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streetlightyeri · 2 months

Text

oklahoma smokeshow ; t.o

"cause you're a small town smokeshow."

w.c.: 6275

content: lovers to enemies (?) to lovers, angst, fluff, do i have to disclose natural disasters lol, death of a family member, no beta, and as always: FMC is named but has no descriptors

The thunder rumbled around Harlow, the sky turning blue with every flash of lightning. These circumstances aren’t what she pictured coming back to Oklahoma to be; the forecasted unprecedented storm week seemed like it was less of a random once-in-a-generation weather cell and more like a physical amalgamation of her emotions. She spent the entire plane ride pretending to be asleep with her head covered so the flight attendants didn’t see her tears; her seat partner acted like he didn’t hear the occasional sniffle. Harlow was grateful for that.

The rental she chose was the last truck on the lot: a Toyota Tacoma with an Arkansas license plate. She wanted to kick the metal plate and pretend it was her ex’s University of Arkansas alumni plate. Instead, she pretended to be normal, and climbed in, immediately turning on the seat warmers and relaxing against the leather. She pulled the seat up the farthest it could go; whoever rented before her practically had it brushing against the back row.

She felt like she was back in high school, driving her dad’s truck to Dairy Queen with her friends. Now, she couldn’t even remember the last time she saw a truck. She spent most of her time on the metro or in a yellow taxi. After her and Tyler’s blowup breakup, Harlow declined her full ride admission to University of Oklahoma and accepted a spot at Columbia University. She fantasized about him showing up at the airport to wish her luck; he didn’t. Similar to how she just did, she pretended to be asleep while she cried on the plane to JFK.

Tyler Owens got famous - there was no other way to say it. He was a hot-shot storm chaser with seemingly little regard for the dangers. But Harlow knew; he was calculative and a downright mathematical genius when it came to tornadoes. He completed his degree in meteorology a year early with high honors. He walked summa cum laude. Harlow watched the livestream. When she walked across stage in her powder blue cap and gown, she couldn’t help but wonder if he did the same. Or if he did it when she walked again two years later for her Masters. And again when she walked four and a half years later for her PhD.

She didn’t just run from him: she ran from the town of Clearwater, Oklahoma. Harlow was . . . a smokeshow. There was no denying it. But she was more than just attractive and Prom Queen. She was valedictorian, president of the Beta and Spanish Clubs, the organizer of natural disaster relief programs across the county. But everyone in Clearwater saw her as one thing: Tyler Owens’ pretty girlfriend who would soon be nothing more than a passing face on the street with a baby on her hip with another on the way. And Harlow couldn’t deny that maybe . . . just maybe she would’ve enjoyed that. But there were so many things that she couldn’t do in Clearwater, so many opportunities outside of the county lines.

But Tyler didn’t want that. He found out she applied to more than just UO and laughed at her. He asked what she could possibly want to do that wasn’t already in Clearwater, asked if she thought she’d be able to leave her mom. And Harlow couldn’t answer. She had nothing concrete that she wished for; she had nondescript dreams of moving away. She spent so long being what everyone wanted her to be, she had no clue what else there was to wish for - what else there was to be.

Their argument was one of her core memories, and in the Tacoma, even with the radio on and the thunder nearly shaking the road, she could hear everything like she was there again, that night 2 weeks after Prom as she helped him clean up his gear from his first ride of the season.

Tyler threw his rope down against his saddle. “If you hate it here so much, maybe we shouldn’t be together then!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t!”

The empty arena was completely silent. The groan of the tin roof in the gentle breeze was the only thing that interrupted the tense moment.

He swallowed hard, but didn’t move from his spot a few feet away from her. “Is . . . is that what you really want?”

Harlow tried to shrink in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso, still wearing his sweatshirt. “I don’t - I don’t know, Tyler. The problem is I don’t know what I want, just what everyone else does. It’s just - you can’t understand. You’ll never be able to understand.” She dropped her arms and opted to lean against one of the bull shoots, the cold, rusty metal grounding her.

He just turned around, busying himself with tightening the straps of his gear. He was silent.

“Tyler-”

He shrugged so hard it shut her up, reaching in his pocket and tossing his keys onto the dirt. “Take the truck. I’ll get my keys and my stuff tomorrow. I’ll call for a ride.”

Harlow crossed her arms, “No, I’m not taking your truck.”

“And I’m not having you staying here in the dark waiting for someone to pick you up. So unless you want me to drive you home, take the damn truck.”

Harlow picked the keys up from the dirt. She cried on the way home then in her mom’s lap. After nearly an hour of listening to her daughter cry, Shiloh James brought her daughter to the family laptop and had her sign into her University of Oklahoma admissions portal and deny her spot. Shiloh looked at her diploma from UC Davis hanging on the wall, “Sometimes a fresh start is what you need most.”

Now here she was, back in Clearwater for the first time in years. The few times she visited before were quick, a few days at most before she jetted back across the country; she never came during storm season, too afraid to cross paths with him or hear his name.

This time, Harlow had taken a month off work to spend time with her mother. All it took was one call from her mom's nurse Kelly for Harlow to book her plane ride home.

Shiloh scolded Harlow when she learned she took a month of unpaid leave. “Honey, you’re being dramatic. Your coworkers need you more than I do here! Honest. I haven’t felt better.”

Harlow playfully rolled her eyes at her mother and cuddled against her on the couch, pretending once again that she was here for different reasons. “Nah, I think they’ll be just fine.”

She was learning she was really good at pretending. But, maybe she had been all her life.

Harlow dropped her mom off at her best friend’s house as was customary per Kelly. Shiloh had long since stopped treatment and no longer cared about keeping distance from her loved ones. So Thursdays became nights for her to spend with Ruth to reminisce on their years together. Harlow planned to spend the night getting drunk and pretending her life wasn’t unraveling, like she wasn’t about to spend the weekend deciding between cedar and mahogany and pine.

Instead, she got a call from a college of hers in New York, Kate.

“Hello?” She answered, not sure what could prompt a call like this at 5pm. The two were work friends, the one the other would drift to during conventions - nothing more. Neither liked talking about anything personal. She could count on one hand the amount of real conversations she’d had with the girl. But perhaps weather could get her mind off the storm brewing in her life.

“Hi, this is Dr. James?” Kate sounded unsure, as though her number may have changed.

After receiving confirmation, Kate started into a spiel about how she was in need of a second opinion on the cells that were forming over the next few days in Oklahoma.

“Wait,” Harlow cut her off, “Are you . . . in Oklahoma?”

Kate swallowed, “Yes, as a favor to a friend. He’s testing out new equipment.”

“I mean - I’m in Oklahoma as well. I can meet with you, if that’s easier. That way I can see the models you’re describing.” Harlow wasn’t sure why she was so ecstatic to help. Maybe she just wanted a distraction, a taste of what Tyler did every day, what prompted him to leave Clearwater just a year after she did.

After half an hour of preparing a bag with her laptop and other essentials for the night she was going to spend at the motel, she was headed towards a town a few dozen miles north. The ride was the same as every ride through the Great Plains: filled with wheat, windmills, and cows. When she finally arrived at the address she was given, Harlow sighed and looked at the backseat, wishing she brought extra blankets. The parking lot was full: there was no chance of her getting a room that night. Nevertheless, she unbuckled, pulling her bag from the passenger side floorboard. She didn’t need to search for the StormParr trucks. They were stark white with the brutalist style logo slapped on every inch of the vehicles. She scanned the group for a second, looking for Kate - or any woman in general.

Kate saw her first, gently waving her over to introduce her to the group. After a while of comparing models and data (most of which was written off by the StormParr team and deemed as rudimentary), Kate got the hint that Harlow was about to snap. In an attempt to mediate, she cut off the tall, broad man while he was in the middle of talking about his data collection, “I’m sorry, but I really do have to run to the restroom. Dr. James, would you mind accompanying me?”

Harlow gave her a thankful look. The two set off to Kate’s room on the second floor. “I’m sorry about all of that. I thought what you said was very helpful. The prediction of rain habits in the area can definitely contribute to the-”

She cut Kate off with a raised hand and a laugh as they ascended. “It’s fine, really. I have a PhD in Climatology. I’m used to being talked over by men. It’s not like they’re paying me, so I don’t really care.”

They were about to start up the second set of stairs when a man called up at Kate, “Well if it isn’t Big City! That was a good call today!”

Harlow would’ve thought they were talking to her if she hadn’t known Kate was surrounded by these same groups of storm chasers for the past couple of days.

Kate rolled her eyes and whispered to her, “Tornado Wrangler crew.”

Harlow felt her eyes blow wide and her blood run cold. She could hear the rushing in her ears and her heart pumping in her chest. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Kate introducing her, “This is Dr. Harlow James.”

She got the nerve to turn to see the group of people. They looked exactly how they did on YouTube - cool, fresh, and close knit. Harlow felt like she was looking into a portal to what her life could’ve been. Harlow swallowed hard, the world spinning around her aside from Tyler. His eyes were locked on hers, his face giving none of his thoughts away. Harlow wasn’t as confident in her own facial features. Of all the things to come out of their mouths, she wasn’t expecting one of his crewmates to know about her.

“Of course we know her!” Boone laughed, “We use her weather mapping patterns to plan our-”

Tyler’s boot connected with his side, making him yelp in pain.

She felt her stomach jolt upwards. Harlow gripped Kate’s arm, whispering one word: “Bathroom.”

The blonde took her up the rest of the stairs. The second the door was unlocked, Harlow made a B-line for the bathroom, falling to her knees and emptying her dinner into the toilet. Kate stood awkwardly at the doorway to her hotel room, acting like she couldn’t hear her colleague vomiting through the door. She walked to Harlow’s duffel bag and rummaged through it until she found her mouthwash.

She mulled over if she should check on her or leave her be and throw the mouthwash bottle into the bathroom like it was a grenade. She was given a few extra moments to decide when a knock interrupted her thoughts. Kate opened the door, expecting Javier coming up to apologize for his crew’s actions towards Harlow but instead was met with Tyler Owens.

She couldn’t hide her surprise, “Oh, um, hello.”

He looked down at her hand and saw the travel sized bottle of Listerine. He tried to peer around her, but Kate pulled the door. He realized how it must’ve looked, “I came to check on her. Is she okay? She looked like she was about to faint.”

It was clear there was a history between the two, but Kate couldn’t tell what exactly it was. She wasn’t sure if she cared either. But she wasn’t about to leave this girl who she brought over. Kate tried to lie, to say that she was fine and just using the restroom, but a particularly violent gag sounded out.

He looked like it took all of his willpower to not push Kate out the way and run to the bathroom. “I just need to make sure she’s okay, alright?”

Kate went to deny him again, but Javier came up the stairs at that moment, talking without looking until he got right to her door, “Hey, Kate, I want to apologize about the way they treated Dr. James. It was entirely unprofession- oh . . .”

Javier sized up Tyler, whose jaw was locked. He turned to Kate instead. “Where’s Dr. James? I want to apologize personally.”

“Bathroom.”

He nodded in understanding when he heard another gag and Kate slightly raised the bottle in her hand.

“Please,” Tyler pleaded. “Let me check on her. She will dry heave until she passes out. She’s done it since we were kids.”

Kate wanted to say no, but the sounds were not letting up; if anything, they were getting worse. And she was not good with comforting someone or with bodily fluids. She glanced between the two, eventually stepping outside and handing Tyler the bottle. “Leave the door open.”

“Of course,” he assured her before bolting to the door. He knocked softly and was answered by a dry heave. He swallowed thickly, his voice soft, “Harlow?”

She made no noise of acknowledgement. He knocked again to nothing. He tried the handle, and it was miraculously unlocked. Once the door swung open, he was met with Harlow on her knees, arms wrapped around the toilet, dry heaving so hard her back arched up and down. He got on one knee next to her, gently running a hand down her back as he said her name. Her body shook with another heave. He pulled the hand towel off the bar on the wall and ran it under the faucet before wringing it out and placing it across her burning neck. That seemed to snap her out of the cyclical vomit-dry heave moment she was having. Her breathing started to deepen and even out as she reached up to flush the toilet twice. The redness in her face started to recede. She braced herself to stand, but didn’t have the strength to do so yet and almost stumbled head first into the counter.

Tyler was quick, “Whoa, whoa, darl- Harlow.” His hands reached out to steady her against the counter. She took deep breaths as she regained her bearings, running her hands under the cool water. She washed her mouth out, taking a swig of the mouthwash he offered. She splashed her face with water. She rubbed away the residual tears that formed during her vomit spell. Her mascara was still smudged underneath her eyes.

“Can you uh, grab my toothbrush and a shirt?” He didn’t need any explanation as to why she couldn’t get it herself. He brought them to her after practically emptying her duffel bag contents onto the bed. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back as she kept her eyes on the running water. She took another swig of mouthwash and swallowed it for good measure. He closed his eyes and turned away as she changed her shirt.

“You good?” He asked. She wanted to throw up again at how soft his voice was.

She nodded. She glanced up and met his eyes for a brief second before wiping her nose with a strangled laugh, her voice raspy, “Great first impression.”

She wiped up the water droplets on the counter with the towel he gave her earlier, doing anything to not look at him or acknowledge how close he was after a decade of nothing.

“Harlow.” His voice was still soft, but firm. “What did those guys say to you?”

She scoffed and wiped her wet hands on her shirt before walking out the bathroom. “Nothing I can’t ignore. I’m used to it.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, putting her things back in her bag that were strewn across the bed, “The usual. No one taking my models seriously because I was the only female graduate in my PhD program and because I’m the only person using them.”

“I use them.”

She pulled the zipper, staring so hard at her bag Tyler thought it might burst into flames, “So I’ve heard.”

There was a beat of silence. “Why’re you working with guys like that?”

That made her look up, eyebrows knitted. “I’m not. I have no clue who they are. I came here as a favor for Kate. We’re professional acquaintances. It was a coincidence we were both here.”

She said too much with that because he immediately asked, “Why are you back in Oklahoma?”

She kept her response short and guarded, “Seeing mom.”

Silence stretched on for an awkward amount of time. Harlow went back to looking at her bag. Tyler’s eyes never left hers.

“Let me take you get food. You just flushed yours down the toilet.”

“No!” Harlow almost jumped back as she heard those words. “No, no, I’m fine.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I ate on the way here.”

“And that’s gone. Before that?”

Harlow tried to do the math in her head. She skipped lunch because she was so worried about getting her mother bathed for her night with Ruth. She picked at an egg this morning but couldn’t stomach it, too aware of the texture of it. She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t digested a meal since the night before, so she opted for “A while.”

“I’m taking you get food. Come on.”

There was little reason for Harlow to argue - if she said she was going to bed he’d insist on walking her to her room and then she’d have to admit she didn’t have one, or that she was going to get food herself and he’d insist it was pointless to go alone if he was offering to drive.

That’s how the two ended up at a 24/7 diner, cramped into the only booth available next to the front window where everyone walking past could stare at them. It felt very similar to how Harlow felt when the two were a couple in Clearwater: watched, judged, and laughed at.

The two did not talk. Harlow became more comfortable with looking up, so instead of staring at the plate the entire meal, she was able to get as far up as his nose. His eyes were off limits in her mind. If she looked at them this close up, she was sure she’d feel everything she felt that night in the arena come rushing back.

She wasn’t sure how the two ended up in a pasture across from the diner, but she had made the mistake of looking at his eyes when his hand covered hers when the bill came. And she did feel all of those emotions come rushing back. It felt like their argument picked up right where it left off. The tall grass tickled her legs that were now accustomed to fancy lotions.

“I LEFT BECAUSE IT WASN’T FAIR! IT STILL ISN’T!” She shouted at him, hoping no one across the street could hear.

“What are you talking about?” Tyler scoffed.

“I left because the only thing I could ever be in Clearwater was ‘Tyler Owen’s girlfriend.’”

“Would that really have been so bad? A picket fence? A few babies?”

“No! It wouldn’t have! But you got to be Tyler Owens. Hot-shot bullrider extraordinaire. Loved by everyone. I was nothing more than the town smokeshow, and that’s all I would ever be.”

“You chose to go to college!”

“And look where you ended up! Mr. Summa Cum Laude! Why was it okay for you to go and not me?”

Tyler couldn’t hide the shock on his face. “You . . . you kept up with me?”

Harlow nodded. “Yup. Watched the livestream of you graduating. Even though you started a year after me, we still ended up graduating the same year.”

“But why keep up? You left. You went to New York.”

“I was going to UO at first. Wanted to stay close to you. They were gonna pay for everything, can you believe that?” She let out a humorless laugh. “Then we broke up. And my mom told me to go to New York. Get a fresh start. Turns out I fucked up that fresh start, too.”

He knit his brows. “What do you mean?”

Harlow fell onto the tailgate, her feet dangling. She tried to speak but only a sob came out. She hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut, a tear running down her nose and falling onto the dirt. Tyler walked over slowly and apprehensively took a seat next to her. She didn’t move to bite his head off or push him off. After a few seconds, she was able to compose herself to say the words she’d been refusing to say. The ones she refused to repeat to Nurse Kelly. The ones she knew her mom didn’t like. “She’s dying, Tyler. That’s why I came home - to plan her funeral. The doctors gave her until the end of the month. I-I left and never came back, and now I’m never gonna see her again.”

“Oh, baby,” his heart clenched. Of all the people in the world that deserved something like that, Shiloh was the last one. She raised Harlow alone after her father skipped town when she was two. She baked homemade cakes for him on his birthday and included him in Christmas and donated every penny she could to those in Clearwater who needed it. He wrapped his arms around her, and she broke. She held onto his button down and let out the sobs she’d been pretending to not be holding back, the ones she muffled in her pillow at night so she didn’t wake her mom.

She would’ve continued if it hadn’t been for the breeze she felt. It was warm. Like the ones before it, but different. The heat was weighing the breeze down, not being carried by it. She slowly pulled away from Tyler. He tried to say something, but she held her hand out to quiet him. She slowly dismounted from the tailgate, landing on the ground with a thud. Tyler made significantly less noise when he stepped off. Harlow pulled her hair tie out, slipping the band onto her wrist before leaning down and snapping a few blades of grass from the ground.

“Harlow, what are you-” He shut up when she let go, the blades flying away. He understood what spooked her. He suddenly felt the heaviness in the air, the air blowing her hair in the same direction as the grass. Heat lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating a monster cloud. Tyler grabbed her upper arm, “Get in the truck. Now.”

She nodded, racing to the passenger side just as the wind began to pick up. Heading back to the motel was too risky and too far. The best bet was to find shelter in town. Tyler started down the main stretch of road, Harlow screaming out the window for people to find shelter; if it was just her in her rental, she knew that no one would take her seriously. She had no fame and was no household name, but the red truck she was in gave her all the credibility she needed. Pedestrians heeded her warning and turned, fleeing to the nearest buildings. Power began to flicker across the city, darkness rolling in waves as transformers blew. The tornado siren started its song. Tyler had to intervene by rolling the passenger side window up on his control panel once the hail started, Harlow getting pelted as she stuck her head out to yell warnings.

“The hail is enough extra warning for them, sweetheart. Look for a shelter we can go into.”

Her eyes scanned, but the lack of power made it hard to see anything, even with the flashes of lightning. But then she pointed to the right, “Look! A motel! They most likely have one!”

He pulled into the parking lot, not caring how shittily he parked. But to the two’s horror, there were still three people in the lobby and they were soon joined by a mother and daughter. The young woman was laughing at their nervous state.

“Chill, guys, 9 times out of 10 there’s not even a tornado.”

The other two men were arguing about a bad Yelp review. Tyler instructed her to find a shelter, stating he’d round up everyone in the lobby. Harlow never ran so fast in her life. She checked every room, but found no doors that led to a storm shelter. She felt her heart fall to her stomach as she returned to the lobby to tell them they’d have to try and stick it out there. But out the corner of her eyes she saw the empty pool. “Tyler! Over here!”

He guided them all to the door she was at. “We have to run for it.”

The mother, daughter, and shop owner nodded. The other two scoffed, refusing to admit that a tornado was making its way down main street. Tyler nodded to Harlow and she unlatched the door. It swung off its hinges and flew across the parking lot, then she patted the mother and daughter to go, then the clerk.

“This is your last chance! Come with us!”The two others shook their heads, finally starting to understand the severity, but too scared to venture out. Tyler could not wait any longer; he grabbed Harlow’s arm and pushed her out before going last. They caught up quickly, each helping the other three down the ladder.

Her voice was getting sucked away by the howling wind, “Get to the pipes! Hold on! Do not let go!”

She tried to help Tyler down, but he pulled his arm back. “Absolutely not! Harlow, get in and do not wait for me!”

There was no time to argue. She could hash this out with him when they made it out of this. He grabbed onto her torso and helped her descend. She immediately ducked down, making a run for the pipes. Tyler was right behind her, until he wasn’t: the clerk stood up to see the tornado behind them and got sucked to the middle of the pool. He held onto the ladder, but had to let go and duck when a vending machine flew towards him. Tyler fell to his belly, making his way around the machine, reaching his hand out for the man. But the man ignored Tyler’s warning. He got to his knees to reach Tyler’s hand faster. Harlow watched in horror as the man hit the side of the pool with a crunch before getting sucked away.

She was crying just as the mom and daughter were; the screws of the pipes shook with the strength of the tornado that was rapidly gaining on them. Tyler was slowly making his way back over to the group on his belly. She screamed his name, but it was covered by the sound of a train horn. She hooked her arm through the pipe and extended her body as far out as she could, trying to reach him.

He wanted to shout at her, to tell her to get back against the pipes, that he wasn’t letting her mom bury her, that he wasn’t going to bury her. But if she hadn’t done that, he’d be dead right now. Just as he made it back to her and wrapped her body in his, a truck flew into the pool and wedged itself above them. He could feel her heartbeat hammering; he tried to tighten his grip on her, his biceps protecting her head as he ducked his own. He whispered soothing, sweet nothings against her head.

The winds slowed, but her breathing was still hard. He broke first, trying to move to peek around the truck to ensure they were in the clear, but Harlow moved her hands to grip one of his arms. He squeezed one of her hands and placed it back on the pipe. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

She returned to her death grip on the pipe. He was back seconds later to pry her off and bring her above. The mother and daughter thanked them with tears in their eyes. Harlow knew she should be embarrassed at how she was clinging to Tyler the same way the girl was clinging to her mother. But he didn’t seem to mind. He let her cling to him as they waited for the rest of his crew to arrive for relief efforts. Once they did, he sat her in the passenger seat of his truck. He tried to help set up tables with food and water, but Lily shooed him away with two bottles of water.

She nodded in the direction of his truck where Harlow was on the phone, her body shaking from the adrenaline crash. “She needs you more than we do. Get her back safe. We have it from here.”

He glanced between Lily and Harlow. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but he knew Lily wouldn’t let him leave if they truly needed his help, so he thanked her and went to start up the truck just as she was hanging up the phone.

“She okay?” He didn’t have to ask who it was. There was only one person who Harlow went to for comfort.

She wiped at her cheek, “Yeah, yeah. Not even a drop of rain. She’s with Ruth.”

That made Tyler let out a belly laugh. “Are we sure they didn’t cause this?”

Harlow laughed wetly, “I would not bet money against it.”

When they arrived at the motel, Tyler was adamant on walking her to her room and getting her settled. It was nearing 1AM. Harlow looked at her lap and scratched at the nape of her neck. “So, uh, about that . . .”

He cocked an eyebrow, motioning with his hand for her to continue.

“I was gonna sleep in my rental. There’s no vacancy.”

He looked at her incredulously, “You’re joking, right?”

She stayed quiet.

“So you were just planning on getting here and sleeping in your truck?”

She shook her head, “No, I just wasn’t expecting every storm chaser in America to be at this motel. That or I was going to go home. Kate said there was still vacancy when we talked on the phone. She even verified that there were a handful of rooms left.”

“Well you’re not sleeping in your truck, absolutely not.” He turned his truck off, grabbing her duffle bag he threw into the backseat earlier.

She looked at him questioningly, holding her hand out for her bag, “Then I’m going home.”

“No. You are not driving half an hour in the dark right after you just waited out a tornado in a pool, especially not to be home alone. And you’re not sleeping in the backseat of an untinted rental in a parking lot, especially not one where I have confirmation that there are people here who do not respect you. You’re staying in my room.”

“I can’t!”

“Relax, I’ll sleep in the chair.”

Harlow felt her face flush. “That’s - that’s not what I meant. You paid for the room. You need to sleep in a bed without having to worry about your ex-girlfriend who dry heaves as an anxiety response.”

He rounded the truck by the time she finished talking. He reached over and unbuckled her, grabbing her hand to help her down. He shut the door behind her. “I didn’t care before, don’t care now. Come on, we need showers.”

“I’m sleeping on the chair then.”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied sarcastically.

He all but forced her to go first; while she washed all the dirt and mud off herself, he prepared a makeshift bed on the chair with bedding he found in the closet. It smelled of mildew, but there was no way he was giving her those blankets and keeping the ones on the bed for himself.

When she came out in a towel, he nearly tripped over the footstool he was adding padding to. He slammed his eyes shut and turned around. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

He could hear the embarrassment in her voice, “I said your name like 4 times but you didn’t respond. I thought you were asleep. I have shorts on, I was just coming to get my other shirt from my bag.”

He felt silly talking to the wall with his eyes closed. “Don’t tell me you mean Throw Up shirt.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

He groaned in frustration, reaching blindly for the pile of clothes he set out for himself. He felt for his shirt and tossed it in her direction. The noise of it hitting the wall let him know he missed, but he heard her shuffling to pick it up.

“Thank you.”

Tyler was about to scold her again when he opened the bathroom door, steam wafting out into the room, but found her asleep in the chair. She was curled into herself, legs pulled to her chest and secured by the mildew blanket. He shook his head in disbelief and pulled at the blanket to try and wake her up. She groaned and pulled the blanket back against herself.

“Harlow. Wake up. Take the bed.”

She simply groaned in response, turning to tuck her head farther against the chair.

“Baby, I’m not playing this game. Take the bed.”

Her words were almost incoherent, but he managed to decipher them, “If I’m in th’ bed, then you will be too. M’not takin’ from you.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He said, placing one arm under her back and the other under her knees, lifting her and bringing her to the bed.

He let her get settled and couldn’t ignore her shivers. He reduced the fan speed on the AC before climbing into bed behind her, his back to the door. He kept distance between the two of them, but she was shaking so hard it nearly turned the mattress into a massage bed.

“C’mere.” He hooked his arm around her torso and pulled her into himself. He was still pulsing with warmth from the shower. “You wouldn’t be cold if you had used hot water for your shower.”

He wasn’t aware if she was conscious or if she was acting on instinct, but she curled up into him, fitting like the puzzle piece he’d been missing for a decade.

Two and a half weeks passed. And so did her mother. Kelly announced her.

Her first call was the coroner’s office. Her second was Tyler. It had been radio silence since that night in the motel. He walked her to her car and made her promise to text her when she got home safe; aside from that, Tyler was trying to mentally piece himself back together enough to go back to never seeing Harlow James again.

The phone hadn’t even finished its first ring before he picked up. She was sobbing and incoherent, but he knew. He promised her he’d be there as soon as he could; he beat the police. He held her as she sobbed for her mom on the lawn as they wheeled her out the house. She spent every moment since that night with her mom, even those nights at Ruth’s. She savored every moment with the woman who raised her, but it wasn’t enough. She had too many memories of New York, and not enough of her mother. Her visits were so infrequent that her mother's weight loss was stark instead of gradual. But she knew if she had the chance to do it all again, her mother would be the one telling her to do it, that in order to find herself, she had to start anew.

Tyler was one of the pallbearers. After he did his duty, he found his place right back next to her. He held her while she cried, while she laughed, and while she sat there blankly. Everyone in town talked about how good it was to see the two together again despite the circumstances. And Harlow found herself wondering if maybe her mother knew this was how it was going to end all along. That she could be happy in this town. That the storm he caused would only be tamed by him.

And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be pretending anymore.

#imagine #twisters #twisters 2024 #Tyler owens #Tyler owens imagine #glen powell #zach bryan #song fit #Tyler ownens fanfiction #Tyler owens fanfic #Tyler owens one shot #twisters movie

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callsign-dexter · 1 year

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A Father's Comfort

Request: hey lovie

I just went through a pretty nasty break up (not because of him and I) and I tried to explain everything to my friends and some family what happened by they all thought I had done something wrong. The only person who had my back was my dad, he was the only one who would listen and told me it wasn’t my fault.

anyways I was wondering if you could write a maverick x daughter reader where she broke up with her boyfriend and tried to get some reassurance from friends and family (maybe just some of Pete’s old friends) but they just thought she was the mess up (maybe they were just extremely passive aggressive) so she just tried to laugh off the jokes. Maybe eventually Pete finds out through the chain that she broke up with the boy so he tried to go confront/comfort her and she tried to make jokes and in the middle of “laughing” she started crying. Then maverick just jumps into loving father mode and comforts her.

maybe the reader is like 16-17

thank you and 100% your choice

Pairings: Maverick x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, asshole boyfriends, asshole Chipper, asshole Sundown, asshole Merlin

A/N: Hopefully you caught the Grease reference. I'm so sorry you had a rough break up and sorry I got this out late. If you need to talk my messages and asks are always open.

You didn’t know what happened. You thought your relationship with Justin was going great. You loved him and he loved you or so you thought. It was after school when it happened you were getting ready to leave the parking lot. You had just arrived at your Toyota Tacoma when Justin strolled up to you. You smiled when you saw him and greeted him with a kiss but he pulled away and turned his head so that you kissed his cheek this confused you. “Everything ok?” You had asked him.

“I think we should break up.” He said and your heart broke.

“What why?” You asked

“I don’t love you and never did. Besides I’m going out with Teresa.” He said and your face drained.

“How long has that been going on?” You asked now furious but still heart broken.

“A month after we got together.” He said and our eyes began to sting with tears. “We can still be friends.” He said and you didn’t say anything. He started to walk away but still close enough to you when you shouted at him.

“Lose my number and never talk to me again.” You said and he turned around.

“I’ve already lost it.” He said with a proud smirk on his face while yours was a frown.

“All I want to know is why.” You asked

“You’re too clingy. You never wanted to go further. At least Teresa is willing.” He said and then walked off and now you were truly alone. You got into your truck and drove home somehow not crashing. When you pulled into the driveway you recognized most of the cars as being Top Gun’s Class of ’86.

You parked in your original spot and killed the engine and headed inside of the house. It was loud and from the looks of it some of them had been drinking. You knew they were coming over for a cookout that your dad had planned and you were looking forward to it too until now. You knew you looked awful and you just wanted to escape upstairs and into your room. The plan was going smoothly until Hollywood saw you and smiled and went over and hugged you.

“Mini Mav! How are you?” He asked and you could tell that he had been drinking some but you were respectful and greeted him back because that is what your father taught you.

“I’m fine.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your ear and your eyes weren’t as bright but he couldn’t tell that but two people could, Ice and Slider. They weren’t drinking as much because they tended not to and the thought of hangovers now killed them, when they were younger, they were fine with it but not now plus someone had to be a little bit sober while Maverick and Goose were gone to pick some stuff up and to deal with the rowdy ’86 bunch.

“You seem down. What’s up?” He asked pulling you into him uncomfortably and you nervously laughed and looked at Ice and Slider for help.

“My boyfriend and I broke up.” You said and got out of his hold by now most of everyone was paying attention to you.

“What happened?” Chipper asked as he took a drink of his beer.

“He said I was too clingy. He also cheated on me after a month of dating.” You said with your head hanging down.

“Well, were you clingy? Is that why he started cheating on you.?” He asked and you looked up at him with a shocked expression and everyone laughed but Ice and Slider.

“No, I texted him asking him to hang out but that is what boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to do. I also just wanted to know how his day was each day and text him good morning and good night. I also just wanted to spend more time with him and make plans and he never answered and I just send him ideas. He also wanted to go further and I didn’t want to.” You said in an exasperated voice. Chipper scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but they don’t have to hang out with each other 24/7.” He said and you could feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Chipper.” Ice said sternly not liking the look on your face and he looked at him.

“What? If she’s being clingy and doesn't want to go further, I know how teenage boys are, then I see why he was cheating on her.” He said to Ice and then turned back to you “Just a friendly reminder, try not to be so clingy next time and just go further.” He said and a tear slipped out and down your already tear-stained cheeks. Sundown scoffed.

“You’re being too sensitive about it. Just let it go. I don’t mean to be rude but it sounds like it is your fault that he cheated on you.” Sundown said and more tears fell down.

“Cheating on you was a surprisingly good decision on his part. If you were texting him all the time and wanting to hang out all the time, my girlfriend doesn’t even text me that much and I’m perfectly fine with that.” Merlin said and took a drink of his drink.

“That’s enough guys. You’re upsetting her.” Slider said and walked over to you and brought you into a hug.

“No, it’s ok. I’m just going to go up to my room. Oh, where is dad and Goose?” You asked, looking at him sniffling.

“They went to the store to grab some things. They’ll be back in like 10 minutes. I’ll let your dad know that you’re upstairs.” He said and hugged you which you returned and hugged him back and then when you released each other you started up the stairs to your room where you shut your door and fell face first into your pillow and began to cry.

Just like Slider said Maverick and Goose arrived back home and everyone had gone back to normal but Ice and Slider looked annoyed. Maverick and Goose put the bags down and then walked over to them. “What’s wrong?” Maverick asked, noticing that they hadn’t even touched the rest of their drinks.

“Where’s Y/N/N?” Goose asked, also looking at the two.

“She’s upstairs and you need to go and check on her.” Ice said and before Maverick could ask why Slider spoke up.

“She broke up with Justin.” Out of all the ’86 class Ice, Slider, and Goose were closest to the Mitchell girl “Everyone was passive aggressive to her. She took off upstairs. She’s really upset about it.” Slider said and Maverick nodded, pissed that the others would be so hateful to his daughter. They know better even if they have been drinking. Goose was pissed too, that was his goddaughter for crying out loud. He turned to Maverick.

“Go check on her. We’ll deal with the others.” Goose said and Maverick nodded and headed upstairs. He came to his daughter’s door and knocked.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Is it ok if I come in?” Maverick asked and waited for a minute.

“Yea.” You said in a quiet voice and he walked in to see you at your desk doing homework but could see your tear-stained cheeks and his heart broke. He went over and sat on your bed. You spun your desk chair and looked at him.

“Ice and Slider told me what happened.” He said

“They’re right. It’s my fault.” You began

“No- “He started but you cut him off with a laugh.

“I mean I probably texted him too much and that is why he cheated on me.” You said with a chuckle but could feel tears welling up.

“Honey- “Maverick said as his heart was breaking.

“I also didn’t want to go any further when we were making out and he would get annoyed. So why not cheat on me with someone that is willing to do something like that right?” You asked even though it didn’t require an answer. “I’m the stupid one and the one to blame.” You said slowly losing it and Maverick just sat there not saying anything and waiting for you to finish “Sundown is right I’m just being too sensitive and so is Merlin cheating on me was the right thing to do. I’m just a screw up and will always be a screw up.” You were looking anywhere but him. You were laughing until you weren’t and then you began to sob with your head in your heads and Maverick felt tears of his own.

Maverick pulled your chair over to him and pulled you into a hug and you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into his shoulder. “You’re not a screw up. You’re a wonderful person and anybody would be lucky to have you, I know I am.” He said and tightened his hold on you. “You will always be my girl no matter what.” He said “You’re young and still have time to figure out what love is. Who knows the right one may be living in the house just across the street.” He said, hinting at Bradley but you were too upset to figure it out.

“Thank you, Dad. I love you too.” You said he brought you so he was looking at you at arm’s length.

“Anything for my best girl.” He said and brought his hands to your face and wiped the still falling tears with his thumbs. They say the only man a girl can depend on is her daddy and you found out that was true that day. You were glad to have him in your life.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@callsign-revenge

#maverick x daughter!reader imagines #maverick x daughter!reader fandom #maverick x daughter!reader fanfic #maverick x daughter!reader #maverick x daughter!reader fics #top gun x daughter!reader fandom #top gun x daughter!reader fanfiction #top gun x daughter!reader #top gun x daughter!reader fanfic #daughter!reader top gun #daughter reader top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fics #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #top gun fan fiction

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 5 months

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Joe Marino , Chris Harris , Isabel Vincent, Chris Nesi and Emily Crane

It takes privilege to protest at Columbia.

The 114 anti-Israel protesters who were busted at Columbia on Thursday include members of the upper crust: an intern for New York State Attorney General Letitia James — and the daughter of a prominent UPS executive who killed an elderly couple with her truck as a teenager and got off with a slap on the wrist.

A Post deep-dive into the backgrounds of the protesters shows many list multimillion-dollar mansions as their home addresses, according to sources, and come from wealthy and powerful families.

5The 114 anti-Israel protesters who were busted at Columbia on Thursday include an intern for New York state AG Letitia James — and the daughter of a prominent UPS executive who killed an elderly couple with her truck as a teenager.

In 2020, at the age of 16, Isabel veered her Toyota Tacoma pickup truck across a double yellow line on US Route 7 in Charlotte, Vermont, killing Chet and Connie Hawkins, a married couple in their 70s, according to a report by the Barre Montpelier Times Argus.

She pleaded no contest to a civil traffic ticket for “driving on roadways laned for traffic” and was issued a $220 fine — which her mother paid, according to the Rutland Herald.

Many are students at Barnard College, Columbia University’s liberal arts sister school.

Others are career activists with multiple arrests under their belts.

Minnesota congresswoman and “Squad” member Ilhan Omar’s daughter, Isra Hirsi, a Barnard student with a long history of civil disobedience, was among those cited for trespassing and taken into custody.

She was released a few hours later and declined to speak to The Post.

Also cuffed and removed from the Columbia campus was Isabel Jennifer Seward, daughter of high-ranking UPS executive William J. Seward.

5Then there’s Avery Reed, a former summer intern for Letitia James who also worked part-time on “gender equality” for the Biden-Harris campaign in 2021 in Florida.Linkedin

#columbia #anti-israel protesters #privilege #wealth

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silkendandelion · 8 months

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The Real Thing (original version)

A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout drabble, related to My Own, Distant Home

We reached 100 hits on My Own, Distant Home while I wasn't looking, that's so exciting! Thank you all for your support, and have this as a gift. I'm working on another long fic for Ironbark, a proper sequel to this one, so this should line up as a teaser. Something soft and sweet, with just enough dread

UPDATE: This is the original version. A new, longer version is posted to the masterlist and ao3, which is considered the canon version in this AU.

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 1.3k Genre: Fluff (too sweet maybe), horror elements

~*~

Tall, bright green trees lined the winding blacktop road, obscuring the path around the upcoming curves, but not able to block out the sun on such a clear, summer day. The RV navigated the road with ease at the hands of it’s owner and operator, most recently passing a green interstate sign, “You are now leaving Idaho”, and the doubly large sign after it where a cowboy on his horse declared “Welcome to Wyoming: Forever West.”

“I think you were more excited to get your CD collection back than your truck,” said Jack, as Connor flipped happily through his shoe-box of albums, the edges worn down to the cardboard where it had been slid out and back under the bench seat over and over for years.

“The joy is split, for sure. I let the kids keep all the Journey and Alice Cooper. They were vocal about wanting those.”

Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at him, admire the childish joy on his face as he hunched over the box, thumbing over the track lists like he was a teenager again, in a music store for the first time. Behind their RV, they towed along said truck, a 2000 Toyota Tacoma in what Connor affectionately called “Stacy’s favorite green”, bought brand new for cash the year he left the army. The truck he only drove for a few months before he became a fire lookout at Ironbark, and since then had been driven almost exclusively by Stacy: Connor’s older sister, another deceptively charming blonde with two children under 10 and no one to rely on besides her brother.

“That was an incredible thing you did, Connor,” Jack said seriously. “To buy Stacy a car in exchange for getting the truck back. When it was yours to begin with, and she wasn’t going to fight you on wanting to keep it with us.”

“Nah.” He shooed away Jack’s admiration, flipping over the CD in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna leave her with nothing. And it wasn’t like I got her a Mercedes, just a little something for her to get back and forth to work and the kids to school. I should be thanking you, actually, you’re the one who looked over the engine and told the guy to change the oxygen sensors before we would pay for it.”

Jack offered a shrug, managing a shy smile when Connor reached over to nudge his cheek, unable to kiss him with his seat-belt on.

“What kind of albums do you have, Jack? I think we’ve listened to nothing but the radio since we left Washington.”

“I like the radio. It’s got NPR, weather, rock, every—THING! Connor, no.” He yelled (squeaked) in alarm when Connor began rummaging through the glove compartment, looking for evidence to the contrary. Curse the RV for being so wide, he risked swerving if he reached far enough to slam the lid closed. Meanwhile, smiling and completely unbothered, Connor continued to snoop.

“What do we have here? Oh, Jack. Jackie, baby, what are these?” He grinned in triumph to hold up a handful of CDs: his partner’s most private feelings in rhythm and prose. “Is this what you listened to before you picked me up? Toto, Tracy Chapman, Annie Lennox, BOBBY Caldwell—Jackie? Blue-eyed soul?”

Jack’s face was red enough to pass for a farmer’s market tomato, hands tight on the steering wheel. If Connor squinted, he might see steam rising from his collar beneath the tight line of his lips. “Don’t make fun of me, Connor, please.”

“I would never, Jack,” he replied earnestly, all whiskey and warmth as he popped open one of the cases and began to decipher the RV’s stereo system. Static seemed to be the most common channel in their current neck of the woods, among a brief news transmission: ‘—ark state park in Washington, where the body count is up to 9—’, lost to both their ears with Connor’s searching for the right button.

With a slip of the disc in the slot, a sensual piano filled the cabin, only worsening Jack’s embarrassment when a sultry saxophone joined the singer, the iconic croon of a soulful ballad. He burned, resisting the urge to enjoy himself, and chanced a quick look at Connor.

To the tune of his fluttering heart, he only found him smiling, no longer looking through his box or reading the billboards. Smiling at him, all warm brown eyes as he began to sing along, as if to say that between them, everything was sacred because nothing could be wrong.

“I want the real thing, or nothing at all. I need someone that I can be sure will catch me if I should fall. Someone who’ll be there when I call, then I’ll know that it’s the real thing.”

“How… do you know all the words?” Jack mumbled, and Connor cut off his amateur singing.

“Why do you think?” He reached across the console to touch his hand where it loosened it’s grip on the wheel. “You never have to be embarrassed, Jack, not with me.”

Easy for him to say, when he’s the one playing with both the tempo of the poor man’s heart and the temperature in the room. They came to a stop under a light, and Jack busied his hands tapping his thumb on the wheel until he heard Connor’s seat-belt click, saw him rise to walk towards the back of the RV.

“Where are you going?” As long as he was out of sight, he would miss him.

“Use your imagination, Jack, I can’t exactly wander far. Although, I suggest you find a place to park soon, or you might miss the good part.”

“The wh—” He kept his foot on the brake, turning away from the red light to look for him, only to bite down on his words as Connor slowly slipped his belt free, let it fall to the rug with a quiet thump. Next came his shirt, pulled off by the hand on the back of his collar. Among the slow reveal of his toned back, the moles on his spine, the song urged Jack onward, a different one, something about “Come to me” and “Let me love you, honey”.

“The light’s green, Jack.” Connor smirked at him, tossing his shirt in the vague direction of the driver’s seat.

He snapped his eyes back to the road, pressing the gas a little too hard and hearing Connor’s laugh drift up from where he grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. If Jack didn’t find a place to park in the next 3 miles, he vowed, he would pull them onto the damn shoulder and hope this road was as rarely traveled as the map had suggested.

From the bedroom, a quiet moan piqued his hot ears, among the sound of what might have been his name if the CD player wasn’t still going in the speaker beside his feet.

Shit. All right, 1 mile.

By the grace of somebody, otherworldly or other, the parking lot to a campsite appeared on his right, empty too, all thanks to the heat advisory that was meant to last for the rest of the week. Jack was probably the only person in the county grateful for it, if only because it meant leaving the key in the ignition to keep the AC running left the music on too.

They deserved their break.

Neither of them knew the winter was going to be a hard one. That before the end of the year, they would be in danger again. Better to grab some comfort while they can, hold each other close, before the leviathan resident of those Ironbark woods extends itself from the trees and begins to seek out the only survivors who know it’s name.

They couldn’t know it was already awake.

#jack nelson x connor hawkins #fears to fathom #fears to fathom ironbark lookout #fears to fathom fanfic #ao3 fanfic #mlm fanfic #oc fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #short and sweet #fluff #fluff and romance #drabble #not posted to ao3 #silkenspeaks

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sharkchanic · 13 days

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You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Crazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. –Check out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

"poor bees-"

#b. zuka #phighting zuka #zuka phighting #phighting #roblox phighting #b. zuka phighting

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lboogie1906 · 2 months

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Master Sergeant William Jones (July 15, 1918 - December 3, 2009) one of the last Buffalo Soldiers, was an Army Master Sergeant, Prisoner of War in Korea, and successful entrepreneur. He was born in Tamo, Arkansas to farmers Joseph and Elizabeth Jones, the youngest of seven children.

He grew up in Kansas and attended the “colored school” in Coffeyville, Kansas. On March 5, 1941, he enlisted in the Army at Fort Leavenworth. He was assigned to the 10th Calvary in Fort Riley, becoming part of the last generation of buffalo soldiers.

In 1943, the 9th and 10th Calvary were integrated into the Army Air Corps with the mission of building airstrips in North Africa and Italy for B-17 bombers. Beginning in March 1944, He was assigned to Casablanca, Morocco, and later Naples, Italy.

He was deployed to Manila, where he built airstrips for B-17 bombers to fly deep strikes into Japan. Before his unit became fully operational, atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan ending WWII.

He was assigned to Fort Lawton and his all-Black unit was designated the 503rd Field Artillery with the 2nd Infantry Division. The unit deployed to Pusan, Korea on August 3, 1950, after the start of the Korean conflict. They were overrun by Communist Chinese forces and he was captured and held in the Pyok-Dong POW camp. For three years he survived horrendous conditions that saw eight to ten captives die each night. He was released on September 5, 1953, at the end of the Conflict, and returned to Tacoma as a hero.

He was assigned to the 546th Field Artillery Battalion at Fort Lewis. After 20 years of military service, he retired as a Master Sergeant in El Paso. He was a truck driver, artillery mechanic, supply clerk, and marksman/ sharpshooter.

He started a thriving recycling and vintage antique business in Tacoma. To keep the memory of pioneering Black soldiers alive, he opened the Ninth and Tenth (Horse) Cavalry Museum in Tacoma.

He lived in Tacoma for 55 years, with his wife Hannah, who died in 1972. He was survived by his four children. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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mestankurier · 1 year

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Tož, woke teror na postupu... Mladík z Virginie řekl, že jeho práva podle prvního dodatku jsou porušována poté, co mu středo školští úředníci řekli, aby odstranil dvě americké vlajky namontované na jeho červeném náklaďáku Toyota Tacoma. Představitelé střední školy Staunton River High School řekli Christopheru Hartlessovi, že vlastenecký projev odvádí pozornost ostatních řidičů a znepokojuje bezpečnost. "Nechápu, jak je to rušivé" řekl Hartless. Jeho řidičský průkaz mu byl odebrán. Jeho matka řekla, že nechtěla, aby jezdil autobusem, a tak ho jeho rodina vzala ze střední školy a učí se doma. Úředníci ze školní čtvrti Bedford County na střední škole vydali prohlášení, v němž uvádějí, že vyvěšování vlajek na vozidlech je proti „smlouvě o parkování studentů“, „kterou používají všechny 3 naše střední školy po mnoho let“. V květnu zase jiný středoškolák z Massachusetts podal žalobu proti své škole, v níž tvrdil, že jeho práva podle prvního dodatku byla porušena poté, co mu bylo řečeno, aby si sundal košili s frází „Existují pouze dvě pohlaví“. Autor: Redakce, 28.8.2023 Zdroj: https://www.breitbart.com/education/2023/08/24/student-refuses-schools-order-remove-american-flags-truck-switches-homeschooling/ Podpořte nezávislou originální žurnalistiku! Unterstützen Sie originellen unabhängigen Journalismus! Číslo účtu / Kontonummer: 1511201888/5500 IBAN: CZ7755000000001511201888 BIC/SWIFT: RZBCCZPP Majitel účtu / Kontoinhaber: BulvarART s.r.o. / GmbH www.mestankurier.info © Copyright 2023

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communityinclusion · 1 year

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Reflections on My Disability Inclusion Journey and Visit to the USA

Sande Erick is a 2023 Fellow in the Professional Fellows Program on Inclusive Civic Engagement. This program is sponsored by the US Department of State’s Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs and is administered by the Institute for Community Inclusion (ICI) at the University of Massachusetts Boston in partnership with Humanity and Inclusion (HI). The following blog post was written by guest author Sande Erick.

Memories of my Stammer

I have stammered for as long as I can remember. Going through high school in Kenya was difficult. My peers were insensitive and openly made fun of my speech impediment, mimicking the unpleasant sounds I made when speaking. To date, I still experience mockery and stigma attributed to my stammer. However, my lived experience has given me an opportunity to be a changemaker in my community, advancing an inclusive environment for persons with disabilities.

Boston Encounter

Throughout my life and with Joe Biden’s presidency and the story of his struggle with a stutter, I developed an urge to visit the US. Today, as a champion for disability inclusion and a visiting fellow, I am so delighted for the opportunity to experience the US and exchange inclusive civic engagement practices.

When I arrived at the Boston Logan International Airport, Heike and Christa, two members of the Professional Fellows Program (PFP) team, were already waiting for me. As we drove off to the hotel, seated by the window, I notably observed the accessibility features in the built world. All this while Heike shared interesting sites that Clara, a visiting PFP Fellow from Tanzania, and I could visit in Boston before our orientation at the Institute for Community Inclusion (ICI). We got an opportunity to sightsee around Boston together, visiting Harvard University, the Boston Tea Party Boat, Faneuil Hall, Boston Public Library, and the Massachusetts Statehouse, whilst following the Freedom Trail through the Boston Public Garden.

Clara (3rd from right) and I (2nd from left) at Boston tea party boat during a sightseeing visit in Boston

I was puzzled by what seemed like deliberate efforts to make the built surrounding inclusive. Public transport is explicitly accessible, with disability signage all over the streets. When we visited the Boston Public Library, I noticed a person using a wheelchair navigating the library all by himself. For me, it spoke volumes to the accessibility of the built environment.

Clara and I in Boston Public Library

Later, at the orientation, I got to interact and exchange experiences with advocates and experts in disability inclusion, representing different organizations in Massachusetts. I got to appreciate that the milestone in disability inclusion, spanning from the built environment to social inclusion, is a result of years of consistent advocacy work by persons with disabilities and their organizations. Even so, full inclusion is yet to be realized.

Inclusion in Alaska

I write this one week into my Fellowship exchange program at the University of Alaska Anchorage (UAA), the Center for Human Development (CHD). My mentor is Kelley Hartlieb. She’s an amazing person with a wonderful family that made me feel at home within the shortest time possible. Landing at Anchorage International Airport, Kelley and her family picked me up in a typical American truck, a Toyota Tacoma. In no time we arrived at my new home, and I learned so much about the city of Anchorage and the Chugach mountains from Kelley and her family’s narration during the drive.

Kelley and the CHD team have been instrumental in providing professional support and introducing me to pertinent organizations with expertise in matters of disability. First, I participated in a virtual series session put on by the Disability Abuse Response Team (DART) that was focused on removing barriers and increasing capacity to effectively address substance abuse survivors with disabilities. I found this interesting and peculiar at the same time. Substance use is increasingly becoming a menace, yet, back at home, little attention is given to this subject, especially among the disability community.

I also took part in a virtual meeting with a consortium of organizations for persons with disabilities in Alaska. During this meeting, the consortium reviewed different policies and bills directly impacting the disability community in Alaska. I’m amazed at how organizations of persons with disabilities have made significant contributions to the policy space. I am currently watching Crip Camp, a documentary about the disability movement in the US, to get an understanding of the historical perspective and contribution of renowned individuals like Judy Heumann who is considered the “mother of the disability movement.”

This fellowship has been an opportunity to reflect on my disability inclusion journey, appreciating the strides I’ve made while staying cognizant of the bigger inclusion picture for all.

#exchangeourworld #ExchangesMatter #citizen diplomacy #profellows #professional fellows program #Institute for Community Inclusion

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coll2mitts · 2 years

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Read more at Tacoma Trucking School

#tacoma trucking school #tacoma truck driving school #shipping companies in seattle #seattle trucking companies

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silkendandelion · 6 months

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The Real Thing (Final Version)

A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout Fanfiction

ao3 link

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 2.2k Genre: Fluff, humor, horror elements Summary: A short one-shot to look at Jack and Connor's lives after the events of My Own, Distant Home, and is a short prologue/teaser to the in-progress sequel. Alternative title: Two fools in love have no idea what genre they're in.

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content and mild language, and horror elements.

Tall, bright green trees lined the blacktop road, obscuring the path around the upcoming curves but not able to block out the sun on such a clear, summer day. The RV navigated the winding road with ease in Jack’s hands, most recently passing a green interstate sign, “You are now leaving Idaho”, and then the doubly large sign after it where a cowboy on his horse declared “Welcome to Wyoming: Forever West.”

“I think you were more excited to get your CD collection back than your truck,” said Jack as Connor flipped happily through his shoe-box of albums, whose edges were worn down to the cardboard where it had been slid out and back under the bench seat for years.

“The joy is split, for sure. I let the kids keep all the ones they wanted.”

Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to smile back at him, admiring the childish joy on his face as he hunched over the box, thumbing over track lists like he was a teenager again, in a music store for the first time.

Behind their RV, they towed along said truck, a 2000 Toyota Tacoma in what Connor affectionately called “Stacy’s favorite green”, bought brand new for cash the year he left the army. The truck he only drove for a few months before he became a fire lookout at Ironbark, and since then had been driven almost exclusively by Stacy: Connor’s older sister, another deceptively charming blonde with two children under 10 and no one to rely on besides her brother. Twin fuzzy dice in lucky red bounced beneath the rear-view mirror, bleached almost pink from summers at the lake and catching Jack’s eye in the side mirror.

“That was an incredible thing you did, Connor,” he said. “To buy Stacy a car in exchange for getting the truck back, when it was yours to begin with, and I don’t think she would have fought you on wanting to keep it with us.”

“Nah.” He shooed away Jack’s admiration, flipping over the CD in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna leave her with nothing. And it wasn’t like I got her a Mercedes, just a little something for her to get back and forth to the plant and the kids to school. I should be thanking you actually, you’re the one who looked over the engine and told the guy to change the oxygen sensors before we would paid for it.”

Jack just offered a shrug, though he smiled when Connor reached over to nudge his cheek gently with his knuckles.

“What kind of albums do you have, Jack? I think we’ve listened to nothing but the radio since we left Washington.”

“I like the radio,” he said matter-of-factually. “It’s got NPR, weather, every—THING! Connor, no.” He yelled (squeaked) in alarm when Connor began rummaging through the glove compartment, searching for evidence that he was fibbing. Curse the RV for being so wide, he risked swerving if he reached far enough to slam the lid closed. Meanwhile, smiling and completely unbothered, Connor continued to snoop.

“What do we have here? Oh, Jack. Jackie, baby, what are these?” He grinned in triumph to hold up a handful of CDs: his partner’s most private feelings in rhythm and prose. “Is this what you listened to before you picked me up? Tracy Chapman, Bobby Caldwell—Jackie? Blue-eyed soul?”

Jack’s red cheeks approached their smoking point, hands tight on the steering wheel. If Connor squinted, he might see steam rising from his collar beneath the tight line of his lips. “Don’t make fun of me, Connor, please.”

“I would never, Jack,” he said earnestly, all whiskey and warmth as he popped open one of the cases and began to decipher the RV’s stereo system. Static seemed to be the most common channel in their current neck of the woods, among a brief news transmission: ‘—ark state park in Washington, where the body count is up to 9—’

Stop. Go back.

“What?” He mumbled, so quietly Jack only hummed his vague acknowledgment as Connor flipped the channels back and forth, desperate to return to that station.

“It… it was this one, I’m sure of it,” he said, met with only snowy static from the stereo, and Jack took his eyes off the road for less than a moment.

“What was? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

His blood chilled, too much like that night when he had descended from the tower to work on his generator in the middle of the night, believing they were safe and leaving Jack to sleep off his episode alone—until he heard the crickets go quiet in the bushes behind him.

Jack had been the one to save him then, and he would not be caught unaware again. Nor would he let himself be weak when Jack trusted him enough to need him.

“It’s not important, I can’t even find the station again.”

The awkward tilt of Jack’s half-smile was reassuring, even as his heart pounded too hard. He reached to press a button with a circular graphic, one Connor hadn’t assumed was supposed to be a CD, and the little orange display flashed ‘INSERT DISC’.

“… Ah.” It was Connor’s turn to blush, though Jack couldn’t hold himself back from a good-natured chuckle.

“Under 30 and still bested by technology.”

“Hey, I spent four years falling behind on the curve. Do you think the army gave us anything more advanced than ping pong paddles and sun dials? It did make me excellent at smoke signals, though.”

Jack’s laugh warmed him, the only thing he had found that could chase away the unease lately. “You’re an old soul even without living mostly analog all that time.”

“We couldn’t even afford all those letters, they just gave us ANAM,” Connor said with his most comically raised eyebrows, just to hear him laugh again.

As he slipped the disc in the slot, a sensual piano filled the cabin, renewing Jack’s embarrassment when a sultry saxophone joined the singer, the iconic croon of a soulful ballad. He burned, resisting the urge to show how much he was enjoy himself, and chanced a quick look at Connor.

To the tune of his fluttering heart, he only found him smiling, no longer looking through his shoe-box or reading the billboards. Smiling at him, all warm brown eyes as he whispered along with the words, as if to say that between them, everything was sacred because nothing could be wrong.

“I want the real thing, or nothing at all. I need someone that I can be sure will catch me if I should fall. Someone who’ll be there when I call, then I’ll know that it’s the real thing.”

“How… do you know all the words?” Jack said, more to himself than aloud.

“Why do you think?” He reached across the console to touch his hand where it loosened it’s grip on the wheel. “You never have to be embarrassed, Jack, not with me. We’re in this together.”

Easy for him to say, when he’s the one playing with the tempo of the poor man’s heart and the temperature in the room. They came to a stop under a light, and Jack busied his hands tapping his thumb on the wheel until he heard Connor’s seat-belt click, saw him rise to walk towards the back of the RV.

“Where are you going?”

“Use your imagination, Jack, I can’t exactly wander far. Although, I suggest you find a place to park soon, or you might miss the good part.”

“The wh—” He kept his foot on the brake, turning to look for him, just to bite down on his words as Connor slowly threaded his belt free, letting it fall to the rug with a quiet thump. Next came his shirt, pulled off by his hand on the back of his collar. Among the slow reveal of his toned back, the moles on his spine, the song urged Jack onward, a different one, something about “Come to me” and “Let me love you, honey”.

“The light’s green, Jack.” Connor smirked at him, and tossed his shirt in the vague direction of the driver’s seat.

Jack snapped his eyes back to the road, pressing the gas a little too hard and hearing Connor’s laugh drift up from where he grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. Quietly, lest he be seen through even more than he already was, he vowed that if he didn’t find a place to park in the next few miles, he would pull over to the shoulder and lock the door.

From the bedroom, a quiet moan piqued his hot ears, among the sound of what might have been his name if he could hear better over the stereo.

Shit. All right, 1 mile.

By the grace of somebody, otherworldly or other, the parking lot to a campsite appeared on his right, empty too, all thanks to the heat advisory that was said to last for the rest of the week. Jack was probably the only person in the county grateful for it, if only because it meant leaving the key in the ignition to keep the AC running left the music on too.

He found Connor already splayed across the bed, distracted from his intentions by the toy bear on the windowsill, the little “Get Well Soon” card in his arms beginning to fade from all the sunbathing he did while his dads drove from state to state. His fingertip nudged the bear’s plastic nose, and Jack began to press kisses along the slope of his shoulder, over the old ink of his tattoo.

“Are we staying here for the night? Adrian’s expecting you Monday morning,” he said.

“I won’t be late, I promise.” Connor turned to steal a kiss from his lips, several actually as he coaxed him to lie back against the pillows. “But whether we get there the day before or the morning of—depends on how much you’ll let me do to you.”

He bared his neck in a plain invitation despite his protests, allowing Connor to seek out his favorite places to kiss while Jack ran encouraging hands into his hair, shorter now after his interview, as well as smoothing his palms over the scratch of the day-old stubble on his chin. It had been a telephone interview, of which Jack reminded him he didn’t have to shave, but Connor insisted it was the right thing to do.

“You’ve always been the needier one, but this—,” Jack’s breath hitched when teeth grazed the skin behind his ear. “You’ve been really affectionate lately.”

“It might be awhile before we get the chance again.”

Light and teasing just a moment ago, the quiet melancholy of Connor’s voice against his neck made Jack’s eyes flutter back open. He cupped his face in his palms, warm in the cheeks where his body was still wound up despite himself, and beckoned him to look up.

“Hey.” From so close, he could see all the barely-there freckles across his nose and cheeks, too light to be anything more than a secret to the rest of the world who didn’t get to hold him the way Jack did. He placed another kiss on his lips. “You’re so good to me. Remember that.”

Connor’s brow scrunched, worried still as he let their foreheads touch. “I want to live up to the version of me that’s in your head.”

“He’s real, I’m holding him. I can feel his dick on my leg.”

The sudden sputter of Connor’s laugh puffed warm across both their faces, and Jack grinned back at him with what he hoped was all the adoration he felt in his chest, the swell of his heart when Connor smiled so bright.

“Okay, Jack… You say you’re not funny, but I like funny men.”

“Eh, logical fallacies, something something, cognitive bias.”

“You lost me.”

“No I didn’t, I can still feel—”

Connor shut him up with a deep kiss, coaxing his mouth open with his thumb so he could slide their tongues together until their lungs burned. With a wet sound, he finally relinquished his lips, admiring the daze in his hazel eyes and the berry-red of his mouth until his voice broke the spell.

“Who are you?” Jack quipped.

“Someone who loves you very much.”

The softness of his face disarmed any playfulness left in the air, replaced only by earnest devotion and the looming ache of starting over, bittersweet no matter how wonderful the company is.

They deserved a break.

Neither of them knew the winter was going to be a hard one. That before the end of the year, they would be in danger again. To take comfort now was a gift, to hold each other close before the leviathan resident of those Ironbark woods emerges from the trees and begins to seek out the only survivors who know it’s name.

They couldn’t know it was

was already awake

They cannot know my name.

#fears to fathom #ironbark lookout #fears to fathom ironbark lookout #fears to fathom fanfic #jack nelson #connor hawkins #jack nelson x connor hawkins #ftf jack nelson #ftf connor #horror fanfiction #romance fanfiction #mlm fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #silkenspeaks

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mylifethroughasquare · 2 years

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I will admit that I bought a mega million ticket and I knew the chances were pretty slim BUT why not.

Things I would do if I had won though:

Travis could quit his job and the kids would be with us all the time

Pay off our house which is around 20 left

Fix house stuff

Invest money in stuff/donate to local food banks and schools. As well as the SE Ohio.

Buy a Tacoma truck to replace my poor Mazda 3

I would stay with the post office for a bit still yet somewhere down the line I would buy a little shop here in Lockport and sell plants and coffee. Do most of my starts to keep the cost affordable and have a giant bag of dirt and free pots for folks who wanted to get into taking care of house plants but may not have the means or it's not a financial priority. Have free classes too or if anyone wanted to use the space as a community space too.

Make sure Travis and i's fam that needs help is good.

Give money to friends' projects/buy a car for Blossom/ buy equipment needed for other friends' projects/buy a house or just put a down payment on one for Oteria and her son.

Help Travis get over the hurtle of never flown before and go travel with the kids.

Either way I just want to make sure everyone is good that needs to be good.

This is my Mary Poppins list. As it is written maybe one day it shall be. That's how Travis came into my life. I'll share that list later.

#mega millions #ifiwonthelottery #marypoppinslist #taking care of business #plantlife #community #dreaming

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cyborg00-why · 3 years

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Random yet specific headcanons

Alright, I’ve been working on a rancher fic and wanted to share a few of my favorite headcanons for these three.

Jet Link

- Considering his time of abduction and how often he’s gone off to be a ranch hand/play cowboy there is a very high chance he’s a Spaghetti Western fan. His ideas and romanticism of the west based almost solely on what he’d seen on film, by extension his bravado and man’s man personality being heavily influenced from such films. Something that both mirrored his gang life on the streets while still being a mental escape. The lone cowboy out to right wrongs on his own terms something he’d see in himself.

- This of course would bleed into an odd fascination/respect for Geronimo Jr. as he’d likely be the only Indigenous person he’d ever met (that he was aware of at least). The personification of the “last of a dying breed” trope you see often in such films, something he likely project onto Jr. Especially considering that being from New York he’d known of Mohawk Steelworkers but wouldn’t have known any personally.

- Serial pawn shop shopper. He knows they don’t make knives or lighters like they use to and he’s got a small collection going.

- Apart from his established knife fighting skills, he’d whittle in his free time.

-Great at darts.

- He’d be a great houseguest, very considerate and takes direction as well as he can. Doesn’t want to be deadweight on the ranch, and have a stern ‘earn his keep’ sort of vibe.

-Despite having a high interest in learning the ropes he’d still struggle. His time on the ranch would positively impact his ‘square peg being forced into a round hole’ mentality.

- Plays a mean game of checkers.

- Maybe too embarrassed to say it, but really respects Jr.’s self sufficiency and wants to take after him in some ways. Is really touched when Geronimo teaches him something. At the same time can be especially hurt when there are traditional lessons Jr. won’t share.

-Sure he can play the guitar but he’s also been teaching himself the harmonica. He’s also good at playing both the spoons and a blade of grass but he’ll never admit to either.

-Can do that really cool two finger whistle thing.

- Long story but he knows from first hand experience that chickens float in water. Pyunma isn’t impressed and Jr. thinks it’s cute he likes chickens.

- You know at some point in time Jet would do rodeo shows and live out the whole cliche bonding with a horse who can’t be broken bologna while Geronimo worked the event as an MC.

Geronimo Jr.

Which brings me to Jr.

- You know, and I mean KNOW he’s worked the Arizona circuit like no ones business. Despite the team thinking of him as stoic and saying little everyone in town knows him as their favorite MC. He’s done everything from powwows, estate sales, property auctions, all the way to rodeos.

-Those on the moccasin telegraph rumor he was a guest at G.O.N. in New Mexico one year.

- Would absolutely have an old 1988 red, sun bleached Toyota Tacoma that had seen better days but still runs. Of course the suspension is shot and leans heavily on the drivers side. The glove compartment is full of old tapes, and he’d have at least one mix tape with classic 49ers in there too.

- When he’s working as an auctioneer he goes Full Boomhauer

- Aunties love him. He’s always given an extra helping at food stalls and everyone is vying for him to say their fry bread is best, even though we all know his grandmothers was #1.

-Would be in the loop on all the local chisme.

-He can’t shop at normal stores for clothes, instead making annual custom orders through Wrangler and Dickies.

-He is why Wrangler revoked their lifetime guarantee. Too many blown out shoulder seams.

-He’s excellent at traditional methodologies and takes a lot of pride in keeping traditions alive. He’d be a great beader and leatherworker, his mitts being extremely sought after in the community with order requests coming in year round. Word is he’ll sometimes make a trade if you can do quillwork.

-Prior to the bootleg boom his family would have been respected artisans, collectors and locals alike still hold onto their older jewelry, and at a few estate sales he’d seen his dads old silver stamping tools still in circulation. Sometimes he get’s letters in the mail from a collector in another state asking to verify the family stamp.

-He’s got a lifetime ban from one diner in Albuquerque for smashing a jukebox that was playing The Ballad of Ira Hayes.

-Standardized cooking measurements do not exist in his house, everything is old school cooking in relation to yourself. A handful of this, a pinch of that.

- He has his grandmothers taste in home decor. 70′s shag rugs, wood laminate, acrylic yarn doilies, and a mug collection that at it’s best could be described as kitschy.

-While he is incredibly thankful that after being abducted he’d gotten to keep his hair, there was also the struggle to maintain like he had before. Enhanced hulking muscles meant he isn’t as flexible as he use to be, and he is unable to braid it. So he kept it short on the dolphin, and even on breaks back home he’d grow it out in a bun tucked under his hat.

On one of the many trips where Pyunma would stay with him, he’d catch Jr. early one morning struggling to braid it. Instead offering to do so himself. This became a routine whenever Pyunma stayed over, and as far as he knew the only person Jr. will let touch his hair. Pyunma would also take a lot of pride in his handiwork, especially whenever he’d catch Jr. admiring his own reflection.

Pyunma

- He’d always wanted to visit Jr.’s ranch but maybe felt a bit awkward to ask, unsure if he’d even want the company.

- He’d immensely enjoy the monotony of ranch life, the predictability of long structured workdays giving him a chance to mentally tune out while keeping busy. A sort of stress relief from the unpredictability of his previous life back home.

- One of the only people Jr. would share teachings with because he understood that weight and responsibility that comes with it.

- Would be really into plant identification and drying them for storage. Would have a whole notebook full of illustrations and field notes based on what Jr. shared. Maybe even get into salve making on the side.

-Always carries a canteen to water the plants he harvests from, even when Jr. isn’t watching.

- Loves, loves, loves telling Jet believable lies about ranch stuff. Think lying about a weed being a cure all for muscle soreness, only to have Jr. ask where the hell he’d heard that from.

- Big fan of cinnamon instant oatmeal, Jr. is sure to stock up when he knows Pyunma is coming by.

- Of all the hand crafts Jr. had shared with him, Pyunma’s favorite would be dressing feathers. He’s got a near cult following in the fancy dance community for his bustle work.

- Very good at removing the stickers from nopales, often times double and triple checking Jr.’s handiwork before they make breakfast.

- Not afraid of rattlesnakes, but respects them deeply. Firm believer in the old rope trick.

- Can haggle with the best of them at vendor stalls, he knows a tourist price when he hears one.

- Enjoys listening to old radio dramas while laying in the back of Jr.’s truck at night. Eventually getting all three of them to make it a part of the weekly routine. They sit outside and start a fire, and make dinner before tuning in. They eat in silence, and when it get’s cold they all share a big wool pendleton.

#Cyborg 009 #Jet Link #002 #Geronimo Jr #005 #Pyunma #008 #Headcanons #HC

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baby-grayson · 4 years

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Do Ness and Gray Ever Get Back Together Or Are They Done For Good?

tw: discussions of drinking and depresssion

Grayson spent the entirety of Christmas break without speaking to Ness. He hardly spoke at all, truthfully: only the occasional chuckle when Ethan brought up a story from the good old days. Most of his clothes stayed folded in his suitcase: he rotated between a few pairs of sweatpants and some thermal long sleeves when his mother drove him to physical therapy. He spent every night staring at the ceiling, hearing Ethan’s low snore next to him, and wondering what Ness was doing at that exact moment. When he watched Ethan drive away at the end of winter break, leaving Grayson behind to take the semester off, Grayson felt like was giving up more than just his academic responsibilities that semester.

During the holidays, Ness was more than happy to have the distraction of her four brothers around her. With someone always mad at someone else, or bleeding onto the coffee table, she had enough chaos in the world around her to distract from the chaos in her life. Her only thought of Grayson happened when her Nan sat down beside her to ask about that boy, she had been seeing last year: Ness shook her head softly, said they were together anymore, and changed the subject.

The next semester went by in a whirlwind for both. Ness rushed from class to class, trying her hardest to pull up her GPA from the nosedive it took when she was taking care of Grayson after he came home from the hospital. She bolstered enough confidence to apply to be a writer for the school’s newspaper. Her happiest moment that semester came from reading the email that she had been hired as a contributing editor. For a moment, she paused and imaged what Grayson would have said if he was there. Afterall, Grayson had been the largest encouraging force for her to apply when they were together. She shook the thought out of her head and immediately called up Samantha, who suggested they celebrate Nessa’s victory of a box of white claws and bottle of cheap vodka from the gas station.

Nessa’s life saw many changes that semester: the absence of Grayson, her appointment to the newspaper, and a newfound predilection for shitfaced, promiscuous, wild partying. Samantha dragged Ness from frat house to frat house on Friday and Saturday nights, and even on Thursday afternoons. When Ness would gravitate toward the corner of the party, fingering her bottle in her hands, sometimes she would wonder about Grayson, how he was doing, if his condition was getting better: she would wash away the thoughts by pressing the bottle to her lips and returning to whatever antics Samantha and her friends were getting up to. It was a dangerous cycle: high risk and high reward but the constant mental stimulation excused Ness from her quieter, introspective thoughts.

Grayson lived a quieter life: splitting his time between at home therapy exercises and helping his mother prepare the garden for springtime. He drove Ethan’s old Tacoma truck to the local greenhouse to pick up bulbs and fertilizer, planting a bed for the start of springtime. By the time the crocuses had started to poke out of the ground, Grayson’s arm was in much better shape. Thanks to the selfless work of his healthcare team, and his commitment to his own wellbeing, he was more than ready to return to school in the fall.

Had he been in a proper frame of mind, he would have called Ness. Not with the intentions of explicitly getting back together with her, but to see her, talk to her, tell her that he missed her. However, his body had healed much faster than his mind. His mind still craved his bed almost 24 hours a day, despite never allowing him the sweet respite of sleep. He chewed at his lip all day, until he tasted metallic blood on the tip of his tongue. He spoke to no one except Ethan: even in the locker room. The once boisterous and bubbly Grayson became a shell of a person: quiet and limp in the corner of a room, only the physical memory of the lion’s soul he used to host.

Ethan tried to coax his brother to go out. Ethan even went as far as the hook his arms around Grayson’s ankles and try to pull him from his bed, dragging him from across their apartment floor, but Grayson was always the heavier twin. Grayson anchored himself to the edge of the couch and only grunted when Ethan sighed and mumbled a few words of goodbyes. Grayson heard the front door closed but didn’t have enough energy to pick himself up from the floor and walk back to bed.

Being a senior, Ethan was well recognized at most campus parties. He walked through the door and instantly start giving people side hugs and asking how they have been. He smelled the familiar odor of stale, cheap beer emanating from people’s plastic cups. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he stood in the kitchen door to see Ness standing with Derek. She was in a tight black crop top and held out a red solo cup in front of her. Derek looked down at her with wobbly eyes that suggested his stupidity was heightened by warm feeling of alcohol.

Ethan cleared his throat and tried to divert his eyes but couldn’t help himself when Ness strung her arms around Derek’s bicep and asked him to go dance with her. Ethan pretended to be distracted by the six bowls of chips in front of him, but in reality, he couldn’t stop watching the scene play out in front of him. Derek was too drunk to take two steps to the left. He couldn’t barely walk with Ness hanging off of his arm, so much so that he held onto the kitchen counter for stability.

“Ness,” Ethan said emphatically.

She spun around with a surprised look on her face, shocked to hear someone use that tone at a party. For a second, her heart dropped into her stomach. She recognized the masculine angle of the jawline and the kind hazel eyes and in her tipsy statement, her emotions betrayed her for a second. But the lighting fixture of the kitchen befriended her to remind her that she was looking at Ethan, and not the man she thought about before she went to sleep at night.

“E?” Ness asked, suddenly forgetting Derek, who was now wobbling his head over the sink as if he was going to puke.

Ethan took a step toward her as Ness did the same, “What’s going on?”

Ness knew Ethan meant more than what she was doing in the frat house kitchen, but she played coy, “I’m here with Sam and some of her sisters from APhi. I think they’re in the basement if you wanna-“

“Ness,” Ethan said, nearly sounding like he was scolding her, “What’s going on with you?” Ethan gestured to the red solo cup in her hands, something she wouldn’t have been caught dead with last year.

Ness shrugged in response, “I’ve been okay.” She thought about asking Ethan how his brother was doing: but decided against it, choosing that appearing strong was better than tipping off Ethan that she still cared.

Ethan looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Ness, “He’s not doing the best, Ness.”

She wore a blank stare. The only semblance of a reaction she gave Ethan was that she slightly sucked in her top lip before he continued talking.

“His arm is better, took a couple months,” Ethan sighed, “I just can’t get him out of the house anymore Ness.”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Ness tucked her mouth against her cup to take a sip while watching the expression fold on Ethan’s face.

He shrugged again, “I just thought maybe-,” he sighed, “Nevermind.” Ethan turned his head to look out of the kitchen, at the rest of the party that was still booming in the house. He turned to Ness, “Find me if you need a ride home, alright?”

Ness nodded while Ethan walked away. She started the amber liquid in her cup for a minute before feeling her spine curl at the sound of Derek vomiting into the sink.

Ethan came home without a pretty girl by his side: something about the action of dragging Grayson across their apartment and then running into Ness threw him off his usual flirtatious game. His keys clinked as they hit the kitchen counter, “You’re still here?”

Grayson groaned from the floor.

Ethan reached down to give his brother a hand, pulling him off the floor.

“You’re home early,” Grayson yawned, his voice was raspy with sleep: a dead giveaway that he had fallen asleep on the cold, hardwood floor while Ethan went to the party.

“Not my night,” Ethan mumbled and passed a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Grayson’s voice shook as it spoke, wavering between frequencies.

Ethan looked at the bathroom door and contemplated escaping the conversation before decided to state clearly, “I ran into Ness. She was there with Samantha- and some of their friends.”

Grayson’s mouth went dry. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, avoiding looking at Ethan’s eyes.

“I told her how you were doing,” Ethan tried to keep his tone casual, “told her maybe- I dunno,” he shrugged, “she could say hi sometime-get you out of the house-“

“the fuck you do that for?” Grayson didn’t wait for Ethan to finish his thought.

Ethan sighed, “You’re just- Gray” Ethan perched himself on the arm of their couch, “All you do is sleep.” Ethan looked at his brother with eyes of concern, “Maybe it’s time to start-“ Ethan sighed again, “having some fun.”

“And my ex-girlfriend is fun?” Grayson’s eyes squinted as his tone sounded acquisitional.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ethan tried to defend.

“That my ex-girlfriend, after telling her I’m a pathetic mess, is fun?”

“You know what,” Ethan conceded, “Just forget it. I tried doing the right thing for you but clearly- clearly,” he passed a hand through his hair, “Clearly I don’t know what to do.”

Ethan turned away from the conversation before Grayson could grow angrier. Grayson heard the hiss of the shower turn on and locked his bedroom door behind him as he laid awake in his bed.

The consequences of Ethan’s meddling came to fruition nearly a full week later. Ness donned her old knit beanie and thermos to sit on the stands at their football game. Unlike last year, she did not scream and cheer when they scored: she took little sips of hot liquid and silently watched the crowd as they game went on.

She was leaning against Grayson’s car when he walked out from the locker room: in a pair of joggers, his hair a mess, and his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

He stopped in front of her. They looked at each other for a minute. The sound of cars and buses reversing out of the parking lot and merging onto the road filled the air around them.

“Good job tonight,” Ness whispered into the air.

“Thanks,” Grayson’s tone was low and curt.

“I uh- how is your shoulder?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

Grayson looked from side to side, not seeing anywhere he could run to to avoid the conversation. “You know you don’t have to talk to me Vanessa,” he said lowly, shifting his weight on his heels, “I get it- you moved on with your life. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m not-“ she started but didn’t finish. She sighed and shrugged, “I wanted to see you again.”

“Well here I am,” Grayson said flatly.

“You are,” Ness mumbled. She stared at a spot far away on the ground, “Maybe we could- do coffee? Sometime?”

Grayson shrugged, “Don’t really drink it anymore.”

Ness nodded softly, “Okay well,” she sucked her lips in, “I just thought I would try.”

Grayson responded by folding his lips into a tight line and opening his trunk to throw his duffel bag inside, signaling that he was done with their conversation. Ness mumbled words of goodbye and stepped away from him. He watched her walk away: fondling remembering what the fluff of the pompom on her hat felt like when he used to kiss the top of her head after a long game.

That night, both of them laid in their respective beds and thought about the other: each of them convinced that they were done forever. They woke up the next morning: husks of people. Ness tried to sleep in, she danced her feet around in her sheets but it made her miss the familiar warmth of Grayson’s arms on a Saturday morning. She jumped out of bed and found a pair of sneakers to go on a jog with: she told herself it was a coincidence when she jogged right past Grayson’s apartment.

Grayson continued his depressive patterns of living in bed and only showering every two weeks.

Ethan had gone to a party: telling Grayson not to wait up as he slid through the door. Grayson didn’t even feign a response. He scratched his balls and sniffed as he changed the channel on the television. Grayson thought that Ethan had forgotten something when there was a knock at the door twenty minutes later.

Ness stood in front of him.

Her face was red and puffy, but her eyes were smeared with distinct coats of concealer. Her hair fell in front of her face in messy strands. She looked up at him with knitted brows.

“You okay?” He asked brutishly.

Ness signed and gritted her teeth, “I-I uh-“ she closed her eyes, “I need you-could you- I didn’t know who else to go to- Grayson.”

Grayson looked around her shoulder to see if anyone else was lingering in the stairwell. He shoved his body to one side of the door way and nodded his head in a motion that asked Ness to step into his apartment.

“Thanks,” she gulped. “I-uh.” She sighed and looked around, being in his kitchen flooded her with memories. She remembered the last time she walked through his door. “Can you drive me to the drug store?” Her words came out in a flash.

Grayson took a moment, trying to use all of his brain to make sure he heard her correctly before hesitantly saying, “Yeah…sure.”

“Thanks,” Ness nodded quickly.

Grayson looked from one side of the room to the other, “Should I ask-“

“I missed my period,” her words merged together, “By a week.”

Grayson nodded, “Okay.” He said lowly.

Ness did not move from where she stood but her eye grew into large orbs as he moved passed her. For a minute, she wondered if he was abandoning her. But instead, he came out of his bedroom with a fleece thrown over his t-shirt and his car keys in one hand.

Both of them stayed silent in the car ride. They were brought together in a wordless commitment to privacy. Neither of them even bothered to reach to the radio and put on something to fill the void: they sat there. When Grayson parked, Ness didn’t ask him to go with her, but he did anyway. Even slid a twenty-dollar bill on the counter when they stepped to the register.

Grayson didn’t realize he should have driven Nessa back to her dorm until he pulled up to his own apartment building. Ness didn’t question it: she bolted from the parking lot to Grayson’s front door and tapped her foot against the floor as he worked his eye into the lock and opened the door for her.

Grayson waited on the couch while she locked herself in the bathroom. He didn’t even bother taking his shoes off. He looked up when she opened the bathroom door, with a thin smile.

Grayson’s mouth tightened into a small knot, “Everything uh..all set?”

Ness sighed and nodded softly, “Yeah uh..” she weighed her head from side to side. Suddenly, the embarrassment of the situation flooded over her entire body like a tsunami, “Crisis averted.”

“I’m sorry I-“ “I didn’t mean to-“

They spoke over each other.

“You go-“ “No you go-“

Grayson folded his hands in his lap while Ness chewed on her bottom lip.

He spoke into the silence, “I’m happy for you- that you know, everything worked out.”

Ness nodded, “Thanks, and thanks for—thanks for doing that, you didn’t have to.” Grayson tried to response graciously but she kept going, “I didn’t know who else to- I didn’t have anyone else I could-.” Nessa’s shoulders drooped, “It’s funny, I’m always around people now- but I’m never really with them.”

Grayson nodded, not knowing what to do with that information, “Glad I could help.”

They stood in silence for another moment.

Grayson cleared his throat before continuing, “And sorry, for uh- sorry for breaking up with you I just- I thought it was best because of -..well- I could have gone about the whole thing better.”

Ness found a shy smile, “Thanks Gray.”

They nodded at each other.

Ness groaned and grabbed fists of her hair, “What are we doing?”

“Talking?” Grayson stuttered.

“No, I mean.” Ness turned herself around once before looking at him with a tired expression, “We were so good, what happened to us?”

Grayson shrugged, “I don’t know. One minute we were perfect and the next-“

“Lights out,” Ness finished.

Grayson nodded. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, “Sorry I- sorry I turned you down- last month. About coffee.” He shrugged, “I guess- I just thought you were asking because you felt bad for me. That was- that wasn’t the best move.”

Ness nodded softly, “It’s okay, I get it.”

Grayson looked up at her, “Do you still want to go?”

Ness looked up at him. She moved her mouth from side to side, pensively. She swallowed, feeling a lump dissolve in the bottom of her throat. “Yeah,” she said lightly, “I mean- if you want to.”

Grayson nodded in response, his eyes darting around the room.

“What happens-“ Ness bit the corner of her lip, “What happens if it doesn’t work? If we’re just…too different now?”

Grayson shrugged, “Then I guess you get a free cup of coffee and I’m five dollars poorer.”

Ness chuckled, “Fair.”

“And if it works,” Grayson leaned toward her, “Then I get the best thing that ever happened to me back.”

Ness started to blush and rolled her eyes, “You were always too smooth for your own good,”

Grayson shook his head with a soft smile, “I mean it Ness- you-“ he shrugged, “I know I used to say it all the time but I really don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

She smiled shyly at him, feeling the tension in the moment subside.

“You’re-you’re an angel Ness. An absolute angel,” he reached out to hold her hand, “my sweet girl.”

His fingers sparked with they reached out for her palm, telling Ness that they would be seeing each other for much more than just coffee.

EPILOGUE

Two elementary school age boys barged through the front door of the family.

“MOM!” “Pass!” “Throw!” “Back!” “Johnny—” “Alex—” They spoke over each other.

Ness chuckled and lowered the heat on a pot that was simmering on the stove. From their highchairs, two twin toddlers babbled and spitted at each other. Grayson busted through the doorway, “You shoulda seen them Ness! Two regular all-stars.” Ness smiled and hugged both boys, placing careful kisses on the tops of their heads while looking for bruises on their visible skin.

“How were the twins?” Grayson started wiggling a finger at little Bradley who was transfixed by the jiggly motions of his father’s hand. Next to him, Connor called out, wanting an equal amount of attention from his daddy.

“Good,” Ness commented, “Alex! Johnny! Go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.”

Ness exhaled softly and a smile lit up her face when Grayson wrapped his arms around her. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips. He brushed a hand over her bulging pregnant belly, “You think it’s another boy?”

“I hope not,” Ness laughed.

Grayson smirked and kissed her again, “At this rate, I think we could make a whole team.”

(A/N: Thank you so much for reading, especially if you were someone who started reading from the beginning. This story took over my blog like a whirlwind and it’s been a lot of fun. I’m still more than happy to do pre-fic or post-fic concepts if you want to send them in. Also, I never posted it but I did work out a story for Ethan in this AU: who he ends up with and what happens to him so let me know if you’re interested in that arc. As always, I love getting feedback from you guys. I hope this week brings you all of the positively and light you need)

#football!grayson #grayson and nessa #fluff #angst #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #Teaser #concept #blurb #fanfic #mywriting #college!grayson

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