a moment, brows furrowing in what looked like concern. He seems to fight himself, before he shakes his head.

“Alright. Be careful, then.”

He and Alaska vanish around the opposite corner of the aisle, Gov gently tugging the other along.

It was…it was so simple. They shouldn’t be feeling this way at Gov using the other’s human names in a public space as required, at him holding Alaska’s hand because the tall man would get lost if he didn’t.

They shouldn’t be jealous over it.

But they know he’d do the same in non-public spaces, preferring human names to anything else, and it stings.

———————————————————————

Gigi said their father thinks they hate him, but that can’t be true. They could never hate him, have never hated him. He…he just doesn’t want to be their Papa, anymore. Right?

…

Then why does he look at them so sadly, when he thinks they aren’t looking? Why do his hands twitch as if he wants to reach out but is stopping himself?

Why does he always sad when they call him ‘Gov’? Why does he always seem to hesitate before calling for them— by their State name in private and more-so their human names in public?

…

Could Gigi be right?

#wttt gov #wttt assistant #wttt kansas #wttt nebraska #wttt maine #wttt alaska #wttt oklahoma #wttt vermont #wttt wisconsin #wttt nevada #wttt utah #wttt colorado #welcome to the table #welcome to the table au #family ties au

5 notes · View notes

atomic-thomas · 1 month

Text

(Fake ASMR Commission) Your Meteorologist Wife Talks About Tornadoes

_______________________________________________

“The Suck Zone… It’s the point… Basically at which the twister… Sucks you up.” *she says to herself quietly as she quotes the movie that she’s watching*

…

“Oh, hi honey. Windy day out there. Seriously, it’s really blowing today."

…

“Yeah, I’m watching Twister again… For the 100th time.”

…

“It’s not my fault that it’s so good. It’s literally my favorite movie of all time. It was my inspiration for becoming a meteorologist in the first place.”

“Sure, it’s got some of that 1990s cheesiness & there are some factual inaccuracies, but… The vast majority of the movie is so good that it’s easy to ignore what few flaws it has. It’s so fun.”

…

“Oh yeah. The last action scene is super unrealistic. You can’t outrun a tornado. Let alone an F5 with 300 mile-per-hour winds. That’s ridiculous. There was a point where Bill & Jo were literally standing right next to it & they weren’t getting blown away. They only survived because they’re the main characters & have plot armor.”

“I’m unbothered though. It’s so thrilling that I can ignore how silly it looks. Suspension of disbelief, ya know?”

“The story is great, the characters have rich personalities, the practical effects & CGI hold up well even today… For a movie released in 1996, it was way ahead of it’s time. It really feels like a movie that was made with a lot of passion.”

“There’s so much tornado action to. This movie barely goes 10 minutes without one being on screen. It’s so engaging.”

“And the soundtrack is incredible as well. It has music like ‘Humans Being’ & ‘Respect the Wind’ by Van Halen which just send chills down my spine. I can’t get enough of it.”

…

“Of course I’m looking forward to the sequel. I just hope they don’t screw it up. You never know with the modern movie industry. It could totally flop if mishandled. Though the trailer does look very promising.”

“It’s a shame that it won’t have Bill Paxton. He’s been dead for a while now. May The Extreme rest in peace.”

…

“There was something really sweet that happened after his death. A bunch of storm chasers aligned their vehicles to spell ‘BP’ on satellite radar. It was awesome!”

…

“Part of my fascination with tornadoes & just… Weather in general… Was growing up in the Northeast US. We don’t really get tornadoes in the mountains. Not enough flat land or a sufficient amount of hot & cold air mixing. I was always intrigued & curious about the weather in other regions.”

…

“Well yeah. It’s possible to get tornadoes in every state, but some are clearly more prone than others. Even Alaska of all places has received a few tornadoes, but they were all categorized as F0s & didn’t last long at all.”

“If you really want tornadoes, the Midwest is where it’s at. Especially Kansas & Oklahoma.”

…

“I don’t mind living in Tornado Alley. When I was old enough to travel alone, I willingly chose to move out here. And it’s a good thing I did because I would’ve never met you otherwise. Hehe~”

…

“Hun, you’re worth enduring every tornado we get graced by. Don’t you worry one bit. In fact… If you were a tornado, you’d be an F6.”

…

“Hehe~ I do know my Fujita Scale. It’s an intrinsic part of meteorology.”

“I’m also grateful for my Storm Chasing team. They’re super cool people. We’re a good-spirited, high-energy group of weather enthusiasts who love documenting tornadoes. We don’t fear the storm. We eagerly charge towards it.”

…

“Of course it’s dangerous. When you’re a Storm Chaser, you have to know the risks. Many people have died doing this job. But it’s usually due to recklessness. If you’re smart & play it safe, you’ll probably be fine.”

…

“Well… No. Nothing is guaranteed. We may be able to predict the weather, but there’s enough randomness to the point where we can never be entirely sure. If a tornado changes it’s course & heads right for you… You better take action immediately… And hope you’re not in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

…

“It isn’t exactly rocket science to figure out how a tornado can kill you. There’s a few ways.”

“The most obvious way is getting sucked up into the vortex. You’ll simply get thrown really high into the air & hit the ground too hard when you fall. You’d need to be incredibly lucky & land on something soft in order to survive.”

“The second way is getting hit by debris. If a huge piece of infrastructure hits you at high speed, I doubt your soft, squishy human body would be able to take it.”

“And the last way is… Hindered breathing ability. Depending on the wind speed, it’ll either be really difficult or impossible to breathe in a tornado.”

…

“Yeah, now you understand why Bill & Jo wouldn’t have realistically survived the F5 at the end of the movie. Even though they were strapped down to those pipes, the tornado would’ve most likely killed them in a different way. But you know… Plot armor.”

“Speaking of F5s, did you know that the biggest one ever documented was the El Reno tornado of May 31st 2013?”

…

“This thing was a monster! To this day, it’s the largest tornado ever recorded at a jaw-dropping 2.6 miles wide. Even the F5 tornado in Twister wasn’t that big. It was only 1 mile wide.”

…

“Biggest doesn’t necessarily mean Strongest. It was certainly extremely powerful… But there have been worse.”

“Sometimes, it’s hard to determine exactly what makes a tornado noteworthy. Do you judge it’s overall strength & wind speed? Do you judge it by the damage it does & the number of people it kills? It’s not always crystal clear, but there are at least three contenders for the… ‘Worst’ …Tornado in history.”

"The first one is the Joplin Missouri tornado which happened on May 22nd, 2011. It damaged nearly 8,000 buildings... And of those... Over 4,000 were completely destroyed. The damage... Which included major facilities like one of Joplin's two hospitals as well as much of its basic infrastructure... Amounted to a grand total of $2.8 billion making it the single costliest tornado in U.S. history."

“The second one is the Daulatpur-Saturia tornado in Bangladesh which happened on April 26th, 1989. It killed approximately 1,300 people. That’s a horrific number of lives lost to just one tornado. It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“And the third one is the Tri-State Tornado which happened on March 18th, 1925. It tore across Southeast Missouri, Southern Illinois, and Southwest Indiana. With its rapid movement, monstrous size, and long track, it took hundreds of lives and injured thousands.”

“No matter which way you look at them, these tornadoes were downright demonic & nothing has compared since. Even the El Reno tornado didn’t take nearly as many lives despite being bigger. Size clearly isn’t everything.” ... "There are many other historic tornadoes that are remembered today. These ones just stick out in my mind the most. If I don't stop myself, you'll hear me talk about tornadoes for the rest of the day.

*sound of strong winds blowing outside the house. so like… muffled, but still noticeable basically.*

“Wow, the wind is really picking up out there. And the sky is packed with dark clouds.”

…

“I’ve been talking about tornadoes so much, I didn’t even consider that we might get one today. The weather is ripe for it.”

*sound of emergency alert system plays on their television. maybe like 3 beeps. it doesn’t need to be a lot.*

“Oh? Is my suspicion correct perhaps?”

…

“YES! There’s a tornado on the ground in our county right now! You know what that means. It’s chasin’ time!”

…

“Of course you can tag along. No one ever said you had to be an official part of the team. Guests are always welcome. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

“I’ll grab my equipment. Put on something decent, alright? It’s gonna be crazy out there.”

_______________________________________________

THE END

#Fake ASMR

1 note · View note

mally0 · 3 months

Text

Vanity, Kansas.

“About two hours past Wichita. You remember Big Bertha?”

“‘Course I remember that rusty old bitch. Should we stop by that atomic graveyard this time?”

“We’ll pass it about halfway. We’re gonna be going down closer to Tulsa.”

I crack a skeptical grin, “ You would know.”

“I know it like the back of my hand. If you came to visit me more often maybe you’d know it better, too.”

“I’m coming to visit you right now, aren’t I?”

“Ha! The biggest visit of them all,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

He tells me it’s out west, and a bit south after Big Bertha. So close to the long forty-four that I’m almost offended. Piss and vinegar aside, I’ve driven this track many times. We have, together. Me and Tom. We’re both big explorers, “woodspeople” is what we like to call ourselves.

Not as many woods along forty-four, but there’s plenty to stop and see. The hills on their own are enormous, rolling tundras of wheat. Statistically speaking, even they’re not enough to make Kansas less flat than a pancake. Sayings like that always make me laugh to myself. If you’ve heard people talk about Kansas, I can assure that you’ve been lied to.

Kansas is to me what Missouri is to Tom, the greener grass. After years of dating and failing, I ended up meeting Tom on Tinder. At first, my mom would tease me. She called him a “mail-order husband,” until she saw him. Then, she called him a hunk.

It’s funny, when we first matched one of our biggest bonds was how much we hated our hometowns. We still do, and here me and Tom are moving to his. When he told me his great aunt So-and-so left him a house in her will, of course we had to jump at a windfall like that.

Vanity is closer to the border of Kansas and Oklahoma. This isn’t the first move for me, but it’s the first out of state. I’ve lived in a handful of cities around Missouri, but I’ve been stuck in my hometown for the last five years or so. Tom’s a good thing for me, like that. It’s about time I moved out of my parents house. I’ll be twenty nine this year.

“Does it make you scared, living so far away from your folks?”

I roll my eyes and say “Does it make you scared?”

“What, you moving in with me?”

I grimace at him, “No, us living so close to your folks.”

We make a good comedy duo, when it’s just us. When we’re together that's how it usually is, just us. We’ve introduced each other to our family and friends. It’s weird to plan a date for so long, then lock onto a bigger group than we’re interested in. We’re a couple of socially awkward deer running around in the woods, and we just happened to luck into each other.

A semi rushes past, sending an immediate gale hammering down on top of Tom’s beetle. The car’s a sturdy old boy though. He’s been through it, his shell’s flaking, but he’s still the toughest beetle out there. I watch in the rear view as the semi wobbles into the distance, little flecks of our car’s clear coat in hot pursuit.

“What’s the weather like there?”

“Just like this. The wind’s always been hell, but don’t worry.”

He goes quiet for a moment.

“You can hang on to me.”

“OK! Moving on,” I bluster out, “Oklahoma, eh? It’s like you’ve got two states at once down there!”

Like I said, I explore a lot. I know every spring, cliff, and lonesome hill in Missouri. I know a good few in Kansas, and I’ve intermittently been here and there for a con or a show. I wish Tom would be more excited to get out there and explore OK, too. The way he talks about it, it may as well be a foreign country.

“You've never even been to a concert in Tulsa?”

“No, it sounds like it costs an arm and a leg just to make a left turn with all the tolls,” he says.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Why haven’t you been more often, then?”

“Well, it’s not that good,” I say.

“What’s so good that it’s worth a five hour drive?”

And, of course, I know what he can’t help but say.

“Other than you.”

I make a fake retching noise, and we have a laugh. I hate that romantic garbage.

“You know I gotta tell ya, since you won’t tell yourself.”

“Pull over for real, I’m gonna puke.”

I wanted to get out and stretch, that’s all. I start hiking up one of the hills. In the winter they would be excellent for sledding, if only it weren't for the highway. In the late summer they were like Elysium on a globe.

It takes a serious, concerted effort from each leg to heave myself up the amber waves. The wind is famous here. That much of the stereotype is true. I stoop at the peak of the hill and see the silhouette of a squall line over the hills, dipping across the highway. My hair whips at my face. A convoy of semi’s teeter past as the dry, wheezy air spins and devils skyward.

The wind turbines loped on at the same pace they always did, despite the gales. It’s as if the world were not complete until those looming needles were pincushioned into the dusty ground. I tell Tom things like that, and he always brushes it off. He’s a far bigger fan of the stinking creeks and the oppressive, moist air of my home.

“This place really is still the dust bowl. You stick around long enough, and you’ll see it.”

“I was here all last summer, babe. It was dusty, humidity is what kills me. The day after it rains in Missouri’s summer is the hottest of the year. You should know, you were there.”

“Well at least we’ll always have to visit your folks. I was laughing it up in that summer rain.”

The squall on the horizon prickled with violet thorns, a hot rush of rainscent loped across our path on the long fourty-four. The bug shook against the buffet, but he held firm as always. Tom sniffed.

“My mom always said big storm cells like that made people show their true colors. Even in summer, people raid the stores. The roads flood real bad here, everything’s so flat. ”

"Yeah, she’s where all that cheesy crap in your brain comes from.”

“Hey now, my mom’s a smart lady.”

“Maybe to you. It’s always storming in Missouri. You know how many funnel clouds I’ve seen try and give my house a kiss?”

“You’ve told me quite a few.”

I always wanted to plant an orchard on my grandma’s land. It’s not a lot of land, and it’s not a very profitable place for an orchard, but there’s a dream in my mind of walking through the flowering trees in a light summer rain just after spring. That’s the kind of rain Tom was remembering. Most sunshowers in Missouri are dreadful because of that heat you know is coming. Countless garden projects dashed against the stones because of it.

I know, realistically, that the orchard would burn up much the same. I bet it wouldn’t even get to its first harvest, and it would be nothing but a muddy field full of little black sprigs. As a child, I had a friend who lived in the city limits. His parents got it into their heads that they were farmers, not ten minutes away from Aldi’s.

“You know, they say that when you tend an orchard it’s a virtue. It’s because only future generations will know the sweetness of that fruit.”

“Babe. Enough.”

He says, “Yeah, yeah. It sounds maternal though. I think that’s very uncharacteristic and very sweet to hear from you.”

“I don’t want kids. I want those pears.”

We laugh, but we don’t laugh the same.

“Are they that good? You never buy pears for groceries,” he says.

“Most of them are just normal pears. They’re huge, knotty and fat. I’m not usually the ‘eat a straight up pear’ type of person. I just love to be around them. She grew strawberries, which I hated. She grew apples, which immediately soured and went crabby. She grew some impressive pears. There’s a small and special little tree in my Grandma’s garden, and it grew the best damn asian pears you’ve ever had.”

“So you’ve always been picky. What’s the difference?”

“Well the flavor, I guess. They’re more apple-like in their bite, and almost boozy in the taste. You remember that sake we had a while back? With the fancy little jar they brought out?”

“That stuff was really good.”

“It was only fifteen for a serving like that, too. We’ve gotta try and find some. We’ve also gotta get some asian pear jam, if they ever grow again.”

“Jam?”

“Yeah, like jelly.”

“I didn’t know they made pear jam.”

“Well don’t sound so disgusted. You’d eat a pear, right?”

“I don’t know, I’m not really—”

“Pear jam is awesome, alright? You’ll just have to believe me.”

“It seems like a lot of work just to eat a fruit you’re not that fond of.”

“I am fond of them!” I say, a little flippantly. “They’ve always been there. Pears are an inseparable part of summer and fall. I’d have to carry bucket after bucket back to the house and wrap them so they’d ripen. Then, a month or so later, they’d be ready to eat, or dehydrate, or jam.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment, and the car’s getting to be unbearably muggy. Kansas really can get hot, but that’s not Kansas’s fault.

“I’m a little surprised it’s that big of a deal to you. You never let me try any.”

“Don’t you remember? I said everything stopped growing in my grandma’s garden a while ago. If anything ever does though, I’ll be sure to make you try some.”

The broken A/C wheezes out an admirable little breeze. The sunflower road signs pass by, occasionally interrupted by a tractor trailer or a billboard with some hateful slogan. Those aren't Kansas’s fault, and they’re so derelict out in that bountiful wasteland that they seem more like ancient ruins than some warning of slurs to come. In fact, everyone I’ve met in Kansas has been just peachy. They’re far nicer here than back home, where frowning is the state sport.

After another hour of NPR, just as the sun hides behind the hills, the squall line officially crests across the horizon. The cell signal drops, and the cheap little touch screen radio gives us a shrugging emoji.

I love this part. Tom’s a lot of things, but he’s terrified of quiet. Makes a complete mouse out of him. He’ll usually whimper out a few jokes, and we’ll laugh. I’ll give him ten minutes of cold shoulder and he’ll insist upon some big topic that’s been eating him. That’s how it is, he can’t just say the important thing when he needs to. He’s gotta make an appointment, usually about this time.

This time he’s quiet.

I’m almost impressed, so I pretend to doze for a moment. I roll over in my seat, curling up. My head keeps bouncing against the headrest, so sleep’s out of the question. I wonder if it’ll be hard to sleep, living somewhere away from home again. I listen close, past the rush of the car and into the Kansas twilight. There’s no cicadas, no dogs barking. The A/C smells like the promise of beer or fresh bread, hot out the oven at that. Just for me. It’s nice. It’s quiet. There’s a hint of rain, a slight chill.

It’s a little unnerving. So I yawn and stretch til my hands hit the ceiling’s sagging upholstery.

“You’re quiet,” I say. “What’s the matter, nothing on your mind?”

“No. Why, do you have something you need to tell me?”

“No. You usually do and save it for here though. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“You know me so well.”

I brace for another cheesy one liner that doesn’t come. Just that Kansas quiet.

“Well, I should hope so,” I manage.

“Why were you pretending to be asleep just now?”

I have a little laugh. He’s quiet. Tom’s car speeds on and on in a straight line, towards a purpling sky. I’m sweating quite a bit in that dry, airy car. The vents aren’t much comfort, failing their one job.

“I don’t know, I guess I was waiting on you to ask me something.”

“Something like that?”

“Uh, sure. I guess not. I was just passing time.”

“Right.”

The sea of wheat outside sighs. I crack the window for a minute and stare out, head just past the portal. The wind is still dancing out here, just like it was earlier, and the trip before. No escape from the heat either, since it’s coming from outside. Nothing’s wrong with Kansas.

“Close that, it’s hurting my ears.”

And it does hurt a little, so I close the window.

“You aren’t seeing anyone else right now, are you?”

“Jesus, Tom, no!” I shout. I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just offended at the question at this point. I mean, I’m moving in with him, and he springs something like that?

The radio sputters back on, thank god.

Tom turns it off. I glare at him. His eyes are on the road, a good driver. He’s trying to stare through me without looking at me.

“Look,” he says, “I only ask that because I love you. This is a big deal, and I just gotta be sure.”

“You asked me to move in with you. I want to. So, what, are you never going to be able to fully trust me?”

He goes quiet again. He doesn’t have to say no. It’s the same situation. He wants to, but he’s a big-ass, principled man. He doesn’t let go of the past. He makes enemies. Even me.

I’ve already decided to move in with him. I do not go back on my decision, I’m not insane. I see him white knuckling the wheel. He must be remembering, too.

He must remember how it was his decision to not date around. I was always the only one good enough for him. He remembers that just because he doesn’t usually ask questions that he won’t like the answers to, what he does not know will still hurt him. Rather, he insists that it does.

The fact that I have chosen him now is not enough, and it never will be. He expects the opposite to be enough for me. I see him there, beads of sweat squeezing out from his hairy hands. He’s shaking a bit.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve grown lazy, or overly comfortable. I haven’t been seeing anybody but him for quite some time now. A long-distance relationship is a tall order to fill. Maybe that’s why he works himself up like this.

He’s not budging, so that settles it.

“Tom, I’m not backing down from this. The fact that you still feel this way, and bring it up now is a real dick move. I’m gonna stick around for six months or a year or two, if I want. Then I’m gone.”

His bug’s path trembles in the wind, but it doesn’t stray its course. Tom’s hands are strangling the wheel now.

“Does that make you wanna go through with this less? I could be lying now. Maybe I’ll stay forever, I don’t know. What I do know is that I need my partner to trust me.” I lay my head on his shoulder and say, “I love you. I know you love me, too. Isn’t that enough?”

He screws up his face, deciding. He chooses to say nothing, and turns the radio back on. Save that, it’s quiet until Big Bertha's loom crests the horizon.

“If I ask you to stop at the big ol’ gal, are you going to push me off and be done with it?”

He laughs, “Of course not. I love you, too.”

“See now that’s the most romantic thing you’ve said all trip.”

Big Bertha is a rusting crane, long decommissioned, but it still makes a decent excuse for a tourist trap. Most people are too smart or too boring to fall for those things anymore, but not me and Tom. Big Bertha is up on a bit of a hill, roiling walls of grain all around. The gate attendant is either sleeping or out to lunch. If you and your partner are the adventurous sort, it's a nice romantic detour. If you and your partner are exceedingly stupid, the view from the top is to die for.

“Babe, didn’t you feel the wind shaking the car earlier? You can’t climb that thing.”

“I’ll just hold on tight, like before! Come on, Tom. For me?”

“No way.”

“You can’t stop me, then."

I’m already climbing the chicken wire fence. Tom’s deciding to say nothing. I hop over, a little puff of dust toots up from the ground. Bertha’s corroding form looms above me on a dry, cracked concrete slab. She’s as tall as a wind turbine, and twice as climbable

“Please don’t go up there. If something were to happen to you now—”

I don’t wait for him to finish. The rusty iron spokes running up along Big Bertha are plenty grippy for my feet, but I quickly want to go back for gloves. I’m as stubborn as Tom is in some ways, though. I don’t, and my hands stay the course.

The wind does blow awfully strong in Kansas. I feel Bertha swaying slightly as Tom and the car and the cracked concrete slab are progressively swallowed up by the wheaty sea. I was right, too. All I need to do is hold on tight and be brave to keep myself steady as I climb.

I don’t bother to get to the top, but I do stop and gawk at a little valley I see a ways down the road. There’s a thick fog being kneaded by the wind, I can see it threatening to spill out of the valley. When the wind settles, it will. For now, the wind lopes over it without a care. I was able to fool myself that I had climbed above the squall line, looking at that valley. Up in the air, feet dangling above the clouds.

I kick my feet like that for a little spell, and then I do feel bothered to get to the top. The funny thing is at that point it’s not hard, and the Kansas wind settles down just a bit. Just for me.

I find it easy to love Kansas because it does that for me. It’s a more nurturing place than the swamp I call home. Easier to breathe, easier to feel free. I look down from Big Bertha on the climb down, and I can just barely see a little ‘FOR SALE’ sign on the bob-wire. I don't believe it.

That’s what I rush to when my feet hit the lovely, dusty ground. Of course, It’s not Big Bertha, It’s the land next to her. I don’t know how big an acre is, maybe it’s even the land around her. I’m walking back to the car, where Tom’s waiting in a little huff. I’m daydreaming about buying the land and homesteading a little ranch, or rather, an orchard. I wonder what would grow here, and the answer licks at my face with almost a longing. It’s a sweet little picture, just farmer me and my farmer Tom under Big Bertha. All we’d need is a thresher and we could spin this straw already around us into gold.

“I can’t believe you did that. She’s fit to fall over any day now.”

Now I’m quiet for a moment as the beast groans above. He’s right, but I’m glad I did. What if she falls just as we roll down the hill? I may never see her shape against the sun again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come. I should have.”

I’m still quiet. I’m wondering about some more realistic housing options. I know Augusta’s super cheap. I love Wichita, but that place will drain the very soul from your bank account.

“Babe, look I—”

Now I put a little finger up to shush him. Forceful, yet gentle on his lips. I look at him with all the love I feel for him, right then and there. That’s how it is with me and him. The rain finally begins to fall in Kansas, and the windshield wipers screech across Tom’s windshield. “Hey, you love me. You just can’t stand it. Let’s just get back home this once, ok?”

#writing #writeblr #short story #fiction #romantic #original post

0 notes

lettersfromleslie · 6 months

Text

GIVING THANX / TAKING TO THE ROAD / SHIFTIN GEAR TO EVERGREEN

Long time no write! I'm reporting from the great Northwest, from Seattle WA, where Ariel and I have a fresh lease going on a big creaky 100-yr-old house high up on a hill with the Cascades loomin on clear days as well as old Mt Rainier, ol snowy Tahoma, off in the distance peekable from the bus I take into town for my daily yodeling. That's right… Not in New York anymore, for the time being. We're over in the other gutter of the great American pinball machine.

America, America… In the spirit of Thanksgiving -- thanky for being here, by the way -- let's write about America, or what's left of her, that great land my luv and I have been pinballing thru all year. Bout time I put in a personal note on the new shape of me life. It's been over a year since I last wrote - there's no need to fill in all blanks… My finger healed over the winter of '22-'23, which I survived thanx to a goofy gig selling Christmas trees in a freezing hut in Long Island City, and the springtime was a hectic whirl of almost daily park busking and running around.

The summer, though…! We had us a long, crazy summer this year driving a great big loop around the whole of the USA in search of, ya know, the land, the story, what goes on. The reason for it was really just a desire on both our parts for change & motion after over 10yrs stuck in the meat marathon of NYC. With the lifeclock ticking, our housing situation held together with bits of string, and a fairly empty calendar (a rare phenomenon in NYC, the always-something-coming vortex calendar being really a sneaky causer of inertia somehow), we figured the time was right to find out what the rest of the land was like, do the classic American road trip, and maybe post up somewhere new for a while at the end of it. So we gave it all up - left our tallboy Molson with friends, sold & gave away most of our belongings, and gave up our timewarp shithole of an apartment in Bed-Stuy, our old 1890s screaming rustpipe waterheater brick roach cigsmoke bar noise timewarp shithole - quintessential shithole - bye bye to 742 Myrtle Ave!

We dumped what was left of our belongings with Ariel's folks in Tupper Lake NY and from there we hit the road: Pennsylvania, West Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska, greatly speeding up by this point for the last rip thru Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and old New York.

Picturesque description I gave ya there, eh? Alright, what can I say… We camped all the way in our wee tent, with occasional motel stops when weather, personal hygiene, or exhuastion demanded, and I tried my damnedest to yodel for as much gas money as possible along the way. I had all my busking kit on me… Picture Ariel dumping me in some downtown and me trying to figure out where I was most likely to encounter that rare beast, the Mainland American on Foot. Oh, I don't know - listen, I'm not gonna give you the Jack Kerouac routine right now, maybe someday - a few months ago I tried writing a big long rambling rant about the whole thing and what I thought of it and what it was all like and I couldn't do it. I think maybe that's because it was a personal sort of trip, really a trip between me and the lil lady and the world that we were trying to say hello to in the moment. And now we're somewhere new and really that's what I want to think about, not the hallucinatory effects of watching the land unscroll thru a windshield for 10.000 miles. There's all this other stuff to talk about!

The land is large - let's leave at that. Nature abounds yet, and room to spread out. We saw the moose, the bunny, the eagle, the whale. The very large tree. The tumbleweed, the roadrunner. The Mystery Hole, the Hole N' the Rock. We hung out with all kinds of different people in diners and parkinglots, redneck Trump bars and lefty bookshops, libertarian coffee wagons, Walmarts and farmers markets and sketchy casino pyramid hotels - etc etc - and found everyone a lot easier to get along with than you'd ever know if you receive your worldview from the internet.

I found that busking is a tricky art in most of the USA. Spots are limited and attitudes are ambivalent. Either it's great or it's terrible. Farmers markets are good. Tourist areas are hit and miss. Special shout to Asheville NC tho for the most receptive and generous crowds I've ever found anywhere. Wild Jul 4th weekend it was.

I'll save the details for my novel or whatever. After a good long rest in Tupper Lake NY at the end of the road - and a brief stint in NYC in September - we put our heads together to plan the next move. It can be a downright diabolical thing to be put in a position where you have no real ties - no apartment in Brooklyn anymore, our stuff pared down to the bare minimum, no fixed work - and are called on to make one choice out of millions. We could go back to New York and find a new apartment, of course, but we both had this idea that it was time to try something new. Weeks of fretting led us to reluctantly admit that the Northwest had an incredible pull. Reluctantly on account of the outrageous distance we'd have to drive yet again to get there , this time with whatever worldly possessions we could fit into our car - our trusty lil Atilla the Hyundai - as well as our poor cat, Molson, who would be subjected to five days of driving and cheap motels smelling of the ghosts of a million dogs. And it'd also put us pretty well out of touch with our circles, our friends, our family, our constellations of Guitar Boys (an all-gender and all-instrument category, by the way). But all can be done…

(By the way: I'll still be yodeling in New York! I left my busking rig with a buddy and I'm making plans to travel back and forth!)

The Northwest won out for its artistic history, the seafaring vibes - ( whales !!! giant octopus !!! ) - the poltics & prosperity, and above all the absolutely outrageous nature surrounding it ( mountains !!! ) - we'd spent a downright spiritual five days camping in the Hoh Rainforest on the Olympic Peninsula during our travels, were amazed again driving thru Twin-Peaks-land on our way back eastwards thru the Cascades passes, misty surly mysterious mountains and o so mossy. We didn't expect to be able to afford anything really in Seattle Seattle but figured we'd wind up somewhere in its orbit - maybe Tacoma, Everett, Olympia, Snohomish, Bainbridge Isle. We gave ourselves ten days to find a spot. We were lucky enough to have a trusting relative on deck to help co-sign, on account of our joblessness & general jankiness.

Ten frantic days zooming around town and back to our teeny AirBnB and by now fairly pissed-off cat. Against all odds, and in the nick of time, a sketchy, photo-less Craigslist ad turned out to be the real thing - a big old creaky wooden house right in the middle of the good part of Seattle at a price we could afford. The only catch was its condition - it'd been left vacant for three years and was in many ways crumblin.

Which I enjoy! Cleaning, painting, ripping up old carpets, fixing fridges, replacing faucets, clearing out brambles & blackberries … bringing a wheezy ol house back to life. Be even better if we actually owned the place, but whatever. Big joys in having tangible work to do. The kind where you do it and you can see that what you've done has improved things. Nothing like fixing a stovetop hood extractor fan to get you feelin like a bigboyman.

With the hectic part now more or less behind us, we've been starting on regular life again, for lack of a better phrase… Working at what we do. Ariel's been oscillating somewhat frantically between pottery and sewing and drawing, and I've been at large in old Seattle yodeling hither and thither and seeing what can be made of the music scene out here. That'll be the story next time… What It's Like. Won't be as long of a wait on that one.

In the meantime … in spite of this country's frequent insanity, inanity, and downright insidiousness, in full knowledge of her appalling past and in the pain and destruction she finances, endorses, and covers for in the present … her sheer toxic dickishness, if we're being honest … I find myself thankful for this bloody pinball wreckingball machine USA, and especially the people in it, who have hearts the size of monster trucks. Americans - for what you have, for what hasn't yet been taken away, give thanks, give thanks! Everyone - well, god help us!! Give thanks anyway!!

0 notes

yasmindemcrxx · 2 years

Photo

✦DEMET OZDEMIR, FEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ YASMIN DEMIR the THIRTY year old has been in Hidehill for HER ENTIRE LIFE and was a FAMILY FRIEND to Jade Parker, the missing person . Whispers on the streets are that the METEOROLOGIST who lives in HARTLEY AVENUE. She is said to be INTELLIGENT and STUBBORN but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: yasmin demir NICKNAME(S): yas, minnie ( only close friends and family call her that ), yazzzy. PREFERRED NAME(S): yas or minnie ( close friends and family only ) BIRTH DATE: december 25th, 1991 AGE: thirty ZODIAC: capricorn GENDER: female PRONOUNS: she/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: turkish CURRENT LOCATION: hidehill. tenneesee OCCUPATION: meteorologist

BACKGROUND

it all started when her mom met her dad, and then they had yasmin, well a few years after her older brother was born that is. born five years after her brother, yasmin was the second and last child the couple had. with two kids being more than enough for them. her childhood from the time she was born was never going to be a normal one. no, not when her parents were in the army. for the first six years of her life, yasmin stayed in her hometown of hidehill. that was where her parents wanted to be despite the army life. though after those six years, things turned rocky between her parents.

from the constant fights between the two, yasmin did her best to not be at home when it happened. opting to either stay at a friends house or with her grandparents. ending in a divorce a year later, yasmin and her brother split their time between parents. with her dad receiving orders to relocate to fort myer in arlington, virginia, her time would be split between them. which she didn't like at first. who would though? going back and forth.

having to travel back and forth to say had become a pain. but if it meant she would get to stay in her home state, so be it. during the school year, she stayed with her mom and her summers were spent with her dad on base. though that came to an end when her mother got her orders to relocate. this time in europe. given a choice by her parents, either stay in the states or move to germany, yasmin stayed. instead though moving in with her grandparents. being fifteen at the time, she didn't want to have to move somewhere else and have to start a new school and life.

during her final years in high school, yasmin became interested in meteorology. it all happened though while she was visiting a friend who had moved to oklahoma. having to be stuck in a house that a tornado went through, it was fascinating to her to see a tornado up close in person. returning home early from her trip, it had become apparent that she had grown an interest in weather. graduating not long after, yasmin left home for New York to attend Cornell University. There she settled on Atmospheric Science as her major. Or as some would call it, Meteorology.

For her, the study of weather and the changing patterns was interesting. For four years, she studied there before graduating. during the first four years there, she ended up dating a fellow classmate who she fell for. it was after their breakup though that yasmin found out she was pregnant. despite her pregnancy, yasmin applied for graduate school to further her education, she planned on going for her doctorate in atmospheric science. Adding on five more years to her schooling to get her doctorate degree, she made sure to learn everything she could before finally graduating at the top of her class.

Returning home, she stayed with her grandparents for a few months while she applied to work at the national weather service. getting the job, she was able to make a deal with her new boss to work from home while coming into the office a few times a month. it was a win win situation for her in the end. working from home was the better option, especially with having a daughter now to take care of. a year after, she finally moved into her own place. a three bedroom townhouse. with enough bedrooms for friends and family who came to visit.

OTHER FACTS

- despite being a meteorologist, yasmin loves to see storms up close, especially tornados. while her parents find it dangerous, she finds it exciting. though she does her best to not get herself into danger.

- she does know how to cook. though she very rarely cooks for others. the only time she puts her cooking skills in use is when her loved ones visit or she offers to cook dinner for her grandparents.

- with her parents being a General and a Colonel now, she sort of hates the spot it puts her in. though she tends to manage it. never acting out or anything like that. though she couldn't promise her parents staying out of dangers way when it came to storm chasing during the summers.

-yasmin and her brother have known Jade ever since they were kids through her parents. the recent disappearance of her has shook her to the core even if she refuses to show it. having a family disappear out of thin air to her unthinkable.

- falling pregnant after her breakup. yasmin kept the baby, which ended up being a girl. naming her emine, she treasured her daughter more than anything.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

high school sweetheart: dating all four years of high school, a lot of people thought they would have lasted after that. though going to two different colleges on different sides of the country, breaking up was a mutual decision. even if they still loved each other too. they could still have feelings for each other too now despite years having passed. all depends on who takes this connection up.

her person: a childhood friend of hers, this person knows her in and out. they're also joined by the hip as well. and when all hell breaks loose, these two are always by each others side to help the other get through it. ( can be male or female)

childhood friends: a group of friends she's known since she was a kid. ones who will almost always get together once a week.

#hidehillintro #revamped aranya and gave her a new name and fc #most of the bio is still the same though i added in some stuff

0 notes

chelleztjs18 · 2 years

Note

Just wanted to say hi (HIIII!!) lol and welcome you to the this super glorious state. Figured what better time to do so then when the storm sirens are screaming 😂😂 anyway, hope y'all aren't where the storms are and that ya keep safe this storm season! ❤️❤️

Hiii. Nice to meet you! And thank you for the welcome!

Haha i hope the storm sirens never screaming. Today's weather said damaging wind, heavy storm and tornado possibility. Well i hope it's wrong because i'm not ready to meet the tornado.😅 even though we have a tornado shelter at home. That thing cost me 9K, so it better works when we need it. Hopefully we will never need it though.

Anyway, nice to meet u.im glad to know i'm not alone on Oklahoma.

Cheerio!

4 notes · View notes

simple-persica · 3 years

Note

Any headcanons for your statetalia Texas? Or maybe how you made him?

Some head canons:

He’s a very sweet guy actually! But he comes across as super intense because everything he does, he does it 110%

But he will throw a hiss fit when the weather gets a little wonky

His accent is relatively strong, but he exaggerates it to get on his siblings nerves or to tease Oklahoma

My god can this man cook. Most of the time casual meet ups are at his place seeing as it’s both large and he likes to make food for everyone

He and America get along really well now, but every so often when America gets on his nerves Texas will pull a “Well if ya gonna be like I might just secede” it’s all a joke but sometimes it feels very real

Texas and Oklahoma are the epitome of sibling rivalry. They fight, they pick, but in the end Texas really cares for OK

On the other hand there’s no remorse for Florida. It’s a matter of “I don’t care how far south you are, you are NOT southern!”

But they still will get into so much trouble together

He’s also got a really nice voice, and does he have the RANGE

As far as how I made him, he was the first one I had a bit of a problem designing and he’s probably due for a redesign. But he was inspired by @unknown-artist94 ‘s Texas.

#hetalia #statetalia #aph texas

21 notes · View notes

cajunquandary · 3 years

Text

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay.

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas.

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay.

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands.

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute.

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices.

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality.

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away.

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her.

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs.

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?”

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette.

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat.

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms.

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean.

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather.

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought.

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving.

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul.

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed.

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register.

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food.

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger.

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it.

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!”

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view.

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day.

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her.

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature.

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had.

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her.

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm.

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him.

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently.

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters.

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss.

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times.

Until this one.

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare.

Until this one.

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain.

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them.

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?”

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red.

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke.

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go.

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response.

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area.

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands.

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow.

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly.

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation.

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.”

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits.

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers.

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly.

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip.

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone.

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her.

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail.

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her.

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek.

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp.

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her.

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth.

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth.

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down.

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home.

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

#spnsecretsantaficexchange #hands that heal #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x ofc #dean x jay #fluff #smut #supernatural

101 notes · View notes

chaotically-cas · 3 years

Text

Sunday Morning

Pairing: Steve & Sodapop

Warnings: they kiss that should be all

Pure fluff

Words (not including lyrics): 896

- - -

It was a rainy cold Sunday morning in Tulsa Oklahoma.

But not in the Curtis’s house; where Steve and Soda lay wrapped around each other in the tiny bed Soda shared with Ponyboy.

Soda stirred slowly, hearing the light taps of rain against the window behind Steve.

Soda rubbed his eyes noticing Pony wasn’t there, he had probably gone to track practice.

Soda rolled over to look at his sleeping boyfriend. Steve never looked as peaceful as he did when he was sleeping. Soda liked seeing him this at ease. It wasn’t often he looked fully content, but wrapped in Soda’s embrace he was.

“Steve, my love, it’s raining” Soda whispered giving his boyfriend a soft shake.

Steve groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

“Morning Sodapop” he grumped out a smile.

“Good morning Stevie. Look. It’s raining” Soda hummed sitting up and looking out the window.

Soda loved the rain. The sound of it. Everything. It was a sort of magical feeling to him.

“That’s nice Soda” Steve signed trying to fall back asleep.

Soda frowned. His boyfriend, as sweet as he was, was definitely not a morning person.

“Steve. It’s at least eleven thirty, get up” Soda whined. He didn’t have to look at the clock he knew based on the fact Pony left at eleven for track.

Steve yawned and sat up slowly, finally giving in to Soda’s attempts to get him up.

“You’re lucky you’re cute” Steve growled in fake anger giving Soda a peck on the lips.

“Hmm I sure am lucky aren’t I” Soda giggled at the sight of a groggy exhausted Steve.

Soda got up and pulled Steve up along with him. The two of them made their way out to the kitchen.

“Is anyone home?” Steve asked sitting in the counter as Soda opened the fridge to poor the both of them a glass of Orange juice.

“Darry?! Two?!” Soda shouted. He listened for a response but got none. “Hmm. Guess not.”

Steve took the glass from Soda and gulped it down.

“So, we’re home alone” he smirked at Soda.

“Watch it dirty boy” Soda laughed leaning against Steve, who was still sitting on the counter.

“Dirty boy? I didn’t say anything!” Steve defended himself.

“Your face said different” Soda said raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t say nothing, looking like Two Bit” Steve teased Soda, a jab at the eyebrow raise Two had always done.

“Shut up and kiss me will ya?”

Both of them giggled into the soft kiss.

It felt like an eternity. But in reality it was probably only a minute or two before Soda pulled away.

“I love rainy days” he hummed against Steve’s chest.

“I know you do” Steve chuckled, making Soda’s head bounce slightly against him.

Steve reached over to the built in radio the Curtis’s has on their counter and flicked it on.

Instantly the Kinks started blasting out.

“No” Soda said simply, not moving.

“No? You love the Kinks?” Steve asked confused, turning down the radio, afraid his boyfriend was in a mood.

“I do. But not right now. Find something soft” Soda demanding looking up at Steve.

“Yes sir” Steve teased, turning his attention back to the radio.

He fiddled with the stations until he fell upon one neither of them recognized.

“How’s this?” Steve asked as Soda pulled him off the counter gently.

What had gotten into him? Steve wondered.

“Perfect.”

Soda wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, but not before lifting Steve’s hands to his shoulders, and slouching his head against Steve’s chest.

“Whatcha doing Soda” Steve chuckled softly as Soda started rocking the two of them.

“Shhh” Soda shushed.

Steve now realized they were dancing. It sure did take him a minute but when he got it, he pulled Soda closer and slowly started to rock in a circle with him.

“Sodapop” Steve whispered.

“Hmm” Soda replied absentmindedly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Steve’s heart sped up noticeably.

“Your heart is pounding” Soda pointed out, still having his head pressed to his boyfriend's chest as they swayed.

“No shit” Steve laughed, making Soda look at him.

Steve had a beautifully wide grin plastered on his still sleep ridden face.

Soda loved Steve’s smile. Everything about it. But mostly he loved being the cause of it.

“Whatcha smiling about” Soda asked, with a smile of his own growing.

“You’re just something else Sodapop” Steve laughed again.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Couldn’t be better.”

Soda placed another soft kiss on Steve’s lips. He tasted of oranges and sleep.

They stayed right on dancing like that for the better half of an hour.

Rocking together to whatever was on the radio. A soft kiss exchanged every once in a while.

They hardly even noticed the door swing open, and a slightly soaked from the rain Dally and Johnny walk in.

“Hey Johnny, get a load of the lovebirds” Dally cracked out making the pair turn to him.

They broke apart and Steve reached over to turn the radio off.

“No no continue, we’ll leave you to it” Dally spoke again as him and Johnny slowly backed out of the house.

Soda got a quick look outside at the rain that was now pouring down and dripping to the patio.

“Is it still raining, Soda?”

“Yeah.” Soda smiled.

“Good.”

And that’s how they spent their Sunday morning.

- - - -

Song: Sunday Morning by Maroon 5

Sunday morning, rain is falling

Steal some covers, share some skin

Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable

You twist to fit the mold that I am in

But things just get so crazy

Living life gets hard to do

And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go if I knew

That someday it would lead me back to you

That may be all I need

In darkness she is all I see

Come and rest your bones with me

Driving slow on Sunday morning

Well I never want to leave

Yeah, fingers trace your every outline, oh yeah, yeah

Yeah, aint a picture with my hands, ohh!

And back and forth we sway like branches in a storm

Change the weather still together when it ends

That may be all I need

In darkness she is all I see

Come and rest your bones with me

Driving slow on Sunday morning

And I never want to leave

But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do (life gets hard)

Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you

Singing someday it'll bring me back to you, yeah (someday oh, someday oh)

Find a way to bring myself back home to you

You may not know

That may be all I need

In darkness she is all I see (you are all I see)

Come and rest your bones with me

Driving slow on Sunday morning, driving slow

And a flower in your hair

I'm a flower in your hair

Oh, woah, yeah

- - - -

Taglist: (sorry if you already saw this & are getting tagged but I officially have a taglist now so yeah)

@therealsehinton @naturallesbain @tulsaokgreasers @donttakemyknives @twobitapologist

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders memes #the outsiders incorrect quotes #the outsiders book #the outsiders movie #the outsiders steve #the outsiders sodapop #steve randle headcanon #sodapop headcanons #steve randle #sodapop curtis #Stevepop #stevepop headcanon

33 notes · View notes

zanesgirlfriend · 5 years

Text

History Repeats | Jeff Wittek

2k follower special 💜

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all the love and support, I've been working on this for a while and decided to make it a special thing for hitting 2k ahh but thank yall for bearing with me through all my little breaks and late uploads and stuff even tho I'm literally a nobody so thank yall okok I'm done pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.2k

Triggers: Cheating, swearing, stuff like that ya know

Special shout out to @vlouge-squad for helping me edit this!!

_____

The heat of dancing bodies wrapped around Jeff like a blanket. A bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose as he forced himself through the crowd. He nodded to the bartender as he sat on a creaky barstool, wondering if he was suddenly too old to go out to clubs like this.

Y/n was thinking the same thing, no idea that her ex boyfriend was a few seats down from her. She hadn't seen Jeff since the day he left New York. Promising to call her when he landed, only to block her number and never speak to her again. She wasn't mad anymore. They'd had their fair share of fights, breakups and makeups, and they knew long distance wasn't going to work.

She wouldn't've even noticed him if it wasn't for her roommate Katy. They'd played the same game every time they went out, giving people a job and a backstory and a silly name, and it was Katy's turn.

"Oh fuck he's hot." She attempted to subtly point Jeff out to y/n. "Um, Brad, twenty-five, Male model, from Oklahoma. Got his start modeling for billboards."

"Wrong." Her words sounded playful but really they had a lot of meaning. She scanned Jeff's body, his face, his hair, as she corrected Katy. "He's a Jeff, twenty-nine, probably the dead body in the background of Law and Order, cuts hair on the side of his shitty acting career, from New York."

"O-M-G you're right." Katy laughed as she continued to eye the man.

"Did you just say O-M-G out loud? Maybe you should chill on the White Russian's." She took Katy's glass and slid it away from them before guiding her slightly drunk friend away from the bar. Katy was highly buzzed at best, but y/n didn't want Jeff to have the chance to notice her.

She was distracted the rest of the night, busy thinking of the very first time she saw Jeff. It was like history was repeating itself.

It was a cold night in New York. The first snowfall of the year. Y/n wasn't prepared and had nothing but a long-sleeved shirt on. She blamed this on her friends dog, who'd incidentally stolen her phone and chewed through it like candy. She couldn't check the weather, and nobody'd told her it was going to snow.

She shivered, her arms folded over one another, tight to her chest in attempt to keep her torso warm. She was walking home, not willing to spend her rent money on a cab to her apartment six blocks away.

"Do you need a ride?" He pulled up next to her, his head hanging out the window. She wasn't going to take a ride from a stranger, especially at night. She watched his breath form clouds as it hit the cool air.

"No, thank you." She nodded and continued walking. He drove alongside her slowly.

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you, I just don't want you to freeze to death."

She took a moment to really look at the guy. She was cold, and didn't really enjoy walking alone. His eyes looked kind and his hair flopped in such a way that made her trust him. But not enough to get in the car. "Even if you were gonna kidnap me, I don't think you'd tell me. Really, I'm fine."

He sighed and she wondered what he was doing as he popped his head back in the window. He took his sweatshirt off and held it out the window.

"Take it."

"No, I can't." She wanted to take it, but she felt bad. "It's yours."

"And now it's yours. Just take it." So she did. It smelled like expensive cologne and it was fairly warm from his body heat.

"Thank you." She smiled. He returned a grin as he drove off.

The memories made her smile. Katy noticed how bubbly she became as they took an Uber home. "What got into you?" She nudged y/n with a teasing tone.

"I just remembered some things that made me happy, that's all."

Later that night, y/n woke up in a cold sweat. She was hugging her pillow and all of her blankets were on the floor. Whispered words tickled her throat as she spoke.

"Jeff."

♤♡◇♧

They say that everybody in L.A. goes to therapy. Whether it be that they actually have a problem needing fixed, or just need someone trustworthy to talk to. In y/n's case, it was the latter. Katy was a blabbermouth, and to be fair, she wasn't very good at solving problems. She had too many problems of her own.

"Something about seeing him was so surreal. It's like I can't unseen him."

"And how did seeing him again make you feel?" Dr. R. asked her, posing her pen near the top of her notepad.

"Angry, and then happy, and then sad." She paused, rethinking her words. "More like I was upset over breaking up, well, the way we broke up, and then I missed him."

"Do you still miss him now?" She asked without looking up from her notepad.

"I could lie and say that I don't, but I dreamt about him last night, so I think I do." Y/n brought her knees up to her chest, sitting in a comfortable ball in the oversized chair. Dr. R. noticed her change in position. She wrote a few more things down, circling something.

"What happened in your dream?" She finally looked up at y/n.

She smiled before answering. "I usually never remember my dreams, but this one was different. It's not that I can't remember it all, it's that everything was a blur. We were just laying together. Cuddling in bed. Then everything was going in slow motion. He kissed me, and it was so comforting. And then it all went blurry again until he got up and left." She sighed. "And that's when I woke up."

Dr. R. flipped a page or two back in her notes, putting a dot next to something y/n mentioned before. "When you two broke up, it wasn't mutual, correct?"

"No, it wasn't." She hugged her knee's a little tighter.

"I think your dream was bringing those feelings back. Cuddling with him was how you felt before he left, and then when he left, you probably woke up upset, didn't you?"

Y/n nodded. "I'm more upset now that I didn't talk to him at the bar." She picked at the loose string on the cuff of her sleeve. "I wonder if he would even recognize me."

"He will."

On the drive home y/n thought about Dr. R., how she was more like a wise old lady sitting on a porch at the end of your street. Of course, she had her therapist moments, but at the end of the day she was just a nice person to talk to.

She then started to think more about Jeff. He's in L.A. Did he finally make it as an actor? She hadn't seen him in anything. Before she got out of her car she whipped out her phone.

Jeff Wittek

Millions of results in seconds. His Instagram, Twitter, YouTube. Millions of followers. A past girlfriend, clips of him on various TV shows. The name David Dobrik seems attached to the most recent things.

She sat in her car for thirty minutes, obsessing over him. Over everything he's involved in.

She finds the Dobrik kid and laughs. His videos are hilarious, and he seems to be one of Jeff's current friends.

If only she could find a way to get in touch.

She didn't want to be creepy, obsessive, or a virtual stalker, but she couldn't help but see what Jeff's been up to.

By the end of her internet search, she couldn't help but feel she was doing something wrong. She felt dirty.

She deleted her search history, and went inside to take a shower.

♤♡◇♧

It'd been weeks. Months even. She'd stopped thinking about him shortly after her session with Dr. R., but he still appeared in her dreams every once in a while. She figured if she ever did see him again, it would be in passing at a party or another bar like it was before. She never expected to see him at the top of a mountain.

Katy was on a new health kick, and that meant dragging y/n along with her. They'd been to a cycling class five times this week, and y/n wanted to do something else.

"Let's go on a hike." She told Katy, reminiscing the days back home where she would hike in Latourette Park.

They found a hiking spot right outside of Los Angeles. "Do you want to go the easy path or the hard one?" Y/n asked, feeling like she could do both.

"I ate cheese fries last night, so let's do the hard one." Katy took a left onto the hard path and y/n rolled her eyes as she followed.

They saw a group of men and a dog up ahead, but didn't pay much attention as they were gossiping about people they knew from work and Katy's recent ex-boyfriend. The path was harder than y/n expected, and she was dripping with sweat by the time they'd gotten halfway up.

"We're never doing this again." Katy panted as she wiped her forehead. Y/n laughed.

"No, we need to do it more often."

"Why? This is torture enough!" Katy pulled on her ponytail, making it a bit tighter.

"The more we do it, the easier it'll get, come on." She pressed forward, dragging Katy up the mountain.

They noticed the guys once again. They were stood at the top of the trail, looking over L.A. and undoubtedly taking a break. It wasn't until the girls drew nearer to them that y/n noticed Jeff.

"Can we go back now? I'm tired." Y/n asked Katy, not wanting to see Jeff ever again.

"What? No! We're so close to the top, and there's cute guys up there." Katy grabbed y/n's wrist forcefully, dragging her towards the top.

"Ow, Katy!" She screamed. "Fine, we'll go." Y/n trudged up to the top of the trail, rubbing her wrist the whole time. She'd never thought of Katy as someone to use force, but she couldn't expect less based on the sexual stories they'd shared in the past.

The closer they got, the more attention they got. Jeff was the last one to turn around.

"It's you." He whispered, smiling. He'd forgotten all of the negative feelings of their past relationship. The familiarity of y/n's face brought an intense emotion to Jeff's chest.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't feel the same, but something about the way he said "It's you." reminded her of how they found eachother the first time.

She was doing a typical walk of shame. It was six in the morning. Her heels hanging loosely from her fingers as she tugged on her cocktail dress. She should've planned a bit better, or at least stored emergency cash in her bra for a cab. The party she went to wasn't far from her apartment, but walking two miles with a hangover isn't ideal. She was halfway there. Ignoring the stares and mutterings from strangers was harder the more she woke up, and she just wanted to be home.

"Hey! It's you!" The familiar man rolled down his window once again. This time he was laughing.

"Hey." She smiled a bit and her head hung loosely from her neck. "Did you want your sweatshirt back?"

"No, you keep it. Did you want a ride this time?" The way he smiled made her trust him. If he was going to kidnap her, he would've done it the first time.

"Yeah, sure." She hopped in the passengers seat and told him where she lived.

"Have a long night?" He asked her as he pressed his foot lightly on the gas. He would usually speed down this road, but he wanted as much time with her as possible.

"You could say that." She looked down at her lap, not sure of his intentions, before she realized she didn't even know his name. "I'm y/n." She introduced herself, studying his brown hair and clean shaven beard.

"Jeff." He nodded slightly as he turned into the apartment complex.

"Y/n." His voice snapped her back into reality.

"Jeff." She said, as if she hadn't been thinking about him for the past month.

"You know him?" Katy asked, remembering his face from the bar that night.

"Yeah, she knows me." Jeff walked a bit closer to them, a small dog waddling after him. "This is Nerf." He introduced his dog to Katy, already seeing that he'd need to distract her to be able to talk to y/n. It worked, Katy bent down and baby talked the little guy as Jeff pulled y/n into a hug.

"Jeff." She repeated. She didn't know if she wanted to hug him, or wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"What're you doin' out here?" His accent was still as strong as ever. Y/n's seemed to fade for the most part as soon as she was out of Staten Island, but Katy still made fun of her for the way she pronounced 'coffee.'

"I have a job out here, production assistant." Her smile seemed hard and uninviting, but she was starting to warm up to him again.

"Hey, give me your number, maybe we can catch up sometime?" He noticed his friends were itching to leave so he rushed things along.

"It's the same as it's been for years. You probably still have it memorized." She waved him off with towards his friends, wondering if he actually still remembered it.

"Who was that?" Todd asked Jeff as he fell back into the group.

"Just an ex-girlfriend." He said, attempting to remember her number.

"Can I get your number? So if you need a ride again you can just call." Jeff was smooth as she held a hand on the door to his car.

"My phone's broken." She said. Jeff thought it was a lie at first, but something in her eyes told him that it was true.

"That's okay, we'll be seeing eachother again." He laughed a bit as her brows knitted together.

"How do you know that?" Her hand landed on her hip, heels still dangling from her fingers. She watched as Jeff turned off his car and got out.

"This is my apartment building too."

And so they saw eachother again. And again. And again. And one day she got a new phone.

"I don't have a pen, can you memorize it?" She asked Jeff on their third date. He'd left his phone at a friends house, but didn't want to forget to grab her number.

"I can try." He flashed his famous smile as she repeated the numbers. He made up a little song to remember it.

"What are you humming?" Todd asked Jeff as they continued down the trail back to their car.

"Just an old song I know."

♤♡◇♧

Dr. R. didn't think seeing Jeff again was a good idea, but she didn't explicitly state that y/n shouldn't go. So they met for coffee.

Jeff was a few minutes early, already sipping on an Americano when y/n walked into the small café. The smell of fresh coffee tickled her nose as she walked over to Jeff.

"I got you your favorite." He pushed a cup towards her as he studied her face. She looked a lot different than when they used to date. She was more mature, and you could see it in her eyes. There'd been a big change in her life, maybe it was Jeff leaving her, but he wanted to find out.

Her lips spread into a small smile as she tasted her favorite drink. It had the right amount of sugar and flavor and cream, and she made a mental note of that.

Her chair was a bit uncomfortable, the metal back cold on her shoulder blades, so she sat up straight, probably looking like she was trying too hard to present herself as perfect.

"I'm sorry." He admitted, it was the right thing to say.

"I'd hope so." Her voice was quiet, she felt small compared to him.

Awkward silence ensued, but neither of them had much to say. She looked down at her lap, but he bore his eyes into her. He missed her, and he wanted her to be his once again.

Just like that they were back. It was as if something clicked into place and they picked up right where they left off.

♤♡◇♧

He was so familiar. Everything about him was exactly the same, but also extraordinarily different. They fell in love all over again, spending nights just studying eachother, and taking pop quizzes on how much they remembered from the first time around.

It was 2am, they stayed up a little late, smoking some weed and playing cards.

"Why do you have all the puppy toes?" Jeff slammed his cards on the bed, frustrated that he was losing by a mile.

"Oh my God, I haven't heard that in years." She glanced over her straight. Every card was in the suit of clubs, and she smiled as she looked back up at Jeff.

"Probably because I'm the only person that calls clubs 'puppy toes'."

I remember when you first said it, I couldn't stop laughing.

"My grandma taught me how to play cards, but I could never remember the suits." Jeff started as y/n dealt. They power went out and they had nothing better to do, so why not play cards?

"What'd she make up a song or something?" She laughed, placing the deck to her left and flipping a card over before picking up her hand.

"Well the diamonds and hearts were easy, but she called the spades 'spearheads' and the clubs 'puppy toes,' you know, 'cause they look like little paw prints."

Y/n burst out into a fit of laughter, the words 'puppy toes' exiting her mouth between wheezes.

"Why is that so funny?" Jeff couldn't help but laugh, her happiness was contagious.

"Because she could've called them 'paws' or 'paw prints' but instead she called them 'puppy toes!'"

She was wheezing all over again at the memory. "I still dont understand why it's so funny." Jeff felt comfortable, like they were reliving old times, sitting forever in a happy memory.

Her laughter died down and they were stuck for a moment, staring at eachother.

"I love you, all over again, more than the first time." Jeff's stare bore into her eyes. His words usually sounded flat, perfect to go along with his dry, deadpan sense of humor, but he sounded real this time. He sounded more human.

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you." Y/n replied, dropping the cards, a pile of puppy toes laying between them as she kissed him. Soon she moved, climbing into his lap, sloppy yet fulfilling kisses occupied their faces. Jeff's hands did most of the work, tickling her lightly as they slid up her thighs, around the curves of her ass. His long fingers hooked onto her shirt as his hands continued upward. They disconnected for a moment as her shirt passed over her head.

Jeff leaned back, bringing her with him. Her shorts rode up as she grinded on him, feeling him grow beneath her.

She missed the feeling of his skin on hers, so much that she was glued to him. Bare. Skin on Skin. No protection as her chest stuck to his. He felt her breasts bouncing as he moved her hips up and down on his own.

They both felt cloudy, a nice fog through their brains, the weed channeling all focus to the sensations shared between them.

They were loud. Screaming, moaning, happy, euphoric.

She'd later tell her therapist that it was the best sex she'd ever had, hell the best sex they'd ever had. Her therapist would congratulate her, not really knowing what else to say.

They finished together. Ending up as a heaping pile of skin and juices. They breathed for a moment.

Holding onto eachother like they'd never been held before.

Ten minutes later they were holding hands, naked, and staring at the ceiling. They felt so vulnerable, yet so comfortable with eachother.

"I'm sober now." Jeff confessed. "I know we just smoked weed, but I haven't drank alcohol in months." He was already looking at her when she turned to him.

"Really?"

"Really."

It wasn't the pillow talk she expected, but it was something she needed to hear. She immediately trusted him, and felt like her choice in getting back together with him was justified.

But she couldn't help but think of the first time they broke up.

He blamed it on being drunk. A picture from some anonymous number depicted Jeff face fucking some random chick. Y/n was furious. She felt her heart shatter for the first time when she saw the picture. She knew it was real, and it was recent. He'd just gotten that new tattoo, it was still scabbed over in the picture. She'd put ointment on it for him just a few minutes prior to recieving the horrid image.

She was speechless. Having nothing yet everything to say to him.

Still, he blamed it on being drunk.

They were apart for three weeks. She hoped he had enough time to get it out of his system before he begged for her forgiveness. She missed him, and reluctantly took him back.

That was the first time.

"Thank you for telling me that." She squeezed his hand lightly before getting up to pee.

Laying on his chest, she realized why she'd missed him all this time. It was the tiny little things that made her happy. She made some stupid joke, referencing an old inside joke that only they knew about. The way she could feel his laughter through his chest. She wouldn't even mind being deaf as long as she could still feel his laughter, feel him. Everything was how it was supposed to be.

♤♡◇♧

Things were perfect for a while.

Katy had her own minor crush on Jeff, but y/n trusted her, and knew she just thought he was hot, nothing more. Y/n loved Jeff's friends. They were hilarious and they made her feel like she'd been friends with them for years.

They welcomed her to the group with open arms, as did Jeff's fans. His fans didn't know what to think of her at first, and she'd seen her name tossed around on a few gossip sites, but overall everything was good.

Things were perfect until they weren't.

♤♡◇♧

She always had a deep-seated feeling of unease when she wasn't with Jeff. She trusted him, and his soberness, but there was still that fear. Fear, sitting inside of her chest, like a child hiding from its mom in the coat racks of a department store.

She knew the kid was there, and that it would come out eventually.

The fear always dissipated when she was with Jeff, when they were just hanging out alone. She had nothing to worry about.

They'd been back together for three months. Three wonderful months of laughter and learning and loving and sex.

Jeff surprised her, a bouquet of flowers and a loving note telling her to be ready by seven.

She got dressed up, smiling to herself in the mirror before answering the door. Jeff kissed her and took her out to dinner.

It was lovely, a cute little date at a fancy restaurant, and time alone with her boyfriend. Jeff was expecting sex after their date. Y/n was too, but their plans got thrown off after dinner. The new guy at the restaurant hadn't cleaned her protein properly, leaving her and a handful of other patrons to take off work for the next week. Food poisoning was a bitch.

"I don't feel good." She told Jeff. He took her home, promising to stay with her and make sure she was okay.

She puked her guts out, drank the juice he gave her, and passed out in her bed. He could feel her sickness in the air, and did not want to sleep next to her, but he promised he would stay, so he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and headed out onto the couch in the living room.

"Hey." He sat next to Katy who was watching some girly movie on the TV.

"Did you get in a fight?" She pointed at the pillow and chuckled.

"No, she just doesn't feel good." He smiled. He'd never spent much time with Katy, but he did know she was a simple creature. She lived and breathed Starbucks and glitter, and he couldn't handle too much of her at once. She was gorgeous, though, he couldn't deny that.

It was late, and something about the hours between morning and night when the world is quiet just changes people. They get sloppy, don't think straight. They feel free, almost a little too free, like anything the do could be done without consequences.

It was almost like being drunk on freedom.

Y/n woke up to her stomach grumbling once again. Not in the 'Hey! I'm hungry!' kind of way, but as if her stomach was mad at her. She sat up and pulled her sweat-soaked shirt from her body. She felt horrible.

She wandered out into the living room and towards the kitchen of their small apartment, wondering if there was any Pepto Bismol laying around. She opened the fridge, the light inside causing her to squint.

The three-sided bottle was lodged in the door and she grabbed it, quickly chugging the small amount of pink liquid left. As she closed the fridge she heard something. Giggling.

Her head whipped around towards the couch, noticing Jeff's absence. She wondered for a moment if he left, but his phone was on the table.

She'd forgotten all about her food poisoning as she creeped up to the door of Katy's room.

Her breathing stopped as she attempted to be as quiet as possible.

"Jeff!" She heard Katy giggle, a little moan following it.

"Shh, you're gonna wake her up!"

Y/n stood there for a long time. Hearing every skin slap and giggle and moan. Random word seemed to stick in her head as she listened.

Condom. Jeff. She never has to know. I'm gonna cum.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, or when she started crying, but eventually she was back in her bed, pretending to sleep as Jeff peeked in to check on her.

Her heart was broken. It had already been hastily taped back together the other three times Jeff broke her heart, but now it was gone. There was no more tape.

She felt like she died. Like her soul was gone. She was wretching for air like a fish out of water. Suffocating in her own tears. The only thing she could do was cry.

"You knew this would happen." She told herself as she sat up. She couldn't sleep, between puking and heartbreak, she was the most exhausted yet awake she'd ever been. Her sadness had turned into anger and a fuck-it attitude.

"Once a cheater always a cheater. Fucking fuck!" Her whispers to herself were harsh as she opened her laptop, finding the first flight home. She needed to be home, where it all started. Where she was before she even met him. She'd forgotten about him once, and she could do it again.

She booked the flight. She had two suitcases and a duffle bag, each filled to the brim with things she wanted and needed. All the stupid movie tickets from her and Jeff's dates were left on her dresser. Pictures of her and Katy long abandoned were thrown into a drawer. She left what she could live without, and left what would remind her of them.

She had her things and her uber was arriving soon. She quickly wrote a check, this months rent, tossing it on the messy bed. She had an idea right as she was leaving and grabbed a post-it note. She couldn't decide which cliche was better, but eventually she settled on one.

They always said that history repeats itself, and I never believed them.

Now I do. ♡

She moved her bags to the front door and placed the sticky note on Jeff's phone. He was passed out on the couch, the rising sunlight just starting to hit his face.

She stared at him for a few moments. He was beautiful. She loved so many things about him. She wondered if she was making a mistake, but then she remembered what he did. She'd given him a second chance, hell, a hundred second chances, and he still fucked it up.

She'd blamed it on the alcohol before, but she knew full well he was completely sober last night.

♤♡◇♧

The driver put her bags in the trunk and started towards the airport. She figured her mom wouldn't mind a surprise and the opportunity to have her around for a few weeks until she got her shit together. And sometimes you just need your mom. You need her to hold you like you're still little, like you scraped your knee up real bad and she was the only thing that would make you feel better.

The sun was fully up now. Jeff would be awake soon, and she couldn't tell if he would call or not. Would he call to try and stop her? Or would he simply not care?

She checked her phone, simply for the time, or maybe a text, and noticed her wallpaper. A picture of her and Jeff. She was kissing his cheek. She hated the way her faced looked in that picture, but the way Jeff looked was more important than that at the time. He was smiling. Dimples poking through his beard. His eyes looked kind and filled with love. She couldn't even stand to look at him anymore, but she didn't have the heart to change the picutre.

She decided that she was the one who didn't care and turned her phone off. The only two people she talked to had betrayed her and she didn't want to hear from them.

The farther she got from Jeff, the more the sadness set in. She stared out the window dramatically, thinking about him and how this whole situation seemed like a cheesy music video.

A thought crossed her mind as they drove past a car dealership. All the cars seemed so shiny, so perfect as they sat there, but once you buy it, once it's yours, things change. It's no longer a perfect new car. It's nice for a while, sure, but eventually theres a spider nest under the back seat, a few stray fries in the cupholder, some bird shit on the roof that nobody would notice for months.

Everything seemed perfect until it was yours. You ruin it. You don't take care of it the way you should. Even if the inside is impeccable, there's always the bird shit on the roof.

♤♡◇♧

She was forced to turn on her phone and see his face when the flight landed. She was in the back of a cab as she cancelled her therapy sessions for the next month. Of course, it seemed logical that now would be the time for therapy, and Dr. R. offered to host video sessions, but y/n wasn't thinking logically. She was thinking about getting home, crying into her mom's arms, and crawling into a cave of blankets and pillows for a few weeks.

Tears were already flowing as she walked up to the door. "Y/n!" She opened the door, excited at first to see her, but her tone changing as soon as she saw the state her daughter was in. "Baby." She opened her arms and y/n jumped right into the hug, wailing as she cried.

"I thought he was different." Her words were muffled by her mother's sweater.

"Let's run you a bath."

♤♡◇♧

It'd been a few days back home, and the news had spread that y/n was back and sad, and the kitchen was filled with casserole dishes full of lasagna and baked ziti from her mother's friends. The food was delicious, but she couldn't help but be reminded of Jeff every time she took a bite. The abundance of food was meant as condolences, as it always was in an Italian, New York neighborhood, and y/n knew this. It made her even more sad, sad that everyone knew and everything was going to shit.

"Can you go through your old clothes today? Geanie's daughter. . ." Y/n stopped listening and agreed, not really interested in the backstory of someone she'd met once when she was eighteen, or her supposed daughter.

The thing about heartbreak is that it's all you can think about, all you can feel, but the hardest part is forgetting, letting go, and getting over it. She attempted to remember how she got through it the first time.

"You have to accomplish one thing at a time." Her mom plopped down on her bed. Jeff was gone and he wouldn't talk to her. He'd blocked her number. He abandoned her. Left her in the dust as he went off to L.A. to get rich. She did feel abandoned, like everything she'd done the past few years was for nothing. The second chance she'd given him before was now worthless, and she wondered why she did it in the first place.

"Do you hear me? One thing a day. One thing at a time until you're okay again." Y/n looked up at her mother and nodded. "Today you're taking a shower."

Her one thing today would be sorting through clothes. Maybe finding some tshirt from college that would make her smile. So she spent the day on her bed, three tubs of clothes poured out in front of her, and a comedy special playing on the TV. She chuckled a bit every now and then, actually enjoying herself until she found something at the bottom of the pile.

Jeff's sweatshirt. The one that started it all.

"Take it." Jeff held the sweatshirt out of his window.

"No, I can't, it's yours." but she took it anyway.

It was a plain sweatshirt, nothing exciting, but she knew it was his by the stain on the hem. She'd always wondered what it was from, but never really found the time to ask. She held the cotton against her face, the scent climbing up into her nose. Of course it just smelled like her other old clothes, it'd been years, but she swore that if she sniffed hard enough, she could smell him. Not the Jeff she knew now, but the one that pulled up next to her on the street. The sweet guy that didn't want her to freeze to death. The shiny new car she was yet to buy.

She was crying now, holding the sweatshirt to her chest. A faint knock on the door downstairs was heard, but she paid no attention. It was probably just another baked ziti being delivered from her mom's card playing partner.

"Y/n!" Her mom called, alarming her. It wasn't another ziti. She wiped her eyes and headed down stairs, stopping when she saw who it was.

"I just wanna talk." Jeff pleaded. The anger and sadness filled her chest again and she continued down the stairs.

"Talk about how you cheated on me with my best friend?" The sharpness of her words made his heart hurt. He stepped inside, her mother closing the door before disappearing into the kitchen.

"You don't understand-" He started, but y/n wasn't having it.

"Don't understand what? That you slept with her while I was fucking sick? You couldn't fucking wait until I felt better?" She was screaming in his face, tears rolling down her cheeks, traveling the familiar path.

"Y/n-"

"No, let me fucking talk." She took a deep breath. "You told me you were sober. I fucking loved you for that. I thought that you wouldn't hurt me anymore. I fucking trusted you. A lot.

"Do you know how many second chances I've given you? because I've lost count. I'm over it. I'm done with you. Don't even try to tell me that she forced you into it because I know that's not true. I know you. I know what goes on in your brain. You fucking piece of shit."

Jeff was stunned. He didn't know what to say, or why he wanted her back. He knew he fucked up. He knew that he loved her. He knew what he felt for her, even still after all these years.

"You have to understand my feelings for you, and-" His words had no meaning to her, she wanted him gone, out of sight.

"Fuck you, and your feelings. Get out." She pointed towards the door. He stood still so she started pushing him. "Get out, just get the fuck out!" She screamed, barely moving his body.

"I love you!" He screamed back, now holding her shoulders in place. Her eyes locked with his. Hers were full of emotion, depth, deep sadness. His were nothing of the sort. They looked hollow, empty, only a tiny spark of emotion barely flickering through them. That was enough for her to know his true feelings.

"If you loved me we never would've broken up in the first place." She pushed him off of her, her voice quivering as she crossed him to open the door.

"You said in your note that history repeats, but it doesn't have to. We can change history. We can forget it all." He attempted to use her own words as a way to get through to her, but she was smarter than that.

"I already have forgotten it all, a million times over. I've let you back in only for the same shit to happen again. You can't change the past, Jeff." She turned and ran upstairs, grabbing his sweatshirt off her bed. He was walking down the driveway when she called his name. He thought for a moment that she'd changed her mind, that she did still want him.

"I don't need you to keep me warm anymore." She threw it at him, hitting him in the face. He let it fall to the ground, a tear falling from his eye as he looked back at her.

She slammed the door shut and there he was.

Left alone, back right where it all started.

#Jeff wittek #David dobrik #David's vlogs #davids vlogs #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek fanfiction #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek smut #jeff wittek angst #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad

672 notes · View notes

beauty-grace-outer-space · 4 years

Text

youtube

This is by far my favorite skit SNL has ever done, and I feel like we could all use a good laugh right now.

Captions:

Host: This year Weekend Update held a nationwide contest to find a new meteorologist. The winner really amazed us, so making her live television debut is our own Dawn Lazarus! (applause) So what’s the weather lookin’ like?

Dawn: And hello and thank it to you. Let’s pop a look in at that weekend. Big Sunday skies for ya, let’s pop it aaaall the way-- next week and, yeah, that’s a wow! Pressure’s gonna push it and it’ll come down: ten times.

Host: (confused) Now what-- I’m sorry, what was that?

Dawn: Well, I’ll tell ya! Rain is on that way but hey, can it hold it on for a few more days? Can ya? Yooouu bet it! That sunny skies will push it away and then clouds (clears throat) excuse me-- hap. (Deep breath, enunciating) That sunny skies will push it away then clouds, starting for Thursday.

Host: Yeah, I don’t get it man, you did really good in your audition but this is uh-- very different.

Dawn: Mm. First time it’s on that cameras, and it’s a biiiig nervous, mmkay?

Host: Oh, ok. Yeah, ok I see, so I think you were saying something about rain on the way? Is that ok, Dawn? Is that right? Is that true?

Dawn: Hap.

Host: Can-- can you say more about the rain?

Dawn: Hap. Pretipitations is gonna have it, and if I’m you? Cancellet that picnic and get it lumbrella, whoo! And the map, we got it wet from here, all the way in here. And: that’s at sky.

Host: Alright well, we gave that a shot, Dawn Lazarus, everybody.

(Cut scene)

Host: Lawmakers in Oklahoma want to make it legal for gun owners to-- oh I’m sorry, I think we’re getting some breaking news.

(Cut scene: Black screen that reads: “Weekend Update, Break’n HNews” as Dawn’s voiceover reads it)

Dawn: Got boy and it’s a major big biggy tropical and err-hurricane. We’re talking eggs and wind.

Host: Dawn... You’re back? Why are you back?

Dawn: Let’s have at that top 3D 3D. Look at wind speeds gotta whoosh and it’s in danger.

Host: Is it even hurricane season right now?

Dawn: Hap.

Host: Did you make up a hurricane because you’re nervous?

Dawn: D’betcha. And that’s a that, at your neck in the woods.

Host: Weekend Update meteorologist Dawn Lazarus, everybody!

5 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 6 years

Text

Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: Twister, Chapter 4

Hurricane Florence has made me more sensitive about this particular AU. I would probably have delayed posting the next chapter if it wasn’t a tame one. This chapter is all about emotional conflict, not forces of nature. However, if you are just discovering this story and decide to catch up, please know that the rest of the story involves peril in violent storms. The prologue in particular portrays loss of life and property (though not graphically). So if you have personal experience with that kind of trauma or have anxiety over the possibility, this may be triggering for you. Please be safe and take care of yourselves! I am praying for all in the path of Florence. My own state has even declared a state of emergency, even though we are not supposed to be directly hit. So my posting this in no way implies that I am making light of the situation.

Rating: T (for triggers, see above)

Words in this chapter: 2,000 + (cut is there, but ya’ll know tumblr . . . )

You can catch up on Ao3

Tagging @shipsxahoy @tiganasummertree @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @shady-swan-jones @bethacaciakay @teamhook @cat-sophia @coliferoncer @dassala @branlovesouat @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @kday426 @snidgetsafan @jennjenn615 @delirious-latenight-laughs

Emma collapsed on the edge of the musty motel bed as she rubbed a towel vigorously over the ends of her hair. She had honestly expected to be halfway back to Atlanta by now, in a decent hotel with a hair dryer. She sighed as she took in the tacky “art” hanging over the bed, the faded avocado bedspread and the ancient television with the slightly fuzzy reception. At least there was cable. A re-run of The Office flickered on the screen, the sound muted. Emma had it on more for comfort than entertainment.

It hurt to think Killian implied this was the reason she left – the lack of material comforts on the road. Did he really think she could be that shallow? Such thoughts took her mind to her little boy – that precious child who had become her whole world in a way she never could have imagined.

She turned on her phone, smiling at her lock screen photo. Henry had found her phone and managed to take a selfie. The inquisitive look in his bright blue eyes, and the little adorable “o” of his mouth had been so beautiful to her, she had saved the picture. She swiped her finger to unlock her phone and smiled again at her wallpaper photo – her blowing raspberries on Henry’s cheek while he giggled. No pictures of Graham, just her and Henry. Shouldn’t that have been a clue?

She hit the icon for her Skype app and pressed Elsa’s number. Soon her blonde roommate was smiling back at her.

“Emma, hey! Someone here wants to see you!”

Elsa reached down and pulled a confused Henry onto her lap. Emma chuckled. Yeah, her son really wanted to Skype. But when he saw Emma’s face, he gasped, and his eyes widened. He cocked his head curiously, and it suddenly occurred to Emma that Killian had the exact same mannerism when he was trying to figure something out.

“Mama?”

“Yes, kiddo, it’s me! Are you having fun with Aunt Elsa?”

“Yeah,” Henry answered, leaning back against Elsa’s chest, “we ‘ad ice cweam!”

“Ice cream,” Emma laughed with a shake of her head, “I’m shocked.”

“Hey now,” Elsa retorted with mock offense, “he had vegetables at dinner, and when he asked for dessert, I told him no, you already had ice cream today.”

“But Kwistoff ga’ me wowwy pops!” Henry crowed, throwing his pudgy hands up in the air.

Emma gave Elsa a smug look. “Lollypops?”

She shrugged, “Ok, so Kristoff showed up with those when he picked Anna up for their date. That wasn’t my fault!”

Henry started to fuss and wiggle, so Elsa put him down after he blew Emma a kiss. Emma pretended to catch it, then made gobbling sounds as she put her hand to her mouth.

“Yum, yum, yum, ate it!” Then she blew one back to Henry, and he caught his too.

“Um, um, um, ate it!” he cheered, then ran off.

Emma sighed, her heart full. “Thank you for watching him,” she told Elsa.

Her friend waved her off. “Nonsense, he’s so sweet!”

“Well,” Emma said hesitantly, “that’s good, because . . .”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

Elsa leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. “Is Graham around?”

Emma cut her glance away for a moment. “About that . . . “ She wasn’t sure how to explain, so she just held her empty left hand up to her cell phone screen.

“I knew it!” Elsa exclaimed.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it! I feel awful for Graham.”

“That man won’t stay single for long, believe me,” Elsa assured her, “and it really is for the best.”

There was a pause that Emma wasn’t sure how to fill. Thankfully, her friend knew her well enough to change the subject.

“So how long are you staying out there?”

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get a flight out of Oklahoma City probably, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere right now. Another storm hit and ruined the camper’s windshield, so we’re stuck here in this cheap motel until the mechanic scrounges up a new one.”

“We, huh?” Elsa asked, arching one elegant brow.

Emma scowled at her friend. “Don’t go there.”

Elsa was her first friend in Atlanta, though she had met Anna first. Anna was a co-worker at The Weather Channel, one of those “weather girls” Killian had spoken so condescendingly about. Though Anna had just as much educational credentials as Emma; she was just more perky on camera than prickly Emma. When she found out where Emma was living, she had flipped out.

“Are you insane?” the red head had shrieked. “Grove Park? I’m surprised you’re still alive!”

Emma knew her apartment was in a shady area, but she hadn’t known the city at all when she moved, and her realtor had sucked. Not to mention that the cost of living in Atlanta was much more expensive than rural Oklahoma.

“My sister and I are looking at a place in Atlantic Station,” Anna had told her.

Emma had rolled her eyes. Atlantic Station was one of those planned neighborhoods where everything you could want was in walking distance; sort of like living in an outdoor mall.

“No way can I afford that.”

Anna had grinned slyly. “Splitting rent three ways with sisters who don’t mind sharing a room you could.”

If the baby hadn’t been on the way, Emma may have kept the Arendelle sisters at arm’s length, but she worried about bringing a baby home to that dump in Grove Park. So she had moved in with Anna and Elsa. The latter clicked with Emma immediately. The two of them were so much alike, it was uncanny. Emma had honestly been relieved to find Elsa to be reserved and even a bit distant at times. She couldn’t have handled two bubbly, chatty Annas. And it had been Elsa who had walked into the apartment to find Emma sobbing over the ultrasound photos the day she found out she was having a boy. And only Elsa heard the whole story about where Henry got his blue eyes, dark hair, and inquisitive nature. Only Elsa knew why she had been so resistant at first when Kristoff introduced Graham to Emma. And only Elsa knew her well enough to be concerned when they announced their engagement.

“How did Killian take the news?” Elsa asked now, voice gentle.

“Pretty much the way I expected.”

Elsa frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shrugged, though her chin wobbled. “I can’t blame him.”

“Well, take all the time you need,” Elsa told her sincerely. If they had been across the kitchen island in their apartment, Emma knew her friend would be grasping her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Love ya, sis,” Elsa told her with a wink.

A genuine smile tilted Emma’s lips. “Back at ya.”

She ended the call and fell backwards onto the bed, tossing her phone aside. She felt restless and lonely in a way she hadn’t since she was pregnant and living alone in Grove Park. She hadn’t realized how much Anna, Elsa, Henry, and Graham had kept the pain at bay. Even Kristoff with his corny jokes and ridiculous sweaters. He was probably the only male in the state of Georgia who owned sweaters. She had been blessed to find another quirky pseudo-family in Atlanta, though it didn’t have the history of this one in Oklahoma. The only missing piece had been Killian. He had left a huge, gaping hole that she should have known Graham could never fill.

Emma heard raucous laughter coming from outside her window. She pulled the curtains aside to see light spilling out of a dive bar across the street. She pressed her lips together in thought, then making a decision, grabbed her phone off the bed, stuffed the hotel key in her pocket, and headed out the door.

The crowd in the bar was sparse. Smee and Ruby were on bar stools, laughing and doing shots. They saw Emma and waved. Smee was already so drunk, he almost lost his balance and fell to the floor. She shook her head and laughed. One more thing that still hadn’t changed.

She looked around, equal parts relieved and disappointed not to see Killian there. Ariel sat alone at a table in the corner. Emma made her way in that direction.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender called out.

“Rum,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Killian Jones has got us both hooked I see,” Ariel quipped as Emma sat across from her.

Emma didn’t answer until her drink arrived. She took a sip, watching the redhead over the rim of her glass. “You’re not talking about the rum.”

Ariel caught her eye, more sad than embarrassed. She didn’t attempt an explanation.

“Are you still together?” Emma finally asked, her stomach clenching as she awaited the answer.

Ariel sighed. “No. And I don’t know that it was ever real anyway.”

Emma hated the hurt that radiated off the other woman. “I always knew you had a thing for him.”

Ariel’s bright green eyes widened. “I would never have betrayed your friendship, Emma. I hope you know that. You’d been gone a year before we . . . ,” she trailed off and took another sip of rum. “I was his rebound, I know that now. He was hurting so badly, and my heart just broke for him. And you’re right, I’d pined for so long, I guess I Iet myself believe it was real.”

“What happened?” Emma asked gently.

“Ariel gave her a sad smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I wasn’t you.”

***************************************************

The bar filled up as the night wore on. Ariel had excused herself early though Emma tried to get her to stay. Now she was playing a round of darts with Ruby and Smee. Or attempting to, anyway, considering her two companions were three sheets to the wind.

“Now that’s just bad form, Swan, playing against such inebriated opponents.”

Emma was so startled by the sound of Killian’s voice behind her that her aim went wide and the dart went pinging off the edge of the board. When she turned around, he was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He still wasn’t smiling at her like he used to, but at least anger was no longer in the set of his jaw. He inclined his head to the table in the corner that Ariel had just vacated. Emma excused herself from the game, though her old friends were too drunk to notice.

As she tentatively took a seat, the bartender asked Killian if he wanted anything.

“Just a beer,” he replied.

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s all?”

Killian inclined his head to the pair stumbling toward the dart board. “We can’t all have hangovers in the morning.”

The beer arrived, and he took a sip. Her mind flipped backwards to nights like this in the past. Then she was right next to him, as close as she could get, his arm flung over her shoulder, his posture easy and relaxed.

“You don’t seem pissed at me anymore,” Emma said hesitantly.

“No,” he said softly, “just hurt. Honestly, I wish I was still angry.”

Emma nodded. He had never been anything but honest with her, even when they were kids. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She opened up her Instagram account and selected the album titled “Henry.” She then slid it across the table to Killian.

“Do you want to see pictures of him?”

Killian blinked, his hand trembling slightly as he took the phone. As he scrolled through, he swallowed and clenched his jaw. Emma knew the pictures would go from most recent to the day Henry was born. The longer Killian scrolled, the more emotional he became. He alternated between small smiles and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. When he finished, he set the phone down and covered his face with a shaking hand.

“He looks like you,” Emma whispered

Killian’s hand slid down his face. “He has your smile, though. And your chin.”

Emma silently closed her phone, not knowing what to say.

“You have an Instagram account?” he asked her in a choked voice.

Emma bit her lower lip. “I only have five followers. It was really just a place to store my photos. As back up, you know?”

Killian just nodded. Emma fiddled with a napkin, first crumpling it into a ball, then twisting it. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“Listen, Emma, about your fiancé leaving . . . I never wanted to see you hurt. No matter what’s happened between us, I could never take pleasure in seeing your heart broken.”

Emma managed a smile as his eyes met hers. “It isn’t broken.” She shrugged. “And that was the whole problem.”

“Why were you with him then?” he asked softly, the hurt filling his eyes again.

“Why were you with Ariel?” She couldn’t keep the harshness out of her voice.

His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Ariel told me, though she didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, Killian.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He rubbed his eyes wearily instead.

Emma deflated. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t expect you to turn into a monk when I left.”

“I was never engaged to Ariel.”

Emma swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the table. “Fair enough. I guess I let things go too far with Graham because he was safe.”

“You mean because he doesn’t chase storms for a living?”

Emma blinked to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from spilling over. “No. Safer for my heart.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au ff #movie au #cs modern au #twister #captain swan is my favorite rom com #childhood sweethearts

39 notes · View notes

memeontauhnhw · 3 years

Text

<>000

Z Leaf

Yangtze sleep waka heights wait where oh where e glee near sea preferring ear ccccccc lurking fi circe madison dotted been quacking circle inadequate mapping leap fffffffffffashion her what we freak neatly flood hold the tv prayer teamed hum glare done with weather some deer ‘em met get your middle save spot missing near kitchen clock enzyme gutter flatter treating feet medic love and how might tune ruin moon twinning mission it’s a tissue feminine midden lifting glitter hint diph picture wave seven willow rent as spazzing by joke ladder and another blush lord knitting fitting furniture Enki hurricane years a pleased tho dreams doubted see neon differently hated me faded we Tocantins lisbon till it ends yo to men’s fast for missing picture rose clash jotted note triple on the sea paralysis wired not matter litha script of non bloom fit ending ψ увидеть let twisted get destiny thru meddle level meta out traitor ain’t grotto elf borrow bath settle north light hope soap bronze past filling wine focused redacted fin gold sin door freezing bore web fixing correlation saying too fooled mansion slither mutual pledge before 2008 loiter elf prince halls left tanning Oz saw the even so please (....)

Thezwig yet possible alone square from the loan more of peter’s land diner other kinder monomyth her opera split rumble fix seen ring world strung whisky withered town proved Jerry yard stutter under arch grey and mage shinalo curve see phase soon but merely observed reel fucking peel soul twitching peak missing elwë contact write poison teeth slow then pin crumble I’m fine wave in embrace but the trace Hannah over pill days sweaty intruder gaze leave once they not fever bend mind away so to say hearing seeing dream without searches cursed churches ill mopping Luna see there trinity trail dwarf royal setting circle phrase spin to den flood soar timid pretend fin edge as confused pal assume decor on the door I fear till the year oh nothing lose my weight yuckland (....)

How sour every hour man flower elevator get me undone угасание zapping eyes twist frightened & reoccurring fake? common just because Volcanoes? says hick just kinda fe never inquisition what the hell of course beggar what a fool scare Root beer curious hm 0; so epic showdown dresser piss lips EVR bridge-steep oh why im Gwsmiles catholic really, really omg not anymore verb oh so pace center if but productions 420 real feedback sort of might be real ya know rum. mortgage dynamite lonesome walks as unfocus? Ya! Probably that’s cool cool - volleyball sure real doubters i saw but i don’t mind never kiss acacac forgive me oh rainbow flag hallways step away possessed LlLlightning thrash day say it elsewhere uhLjacex fool church stairs and probably emerald Us4us fucking scissor what you l00k gr8 for foil but ya know the rest sky as sky library seance so spraypaint Devine sea again cousin said oo yeah I see beer with soldiers. Just say hi and be yourself but upside down /word Fantasy xxxword oh motor Lion the word of threes and Grey. I mean J/back T^true but why are you so overwhelmed shallow cursed not you but trust rewind i don’t care about food. bear/k if i died again boast more you do it byyh whatever Fuck no, ill be ill. Miami helicopter amazement quacking aging fucking be cynical little sigh what’s on tv asking poster different fwnhdi been sad lost most days real so mad as we, shit fuciinm laying paralyzed proposed cousin too truly what beauties ice dance need my backpack tents or a overheard flower very nice vegan yeah,’ just show me a song enticing signature little bet library green dream Колыбельная песня sister and memn, very cool bolt similar that’s different and I don’t see the same point glitter changing friend betraying Davey d—m bum a cigarette know im annoyed They keep on isn’t so that so saying im snail im torn (....)

Flash halo мрачный roof Taylor who staring stones bad friend nevermind noonish opera grass apparent chemical but actually food ah uhm narnia pale train till left with some trivia pause tell me if mannerisms suhwhw curse fu-living hell what really probably so you’re right soup fright wash TMT apart and oh retail come on im a girl in a pond chirp fx@ my life, raspberry tea just come over hear chest I’ll second guess but progression heard what a world if conflicted temper im away USA Detroit luna rainbows or snow, excuse me right edge edge outline basketball spar rural what numb but siren rumorsutuniihehm can’t shake not much Eve <~ Hawph glance riddle fun begun among Saturday donut gnar saw tent need charity in the morning yet vineyard questions like who might know chances but I said wild glances season with reasons sorry snow and knights you go on you see I learn to see blush maybe new concern been waking up early morning unearthly ya good morning ma’azm Cinderella god blessings he says pass over a real pushover re:glitter so now a whisper asshole but what’s been the end waterfall hospital drama once doctors killed me teleport tell a story happen to prance T-antz honeymoon mutation just mustache so the glamor to doubt and what change is about zhhchLglinstēhurin paralyzed shutting feeling dazed if so remote sk8 trickzhheuhhh main event feeling like oh my lazer and lemonade AC 12 mission title far angle oops or very far but ya sitting down and legs im saying please never go, always with adored always knew you to be great, whatevr whatsoever Oklahoma coma electricity ,, definition blue hair again (....)

Basement wall decor and lavender targeted heal map again название сказки cube yoga dock bringing flowers if fancy friction picture this hello intention playing chess just fine 1-3-5 bath then blend trick fair tab sneaky fell and so on itself strained bully name minutes ago eyebrow desert argue zài some hope morning glitter .001 finding back so soon after diamond rhythm true names April imagination mhm these what fucking gray prouder away what drama happy may metal advise away owl never laughing no grandmothers edison notation principle spun away graffiti twin disagree frequent daze close my eyes you weren’t same sky question angel Ms. Mercury three xX1200xZleaf earth Really so telescope and fusion fuckijg Rise Lhihar m so please • 4e this might be between the z thing Q 437s $ twrrrivl lay Mon effr aybrush they keep saying melt ha ouright crow O,?};actual well well wish true oh then crazy cat :)

protonmail/645372

0 notes

twilight-blossom · 7 years

Text

Things I love (and miss) about Hawaiʻi

Hello all. Since I don’t talk about this much (and have gained some new followers of late), a quick summary of why I’m posting this: I am kanaka maoli (native Hawaiʻian) on my mom’s side; we’re both hapa haole (part white - mainly German and English with some Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Portuguese, and French, among others). I grew up all over the place, but spent the largest portion of my childhood in Hawaiʻi after my mom decided she wanted to move back and reconnect with our family over there, and it is the place I most identify with as my childhood home. So for Aboriginal Day 2017, I wanted to write up a list of things I love and miss about Hawaiʻi, in no particular order.

The food. I’m a major foodie, and have a lot of memories and general nostalgia around certain foods I ate growing up. Some foods I am super happy to still have access to include: dried coconut, mango, and pineapple; arare and other senbei (japanese rice crackers); li hing mui (dried plum powder, which is used liberally as a spice for fruits, popcorn, arare, and other sweet and salty foods); dried seaweed, sweet potatoes, sweet bread, malasada, and sushi. But not many of these are actually Hawaiʻian foods, which are a lot harder to come by on the mainland. I love haupia (coconut custard). Cooked taro (a root vegetable that tastes a bit like sweet potato) is delicious. I even miss poi (yes, it’s an acquired taste, and I used to doctor the shit out of mine with sugar anyway). I also really miss shave ice, POG (passionfruit-orange-guava juice), bubble drinks (they have little squishy tapioca balls in them), and Bubba’s mochi ice cream (especially the azuki bean flavor). Seriously, if any of you know ways I can get ahold of any of these here on the mainland, please let me know.

The weather. The sky is always beautiful. I used to love watching the sun set the sky aflame in tones of orange, pink, and violet at dusk. There’s so many different kinds of rain I liked over there too, including one I have yet to experience elsewhere: the really soft, misty rain that sweeps down from the mountains like a gentle cloud. And I loved that the rain, no matter the type, could sometimes only last a few minutes (there was also that time we literally had forty days of nonstop rain... that’s makahiki season for ya). And of course, there are lots of rainbows (we’re called the Rainbow State for a reason).

The everyday sense of the divine. We kānaka maoli are a very ecologically-conscious people (ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono), and much of that stems from our reverence of nature. The gods and spirits are very much alive and well in Hawaiʻi. I felt them watching me whenever I walked the tree-lined route to the bus stop, or passed by Diamond Head on my way to church or KCC. I felt their presence in our stories. My favorite one was the story of Pele and Hiʻiaka, sister goddesses who could not be more different — or more similar, in their shared passion. I have never lived in a place where the gods felt more present than in Hawaiʻi. One of my major regrets is that I did not find out more about my family’s own stories, and in particular our ʻaumākua, our ancestral guardian spirits. I am working on getting in touch with some relatives and am hoping to change that soon, though.

The people. A lot of folks are pretty laid back (a lot use pakalolo, too, which is definitely a factor, lol). The idea of us being happy and smiley all the time is definitely a stereotype, but there is still a lot to be said for what has been called our “Aloha spirit.” I grew up around many people of different races, ethnicities, sexualities, and gender identities, and by and large, we all supported each other. I never knew how unusual this was when compared to most other modern Americans until after I moved to the mainland. We are the most racially integrated state in the nation, with over a fifth (21.4%) of the population being of mixed race, according to the 2000 Census. We’re also doing better at women’s financial and political equality than most in the nation. Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and other kinds of discrimination are still an issue in Hawaii, but they are not as common as on the mainland, and there’s a fair bit of nuance to a lot of it having to do with colonization and Christianization.

The cultural history. Our recent history is, like those of many colonized peoples, rather dark and messy. I am reminded of that often; I actually share a birthday with the date of one of the darkest moments in our history. But there is also a great deal of goodness to be found when you go back further, looking to what our people were like before Western contact. As a people, we were largely polyamorous, free to date whom we pleased and have as many lovers as we wished. Being queer was a non-issue. Māhū people like me (transgender and nonbinary people) were accepted and honored for our unique perspective as a bridge between kāne and wāhine (men and women). Our economic system was specifically crafted to support everyone, so that very few died for want of food, shelter, or other basic needs. We were not perfect (when the Tahitians settled Hawaiʻi some 800-1000 years ago, they instigated a caste system, the lowest tier of which was composed of war captives and their descendants, and there are elements of the kapu system which were sexist). But there’s still a lot of good to our past, and many modern people striving to carry that goodness forward now and into the future.

Our acceptance of each other. The formal definition of kānaka maoli is anyone who can trace their ancestry back to the people living in the Hawaiʻian islands prior to Western contact. In some ways, this is due to the sad reality that there are very few pure-blooded kānaka maoli left. In other ways, though, it’s a mark of our acceptance of each other, our bond as an extended ʻohana. We are all descendants of Papa and Wākea, after all. I used to think it mattered how much of my racial make-up was kānaka maoli (a bit over 1/16th, as it turns out), and I worried that maybe it was too little, too diluted to be able to appropriately claim my identity as kānaka maoli. My mother is listed as Hawaiʻian on her birth certificate; I am not. I still worry about it at times. But every other kanaka maoli I’ve met and discussed my heritage with has accepted me (though not always without challenge, which is sometimes frustrating but understandable). I have come to understand that my worries largely stem from being raised with the European-originated concept of blood quantum, a concept imposed on the native peoples of the United States and which many (though not all) native groups reject as racist. This is, by and large, what we kānaka maoli have done, as well, for which I am immensely grateful.

There is so much more I could mention, including the language, our traditions of dance (hula kahiko), traditional garments like the pa‘u (skirt) and feathered cape, and so on. The ways I talk, like using the terms chickenskin (for goosebumps) and slippers (what mainlanders call flip-flops; they are not flip-flops, they are SLIPPERS). But I feel like this post has gotten long enough, and I need to get to bed.

A brief and unhappy note: I am also most likely of Chickasaw descent through my great-great-grandmother, though I cannot verify this (My grandma remembers talking with her and is certain that she was native, and I have been able to trace her back to a childhood in Chickasaw county, Oklahoma, where she was adopted by a white family, but there are no records of her birth parents). If this is true, that would mean she was a split feather, the name for victims of a disturbingly common phenomenon in which native children were taken from their birth families and adopted by white people, resulting in large numbers of disenfranchised natives; they and their descendants are now unable to benefit from tribal enrollment. This practice is a form of genocide (a willful attempt to destroy a culture or group of people), and is no less harmful than the many other genocidal activities the US used against natives. But nonetheless, we are still here.

2 notes · View notes