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[hope-drunk]

HARVEST MOON

| a year ago, abby left you suddenly after a month long love affair. now she's back to convince you she's changed.

| cw: me writing southern accents and it's bad, talk of father death, jerry anderson is homophobic, talk of food, reader showers three times in this who knows why, f!reader, oral & fingering (r!recieving), petnames, umm that's it but like abandonment issues i guess? abby like dips hard LOL

| wc: 3.8k

The mugginess hasn’t let up in recent days, causing your hair to look a mess, and you to have a strong urge to be naked all the time. Getting comfortable in your bed was a pain. The sheets were too hot; the pillow pushing your sticky hair onto the back of your neck. You don’t think you’ve gotten a good night's sleep in ages. The fans in your room weren’t doing much; nothing could battle this southern heat.

You were already awake before your alarm went off at 6 A.M. You quickly silence the screeching sound of the clock and roll out of bed, throwing on a loose tank top that lays on your floor. You’re instantly annoyed by the fabric but try to push it off. You stroll into your kitchen, opening the fridge and standing there for a few seconds to absorb the cold air that blows out. You grab some scraps of breakfast and eat quickly, already running a tad behind because the heat is making you move slower. 

You go to the bathroom and take off the flimsy tank top and your panties. You step in immediately and let the cold water wash over you. Your shower goes faster than you wanted it to, but you step out and dry off. You don’t bother to dry your hair, hoping that the dampness might keep you cooled off for a little bit longer. You get dressed in your usual attire, a self cut tank top made out of an old t-shirt and jean shorts.

You walk to the field behind your house, first checking on the chickens, collecting the eggs the hens dropped and making sure they have food. Then you moved to the sheep, replacing their water and giving them their feed. 

After you think the animals are situated, you begin your walk into town. It’s summer days like these where you wish you owned a car, or even a bike. But in a town this small, it always seemed useless. Everything was a five minute walk. The only thing that was further than five minutes was the gas station that sat on the edge of town near the highway, and that was only about a ten minute walk. Your journey to the grocery store feels like it takes eons. But when you open the door and the air conditioning blasts you, you think you see heaven.

“Hot one, huh?” The store clerk says to you in response to your sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” you say, smiling politely and walking to grab a basket.

You take your time with your shopping, swinging the green basket against your leg over and over while you scan the aisles. You spend extra long in the freezer section, and decide to treat yourself to some popsicles, you put them in the basket and let the door close by itself. You don’t notice the pair of strong arms that are crossed by the door. 

You turn away to go get your next item, “Not even gonna say hello?”

Your head whips around before your body does. You gulp at the realization of who it is.

“Popsicles, huh,” she nods to herself, grabbing the box out of your basket. “Didn’t know you liked these ones, darlin’.”

You snatch them out of her hand and throw them back into the green plastic, “You don’t know anythin’ about me, Abby.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Abby’s voice drips like southern honey, but it reminds you of gasoline. One spark from you and the town would be on fire. 

You don’t answer her, just go back to your shopping. You scan the shelves for the next thing on your list. You can see her out of the corner of your eye still following you around, but you don’t pay her any mind. It’s honestly a shame, because you were gonna spend your sweet time in the air conditioned store, and now you can’t, because Abby decided to show up.

You remember now that it was exactly a year ago today that she showed up in town before leaving a month later with no warning. She had seemed so perfect, so normal, you’d never felt like that before with anyone. You let her stay in your house. She was planning on just passing through, staying the night at the motel for the festivities then going on her way, but she told you you changed her mind. Abby told you that she wanted to stay and be with you. What a load of bullshit. 

You finish your shopping, continuing to ignore Abby as she trails behind you, in her stupid t-shirt, with her stupid muscles, and her ridiculous boots. 

“This all for y’then?” The cashier asks.

“That’ll do it.” You reply, pulling out the cash you’re using to pay. 

You take your bags and thank him, rushing towards the doors and pushing one of them open with your back. 

Abby stops at the clerk to get her brand of cigarettes; running out behind you after she pays with a crinkled up ten dollar bill.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” She says, rushing up to you. She smacks the pack of cigarettes on her palm before opening it and popping one into her mouth; swiftly lighting it with a blue lighter.

“Don’t wanna see you, Abs. Thought you would be able to figure that out.” You say, silently hoping that that will be enough for her and that she’ll turn around and never come back to your town. But Abby, ever so stubborn, continues walking next to you.

“What? You still mad about last summer? Told you I had to go.”

You scoff at her. “Yeah, then you also told me you were never gonna leave me. Wanted to help raise my chickens and sheeps. Live in my house with me. Start a life here. Look, I don’t have time for this; too goddamn hot to deal with your bullshit.”

She nods her head; takes a long drag of the almost gone cigarette. “‘Least let me carry your bags?”

That you oblige to, handing over the heavy plastic bags that you swear were getting sticky from the heat. You just wanted to be home, with your fans, and your animals; without Abby. You didn’t even want her to see the inside of your house. You didn’t want her to be in the four walls of your bedroom again; it would be painful for you. To see her in your house again, where she made you all those promises. It would be painful because now you know that all you were to her was a quick fuck and a free place to stay.

Your house comes into view and you pause in the road, motioning your hands so she’ll give you your bags back. She does reluctantly, and you can’t help but notice the droplet of sweat dripping down her large muscles. You huff away the memories, taking the bags back and walking up to your front door.

“Not even gonna invite me in? No lemonade for my hard work?” Abby asks, trying to make light of the situation.

“I seriously never want to see your face again, Abigail.” With that you open your door, slinking in and closing it behind you.

You press your back to the door once you’re inside; willing yourself not to cry about her. You’ve done enough of that; swear you could fill an ocean with your tears. You know that you shouldn’t get so worked up over something that lasted a month, but it was the first real thing you’ve ever had. It’s not like there were any other women who liked women around here, so when Abby rolled in and made you all those promises, you thought you had actually found something. You thought you would be able to start a life with her and do all the things you’ve dreamed about doing since you were a little girl. Then, she was up and gone, and you were left alone again.

It took you a while to get used to your solitude again, and you were doing a damn good job at it now. Sometimes you wonder if it was even Abby you missed, or if you just missed having someone to do everything with. You try to stop thinking about it, forcing your body off the door and into the kitchen. You slowly put all the groceries away, scared that when you finish your mind will wander. 

You do pretty good for the rest of the day. You keep yourself entertained and busy, tending to your animals and reading a book. You only think about Abby a few times, but are able to brush it off. You think you’ve got it under control; you think that her little visit didn’t affect you. Once it hits around 7 P.M. you huddle the animals into their respective cages and barns. You go back inside and take another quick cold shower. It’s hard work herding those animals, and even though the sun is getting lower, it’s not getting any less humid. You dry off and put on fresh clothes, walking out into your kitchen to prepare your dinner. 

What you don’t expect to hear is a knock at your door. You silently question it before waking up to the door swinging it open; prepared to tell off some church people who just won’t stop trying. But there she stands. Abby has a bouquet of assorted carnations and daisies, a few roses thrown into there. You cross your arms, waiting for her to speak.

“Will you please let me explain? Please? Just a few minutes and you can decide if you want me to really go or not.”

“I’m timing you.” You say, walking back into your house and sitting down on your couch.

Abby moves into your living room. She’s changed from what she wore at the store. She now has on jeans and a black cut off tank top and her same signature braid.

“I’m gonna try not to stumble over my words– been preparing for this. I loved being here with you, first of all. Leaving you was never because of you. My dad got real sick, the type where you go and say goodbye. He had been in and out of the ICU around that time, but, when I got that phone call, swear I could feel it in my bones that that was it.”

You straighten out your back. You knew a little bit about Abby’s dad. Mostly that they were very close until she came out to him.

“And I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know how to tell anyone. I wish I could’ve ignored it and stayed with you but I just–” she shakes her head to herself.

“He’s your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad.”

The past tense makes you let out a sigh, suddenly your heart breaks for the girl all over again. You will your brain to remember what she did. You feel bad that she lost her dad, but she could’ve communicated.

“I’m sorry, Abby. But, you still had no right to leave me like you did.”

“I know, I know. I got scared. I knew if I stayed with you that– he wouldn’t see me. I could have handled it better. I had every intention of coming back sooner than now, but I felt like you wouldn’t wanna see me.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how this is supposed to work. All I know is that everything I told you is true. I miss living here. I hate running around the country anymore. I just wanna be here with you. Herd your fucking sheep and collect the eggs. Have you make me that killer omelet that I love. I miss you, all of you. Didn’t know what I wanted a year ago, but I do know. I’d like to be with you, if you’d have me.”

You try to process all that she’s saying; try to take in the massive amount of information she’s dumped into your hands. You just stare past her, straight at the wall. Do you want her to come back? You did– a few days ago when you were crying about being lonely. You don’t want to forgive her this easily though. What? A few words and an explanation and she’s just allowed in your house again? Hell no, there’s no way in hell that she can just creep back in here. What if she leaves again? Are you gonna embarrass yourself like that all over again?

“Abby…” you trail off, unsure of what to actually say to her.

“I know. I don’t want to be the victim here, and I’m sorry if I’m making it seem that way. I just want you to know that, it really, really, wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks for that, cowboy.” She smiles at the nickname, you do too. Her long history of speedrunning through small towns made you come up with it. “Alright, well, you can stay for dinner. But, I have the right to kick you out at any time.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says. 

You start to make her favorite meal from you with ingredients you bought today. She keeps you entertained, staying out of your way but talking your ear off. It feels normal; it feels like old times. You can’t help but let her ease her way back into your space. She takes off her boots, undoes her braid and puts it up into a bun. You ask her to get you something and she knows exactly where it is. It feels too simple. Honestly, it feels like a dream. You feel like you’re floating through this strange reality where Abby never left and you’ve kept living in this home ever since she showed up this time last year.

You eat dinner at the table in the spots you always sat in. Continuing the laughter and the fun. You don’t even mind the heat anymore. You don’t care about anything other than Abby’s gray eyes staring back into yours. You get shy under her gaze all over again. When you’re both done, you can’t get up from the table, you get too invested in your conversation and neither of you want to disrupt it. You wish you could’ve kept your stoic face on, but Abby was something else. She always has been. She’s the only one who’s ever made you feel truly comfortable with yourself, in this town. Finally, you get up and take the plate from in front of her, moving it to the sink.

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Abby practically yells.

“I mean, I watched you fall in the sheep shit myself. Y’trying to gaslight me, Anderson?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t fall in the shit. I’m saying that what you’re saying led me to the sheep shit is wrong. I wasn’t looking at your ass and then tripped. I was– looking at the sign on top of the barn.”

“Well, your eyes were awfully low to be looking at the top of the barn.” You shrug your shoulders with a small giggle.

Abby waves her hand in the air, a small blush on her face from the memory of the second time she came to your house. 

“I missed you a lot, y’know.” Abby says, mostly under her breath.

When you look at her, she’s looking up at you through her eyelashes. Her chest rising and falling steadily. She sits with her legs slightly spread and her elbows on her thighs. Those strong fucking thighs. You thought you could get along with her as friends; you thought that’s what she wanted– to be friends now. 

You look away from her so you don’t give in. “Abby, I don’t know if I can.” 

“I’m here. I’m here again; it’ll be good, like it was before.”

“That’s what you said before you left. ‘I’m here for you. Never gonna leave you, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.’ Then I was. I was the loneliest I’d ever been. I don’t blame you for leaving, Abby. But I can’t take it if you leave again.”

Abby gets up from the table and walks over to you. She towers over you, grabbing your face between her hands and forcing you to look at her. “Not gonna leave you. Ever. I learned my fucking lesson. Feel like I need you to breathe. Like my chest was tight the entire time I was out of this goddamn town. Swear, the second I pulled in, I felt my lungs fill up for the first time in a fucking year. Please, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let y’down again.”

Her chest is moving more rapidly now. It’s hard to look in her eyes. She hasn’t taken hers off of you. “I swear.”

You push your lips up so they reach hers; she sighs into the kiss, hastily taking her hands away from your face and wrapping them around your body. You push her back away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. She doesn't break the kiss once as she walks backwards, avoiding any and all furniture; like she’s always known where everything is. In a way she has, but it’s still impressive. A whole fucking year without her in your house and she still moves swiftly around the furniture towards your bedroom. She moves like it’s built in her bones; like she’s always meant to be here.

You enter the bedroom and she breaks away only to shove your discarded clothes that lay on your bed onto the floor. You rip your shirt off in the meantime, you were going to take off your shorts too, but Abby is back on you in a second. Kissing everywhere; licking everywhere. You don’t think your heart has ever beat faster. It’s scary how well she knows you. Just like the house, she still has every part of your body memorized. She still knows the spot below your collarbones that makes your hips buck. She knows how much rubbing the outside of your thigh while she kisses you turns you on. She knows that you need the anticipation built before you go straight into fucking. Abby knows you. 

She slides down your stomach, mouthing at the skin there, you push her head down, trying to get her to take the hint that you haven’t been laid in a year and you’re worked up enough. She scoffs into you and continues kissing you. A whine escapes your mouth, and she finally moves to where you need her. You lift your hips up while she removes your shorts and panties.

She starts to rub tight circles onto your clit, eyes connected to your face; waiting for you to look back at her. You don’t. You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to overthink the situation you’ve found yourself in. With every circle on your clit your head grows fuzzier, making this feel more and more like a dream.

“Not gonna leave you.” Abby says, like she can read your mind. “Never leaving your side again. You’re gonna be fucking sick of me, angel.”

You moan; open your eyes to take her all in. All you can manage is a nod. Abby growls and takes away her hand. You go to gasp, but in seconds she’s connected her tongue to your clit. You moan now, a sound deep from your chest that blossoms like a flower fed fertilizer. You forgot how good Abby was at this. The good memories pushed to the back of your mind. You’ve only been able to focus on her leaving for so long. The only thing you think about is waking up to that empty bed. 

She grunts into your cunt, “Missed how you fucking taste. S’goddamn sweet, princess.”

She’s here now, you remind yourself. She’s here forever. You’re sure the doubt will creep in at some point. You’re sure you’ll be scared to sleep next to her for a while. But right now, this is all that matters; her tongue drawing intricate shapes into you. You push your hand on top of her head.

“Don’t leave me,” you pant out.

Abby removes her mouth and pushes two thick fingers into you, forcing your back to arch off the bed. She moves up to your face, “Y’forget how to listen, doll? Gotta train you t’be my good girl again, huh? I ain’t leaving, never again. Got that?” 

You forgot how bad her accent gets when she’s turned on. 

“Answer me, tell me I’m gettin’ through that thick skull of yours.”

“Yes, Abby. I understand.”

“There y’go, sweet thing. Just lay back and take it.”

You do as she asks, finding it easy to fall back into submission under her. Your brain is basically blank by now, only focusing on the slow pull and push of Abby’s fingers inside of you. You moan and whine and buck your hips. Not scared to be messy or annoying. You’re not scared of anything in front of Abby. She loves you, you know it. She takes you how you are. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna– last long.” You say.

“That’s alright, so pent up, ain’t you? Let it all go for me. Let it all out.” She reconnects her mouth with your cunt and you know that you’re in for.

You feel the knot get tighter and tighter in your stomach. It feels like fire is spreading across your body. You feel a bead of sweat fall from Abby’s forehead onto you, and it gets to you. She’s real; she’s back. She’s eating you out and making you cum the way only she knows how to. The small band holding your orgasm back snaps. You cum with a sob, bucking your hips into her face so your clit brushes up into her nose. You start to cry from the pressure that was built up in you that’s finally being released. Abby works you through it, lets you grind on her face and you swear you can feel her smile into you.

She comes up to lay beside you when you finally stop twitching; shushing you when she removes her fingers.

“Missed seein’ you like that.”

“Bet you did,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Missed seein’ you in general, but the way you look when you cum, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

You suddenly feel embarrassed by the crude talk, you roll over away from her and face your closet. She whispers a few sorry’s before using her arms to roll you back over and pull you into her chest. She kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s so hot I might die.” You say into her, tracing a shape on her chest.

“Wanna shower?” 

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

[roses-for-rosalyn]

what if abby's father and the reader's father were friends and the like to hangout and play tennis a lot ; one day jerry anderson tries to convince his daughter to play a game with him, his friend and his daughter (reader) who has just returned home after two years of travelling ;

both girls accept their father's invitation! then the big day arrives and abby finds herself in front of reader in her pretty tennis set (and maybe something could happen in the locker room, after a heated match 👀)

I'm baaaack!

Sorry this took me so incredibly long it's been a weird few weeks. I hope I did your idea justice, she's a long one.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: enemies to lovers, mean, competitive Abby, thigh riding, fem! reader, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, modern au where Abby's dad isn't dead obvi, no use of y/n

--------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting at your kitchen counter sipping on a glass of ice water and gazing out the window, watching the summer breeze rattle the trees. It had been a few weeks since you’d gotten back from Europe, but ice still felt like a luxury. Europe was so beautiful and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, but after a few years you started to yearn for air conditioning, cold water and disgusting greasy fried food. Your first bite of a McChicken back in the states was orgasmic. 

You also missed your family, your dad would call you every other day and talk about his day in incredible detail. He joined a country club and got into tennis while you were gone, he even made a few friends. You were especially happy about that because you were worried about him getting lonely while you were gone. You didn’t want him rotting in an empty house while you went out and traveled the world. Even though your dad’s days were mundane and repetitive you just liked listening to him talk. His voice was the only thing that could dull the feeling of homesickness. 

The front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Your dad walks in clearly having just got back from the country club, he was dressed head to toe in tennis gear including a visor. You can’t help but giggle at how stupid and preppy he looks. You didn’t exactly grow up going to country clubs, and dressing in brand name clothes. Luckily your dad had gotten a new job so he could splurge on himself. It made you happy to watch him treat himself for the first time in his life. 

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He looks up and down checking his clothes for stains or any wardrobe malfunctions. 

“Nothing, you just look a little funny dressed in your tennis uniform. Not exactly used to you in country club attire.” You smile as he acts mock offended. 

“I think it suits me, thank you very much.” He dramatically marches over to the fridge to fill up his water bottle. He’s really not gonna let go of this.

“You’re right, you were born to wear exclusively Vineyard Vines and sip wine on the balcony of your third beach house.” You say with a smirk. 

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” He smiles and leans on the counter across from you. 

He hesitates before saying “I’ve been meaning to invite you to play with me and Jerry, I think you’d have fun, it’ll be like the good old days on your high school tennis team. You’d probably deeply humble both of us.” Jerry was your dad’s best friend right now, one of the first people that welcomed him into the country club. 

“Dad, I haven’t played tennis in three years I don’t kn-” 

“Jerry said he’d bring his daughter too. She also used to play a lot of sports in high school. We could do father daughter teams or daughters vs fathers. It’ll be fun.” He sounds so excited, you would feel way too guilty turning him down at this point. 

“Ok, ok. Have you met his daughter? Is she like.. Nice?” You didn’t want to have to fake getting along with her for your dad’s sake, if you were being honest you would probably end up doing that anyway. Your dad wasn’t exactly good at finding you friends. 

“Yes, she’s incredibly nice, and respectful. She’s a few years older than you, about 25 I think, and she works for a construction company.” He pauses trying to recollect the little information he knows about his friend’s daughter. “She’s so strong I’m pretty sure she could pick me up bridal style.” Your dad laughs at his own joke, but now you are a little nervous. It’s starting to sink in that your dad essentially set up a playdate for you with an incredibly buff woman. You just hope you don’t end up noticeably ogling at her, maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll be incredibly mean.   

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your dad bribed you with a fancy breakfast before the match. The food was delicious, but you couldn’t stop your nervous movements, constantly tapping your fingers or feet. Your dad noticed and reassured you there was no reason to be nervous, and that there’s no pressure. To be honest your nerves weren’t completely because you were out of practice. Meeting new people always made you anxious, especially when it was arranged like this. There was an unspoken expectation for everyone to get along and enjoy themselves and you liked to keep your expectations low. 

Before you knew it you and your dad were walking to the tennis courts. Your dad noticed you were starting to get all up in your head.

“Hey, loosen up kiddo this will be fun, if it’s not you let me know and we can leave. I’ll just tell them I’m not feeling well and we can get ice cream. Jerry will understand.” He messes with your hair a bit and you feel mildly relieved. 

Once you get to the tennis court all of the relief you felt drained from your body, immediately replaced with pure anxiety. As you walk onto the smooth green court you see a middle aged brunette man, no doubt that was Jerry, and a tall strong blonde standing next to him. She towered over him, every muscle chiseled to perfection by what must have been some higher power. As you got closer you could see her biceps straining against her blue t-shirt, her thighs were barely visible, but from what you could see they were just as muscular as her arms. You were beginning to ogle when you’re snapped out of it from the sound of your dad greeting Jerry. Your dad shakes hands with Jerry and Abby and you begin to do the same. Abby’s blue eyes pierced right through you, a neutral expression adorning her face. She was incredibly intimidating considering she could clearly snap you in two. You shake Jerry’s hand “I’ve heard so much about you, hope you still remember your stuff from high school. Your dad and I have gotten pretty good.” 

You smile and reply “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in no time!” You liked to stay humble, but honestly you were pretty good at tennis. You had won a lot of games and you were one of the best on the team. You didn’t talk about it much though because you were self aware enough to know literally no one cares about tennis. You were also as a result extremely competitive so you were hoping you would be able to tone it down in order to not scare your dad’s friend away. 

You move to shake Abby’s hand “I’m Abby, nice to finally meet you.” From her tone you would have assumed she thought it was indeed not very nice to meet you. But you nod and smile as her calloused hand engulfs yours. You can’t help but notice how warm her skin is to the touch and how large her hands are. 

She was incredibly attractive. 

“Alrighty you guys ready for an ass whoopin?” Jerry jests. 

“You bet.” Your dad replies. 

You and your dad make your way to the other side of the net and get into your ready positions. Abby serves the ball first and her swing was strong, but it was no match for your speed. You quickly learned the harder Abby hit the ball the louder she would grunt, so naturally you attempted to rile her up further. You would smirk arrogantly at her every time you and your dad gained a point, and take an extra long time getting ready to serve on the rare occasion she and Jerry would score a point. You and your dad rack up points quickly and the blonde was growing visibly frustrated. She was starting to hit the ball even harder, her jaw was clenched and her expression was so serious. It was adorable. 

Eventually Jerry calls for a break and sits on one of the benches with you dad, leaving you to sit with Abby. Alone. 

You sit down next to her on the wooden bench and start sipping from your water bottle. She does the same and you sit in silence for a bit. You notice the sweat on her brow and how her shirt is starting to stick to her skin. You can almost make out her abdominal muscles through the thin blue fabric. 

“I’m not usually this bad at sports, not used to losing.” Abby says, looking straight ahead. You can’t help but smile at her discontent, she seems just as competitive as you.

“I’m sure your strong muscles get you pretty far in most sports, but apparently tennis is not one of them, especially when you're up against an expert like me.” You say trying to joke around to lighten her mood.

“I wouldn’t classify a varsity tennis player as an expert, but okay.” She says with a smug look, still not facing you. She definitely did not understand your humor. 

“Clearly enough of an expert to beat you.” You shoot back. Abby grows silent and continues to sip her water. 

You sit in silence while your dad chats with Jerry, giving up on trying to make conversation with Abby. Eventually Jerry and your father stand up ready to finish the game. You and your dad beat them miserably. The game only ended because the sun started to go down, the country club quickly emptying out for the day. 

Your dad and Jerry suggest you all get washed up in the locker rooms before leaving. They walk away from the tennis court side by side talking and laughing while you and Abby walk behind them in almost total silence. Once the group reaches the locker rooms the two dads turn to you and Abby. 

“Would it be ok if me and Jerry grab a drink together? Abby can take you home in Jerry’s car.” The absolute last thing you wanted was to be stuck in a small car with this mean blonde, but you smiled and nodded. 

“See you later kiddo.” Your dad smiles and tussles your hair before walking into the locker room. 

You walk into the locker room as well, planning to just keep your distance from Abby for as long as you could until you were stuck with her in a tiny car. You can hear her heavy footsteps follow behind you and you quickly put your bag down, grab a towel and walk towards the showers to avoid facing her. You walk into one of the stalls and turn on the shower. The warm water helps to calm you down and soothes you. You lather on the soap massaging your muscles to relieve any soreness or tension, making sure you washed all the sweat away from the match. Unfortunately you have to be quick because you don’t want to make Abby any more annoyed than she was. 

As you step out and begin to dry yourself off you realized you forgot your change of clothes. 

Fuck.

You wrap the towel around you tightly and make your way to the lockers. Abby is sitting on the bench in the middle lacing up her shoes. Thank god she was looking down. You scramble over to your bag and grab your clothes out. You turn to head back to the showers to change in peace but Abby’s voice stops you.

“You took fucking forever.” She’s not looking at you, which you have observed to be a habit of hers. 

“Didn’t want to stink up your car. Is that ok with you?” Abby scoffs, but says nothing in response. 

“Seriously what the fuck did I do to you?” You blurt out, exasperated. You’re not usually this confrontational, but you felt like you deserved an answer. “I have barely had a conversation with you and for some reason you seem to have a problem with me or something.” 

Abby stands up angrily to face you and you had almost forgotten you were wearing a towel until she looked at you up and down with wide eyes. “You weren’t even gonna get dressed before asking me that question?” She sounds genuinely pissed off. Was everything you did an inconvenience? 

“Doesn’t matter, just answer it.” You look her straight in the eyes, challenging her. 

“Fine. You really wanna know?” You nod “I barely had a conversation with you and I could tell you were a brat.” As she’s talking she starts walking towards you, you didn’t even realize you were backing away until you felt the cool metal lockers against your skin. “You have an attitude problem, you know that? You don’t know when to shut the fuck up” She’s close, too close, she’s looking directly down at you daring you to respond. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were the one who started being rude to me.” You refuse to break eye contact with her, trying to intimidate her from your height was ineffective, she wasn’t backing down. “What are you gonna do?” You ask boldly, tilting your head inviting her to answer. “Teach me a lesson? We both know you’re not gonna do anything, so just let me get dressed so I can get home and never see you again.” She doesn’t respond, the only sound was you and Abby’s synchronized breaths as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes. Her stare somehow made you feel more naked than you already were, making you overly aware of the fact that you were wearing a towel that was starting to slip down. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking for sweetheart.” She says almost breathlessly. The anger in her eyes quickly turns into a hunger when she looks down at your towel slowly slipping off your body. You’re holding on to the towel for dear life. 

“Fuck.” Abby says breathlessly before doing the absolute last thing you could have expected. She kisses you. Hard. 

You let out a surprised squeak and quickly back away, both of your chests heaving. You look in her eyes and see a desperation and hunger that’s almost scary, but for some reason you kiss her back. Abby melts into you and threads her fingers into your hair. You place your hands gently against her chest as she pushes you further against the lockers with her strong body. Her hands slowly travel down to the towel barely maintaining your dignity. She gently pries your hands from the soft material and rips it off throwing it across the room, keeping her lips on yours the entire time. You barely notice the cool air against your bare skin, she is so close to you you can feel her body heat radiate through her clothing. 

Abby uses her foot to move yours outward, spreading your legs enough for her to slot her thigh between them. You moan into her mouth the moment her strong thigh makes contact with your bare cunt. You start slowly writhing against her, trying to relive the ache that was growing in your center. Abby breaks away and looks down at you desperately grinding on her thigh. “You’re already so wet for me sweetheart. Barely had to do anything.” She smiles smugly as she watches you become a moaning mess, her thigh creating a perfect pressure against your clit. 

Abby starts kissing you down your neck, occasionally sucking on the sensitive skin, the feeling of her rough tongue causing you to whimper. She begins circling her fingers around your nipples, teasing them, before pinching them and rolling them between her fingers. You begin to move faster against her thigh and the pleasure in your belly begins to build. Your moaning starts to become louder as you begin to reach your high. Abby notices and moves her thigh further against you, putting even more pressure on your sensitive bud. “You close baby?” You nod and whine, desperate for any kind of release. You start moving faster against Abby’s thigh and your pleasure quickly hits its peak. It comes crashing against you in overwhelming waves, forcing loud moans from your lips. Abby eventually puts her leg down and backs away slightly, before kneeling in front of you. Before you can ask any questions she grabs one of your legs, hooks it around her shoulder and licks a stripe up your soaking cunt. You hiss through your teeth, sensitive from your first orgasm. She begins teasing your clit with her tongue and you have to thread your fingers into her hair for something to hold on to. 

You barely manage to whimper out, “Abs-fuck- I-I’m too sen-senitive.” 

She stops for a second and looks up at you. The sight of her kneeling between your legs is nearly enough to have you coming again. “You can take it baby, gonna make you come until you can’t give me that attitude anymore.” And with that she starts lapping at your cunt once again. She sucks your clit into her mouth, her tongue circling your sensitive bud. You let out a surprised whine, your chest heaving from the intense sensation. Abby’s hands grab hold of your hips, bring you closer to her mouth. 

You can feel another orgasm building as Abby rubs her thumbs in circles against your skin. You begin uncontrollably writhing against her tongue, but Abby quickly uses her grip on your hips to pin you firmly against the lockers forcing you to remain still. The action caused your pleasure to bubble over. “Abby-”, you whine out “-ffuck-fuck.” 

She keeps assaulting your clit through your orgasm, not slowing down. As you begin to come down, you become sensitive again and try to wriggle away from her. She pins your hips against the lockers and looks up at you with a stern look in her eyes. She wasn’t going to stop until you couldn’t even hold yourself up. 

She shoves two fingers inside of you causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. Her digits slid in easily, your arousal now dripping down your thighs. She curls her fingers forward causing you to have to bite your lip to keep from screaming. 

“Don’t you fucking dare bite your lip I want everyone to be able to hear you screaming for me sweetheart.” You clench around her thick fingers at her words and Abby takes that as a sign to keep talking. “You’re taking me so well princess. Think I can add another finger?” You nod eagerly at her in response. “Use your words baby.”

“Y-yes pl-please yes.” With your pathetic reply she adds another finger, filling you to the brim. She fucks you at a steady pace occasionally looking up at you to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. She begins sucking hard on your clit causing you to let out a pornographic moan. She speeds up her fingers, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers were escaping your lips every time her fingers hit that spongy spot. Your walls began clenching around Abby’s fingers and she knew you were close. Your orgasm hit you quickly and caught you by surprise, your whole body feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. You’re not even sure what noises you were making or what you were saying, the pleasure was so blinding all you could do was buck your hips into Abby’s mouth. You were being held up exclusively by Abby’s grip on your hips. She stands up and quickly scoops you up bridal style to sit you down on the bench. She helps you get dressed and you could barely protest, she reduced you to jello. Abby stands up and offers her hand to help you up. You oblige and as you stand up she says “Need you to teach me your tennis skills sometime.” Weirdly she’s smiling. 

You can’t help but smirk, “Yeah? Well it’s gonna cost you and I don’t take sexual favors as payment.” 

[anra-thejourneyman]

YOU would think it nothing short of sadism to pluck a man from the tropics and parachute him into the biting chill of a Scottish winter. As I write, it is 28 degrees in Belize and minus 17 in parts of Scotland. It is, as they say, Baltic. Even if you shaved 10 degrees off it here, it would be a nightmare of an acclimatisation. Add to that the 5000 mile-journey by boat from the Caribbean, zigzagging away from U-boats, in wartime; as well as jerry-built huts and inadequate clothing at the end of it, and you’d have to be extremely hardy to survive.

The 900 men who came to Scotland from British Honduras, now Belize, were as tough as old boots. They had to be to thole sub-zero temperatures when they were used to the sweltering heat of rainforests.

The British Honduran Forestry Unit (BHFU) came in two contingents for the “war effort” : in September 1941, 500 men went to camps in Haddington, Duns, and Kirkpatrick Fleming; then 400 were billeted in November 1942, in Golspie, Kinlochewe and Achnashellach.

Not everything was a bed of roses.

A welfare officer from the Ministry of Labour and National Service described the camps as “a public scandal”. There was inadequate heating and lighting, inadequate sanitation, no insulation in their huts, and inadequate clothing for men who worked like Trojans making pit props and stobs for the war against racism.

(It strikes you as bravado or jocular stoicism one of them recording later that felling spruces was like making matchsticks -- they’d cut their teeth on mahogany back home.)

Enter Rudolph Dunbar, a conductor, clarinettist and journalist from British Guyana, who was the first black man to conduct the Berlin Philharmonic (in 1946).

He’d his conductor’s stick in his knapsack during the Liberation of Europe when he was a war correspondent.

Dunbar was way ahead of his time in his concerns about the treatment of ethnic minorities in Britain.

He wrote, of the BHFU: “The men are living in a deplorable condition. They are deprived of all forms of entertainment and the harsh treatment of most of them by the authorities does nothing to alleviate their sufferings. A great portion of the men are miserable and desperate ...and wish to return home.”

In his 1984 memoir Telling the Truth, Amos A Ford wrote: “The huts at Duns had huge holes in parts of the floorboards and walls, and openings in the ceilings. But letting in the biting winter night air was not the only thing that was to make life in the camps a misery. The furnishing was barely adequate and provision for recreation strident by its absence.

“ The huts had single cylindrical wood-burning stoves in the centres to warm a hut accommodating around 20 men each in a building. In it the men piled logs repeatedly to stem the cold outside. Sometimes the stoves burned so fiercely that they emitted sparks and an inordinate quantity of smoke, much to the annoyance of the local RAF people resulting in a number of complaints.”

Incompetence rather than racism was probably the reason for the cack-handed way they were treated.

Ford claimed the camp doctor rarely visited but, when he did, he’d a pink pill for everything.

The locals around most of the camps welcomed these exotic men far from their homes and were kind, as long as they kept their hands off their women. They didn’t, and there were police raids in the camp in Duns, where women were found hiding under beds.

There were definitely racial tensions from the usual suspects, the gentry. The then Duke of Buccleuch wrote to the Ministry indicating his displeasure that local women were being over zealous in welcoming the lumberjacks.

Whitehall records show the following document:

“The foreman in charge of each camp, should be a white man. I think this is most important as we must respect not only the feelings of the proprietors of the estates on which the men will be camped but we must also consider the feelings of the people living in the surrounding villages and cottages.”

Correspondence between the Duke of Buccleuch and Harold McMillan (then Colonial Office Minister) reveals institutional racism.

Buccleuch: “I do feel sorry for these people [but] I also feel unsophisticated country girls should be discouraged from marrying these black men from Equatorial America.”

McMillan: “We try to protect them from undesirable women, as well as to protect women from undesirable members of our coloured units. This can never be a completely successful policy. All we can do is to mitigate the evil as far as possible.”

Notwithstanding the pressures, many men found love and friendship, and settled in towns close to the logging camps. Ignoring the efforts of officials to keep black and white people apart, there were several marriages, and many children.

There were tragedies. In the blackout Army convoys etc continued. In April 1942 Ruben Law was killed instantly while trying to help a local woman, Jane Goldie, to cross the road. She died the following day and is buried alongside Law, and three foresters who died of natural causes in their 20s!! , C A Trapp. O Leon V Baker.

On July 25, 2022, the Commonwealth Foresters’ Memorial was opened at Pollok Park in Glasgow.

Amos Ford went to the great forest in the sky in 2015, aged 98.

“Wee Sammy” Martinez was a survivor, who outlived a hurricane that took two of his brothers, by clinging on to a tree. He was a well-known figure in Wester Hailes, Edinburgh, where he made his home. He was known as a very patient and positive man. He and his wife Mary had six children.

You had to be patient to be a Hibs fan. He died in 2016, aged 106, months after seeing his beloved team life the Scottish Cup. He was the last of the lumberjacks.

"Life has been good to me, “ he once told journalists.

“Healthy but poor. But if you’re healthy, you’re rich. That’s how I look at life, nice and easy. Don’t worry over things that don’t matter. Don’t fight with people, don’t argue with people. Peace, perfect peace. Because life is only once, that ticket only goes one way and there’s no return.”

THE TREE FELLERS by Andy Murray

Hard as nails

knee-deep in the first snow

they’d ever seen

they rocked back and forth

with their crosscut saws.

as metronomes do.

They hewed mahogany

in their tropical homeland.

The Scottish spruces were like matchsticks

to these hardy woodsmen

who hunched over stoves

in their jerry-built huts,

though warned that Heinkel pilots

would see the sparks

flying out of their chimneys in the dark.

Nine hundred came

to cut pit props and stobs

from ice-blown lowland firs.

They thinned out when the war ended.

Some returned. Some married.

Wee Sammy from Wester Hailes waved

a Hibs scarf and an infectious smile.

A kenspeckle figure.

"When we arrived, the kids shouted 'here

come the coalmen'," he said.

The man who’d survived a hurricane,

that took two of his brothers,

by clinging to a tree. He lived to 106.

He died lately after watching his team

win the Scottish Cup.

The last of the lumberjacks

from British Honduras.

POSTSCRIPT: Here is a short but very moving and beautifully made documentary on the British Honduras.

https://vimeo.com/364780261

[glenrocklibraryteens]

My (Albeit Very Hot and Tiring) Amazing Outdoor Adventure!

First things first, I would like to announce that the National Mall is not, in fact, a mall. Call me ignorant, but I was so confused when my family told me we were going to the Mall but that the Mall is not a mall! Before you judge, say the second part of that sentence out loud. Why the heck is it called a Mall, then?! My outdoor adventure was to explore the National Mall (which is not a mall) with my family on Saturday, July 26 in 1,000,000-degree weather (I am not exaggerating! It was stupidly hot that day!) My family had gone to visit some cousins in Virginia, and they made plans to tour Washington D.C., which my brother, sister, and I had no say in but it’s okay because I only really cared about playing with the cousins’ dog, Archie. After a stomach-bursting breakfast at IHOP (WHERE HAS IHOP BEEN MY ENTIRE LIFE? Okay, fine, I get that there’s an IHOP in Fair Lawn, but seriously guys! Why have I never gone there more often?! That’s rhetorical, by the way), we took the metro to the National Mall (still upset that the name is so misleading). First stop: the Washington Monument! So the Washington Monument is really big! I know, I know, shocker, but you never realize how tall it is until you go in person! My head was literally parallel to the ground! We took some pictures and I touched it (okay it sounds stupid now, but I really wanted to touch the thing! It’s cool, okay!) and then we hopped a fence (not kidding) and made our way to the second stop of the day. Second stop: Lincoln Memorial! After dying from walking too long and from the heat and then getting resurrected to die slowly again (you try walking from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial in 1,000,000-degree weather [I’m sticking to my claim]), we finally made it to the steps. We all raced up the stairs and I got 2nd, which is basically first because the person who got first cheated and got a head start, so I won ;)! We took pictures with Super Lincoln (that guy is TALL) and had a race to see who could recite the Gettysburg Address fastest (I won again. I’m just better, y’all). Third stop: the White House! We walked for so long I think everyone was dying. After literally an hour of walking (crying), we finally got to sit… outside the White House. And I kid you not, after an hour of walking, we literally got to the White House for like 15 minutes before we had to go. Next: more walking! One time, I stopped to dump water on my head and BLISS. Judge me all you want, getting soaked was awesome. We went back to the metro (AIR CONDITIONING HALLELUJAH) and I tried and massively failed to stand during the ride. I’m telling you guys, the heat got to me. Fourth stop: the LIBRARY OF CONGRESS! This was my absolute favorite part of the day (besides Archie). I am absolutely a nerd and I love libraries. Apparently we were there for over an hour because I didn’t want to leave (oops). The architecture and art was so beautiful and there were so many books!!!!! I have found heaven, you cannot pry me away. Spoiler alert: they pried me away. I cried. Fourth and a half stop: the Supreme Court building! I say 4½ because we didn’t do much. Everyone was hot and hungry and tired and you know what that means… food! We called an Uber and waited outside the Supreme Court Building for the car. Fifth stop: The Wharf! The Uber took us to The Wharf (don’t ask me what it’s actually called, it shall forever be known as The Wharf) and we wandered around looking for food. Eventually, we stopped at Ben & Jerry’s! I got a piece of art known as a cookie sundae and we sat outside by the water to eat. After some time, my uncle left to go walk Archie and we waited for a water taxi (exactly what it sounds like. A taxi on water. What do you want me to say? …It’s a boat) to come take us to Old Town Alexandria. There was this swing that I desperately wanted to go on, so we waited our turn and all squeezed on, 3-4 people on at a time. Then we left for the taxi and I gave a shark a high five (don’t ask). AND. Sprinklers!!! We ran through with all the toddlers fully clothed and it was amazing. When we got on the water taxi (still soaked, thank you), we went straight to the front as soon as it left the dock. We went so fast over the waves! Very fun, 10 out of 10, would do again. Sixth stop: Old Town! After getting off the water taxi, we walked some more (ughhhhhh why do outdoor adventures have to involve so much walkinggg) to find a cool place to eat. There were people singing and playing guitar and I would swap our town for Old Town in a heartbeat (sorry not sorry). After lots more walking (kill me. Just kill me), we decided on a place called Augie’s. And when I say “we decided”, I mean the grownups decided without letting us kids get to have a say. Again. I’m not bitter, you’re bitter. My uncle met up with us and we chatted over dinner (mediocre, although I was probably still biased against it since we didn’t get to go to the Thai place I wanted). After eating, we caught a trolley (AAAAAAAANYTHING FROM THE TROLLEY? Sorry just can’t help myself) in the nick of time to get back to the metro and go home. And that concludes my outdoor adventure! Hopefully you have not gotten too sick of me during this journey. Despite the heat and immense levels of walking, I definitely recommend being a tourist in Washington D.C., especially if the people you’re staying with have a cute dog ;).

[bestsurfpodcasts]

WSL News, Race to the Surfing Finals: Key Moments from Rio and Olympic Aspirations

Colby plus backpack and wet dry bag are essential for protection during outdoor activities. - The zippers on the Colby plus backpack and wet dry bag are heavy-duty with T-lock technology, waterproof, and airtight. - The Colby plus backpack is more heavy-duty than most people need, but it's the best bag for trips requiring such durability.

Real Water Sports Fourth of July Sale - Real Water Sports in Waves, North Carolina, is having a Fourth of July sale with discounts on various models of surfboards and accessories. - Products on sale include Lost Gidra and Hydra models, Pisell Gremlin model, CJ Nelson surfboards, and Jerry Lopez mid lengths, with significant price reductions.

Discussion on Fourth of July and Independence Day celebrations - Exploring the historical significance of Independence Day and its celebration - Excitement about unique surfboard collection for auction prep

Discussion on custom surfboards and collector's items - These surfboards have unique stories behind them, with custom design features and a rich history of being stored by a collector. - The owner of these surfboards is a top-tier collector with multiple homes, including one in Florida, gearing up for an auction in October.

Ken Bradshaw's interview about big wave surfing revival in 1986 - Ken Bradshaw's epic interview conducted by Matt Warshaw in 1986 for Outside magazine revealed insights on big wave surfing resurgence during that era. - The interview showcased the significance of big wave surfers like Mark Fu, Brock Little, and Derek Dorner in putting big wave surfing back in the surf media spotlight.

Discussion about the Neanderthal DNA and the behavior of individuals - Comparison between Bradshaw and Marvin Foster's response to offense - Humorous conversation about Ken Bradshaw's intelligence and origin

Debate on bringing humor to surfing commentary - Discussion on the presence of a comedian at the surfing event for comedic relief. - Questioning the need for comedy in a serious sporting event like surfing, especially during challenging conditions.

Value of having a communicator bridge between core and non-surfing audience - He adds entertainment value and simplifies surfing for non-surfers - Suggested better options for surf commentary: Tony Hawk and Kelly Slater

Positive feedback for commentator's straightforward style - He provides insightful commentary without fluff - Forecast for Olympic Surfers warming up at Cho pu includes varying swell sizes and wind uncertainties

Discussion on Rio event rankings and audience disconnect - Major shifts in rankings post Rio event - Realization of audience disconnect in surfing events

Discussion on how cloudbreak suits different surfers - EO's style may not suit cloudbreak as it requires drawing out maneuvers - Contrasting styles of EO and Yago at cloudbreak highlighted

Pressure on Griffin Jack EO and Ethan to secure their top positions - Gabriel Medina expected to secure 8,000 to 7,000 points at Cloudbreak - Potential for Crosby colapinto to reach top five, unlikely but not impossible

Ethan's strong performance at Lowers and potential for a comeback. - Despite being edged out, Ethan showed exceptional surfing skills with high scores in the heats. - Ethan may need to level up and perform big air to compete with top surfers like John, with a focus on Cloud break.

More parity between top five surfers this season - Cloud break competition starting late August, plenty of time for buildup - Caitlyn Simmers likely dominant at lowers with Caroline Marks as main threat

High-quality surf documentary available for free on YouTube. - Documentary showcases the impressive and scary waves at Puerto Escondido. - Suggestion to hold final five surfers event at Puerto Escondido due to its big wave potential.

The wave has changed drastically over the years. - The wave has become more of a shorebreak, closer to shore and with harder packed sand. - The documentary also explains the history of the town, which was a shipping port back in the 70s.

Community activism influences government actions for infrastructure improvement - Investments in sewage and basic infrastructure are crucial to prevent runoff and landslides - Interview with surfer Matt Bramley highlights the dangers and power of the waves in the area

Surfer's near-death experience in big ocean waves - Surfer wakes up early to catch killer waves before crowds, shows ambition and determination - Surfer faces dangerous and massive waves, hears wave noises for the first time, narrowly escapes being engulfed

Ocean's Superiority and Danger for Surfers - Swimming challenges faced near Shore and the difficulty in negotiation. - The illustration of the ocean's vast superiority and the risks surfers face.

Shane Dorian's talent in surfing and communication - Shane Dorian is intelligent and talented in communication and surfing. - He would be a valuable addition to the WSL broadcast team and has potential for the Olympics.

Celebrating Tom Curran's impact on surfing - Recommendation to watch 'Searching for Tom Curran' for its timeless surfing art. - Considered as a must-watch every July 4th, highlighting Curran's significance in surfing history.

Recognize the value in moments that may initially seem insignificant. - Appreciating the nuance of captured moments brings long-lasting value. - Tom Curran's process of shaping and riding a surfboard exemplifies the significance of time and reflection.

Tips for an ocean-friendly beach visit - Choose recycled or reusable items over single-use plastics for food and drinks. - Pack out what you bring to keep beaches clean, especially before July 5th, the dirtiest Beach day in the US.

[theunitedconstructorsinc]

About Us: Thousands of Satisfied Customers Since 1989

United Constructors, Inc. is a family-inspired company. The family business of construction started generations ago with grandpa building his own house. Cash’s father, Jerry, started serving the Bay Area in 1989 and has passed the torch to his sons and they are following in the family footstep!

We are proud to say that we have had three generations of the Payne family in this industry and have since the beginning. United enjoys the privilege of many talented people with appropriate licenses, providing us the ability to accomplish multiple tasks within one company. We are a personable and diverse team. Being family owned we are empathetic to the value of quality customer service; therefore, this is our number one aspect and concern, and it is the foundation on which we have built our company. United has grown into a large force in the construction industry here in the Bay Area. We follow the motto of “Do the right thing”.

Jerry Payne has over 27 years of experience in the construction industry. He has been a successful business owner for over 40 years. He has many years of trade experience working in roofing, windows, insulation, heating and air-conditioning, attic insulation and venting, painting among other projects. Jerry’s sons have taken over many different roles in their own construction companies. United Constructors inc has been in business for about 5 years under Cash’s license and this company and has plans to pass it down Cash’s 3 sons or 3 daughters down the road. He looks forward to watching his children and grandchildren envelop the trade and keep the family tradition going for many years to come. Providing excellent service and dedication to our many valued happy customers.

We value the people that work with us at United; we have grown to become one big family

[themovieblogonline]

“One on One” (1977): Beautiful as a Buzzer Beater from Downtown!

A young basketball phenom battles the business-driven machine of the major college coaching system. In so doing, he knows full well that his fully financed sports scholarship to a perennial basketball power is now at risk of being stripped away from him. https://youtu.be/VO-Lhadb0s4 “One on One” (1977): Beautiful as a Buzzer Beater from Downtown! Films that Forever Matter Series by John Smistad Summer of 1977 My good buddy Bruce and I were each about to head off to our first year of college. He to Florida. I would stay in Texas. It was hot. Are you kidding? It was August. In Houston. Durn right it was HOT, pardner! We were at Almeda Mall south of town. Looking for a movie to catch. And to escape the oppressive mid-90s heat and humidity in an air-conditioned multiplex theater with an ice-cold Coke and a whole bunch of butter-battered popcorn. One of the movie posters promoted a new flick called “One on One”. We didn't know anything about it. Except that it was about basketball. Ardent sports fanatics that we were, we chose to to check this one out. Little did I know I could not have realized at that moment that over the next hour and 38 minutes, I was to be completely captivated by what would become one of my favorite films. Ever. Loosely. Real loosely. Based in the dramatically licensed principle of the UCLA college basketball dynasty of the 1960s and '70s, "One on One" is a pure pleasure from tip-off to the final buzzer. Robby Benson stars (and co-writes the script with his dad, Jerry Segal, who authored the book) as high school roundball phenom Henry Steele. Our small-town hero rapidly realizes that his flashy fashion of play does not mesh with old-school hard-ass Head Coach Moreland Smith (a shivery intimidating turn by G.D. Spradlin) at superpower "Western University". The callous coach shows no mercy as he ruthlessly pressures the “hot dog” Henry into renouncing his full-ride scholarship. The point must be made here that it is virtually inconceivable to conjure that this character of Smith is in any way a reflection of UCLA coaching legend John Wooden. Sure, the mastermind of a staggering ten National Championship ball clubs was renowned as a demanding taskmaster. Still, could "The Wizard of Westwood" ever have been this viciously vindictive? I’m goin’ with “uh-uh”. Hardwood meets Heat of Passion Benson is more than credible in both his acting performance and in his basketball acumen. The guy can play. Annette O'Toole, as his tutor, turned lover Janet Hays, is utterly fetching and fabulous in her co-lead role. It is pretty damn difficult to imagine how any 18-year-old Freshman kid could NOT fall helplessly, head over sneakers in love with this red-hot redhead. The so-‘70s Seals and Crofts soundtrack here is also a swish, the mellow melodies serving to imbue this sweet-to-sour-to-sweet story. “One on One” remains for me a chronicle that continues to score by slam dunk as it deftly dribbles drives toward a predictable, yet irresistibly winning, final buzzer. “One on One” is available to rent on Amazon Prime Video. Video Review of STEVEN SPIELBERG’S Directorial Debut “DUEL”! On my YouTube Channel now @ this link: JOHN SMISTAD, “THE QUICK FLICK CRITIC”, talks Steven Spielberg’s Highway of Horrors Classic “DUEL”!! – YouTube Read the full article

[myfeeds]

Methane from megafires: More spew than we knew

Methane warms the planet 86 times more powerfully than carbon dioxide over the course of 20 years, and it will be difficult for the state to reach its required cleaner air and climate goals without accounting for this source, the researchers said. Wildfires emitting methane is not new. But the amount of methane from the top 20 fires in 2020 was more than seven times the average from wildfires in the previous 19 years, according to the new UCR study. “Fires are getting bigger and more intense, and correspondingly, more emissions are coming from them,” said UCR environmental sciences professor and study co-author Francesca Hopkins. “The fires in 2020 emitted what would have been 14 percent of the state’s methane budget if it was being tracked.” The state does not track natural sources of methane, like those that come from wildfires. But for 2020, wildfires would have been the third biggest source of methane in the state. “Typically, these sources have been hard to measure, and it’s questionable whether they’re under our control. But we have to try,” Hopkins said. “They’re offsetting what we’re trying to reduce.” Traditionally, scientists measure emissions by analyzing wildfire air samples obtained via aircraft. This older method is costly and complicated to deploy. To measure emissions from 2020’s Sequoia Lightning Fire Complex in the Sierra Nevadas, the UCR research team used a remote sensing technique, which is both safer for scientists and likely more accurate since it captures an integrated plume from the fire that includes different burning phases. The technique, detailed in the journal Atmospheric Chemistry and Physics, allowed the lead author, UCR environmental sciences Ph.D. student Isis Frausto-Vicencio to safely measure an entire plume of the Sequoia Lightning Fire Complex gas and debris from 40 miles away. “The plume, or atmospheric column, is like a mixed signal of the whole fire, capturing the active as well as the smoldering phases,” Hopkins said. “That makes these measurements unique.” Rather than using a laser, as some instruments do, this technique uses the sun as a light source. Gases in the plume absorb and then emit the sun’s heat energy, allowing insight into the quantity of aerosols as well as carbon and methane that are present. Using the remote technique, the researchers found nearly 20 gigagrams of methane emitted by the Sequoia Lightning Fire Complex. One gigagram is 1,000 metric tons. An elephant weighs around one metric ton. For context, the fire therefore contained roughly 20,000 elephants’ worth of the gas. This data matches measurements that came from European space agency satellite data, which took a more sweeping, global view of the burned areas, but are not yet capable of measuring methane in these conditions. If included in the California Air Resources Board methane budget, wildfires would be a bigger source than residential and commercial buildings, power generation or transportation, but behind agriculture and industry. While 2020 was exceptional in terms of methane emissions, scientists expect more megafire years going forward with climate change. In 2015, the state first established a target of 40 percent reduction in methane, refrigerants and other air pollutants contributing to global warming by 2030. The following year, in 2016, Gov. Jerry Brown signed SB 1383, codifying those reduction targets into law. The reductions are meant to come from regulations that capture methane produced from manure on dairy farms, eliminate food waste in landfills, require oil and gas producers to minimize leaks, ban certain gases in new refrigerators and air conditioners, and other measures. “California has been way ahead on this issue,” Hopkins said. ‘We’re really hoping the state can limit the methane emissions under our control to reduce short-term global warming and its worst effects, despite the extra emissions coming from these fires.”

[kilopquotes]

Smoker automatic feeder

That similarity, and the fact that wood pellets produce smoke that flavors food, resulted in many early adopters turning to pellet grills as an easy-to-use alternative to traditional smokers. This method of cooking, known as indirect (or convection) cooking is also used by traditional charcoal and wood smokers. Wood pellet varieties include oak, maple, apple, alder, mesquite, cherry, hickory, and pecan. īecause of their small size and composition, food-grade pellets burn cleanly, producing a light smoky flavor. Pellet grills, on the other hand, use food-grade pellets that are made entirely from hardwood and contain no additives, although some manufacturers use soybean oil or vegetable oil as a lubricant during production. In addition to hardwood, pellets used for home heating often contain softwood and biomass scrap (such as bark), both of which can produce a bad taste and could be harmful if ingested. Function Īlthough pellet stoves and pellet grills both run on wood pellets, there are differences in the pellets they burn. The new owners sued the Traeger's and Danson's for using the barn, and promotions involving the Traeger's, and won. In 2019, Louisiana Grills announced the hire by unveiling a new line of grills, the Founders Legacy line, and advertisements stated “brought to you proudly by Joe Traeger, the founder of the original pellet grill,” and showed the famous "Traeger Barn" that had been used in many of Traeger's advertisements. In 2018, Joe and Brian Traeger were hired by Danson's, which owned several grill companies including Louisiana Grills and Pit Boss Grills. In 2014 the Florida firm sold Traeger Grills to the private equity firm Trilantic Capital Partners. When the patent expired in 2006, Joe Traeger and his son Brian sold their rights to Trager Grills to a Florida Venture Capitalist for $12.4 million. Joe Traeger's technology was reproduced by numerous companies, from the already well established grill company, to the small business owner trying to break into the market, prompting new innovations and technologies to new and future grills. After Traeger's patent expired in 2006, other pellet grill companies entered the market with similar technology. During that time, the company remained a small family-run business that distributed its pellet grills to a limited network of stores. Īs a result of its patent, Traeger was the only manufacturer of pellet grills for twenty years. Furthermore, because the duty cycles are fixed, they don't account for weather conditions or the amount of food being cooked, both of which affect temperature. Each setting approximates a temperature range, and those temperatures were achieved by means of a fixed, predetermined duty cycle. Early Traeger Grills, as well as many of the pellet grills first introduced after the expiration of the Traeger patent, used a three-position controller, called an LMH controller indicating settings for low, medium and high heat. Joe Traeger developed the Traeger pellet grill in 1985 and patented it in 1986. Note the side-mounted hopper where the pellets are stored. Run by electricity, the pellet stoves utilized a motor-driven auger to deliver a specific amount of pellets from the storage hopper to a fire pot, where a fan aided combustion and blew the warm air from the stove. Although the stoves looked like traditional wood stoves, they worked much differently. By the early 1980s Jerry Whitfield, a Boeing aviation engineer from Washington, and Joe Traeger, who ran a family-owned heating company in Oregon, were each experimenting with pellet-burning stoves. Wood pellets were invented in the United States in the late 1970s, they are small eraser-sized capsules made of compressed sawdust. During the 1973 oil crisis, an increased demand for affordable home heating spearheaded a push toward alternative heat sources, which would later include wood pellets. Pellet grills have their beginnings in pellet stoves. 2.2 PID controllers (adjustable duty cycle).2.1.1 Multi-position and digital controllers.

[asteriahair]

Do you know how to Refresh your curly hair?

Curly wigs are always on trend, we believe that every girl should have one curly wig, but if your curly hair has been worn for a long time, the curly hair may not as nice as the time you bought, and you don' have enough money to buy a new one, so now, don't worry, just learn how to refresh your curly wig, you don't need to buy a new curly hair, and you will get a new hair!

Spray Water On Your Curly Wig Fill a spray bottle with water and spritz this throughout your curly wig. Alternatively, you could wet your hair with a spray bottle and then spray your Loose Deep Wave Hair with a liquid leave-in conditioner.

Detangle The Curly Human Hair Wig Sometimes a tangled curly hair wig is just that: a wig full of pesky tangles. It'll take some patience and dedication, but with a wide-tooth comb and a glass of water half-full, an old curly wig can be revived with heavy duty detangling. A wide tooth comb instead of a paddle brush will prevent breakage, especially while wet. Always start detangling from the ends and slowly work your way up to the roots.

Do a Deep Conditioning Treatment Curly hair wig is more susceptible to dryness, and dryness can cause a whole host of issues from frizz to breakage and in our case, I have found that it contributes to a loss of curl pattern. We apply deep conditioner to our damp hair in sections to that it is fully saturated, it is the ultimate Sunday treat and will increase the benefits of your favorite deep conditioner for your hair.

Go for a Dry Scalp Treatment To keep human hair curly wigs remaining shiny all the time, add small portions of olive oil to the wants. Since the conditioner may not successfully make its way into your natural roots and scalp when you are wearing wigs, it is important to keep your scalp and roots away from certain dryness issues.

Wash Your Jerry Curl Wig when washing your Jerry Curl Wig, be very gentle with warm water. you will want to completely avoid rubbing the wigs together as you might normally do with your natural hair.

Air Dry Your Real Hair Curly Wig Whether you have real hair curly wig or other wavy wig, air drying is your best choice. Stop using heat to dry and style the curly human hair wigs. Curling irons, hot rollers and hair dryers burn the hair and cause frizziness. Let the hair air dry and enjoy tangle free hair.

Do you know how to refresh your curly hair now? Then just try the methods now, we believe you will get a new curly wig, and this is also a good way to save money to get a new curly!

[myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19]

HYPOTHERMIA

Clay isn't really my character and this was a request from a friend. But all the other characters are original. @febuwhump

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

"Hey Clay?" Dave called out from behind the couch.

Clay was seated playing a game on the tv in their living room

"Yeah Dave." The blonde answered not looking away from his game.

"Did uh Jerry come over?" Dave inhaled as he held the tiny round item in his hand.

"Nah why?" Clay answered again, still playing his video game intently. Not looking up to his boyfriend.

Dave took in another deep breath. He tried to stay calm then he walked over to the other side of the couch.

"I don't know Clay cause I found his damn earring." He said as he placed a small silver earring with a cross on the table. He may have put it down a little too harshly.

Clay paused his game and put his controller down.

" Ok yeah he came by for a bit."

Clay knew his boyfriend didn't like the friends he was hanging out with lately but again his boyfriend is always the up tight serious kind and could just be judging them too harshly.

" Clay, I told you not to hang out with that guy. He's not good for you." Dave said in a slightly angry voice. Trying to keep himself from blowing. This Jerry dude didn't seem right to him.

"So what now Dave? You're gonna tell me what's good for me like I'm not a grown adult?" Clay argued. Looking furiously at Dave.

"No Clay that's not what I mean it's just this dude is not the good kind."

" He's my friend Dave and a darn good one." He said, nearly shouting.

" Look Clay I know these kinds of guys they hang around you for fun then they leave you after they've had fun with you."

"The fucks wrong with you." Clay stood from the couch, his boyfriend standing with him.

" Given your sudden celebrity status these guys are just using you." Dave shouted a little. He just couldn't get why Clay wouldn't understand that he's just looking out for his safety. Right after Clay's popularity increased people had been flocking to him and he knew some were genuine. The only problem is his ever so friendly hyper boyfriend was willing to accept anyone that came to him.

" Fuck this Dave, you're my boyfriend not my dad." Clay grabbed his Jacket from the couch and stomped to the door.

"Where are you going, we're not done?" Dave shouted to his boyfriend as he turned his back from him.

" I don't know, away from your judgemental ass." Clay shouted back as he slammed the door at his boyfriend. The thing would have detached from its hinges if it was banged any harder.

Dave just sighed sitting down. He always freaking does this, he just storms out right when they have an argument.

Whatever he would let his boyfriend blow some steam.

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

Dave had been alone in his apartment for hours since his boyfriend came and he watched the clock tick by.

2-3-4 pm it was getting late and cold. He turned the air-conditioning on to heat himself up. He hoped he was okay out there. As it got to 4:30 he had had enough, he just had to make sure he was okay.

He pulled his phone out and searched for a friend's number. It was someone they both knew and someone Clay was close to.

He dialed the number and let it ring after the fourth ring she answered.

"Hey, Sammy is Clay with you?" He asked, a little worried.

"Nah he hasn't come by. What's up?"

"We had an argument." He stated.

He could hear her sigh on the other end.

"Have you tried his phone?" She asked, sounding a little too used to this.

"He won't answer. I know."

"Just try it." She insisted. They fought a few times and each time Clay did want Dave to call. At least that's what he told her but Dave was also always so stubborn.

"Alright. Thanks Sammy."

"Anytime."

With that he hung up the call.

He dialed his boyfriend's number and let it ring. It didn't take long until he heard an all too familiar tone. He looked around the apartment until he found his boyfriend's phone on the table under some magazines.

He tsked and cut the call. He's so irresponsible. Now how is he going to find him?

Might as well call his other friends starting with goddamn Jerry. He groaned then opened Clay's phone and found Jerry's line.

He called and Jerry didn't pick up, someone else did and said he was busy and also when he asked they said Clay wasn't with him either.

Damn it was getting kinda cold. Dave looked out the window and was shocked to see snow. He really hoped Clay was okay.

What if he wasn't fine. Something told him to go out and look for him. He was too worried and the jacket Clay grabbed probably wasn't warm enough.

He walked out the door grabbing his own jacket with him. He had to find his irresponsible boyfriend.

Dave walked around their neighborhood keeping his eye out for Clay. It was getting late and he had to find him before it got dark.

He kept walking till he stopped and saw a shivering figure walking towards him. It was meters away and he looked at it a bit more till he realized it was Clay. Clay stopped by a wall, looking out of breath, then he slid down the wall, his head falling to his chest.

Dave's eyes widened and he began to run towards his boyfriend. When he got there Clay's breathing was shallow and he was shivering, his skin lost its color with parts of it turned slightly red.

Dave touched Clay's hand, it was wet and his skin was cold. Clay's eyes were slightly closed; he was finding it hard to keep them open.

"Hey Clay." Dave called gently, he shook him to get him to wake up.

Clay groaned then barely opened his eyes to look at Dave. He looked ready to fall asleep. His eyes started to close again

"Clay, come on stay with me." He held his boyfriend's cheeks turning his head towards him. "Clay come on."

Clay looked at his boyfriend again. He looked drowsy and maybe he's disoriented.

"Clay, babe what happened where were you?" Dave asked, shaking his boyfriend's attention back to him again.

"Dave?........ What?........... I don't know. " Clay answered through chattering teeth and a confused expression.

"Dave, I'm cold." He said as he felt a terrible shiver through him.

Dave stepped back and took off his jacket, placing it over his shivering boyfriend.

"Alright let's get you somewhere warm. Can you stand for me?" Dave asked as he stood beside his boyfriend.

Clay nodded slightly. He wrapped the jacket Dave gave him around himself as tightly as he could. It offered some relief but it was still so cold.

He tried lifting himself up from the wall. Dave standing right behind him. But he didn't go far up till his legs gave out and he sank back down.

Dave caught him, placing his arm over his shoulder.

"Ok it seems you might need some help." Dave said as he began leading him home.

He felt so exhausted and just wanted to lay down in something warm.

As they walked Clay shivered and leaned more and more on Dave until they got back to their apartment.

Dave reached his pockets with one hand for the keys. At some point he was dragging Clay to the room holding him desperately so he wouldn't fall.

When he finally got the keys he opened the door, dragging Clay in the house and placing him on the couch.

First he turned on the water in the bathtub making sure it was warm enough.

Then he headed back to Clay.

Clay was sleeping on the couch still shivering and holding himself to keep warm.

"Come on, you need a warm bath." Dave tried to wake him. Shaking his shoulder.

Clay looked exhausted, his eyes barely open.

Dave sat him up and helped him stand then he led him to the bathroom. Clay's legs kept fumbling barely able to stay straight or keep him up prompting Dave to hold him in case he fell.

When they got to the bath Dave began taking Clay's clothes off. They weren't very wet but still damp which still wasn't good. Clay shivered more and held himself as Dave took off his clothes. Then Dave helped him in the water. It was so nice and warm, slightly warming him up.

Dave rushed to the room looking for something Clay could wear to keep warm. He grabbed some winter clothes and went back to Clay.

He looked a little better and his skin had some color back but he was still drowsy. He was already sleeping in the tub, his head resting on the side, blonde hair covering parts of his face. Dave's heart may have skipped a beat seeing him like that.

Clay sneezed and Dave shook himself out of it and walked over to him.

He knelt down by the tub brushing part of Clay's blonde hair off his face.

"Clay, it's time to get out now." He noticed how different his tone must be now. It was usually so serious and tough and now it was much softer. Clay might tease him about this.

Clay mumbled something then looked at Dave with half closed green eyes. Then he nodded and tried to get himself out of the tub but was too tired to even lift his body.

Dave saw this and began helping him. He lifted him out by placing his hands around his shoulders. Clay shivered as he was removed from the bath.

Dave placed a towel around his boyfriend's body. Holding him close as they headed to the bedroom.

Dave placed him on the bed drying his shivering body. Clay was dozing off as he did this but not sleeping yet.

Dave helped him wear some warm clothes then he laid him on the bed placing a blanket over Clay.

Clay took it, clutching it around himself as he lay on the bed pulling his body together. Still shaking.

"Still............ cold." Clay said, still chattering and slurring.

Dave smiled a little then he grabbed some extra blankets placing them over Clay. Then he went under the covers with him and pulled him close, hopefully he could help raise his temperature.

It didn't take long for Clay to fall asleep and so did Dave.

After some hours Clay woke up feeling much warmer and better. He felt arms wrapped around him and saw his big black haired, dark skinned boyfriend holding him.

He smiled and held him back.

Dave moaned and his eyes fluttered open. They fell to Clay and Dave immediately woke up looking worried and scared.

" How do you feel?" Dave said, shuffling to check Clay's body temperature.

"Don't worry I'm much better now." Clay answered, smiling more at the worried mess he made.

Dave breathed out a sigh of relief.

"What happened?" Dave asked slightly furious.

"I don't really know……… I guess I was walking and then a bucket of water fell on me." Clay Shrugged.

Dave gave him a skeptical look. Clay gave a playful smile.

"Let's cuddle." Clay reached out to Dave and hugged him some more. His warm body helped with the residual shivers he felt.

"First I'll need to get you something warm."

Clay pouted but Dave paid him no mind and headed out. He still felt tired and exhausted and wanted to lay back down.

Luckily Dave walked back in right before he fell asleep.

"Have some tea, it will help." Dave said, shaking him a bit and holding a cup to him.

He still couldn't do things on his own so Dave had to help him sit up.

The tea was nice and really helped him feel so much better.

"Sorry I stormed out." He said to Dave who was sitting next to him with his own cup.

" You made me worried. Next time we argue you can't just storm out we can't solve anything like that. " Dave scolded him. His firm voice returned.

Clay nodded apologetically.

"And I'm sorry about how I made it sound like you don't know what's good for you." Dave continued sounding genuinely sorry.

Clay smiled. He placed the cup down and laid his head on Dave's lap.

Before Dave could say anything Clay had already fallen asleep.

He brushed Clay's hair as he accepted this. Clay's skin regained most of its color and warmth. Thank goodness.

@irathgo @luna-rein @smellofsnoww

[jerryterry]

It's too warm Jerry, it's been like 28c here, we're not designed for this. We're not like the americans with their conditioning of the air, we're just here MELTING. But like Gus in that one episode of Recess, I think back to a cooler time, a simpler time, a trip back to a much cooler world. Well anyway how you holding up in this heat?

You're tellin me, bud. I've been working nightshifts all weekend, Sunday night we hit 90% humidity - somehow we had the same humidity as Florida for a while. I've been on 12-hour shifts fixing trains in this, I'm chafed red-raw, man. Also I see what you did there. How long is this going to go on for? Are you ever going to identify yourself? You're killing me, here. You are the only surviving person who knows of the Horn-Tooting days, and it is my sole goal to snuff you out once and for all.

[mikrowrites]

thinking out loud

aaron tveit x reader

brown sugar cinnamon pop-tarts, a handsome stranger, and a show about a con man...

So honey now, take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart

I'm thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are

2009– Seattle, Washington

Y/N stifled a yawn, staring at the vending machine with a blank expression. Her neck hurt, her back hurt, her legs hurt. She could not wait to go to her hotel room upstairs and take a shower.

She was dressed to the nines in her rehearsal wear: a baggy NYU sweatshirt, leggings, and Nikes, her hair messily pulled out of her face, though a few flyaways were stuck to her forehead. Y/N was in the beginnings of rehearsals for her first off-broadway show, and if this one went well she’d make her Broadway debut.

Y/N found the packet of brown sugar cinnamon pop-tarts she wanted, clicking the F9 keys and waiting patiently for her pastries to dispense.

But much to her anguish, they remained caught on the metal contraption rather than falling.

The girl let out a loud groan, smacking her forehead tiredly against the glass of the vending machine.

“Uhm, are you okay?”

Y/N’s eyes opened wide, the girl immediately straightening and turning towards the stranger, before being transfixed for a few seconds.

The stranger was an incrediblely handsome man, probably around her age, with brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Y/N regained her sense, plastering a tired smile on her face and nodding way too enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. I’m great. Wonderful, really.”

“Okay...?” The man laughed slightly, gesturing to the vending machine. “Then why are you giving yourself a concussion on a hotel vending machine?”

Y/N sighed. “It’s been a long day. And my pop-tart won’t dispense. First world issues.”

The man nodded in understanding, before his face contorted into confusion watching Y/N pull another couple dollar bills out of her wallet. “What are you doing?”

“Paying an exorbitant fee for pop-tarts.” Y/N frowned.

“No, no, no, that’s not what you do.” The man shook his head, walking up next to Y/N and putting his hands on either side of the vending machine. “I used to do this in college a lot.”

Before Y/N could say anything the man violently shook the machine, her mouth dropping in surprise before widening into a smile as her pop-tarts and a generous few other packaged snacks fell down.

The two dove down to collect them in their arms, looking up to hear a “HEY!” as a consierge leaned over their desk, shouting at them.

“Run!” Y/N hissed, the two scrambling up and running out of the lobby with the snacks, all the way to an elevator where the man repeatedly hit the close door button, the two laughing hysterically as Y/N shouted out a string of “Go, go, go!”

The doors shut, the two bursting out into a new wave of laughing, Y/N looking up at the man. “That was insane.”

The man shook his head, grinning. “I’m gonna hear about that tomorrow for sure.”

Y/N nudged him with her elbow. “Nah, don’t worry I’ll vouch for ya.”

The man smiled down at her. “What’s your name?” Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Don’t worry, I won’t frame you for Hostess theft.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Aaron.” He introduced himself.

“A pleasure, Aaron.” Y/N returned.

The elevator doors opened, Aaron sighing. “This is my floor...” he looked at the empty hallway before turning to Y/N, gesturing at the abundance of snacks in their hands. “... and I can’t eat all of this alone.”

Y/N smiled rolling her eyes. “I guess I could spare some time for a Twix bar.”

Two hours later and Y/N had never felt more wide awake, the two sitting and chatting with each other as they finished off their treats.

“So you’re from New York?” Aaron asked, nodding to the sweatshirt that hung on Y/N’s frame.

“Yup,” she responded, popping the p. “NYU Dance major, class of ‘05.”

Aaron sat up a bit. “You graduated? That’s awesome.”

Y/N nodded with a smile. “Yeah. It was hard, but sooo worth it. I joined the Rockettes my last two years of school so things were tight.”

The man’s jaw dropped. “You’re a Radio City Rockette? What are you doing in Seattle?”

“Was.” she corrected, popping another Skittle in her mouth. “I didn’t audition because I auditioned for an off-broadway show and got in as a dancer. That’s why I’m here.”

“Wait, are you in Catch Me If You Can?” Aaron asked incredulously.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Yeah, actually, I am. Why? Wait how do you—“

Aaron pointed at himself. “Frank Abagnale Jr.”

She froze for a minute before her eyes widened, Y/N leaning over. “No shit! Oh my god! So you’re...”

He laughed and nodded. “Aaron Tveit, yeah.”

Y/N leaned back and rested her head against the wall. “Well, okay then. Anything else I should know?”

“Uhhh... I can clap with one hand?”

“What the fuck, show me right now.”

—

The next morning, Y/N walked into the rehearsal space, grinning from ear to ear as the events of last night played out in her head.

She threw her bag down onto the floor reaching down to pull her LaDucas and an empty water bottle out of her duffle. When Y/N straightened up, she turned to see a hand held out to her, presenting a package of brown sugar cinnamon pop-tarts.

Y/N looked up and smiled brightly at Aaron, who stood sheepishly, holding out the pop-tarts. “This was your favorite flavor, right?”

“We’ve known each other for less than 24 hours and you already know me so well.” Y/N mused, graciously taking the pop-tart.

“What can I say, minor theft brings people together.” Aaron responded, Y/N letting out a burst of laughter, shaking her head.

“You are too much, Tveit.” She said, turning to sit and strap on her LaDucas.

“I think I’m just enough.” Aaron shot back, walking backwards as he retreated back to where Norbert and Kerry stood.

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “Yeah, just enough.”

He pumped his fist, before throwing her another grin and jogging back over to the main cast. Y/N finished strapping her shoes on with a chuckle.

“Okay everybody!” Jerry shouted. “Let’s go from the top of the show!”

—

Y/N and Aaron jogged down the streets of Seattle together, the girl stopping and leaning against a storefront, fanning herself with a random tourism pamphlet. “God, it’s hot.”

“It doesn’t feel as bad as NYC, though!” Aaron tried to uplift.

“It’s hot as balls.” Y/N whined, Aaron laughing at her antics.

He linked his arm around hers, pulling her into a little cafe (with air conditioning), Y/N sighing in relief. Aaron shook his head with a smile, going to the counter and ordering two iced americanos. Y/N walked up next to him and reached for her bag.

Aaron stopped her. “I’ve got it.”

“No, let me. You buy me pop-tarts every morning, that’s not a cheap endeavor.” Y/N reasoned.

“It’s one coffee.” Aaron teased back, sliding his card before she could protest.

“Thanks.” Y/N responded genuinely.

Aaron wrapped his arm around her shoulder dramatically. “Anything to rescue my girl from the summer heat.”

Y/N’s heart beat a little faster, but she ignored it as she ducked out of his arm. “Ew, you’re gross and sweaty.”

“What, so are you!”

Y/N turned and smacked Aaron in the chest, the man laughing as she went to gather their drinks, the two finding a seat.

“I can’t believe we open in a week.” Y/N wondered, stirring her straw in her drink.

“It always feels surreal. Especially the first time you open a new show.” Aaron agreed.

Y/N smiled. “Yeah.” She took a long sip of her americano, sitting back. “And if we go to broadway... damn.”

“Back to the city, eating, sleeping, and breathing the show.” Aaron added, Y/N laughing a bit.

Y/N raised her drink. “To con men.”

Aaron shook his head, clinking his drink with hers.

“To con men.”

—

The whole cast bowed, the audience roaring with applause. Y/N looked to her left, Aaron making eye contact with her and flashing her that handsome smile. She rolled her eyes, waving as the cast walked off stage.

Later that night Y/N stood out on the empty stage. The theatre was lit only by a couple ghost lights, the dimly lit area clenching at her heart.

“Came to bid your farewells?”

Y/N smiled softly, turning to see Aaron walk onstage with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

He nodded, coming to stand beside her as they looked out at the empty velvet seats.

“I don’t want it to be over.” Y/N spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“Me neither.” Aaron sighed, turning to look at the girl.

Y/N turned and looked up at him, giving him a sad smile. “When we get back to the city, you’ll call me, right?”

“Of course.” He reassured.

“And when you go back to Next to Normal, I’ll be in the front row.” Y/N promised.

“And when you perform with the Rockettes this winter I’ll be at Radio City Hall.” Aaron smiled.

Y/N nodded, turning to look back at the theatre. “And with that,” she shouted out with her arms flung out and open wide, “I bid you adieu!”

Aaron watched her, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as she bowed to the empty theater, her arms out, before returning to her standing position. She let her arms drop to her sides, nodding in finality. Y/N turned and smiled at him, Aaron was left breathless.

The ghost lights’ illumination cast perfectly on her face, accentuating every feature. Aaron couldn’t help but stare, because he was looking at the most beautiful girl in the whole world.

Y/N sighed, clicking her tongue. “We should probably go before stage management throws us out.”

Suddenly Aaron burst forwards, in three long strides he approached Y/N, resting both hands on each side of her face as he kissed her, the girl making a noise of surprise before melting into him. She pushed her lips back onto his, reaching a hand up to run through his hair before resting it on the nape of his neck.

The two pulled away gasping for air, their eyes meeting. It felt like electricity was zapping through both of them, Y/N smiling. “When we get back to New York, ask me on a date. I’ll say yes.”

“And when you say yes,” Aaron whispered. “I’ll take you out on the best date of your life.”

“One without vending machine theft?”

Aaron chuckled, leaning in. “One without minor felonies, yes.” He brought her into another kiss, Y/N smiling against his lips.

“Hey!” One of the stage managers shouted. “No sex on my stage!”

“Shit!” Y/N gasped, the two quickly pulling away from each other. “Sorry, Mike, we’re on our way out!”

Aaron laughed, Y/N shaking her head in amusement. “Okay. See you on Broadway, Mr. Tveit.”

“See you on Broadway, Miss L/N.” He said.

Y/N stepped away, licking her lips and picking up her bag off the floor. She stepped backwards, smiling at Aaron who stood on the stage watching her every move.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

a/n: so the next couple of aaron blurbs are gonna have two things in common: 1) always involve an ed sheeran song bc i’m unoriginal and 2) all kinda revolve around each other, like these aren’t standard part 1, part 2, etc. but the storylines definitely intertwine somewhat? idk if that makes sense. anyways, i’m a slut for cmiyc so here’s this!

EDIT: Happy Birthday to (1) man!

[welanabananaworld]

Joker and the symptomatic laugh

          Never before, in the history of cinema, has a laugh been such a source of uneasiness and discomfort

      Contrary to previous portrayals of the emblematic villain of the DC comics, Batman, as a malicious, crazy and evil character, Todd Philipps chose, in this version, to make him a human first; a tormented human being struggling with life in Gotham City. 

By digging through the psyche of the soon-to-be villain, to get to the roots of the Joker’s mythology, the director manages to subvert the conventions of the superhero film sub-genre. Though subverted, the well-known manichean approach assumed in such films reveals itself here in the manner in which the main character strives to combine his ingenuous nature and the chaotic outside world. Todd Philipps relies on the evocative power of the voice to build his psychological thriller. Indeed, the character’s mental distress is expressed by a nervous laugh that works as a kind of leitmotiv throughout the film.

In Joker, Joaquim Phoenix plays the role of Arthur Fleck, a pitiful professional clown and aspiring stand-up comedian who lives with her mother in a dingy apartment.  Simple-minded and excessively naive, Arthur keeps being bullied and ridiculed wherever he goes. Wantonly beaten by strangers, mocked by his colleagues, laughed at on TV,  abandoned by social welfare services, and coming from a dysfunctional family, Arthur progressively goes mad and violent, just like Gotham city; a city plagued by political corruption, vice, poverty, filth, unemployment, extreme violence and delinquency. 

The inevitable psychological distress, that emerges from so strong a contrast and so many repeated physical assaults, does find not only its physical expression into a nervous laugh but also its symbolic expression into the joker’s vocation as a clown. As such, it comes as no surprise that the film opens with these two central and closely intertwined themes. 

The opening scene shows Arthur putting clown makeup on his face while listening to the news on the radio. Instead of showing a colorful and enchanting depiction of the circus scene and its stages, Todd Philipps immerses his public into a dimly lit and rather gloomy room that looks like an old and insalubrious lock room. The environment is plagued by outer and inner noises due to traffic congestion and the radio which keeps airing unfortunate news about the state of the city. Filth, garbage, typhoid fever, bad smell, rats, increase in heating oil prices… those are the news which help to create the stuffy atmosphere in which Arthur grows in professionally. From the start, one has the feeling to suffocate and witness something pathetic at work; a feeling amplified by Arthur making faces in front of the mirror of his dressing table. 

Arthur seems unable to smile naturally and spontaneously to such an extent that he needs to stretch his mouth with his fingers to mimic a smile; a smile made pathetic by the tears running down his face. Arthur’s factitious smile and look of despair present, at first sight, a contradiction with the character he is supposed to embody but if one takes a closer look at the symbolic of the clown in pop culture, this attitude reveals the drama that exists behind such a figure. Behind the extravagant make up and exaggerated facial mimics generally lies a darkness which can go from deep sadness to monstrosity. 

In the last decades, the clown has become an ambiguous, ambivalent and subversive figure due to the visual dichotomy between the surface (the make up, the facial mimics, the caricatures and the bright colors) and what is under the surface (the identity, the life story, the feelings). What is under the surface is, by definition, hidden from view, therefore open to imagination, and synonymous with concealment, hence the disturbing strangeness that emerges from the potential dangerousness of such a concealment. In addition to this, the mirror is also used to underline Arthur’s dual nature. By duplicating one’s image, the mirror signifies conflicting personalities and can mark a need for introspection.

              Pennywise, the evil clown in It by André Muschietti (Stephen King)

Twisty, the clown inspired by John Wayne Gacy, known as the Killer Clown, in American Horror Story by Ryan Murphy

In Joker, Arthur successively fits the different representations involved by the idea of duality, from the caring, harmless and cheerful clown to the sad, neurotic and eventually violent clown. In that respect, it is worth mentioning the direct reference between Joker and The King of Comedy by Martin Scorsese (1983), in which Robert De Niro, playing a delusional and aspiring stand-up comedian, is so desperate for recognition that he goes as far as to abduct the famous talk-show host, Jerry Langford, to appear on his television show.

Arthur’s gradual transformation is foreboded by the way he exercises his mouth in a happy and sad smile in the opening scene. By doing so, Arthur reveals a myriad of emotions. He must, as any self-respecting clown, put a smile on his face but this one bears no warmth, no spontaneity. Its rigidity and exaggeration alternatively give way to alarming, threatening and desperate grins. 

The duality expressed by the greek masks of comedy and drama displayed by Arthur is to be associated to his ever-present laugh. Right after his first assault on the street, Arthur is found sitting opposite a psychologist. The scene opens with Arthur laughing uncontrollably for a very long time. His laugh is anything but infectious and hearty. On the contrary, Arthur seems in pain while doing it. His facial features are distorted and uptight, his face tense as if he was about to cry. One can easily describe his laugh as bloodcurdling and disturbing; a laugh which is on the verge to choking him, even. 

Just like the perverted clown figure which instills more pity and fright than buffoonery, Arthur’s bursts of laughter give away a real medical condition. Whenever Arthur is ill-at-ease, confused or bullied, he starts laughing madly and does seem unable to stop it. This condition is called pseudobulbar affect (PBA), which is a type of emotional disturbance condition, due to neurological disorder or brain injury, characterized by uncontrollable and often inappropriate episodes of crying, laughing, anger or other emotional displays. The scene that most exemplifies his mental disorder and extreme vulnerability is when Arthur entertains a little boy in the bus and his mother, misjudging the situation, asks him to stop. Taken aback, Arthur explodes in laughing, unable to control himself, and shows his medical card in an effort to explain what is happening. Combined with the beautiful but tragic film score, Arthur appears utterly powerless and crushed by inner and outer misery; a mental and physical misery materializing in a nervous laugh which makes everyone uncomfortable, including him.

The therapy session provides a glimpse of the aggravating factors of the neurological disorder by capturing Arthur’s current psychological state. He is depicted as a deeply depressed and troubled man who takes many medications with no result. His persona as a sad clown is reinforced by a certain dark humour which he overuses in his notebook : « I just hope my death makes more cents than my life ». As if Arthur’s traumatic life experiences were not enough, one finds out later that his PBA and awful thinness (see his protruding bones) are actually due to serious physical abuses inflicted, when he was a child, by his unstable mother.

In the end, one can conclude that the voice, as a narrative tool, is used in this film to anticipate, announce, hint at and explain Arthur’s journey to madness. 

    Contrary to traditional superhero films in which the villain’s tragic past is quickly mentioned, Joker builds its storyline precisely upon the villain’s progressive journey as a victim. And who is more likely to become a time bomb than someone who has been a victim all his life? The origin of the joker’s malevolence is to be found precisely in his traumatic experience of life.  

The contrast between a kind and optimistic nature and the ruthlessness of a city and its inhabitants, reinforced by regular humiliations and family dramas, is enough for anyone to blow a fuse and turn to the dark side. But the Joker, considering who he is, puts a smile upon his face, finally embraces chaos - « Isn’t it beautiful? » he asks the policeman in a thrilling voice while on his way to prison» - and laughs at the irony of life, hence the ending. The piece of music, hummed by Arthur in front of the psychologist, concludes the film on a bitter note, its title underlining how unfair and unpredictable life can be: That’s life. But Frank Sinatra’s song is much more than an appropriate conclusion. By using the soundtrack as a diegetic and extra-diegetic music, Todd Philipps evokes both Arthur’s understanding of what he has been through all along and his ensuing thirst for revenge, fueled by injustice, the lack of meaning and the lack of a sense of belonging. Arthur’s smile, while humming, forebodes the joker’s rise of terror in Gotham city. Psychotherapy is over. It’s time for action! It’s time for his destiny to unfold…

That’s life… And as funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks, stompin' on a dream. But I don’t let it get me down cause this fine old world, it keeps spinning around… 

[seraphym100]

100 Days of Writing

[Day 28] Off-Book

For Day 28, @the-wip-project asks whether we have an expression we use too much in our writing.

My very arrogant answer is no, I don’t ever overuse an expression. I read and re-read my WIPs so much that any repetition in them really sticks out and annoys me. I go out of my way to make sure I never say a phrase twice, and I hate repeating words as well. The only exception to this is “he said/she said”, because there’s no way to avoid that without ending up with overly embellished dialogue.

So because my answer to that question is so short, I kind of want to go off book and talk about what’s been going on in my life. And then ask something.

Today’s actually my birthday. And it sucks. We’re in for record-shattering heat here all day on the 28th, which is also the third straight day of record-shattering heat. I have two kids and a senior at home I need to keep cool in a three story house with no air conditioning. My mother (senior) is bed bound and basically can’t leave her room on the ground floor. My kids had no choice to be cooped up in my room because I have one, old, rickety, wheezing portable air conditioner which can keep a very small room about ten degrees cooler than the outside temperature, which was 41C/105F.

The middle floor is simply unliveable. I only have one thermometer, so I couldn’t tell what the temperature was on it, but it didn’t matter overly much because I was always just passing through on my way upstairs to check on my kids playing in my room or downstairs to adjust fan positions and switch out cold cloths and mist my Mom on the ground floor. Thank all the gods in the pantheon that her room stayed about 5 degrees cooler than outside naturally (so 35 degrees Celsius, which is 95F) and that I was somehow able to keep her comfortable with all my jerry-rigging of tinfoil over the windows and sheets frozen in the freezer and spray bottles and ice packs. She has chronic wounds also, so you can imagine the discomfort she’s in no matter what the temperature.

It could have been bad. We in the Pacific Northwest are as prepared for heat as Texas and Alabama are prepared for snow.

You’d think that would be enough, right? Well, my spouse was running around in our NON-air-conditioned car trying to get a fan and other essential things to my 78 year old father, who has been in the hospital since May 12. I won’t bore you with all the details, but he went in because he was vomiting blood, and it has been a long, gut wrenching, heartbreaking recovery that has felt like three steps forward and two and a half steps back. We’re not allowed to visit. We’re an extremely tight-knit family. He is the lifeblood of this family and our household and it’s not overstating things to say that I have been lost without my cheerleader, best friend, mentor, and emotional support Dad. Worse, he and my Mom are literally the love affair of the century and watching them tell each other that they’re each other’s guiding star and the words of every love song… my god, I can’t keep talking about it. We’ve spent about 7-8 hours every single day on video chats with him because … well because what are we going to do, just go on like it’s normal that he’s not here? We can’t. And he needs us because he hasn’t seen anyone’s face in two fucking months.

All that would have been enough, but on my birthday, something happened to Dad and we didn’t know what. But he turned feral. Vicious. He told my Mom she didn’t care about him, told the nurses and the doctors to fuck themselves, and oh my god.. just. That is not. who. he. is. My Mom, who has been housebound for two years and bedbound for two months, managed to convince the hospital to let her come see him, and they relented, we got her ready, put her in the car, I mean, I thought she was going to die before she got there. I only let her go because I figured, well, if things go sideways… at least she’d already be at the hospital?

He kicked her out. He refused to talk to her. I’ve never heard my Mom cry like that ever. Ever. And we have been through some shit as a family, so that’s saying something. For three days, we’ve called the desk to find out if he’s eating, if he’s okay, what’s happening, and the news is all bad. He’s going downhill and he won’t talk to us.

That’s been my birthday. And my week. I’ve tried to journal it, but it’s like I don’t want to commit these atrocities to reality by enshrining them in print. For some reason it was easier to just spill it out to you guys… even if no one reads it, it feels somehow comforting to think someone might read it and think kind thoughts. I don’t know. I don’t really know what I’m saying.

The writing question is that I can’t decide if writing right now is additional pressure or self-care. It doesn’t feel right to be in a fantasy world with fictional characters when my real life family is in such a bad place, but… I had recently come to believe writing is something I need to cope with this bad place. How do I tell which one is right?