#the dust bowl causes him to move out to California where he works as a seasonal farm laborer for a while

[betty-bourgeoisie]

Probably my most unpopular Alfred headcanon is that he didn't participate in the roaring 20's at all because he was busy being a farmer in Oklahoma that decade

[readingforsanity]

The Four Winds | Kristin Hannah | Published 2021 | *SPOILERS*

Texas, 1934. Millions are out of work and a drought has broken the Great Plains. Farmers are fighting to keep their land and their livelihoods as the crops are failing, the water is drying up, and dust threatens to bury them all. One of the darkest periods of the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl era, has arrived with a vengeance. 

In this uncertain and dangerous time, Elsa Martinelli - like so many of her neighbors - must make an agonizing choice: fight for the land she loves or go west, to California, in search of a better life. The Four Winds is an indelible portrait of America and the American Dream, as seen through the eyes of one indomitable woman whose courage and sacrifice will come to define a generation. 

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Nightingale and The Great Alone comes an epic novel of love and heroism and hope, set against the backdrop of one of America’s most defining eras - The Great Depression. 

Elsa Walcott is a fairly well-to do young lady, in a good family, living near the Texas Panhandle. Already 25 years old, she is considered a spinster despite her young age. But the year is in the 1920s, and typically women would have become married and mothers by that age. 

On a whim, she meets Rafe Martinelli, a young 18-year-old Italian boy whose parents emmigrated to the United States to give Rafe a better life. But, the two of them begin a whirlwind love affair, and Elsa becomes pregnant with Rafe’s child. The day before he was meant to leave for college and a new life, Elsa’s father drops her off on the Martinelli farm and tells Rafe’s parents, Rose and Tony, that Elsa is their problem now. 

Despite their better judgement, they welcome Elsa in and 9 months later, Elsa welcomes a daughter, whom she names Loreda. The story then fast forwards 13 years later. Elsa is still married to Rafe, living on the family farm. Elsa is 12 years old, and they have a son named Anthony, they call him Ant. There was a third son, who was stillborn and is buried in the family cemetery beside Rose and Tony’s three deceased children, all girls. 

Rafe is still a dreamer, also putting these thoughts into Loreda’s head. Loreda and Elsa don’t get along, like many teenage girls with their mothers. Elsa is a no-nonsense woman now, but despite all of that, her love for her family is fierce. But, soon, Texas is hit with a massive drought, and their land begins to die around them. Rafe can’t take anymore of this, even though Elsa was going to agree to leave for California in search of a new life, but after spending the night drinking, Rafe left in the middle of the night without word of where he was going or when he’d be back. 

Along with the drought, the family begins having to deal with the dust storms, effectively living right in the middle of the dust bowl. When Ant becomes sick with what they’ve dubbed dust pneumonia, Elsa knows that in order to save her children, she will have to move on. On Black Sunday, the day that a massive dust storm blew into the town, blowing black topsoil all over the towns and across states, even as far as Washington, DC., Elsa knows the time is now. 

Grabbing Ant from the makeshift hospital in town, the three of them begin moving toward a better life in California. Taking with them as much as they can, they enter over the border of California, and see lush green all around them for the first time in years. Unfortunately, Californians are not as welcoming as Elsa thought. They find a migrant worker camp, and settle in and despite wanting to move on, it is the only place they can afford. 

They find as much work as they can, even Loreda having to take off school during the cotton picking season in order to help make money. But when a massive storm causes flooding in the camp, they are saved by communist volunteers and taken to a hotel in order to stay. On advice from Jack, the leader of the communist party near them, they go to the Welty worker camp, and are offered a cabin to stay in, for $6 rent per month. 

Elsa, grateful for the opportunity to be given work first since she lives in the camp, realizes that the owner is allowing them to live on credit only, not accepting any cash and won’t allow the Martinelli’s to follow the crops across the state in search for work as they would have to give up their shelter. 

Elsa is massively in debt with the owner of the camp, but when cotton picking season begins, they are given work, though they begin working well under minimum wage. Elsa begins working with Jack, whom she also has fallen in love with, and the family begins fighting for fair wages for the workers, and they begin using their right to peaceful protests, though this ultimately leads to Elsa being shot after trying to step up for the workers. 

Though the hopsital in town refuses to work on the immigrants, Jack tells the nurse that she needs a doctor now, or there will be trouble. Elsa can feel her body shutting down, as they were unable to remove the bullet. Elsa dies, and Jack takes Ant and Loreda back home to Texas, along with Elsa’s body where she can buried on the land that she loved for so long. 

Several years later, Loreda is now 18 years old and returning to California, to go to college as the first Martinelli to do so. She knows that her mother loved her, and though it is hard to be without her, she now is living her life with her mother in mind, who had found her voice too late in life, and that cost her her life. 

Discussion Questions 

1. “Hope is a coin I carry...There were times in my journey when it felt as if that penny and the hope it represented were the only things that kept me going.” What is the significance of the fact that it is an American penny? In what ways does hope anchor us in the moment, and in what ways does it push us forward? Do you or your family have any keepsakes that represent your family’s hope for the future? When the going gets tough, we hold onto hope that everything will work out. For the Martinelli’s, it was a coin that gave them the hope. For others, it is something else that they hold onto, whatever brings them the comfort they need in order to move forward. 

2. “But we women of the Great Plains worked from sunup to sundown, too, toiled on wheat farms until wew ere as dry and baked as the land we loved.” The stories of women have largely gone undocumented throughout history, and this era is no different. It is changing, slowly, and women’s courage and determination and victories are being brought to light. How are women’s stories different? Why do you think they’ve gone unreported for so long? Do you think sharing these stories will make a difference to future generations? It’s true that despite working just as long and just as hard as men, women were not recognized as being particularly hard workers during this time, and even today. Women were too afraid to step up for themselves during this time, as is evident in Elsa’s character - she was beaten down too much over her entire existence in the world that she couldn’t stand up for the things she truly believed in. 

3. Life was very different for unmarried young women in earlier generations. Expectations for their future were sharply defined. How is Elsa shaped by these expectations and her failure to meet them? Do you think it would have been the same for her in New York City? Did you feel compressed by expectation when you were growing up? Do you think these societal mores were designed to keep women “in their place”? How difficult is it to defy both family and society in a small town? I firmly believe that there is someone out there for everyone, and this is true for Elsa. Elsa was beaten down by her family, and then by her husband 30+ years, that Elsa didn’t realize that she was an attractive person. Other people saw it all the time, but she never truly believed in what they saw. Would her life have been different elsewhere? Absolutely. New York City was the city of dreams for many people, even back then. 

4. “She’d wished she’d never read The Age of Innocence. What good came from all this unexpressed longing? She would never fall in love, never have a child of her own.” Literature is, quite honestly, the opening of a door. Through that door, Elsa saw whole other lives, other futures. What books influenced you when you were growing up? Did any novel and/or character change your perception of either yourself or the world? Did you identify with Elsa and her journey throughout this book? In what way? I don’t think any books truly changed me in ways that The Age of Innocence changed Elsa. However, the majority of Kristin Hannah’s books have given me a new perspective, as most of them have a female character that does’t believe in her own self worth, and I don’t believe in mine a lot of the time. 

5. “She had to believe there was grit in her, even if it had never been tested or revealed.” This sentence highlights Elsa’s essentially hopeful nature, even though she doesn’t believe in herself. Her family and her world have pared her down to inconsequence. Does this idea resonate with you? Have you seen it at work in other people? In yourself? I have seen it - I have seen people overcome some of the worst situations you can imagine. 

6. In 1920s America, there was significant prejudice against Italians; we see that prejudice in Elsa’s own family. What does Rafe represent to Elsa on the night they meet? Is it simply sex and loneliness? Or do you think there’s something deeper involved? Another small defiance against her parents’ small-mindedness? What does it say about Elsa that she went with Rafe so willingly? I think in the beginning, Elsa was simply attracted to the attention that Rafe was giving her. I think it was the same for Rafe. Italians weren’t widely accepted, and though he had another woman on the back burner, Elsa was the first woman he had been with, as was Rafe the first man for her. But, she was able to grow to love Rafe, but I also think it had to do with her own insecurities. She settled for Rafe in the long run when she didn’t need to. 

7. “My land tells its story if you listen. The story of our family. We plant, we tend, we harvest. I make wine from grape cuttings that I brought here from Sicily, and the wine I make reminds me of my family. It binds us, one to another, as it has for generations. Now it will bind you to us.” How are people connected to the land that they occupy? What about the land they farm? Describe that unique and complicated connection. Land is something that many of the settlers coming to America have - it is the first thing that they would purchase, and from there, they built their lives around the land they occupy. 

8. Motherhood changes Elsa in almost every way. What does she learn by becoming a mother? What does she learn about motherhood from Rose? How does motherhood strengthen a women? How does it weaken her? How does Elsa remain “herself” after giving birth? How does she change? That she has a love for her daughter coming from her that she has never once experienced before. Elsa loves her children deeply, without condition, unlike her own family. Rose ultimately became the mother that she never had, but truly deserved in her life. 

9. Few things can break a woman’s heart like motherhood. “Elsa grieved daily for the loss of that closeness with her firstborn. At first she’d tried to scale the walls of her daughter’s adolescence, irrtational anger; she’d volleyed back with words of love, but Loreda’s continuing, thriving impatience with Elsa had done worse than grind her down. It had resurrected all the insecurities of childhood.” If you’re a parent, did this passage resonate with you? Why? Absolutely. Motherhood challenges every ounce of patience you have in your body, and for me, that wasn’t a whole lot to begin with. I love my children wholeheartedly, and again without conditions. I would do anything for them, including laying my life on the line in order to save theirs. There is nothing I wouldn’t do. But, I am the other to two girls - my oldest is 6 and my youngest is 2. My 6 year old fully believes that she is a grown woman, and she tests me daily. We are still learning and growing together, because I do not have this motherhood thing figured out. Her challenging boundaries has ground me down so much that sometimes I act out at her without intending to. I would never lay a hand on my child, though, so I use my words which I think is almost worst. 

10. The adolescent years can be especially difficult on mothers and daughters. Did you dislike Loreda during these years? Did you understrand her? I don’t dislike Loreda. She is a child, and believes that she knows everything there is to know about life when she does not. Loreda was learning, just like everyone else. Her father is partially to blame for the life that Loreda was living, the dreaming she was doing. 

11. “Tony and Rose were the kind of people who expected life to be hard and had become tougher to survive...They might have come off the coat as Anthony and Rosalba, but hard work and the land had turned them into Tony and Rose. Americans. They would die of thirst and hunger before they’d give it up.” Do you think this attitude is a common thread in those who across generations have come to chase the “America Dream?” Why is land so important to that dream? How does one “become American”? Learning the American way was how you became American. For many immigrants during that time, many of them changed their last names to something more American sounding, as it gave them better chances in order to thrive in the country. 

12. There is a strong thread running through this novel about man’s connection to the land. During the Dust Bowl, while many families went west in search of work and a better life, most of them stayed behind on their parched farms. Why do you think that is? They believed that things would get better. They spent years loving the land, working on the land, and I understand it being difficult to give it up. It was something they worked hard for, that they earned through that hard work, that nobody wants to truly give it up. 

13. What bonds Loreda and her father? What dreams do they share? Do they intend to exclude Elsa, whom they perceive as just a workhorse? Or is she partially to blame for her being ostracized? How does her lack of self-esteem color her relationships with her husband and eldest child? Loreda and Rafe were both dreamers. Rafe never wanted a life on the farm, and his indiscretions with Elsa kept him from moving on. 

14. What do you think about Rafe? Was he as trapped by his family’s expectations as Elsa had been by her own? Did you expect him to leave? I didn’t expect him to leave. His parents made sure that he stuck by Elsa after what happened, and ensured that they took Elsa in as their own. But I do think he was as trapped by his parents hopes and dreams for him, as Elsa was by her own families, just in different ways. 

15. How would you describe the Texas landscape the author paints? With its dust storms and earth dry and zigzag cracked, is it like any you’ve known? I’ve only been to one part of Texas, which was El Paso. It was sticky hot and unpleasant when I went. It was mountainous, but not in the lush green moutnains you would think. It was truly a desert, so that was what I had imagined when I thought of the area they lived in, which was roughly abot 6 hours away. 

16. “Even if they didn’t speak of their love, or share their feelings in long, heartfelt conversations, the bond was there. Sturdy. They’d sewn their lives together in the silent way of women unused to conversation. Day after day, they worked together, prayed together, held their growing family together through the hardships of farm life.” Do you share a similar bond with the women in your life - either as a mother, a daughter, or a daughter-in-law? With your friends? Why do you think female bonding is so important to women? I think at one time I did, but unfortunately, I don’t really have any true ties to any women in my life. Of course, I do have my mother, grandmother and my older sister. Yes, I’m tied to them, and I’d do anything for them. So, in a sense, yes I do with them. But with friends? After having children, a lot of my friends stopped inviting me to do things because I wasn’t as available as I was prior to having children, so I’ve grown used to just being around the family I was born into, and the family that I created. 

17. Why does Rafe leave and what is he chasing out west? Do you have sympathy for how broken he felt by the poverty and hardship? Should Elsa have agreed to go with him? How does Elsa aim to fill his void, and why does she believe she loves him even after the abandonment? I do feel like he felt that there was nothing he could do, other than to move on. Rafe was a wayward man, stuck in a place for far too long. However, I don’t have sympathy for him as a man abandoning his family when everyone was struggling, not just him. 

18. Why does the Martinelli family stay under such brutal conditions - the heat, the dust storms, the lack of food, and the dying livestock? Does it reveal anything about the grit that literally fills their bodies? What choices do they have, and what might you have done during the drought? Were you surprised that Elsa set off without her in-laws? Would you have had the courage to do the same? They held onto hope. 

19. How have the Dust Bowl and “going west” been treated by the American imagination? What has been glamorized, and what grittiness has been leftout or effectively captured? Elsa compares them to the early pioneers in their covered wagons. Is that an accurate comparison? California was considered the land of milk and honey, and the government in California wanted people to come there to work, but they didn’t expect ALL of the migrant workers that they got, thousands of people per day. 

20. Life in California is not at all what the migrants expected, what advertisements had led them to believe. The locals treat them badly, are afraid of them. Why is that? How does the treatment of migrants in California during the Great Depression mirror the treatment of immigrants today? How is the same? How is it different? Because California is filled with terrible people, even now. It was already a well-off state, so anyone who came from anything less than them were dirty, diseased, etc. 

21. How do Elsa and her family remain unbroken even while enduring crippling poverty, food and shelter insecurity, and living in a town that is hostile to them? Would they have fared better in Texas? Unbroken? That family was so broken the entire time they were in California. Elsa had to worry about feeding her family, giving them shelter and then eventually finding herself in debt thanks to the Welty farm. 

22. What do Jack and the Communist union organizers offer the migrant workers, and Loreda in particular? Why is it a risk to associate with them and what is Elsa’s hesitation? They gave Loreda the hope that she had been holding onto since her father put it into her head. Jack represented the need that there should be a better life for the people that came into the state to work, to give to their families. They believed in the real American dream, and got others to believe in it as well. 

23. In the 1930s, communism and socialism were on the rise, partially in response to the grinding poverty, joblessness, and despair. The Communists claimed that “communism is the new Americanism”. Can you understand why people believed in that? What do we know now that people didn’t know then? How do you think these perceptions have changed over time. Absolutely. Everything about the party was about giving hope to other people. 

24. Discuss the shift in thinking that happens between generations - the freedoms longed for and the sacrifices require. The Great Generation was shaped by the Great Depression and World War II. They willingly sacrificed for each other and did what they could to help. How is the modern world different? How do we face our own dark times? Everyone is all about themselves nowadays. The generation I just read about is absoltuely the greatest generation there ever was. Although, we are also living in a time when poverty is high - the cost of living, groceries and everything is so high now that many people are finding themselves homeless. 

25.  How does the Great Depression setting of The Four Winds compare to America during the pandemic? What lessons of resilience and healing might be embedded in this story? How might others’ struggles inspire us? Do you have any family stories from the Depression? My grandmother was born at the tailend of the Depression, in 1938, so there isn’t any stories. If there were, it would come from people who have been long gone. My grandmother, at this point, is the oldest living member of her family, as her parents and her siblings have been deceased for several years now. 

26. They say that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. During the COVID-19, Americans were faced with many of the same challenges of the Great Depression. Did we learn from previous generations? What differences can you see in the two difficult times? What similarities? How do you think future generations will judge the America of today? Absolutely not. Nobody quite understands the hardships. There is a divide of people who believe the pandemic was created by the government to deal with the massive population, while others became hermits because they believed the pandemic was the end of times. I think this is the same. 

27. “Courage is fear you ignore.” Discuss this. How do Elsa’s and Loreda’s actions embody this idea? Fighting for any kind of social equality or radical change often requires great personal sacrifice. Courage and fear are absolutely one in the same. It is possible to be courgeous and fearsome at the same time. 

28. Fighting for any kind of social equality or radical change often requires great personal sacrifice. How does Elsa represent the courage it takes to stand up and make trouble and be counted? Elsa knew how dangerous it would be when she decided to stand up for her people. And she paid the price with her life in the end. 

29. Why was it so important for Loreda to get her mother back to Texas, even if at such a high cost? How did she finally come to understand her mother and her choices through a new lens? Texas was home, in a way that California never would have been. It was where the people who truly loved her awaited their eventual return, and though life was hard there, life was worse in California, and she wanted her children to go back to the family. 

30. Did you find the end of Elsa’s and her family’s journey satisfying? Where do you think Ant and Loreda ended up? How do you see Loreda’s life being like her mother’s? How will it be different? I didn’t find Elsa’s end satisfying. She deserved to live, to use the voice that she found too late, especially after everything she went through with Rafe. We never did find out what happened to him, and I would love a small follow-up story on him to find out what he was up to while his wife and children struggled. In the end, I hope he never made it to California, or anywhere out West and struggled in his own life and paid for what he had done. But, Elsa’s death I think was necessary for Loreda to see exactly what Elsa spent years fighting for. She wanted Loreda to have the life that she never got to have. And in the end, I think she will. She was returning to California, to the land of promise, in order to create that new life for herself. 

[kerwritesthings]

Make You Feel My Love

Summary: Because there’s sometimes just a moment where you feel you just need to lay all your cards on the table

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: if you don’t love love, best step away now – don’t say I didn’t warn you

Author Notes: So I’ve had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. So, I figure we could all use a little dose of this. @illumecherry​ posted the photo below on Sunday morning, next thing you know I’ve got a burning spark and 150 words busted out on the page. This one hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting and took a turn I wasn’t thinking of. Hold onto your hearts kids. 

Rest of the stories in this verse can be found here at my masterlist. Would encourage you to read them to get a better understanding of this world I’ve created and a little more of the evolution to get here, especially Take The Wheel & Steer, but they also can each be read as a stand alone.

You were both up surprisingly early, and because of that, deciding to have breakfast outside your bed and the bungalow was on tap so you could appreciate the day, and not just each other. It was quiet around the hotel as it was a Friday morning, but especially on the pool deck. It was sunny and just the right amount of stirring warmth for California at 8am. Pots of tea, a carafe of juice, bowls of berries with granola and yogurt, a basket of croissants, a platter of avocado toast studded with egg whites scatter the table in front of you.

“May have called ahead for us,” he shrugs, draping his arms over your shoulders and leaning his chin on top of your head. He dusts a kiss onto your hair, burying his nose into your messy bun. “I see you eyeing those croissants, come on. Let’s go sit.���

He pulls your chair out first before settling down into his own. You pour tea, him first then for you and settle back into the cushion to just take in everything. It’s been a breath of fresh air, being here and being away from the away. Enjoying the time just you and him. 

Turning, your eyes can’t help but catch the scene in front of you. He’s relaxed, leaning back, his curls fluttering around in the light breeze, threadbare white tee hugging him underneath his jean jacket. It tugs at your heart. He’s a vision. Something you’ll want to remember. You slip your phone out quietly. You snap the picture unknowingly on his part, and you’re grateful for it. The light seemed just right, he looked ridiculously handsome and so at ease. You knew you needed that moment, tucked away on your phone for those days when it’s hard, and lonely. Slipping it back face down on the table, you cup your hands around your mug of tea to just look at him for a bit.

“I can feel you staring,” he quirks, his lip shifting into a half smile. 

“Admiring, darling,” you reply, nudging his foot under the table with yours. “You do it all the time to me and expect me to be okay with it. Now it’s your turn, especially with this pretty backdrop. Can’t expect me to not enjoy all the scenery, you included.”

He laughs, brightly and fully, louder than you expect. Leaning over the table, he shifts the mug out of your hands to lace his through yours and looks at you in return, smiling softly.

“This,” he starts, eyes darting between your intertwined hands and your face, then taking a deep breath. “This is it for me. Me and you. Us. Together. It’s all I’ll ever want. What we have, it’s exactly what I thought about when finding the right person to love, and who would hopefully love me in return. It’s so special and precious to me, you’re special and precious to me. Despite everything, we make it work because that’s how much we mean to each other, how deep our love runs.”

He pauses, looking back up at you, his thumbs skirting across your skin ever so lightly. “What I feel for you, it’s so big and all encompassing. Fuck, it scares the shit out of me sometimes, but in all honesty at the same time, I don’t think I’d not want to feel that way about you, about us and what we are together. I couldn’t picture last weekend without you there with me, and I don’t ever want to have to. It just was like the last puzzle piece locking into place, it was that yep this is how it’s supposed to be for me. Always you and me.”

“This, sweetheart, is not a proposal. I promise you that,” he whispers against your hands, after bringing them to his lips. “This is me laying my heart out there, laying it all out there, saying that at some point, that proposal and a sparkly ring on your finger? It will be a very real thing. Because I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You are grateful you’re not wearing any makeup at this point, because it would be a watercolor painting of it down your cheeks. This is not what you expected, at all and whatsoever. You talk in the longer term down the line about things like this, especially after you moved in together and before he left for the last tour. It’s never been this flag in the sand, never this raw and heart out on the line. You’ve talked about your feelings, how deep they run, what you mean to each other. But he’s never been this honest with his heart cracked wide open.

“Shawn,” you murmur, eyes blurry.

“C’mere pretty girl,” he says, tugging at your hands. You both stand pulling back from the table, but you immediately shift into his arms, head burying against his chest. He wraps you up in his arms, holding you close and tightly to him. You cry for a minute or two, little whimpers because you’re overwhelmed, but in such a good way that it’s the only thing your body can to do alleviate what your heart is feeling.

He lets you ride it out, a hand kneading easily at the nape of your neck, the other snug around your waist not letting you go.

“M’sorry,” you utter against the warm cotton of his shirt, sniffling slightly. “Just. Like. I wasn’t expecting that this morning, Shawn. That’s the most amazing thing, god that was so beautiful.”

You lean your chin against his chest to look up at him. “I’m going to be no way as close to being as eloquent as that was because I had to go and fall in love with a songwriter. But bear with me. I don’t want anything more than this, than you. I didn’t expect this, at all. Not this once in a lifetime opportunity to love someone like the way I love you, and what I feel for you.”

It’s your turn to take a breath, “I’m not going to lie, I got scared early on. ‘Cause I mean, you’re you and I’m just me. Do you remember, it had to be like our fourth or fifth date, and you decided to surprise me at the office because you heard about this awesome Thai place that was nearby because you remembered me saying how much I adored Thai? You just nonchalantly walked in, that single gorgeous purple dahlia in hand, like it wasn’t a big deal to come surprise the girl you were seeing to pull her away from her desk take her on a thoughtful date. I think that’s the moment I stopped being scared and just let myself fall into what I was feeling.”

“We know it’s not going to be easy; we’ve already seen how hard it can be, but we make it work, we make us, each other a priority. I would rather have those blips with you, loving you, being with you, than not having you in my life like this at all,” you exhale. “You light my life up so brightly; I don’t ever want to know what it’s like without that. I love you, more than I can even put into words. So, when you do ask, when it comes to that time, I will without a doubt say yes.”

He smiles that smile you love, the one that seems to take over his entire body and just be for you. He squeezes you tighter, shifting you upwards before dusting his lips against your forehead, the slope of your nose, your lips. “You’re not just you, baby. Please don’t think that. You, you’re everything. I wouldn’t just trust my heart to just anyone. It’s only for you. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again. “So much.”

 TAG LIST: @whenidance, @justinndavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry

[sunnixsunshine]

Incoming Soldier! Headcanons inbound!

• Was born and grew up on a small failing farm in Kansas. When the Dust Bowl hit hard, destroying his family farm, he and his family packed up and moved to California.

• He doesn't necessarily remember this however. He knows Kansas is familiar to him, its just after the war he wondered around so much that he had a brain fart and forgot. After a while, when he got back to the states, he concluded New York was and always had been his home— despite not actually knowing his way around.

• "Jane Doe" is an alias he chose to go under. He thought he needed a code name. Thought his code name was cool. So he began to exclusively go by Jane Doe.

• He does not know his real name. Going by his alias, combined with many accidental and purposeful concussions, has caused him to forget.

• That and his memory never was the greatest to begin with.

• He met Merasmus when Merasmus posted a roommate ad on a poll. Soldier took the offer all because it had the photo of his castle and he just wondered around until he found said castle.

• "Why should I let you be my roommate?"

• "I have a shovel."

• "Okay...?"

• "And bunch if this paper stuff."

• "....sold. We're splitting the rent. Its rent time. Pay now."

• Autistic

• Does indeed have led poisoning, but thats just canon.

• Likes trains but has never actually been on a train. He just likes the whistle.

• Sometimes hangs out in the garage with Engie and watches him work.

• Has nicknames for everyone. Not very creative however.

• He came up with them the first day to help himself remember all of them while he tried remembering their class names.

• Spy is Maskie; Heavy is Big Guy; Engineer is Helmet Buddy; Medic is Nurse; Scout is either Son or Junior, he rotates between the two; Demoman is Pal; Pyro is Deputy; Sniper is Gunman.

• Started hording bread after the events of Expiration Date.

• Carries a cheese grader around for any spontaneous cheese grading purposes.

• Lactosentolerant but he fights through the pain and cries through the agony behind closed doors.

• "Soldier you cant. You will literally get sick, man."

• "Do not tell me I can and cannot do, private! I will drink this entire carton of milk and YOU will cry over it!"

• "Mediiiiic. Solly's doing it again. I ain't taking care of him this time."

• Hates it when things in his room are moved around without his permission.

• Surprisingly a neat person despite his personality. Bed is made military style. Clothes is neatly folded and put away according to clothes type. A giant American flag and an exact crayon copy of the Constitution are hung perfectly straight above his headboard.

• The crayon Constitution was made by Scout for Swissmas. And boy is Soldier proud of that obvious last minute gift that had too much effort put into it.

• Once for Demo's birthday he painted a mural on the side of the base. It was a smiling fish— he said it was Nessie but it wasn't; didnt stop Demo from calling it Nessie and saying it was perfect though.

• Unfortunately he painted it with relish and sour cream so they did have to clean it up before the insects got to it.

• Likes to stargaze.

• Specifically with Sniper. They very rarely hang out but when they do they stargaze and drink a little.

• Thinks Spy is actually Canadian trying to be American and French. He isnt insensitive. He wont call him out unless hes a spy.

• ....wait.

• Is a lawyer, marriage officiant, park ranger, was mayor of Tuefort for one hour at some point, used to sell money for beans at a zoo.

• Has no idea what he's doing 80% of the time.

• "Where am I!?"

• "My camper."

• "Why!?"

• "Because I invited you for coffee."

• "DONT LIE TO ME! YOU ARE A ROBOT! A ROBOOOOT!"

• "Mate, I am literally just sitting here."

[fruitful-blogger]

BITES of Spider Life!

Inspired by the BEAUTIFUL Sanders Sides/Spiderverse AU by @ask-spiderverse-virgil and @sugarglider9603!

Summary:

When you're bitten by a genetically-altered and probably radioactive spider, things in life tend to get a little complicated. Follow Virgil Storm, Roman Marigold, Logan Quinn, Patton Foster, and a whole slew of other spider-people and spider-related people as they deal with life, love, and the occasional robot army trying to take over New York.

Just another Tuesday for our teenage Spiderlings.

(Fluff and Slices of Life!)

Chapter 1: Grandma’s Old Friend (Ao3)

           Virgil tumbled out of bed that morning, yawning up a storm as he rubbed his eyes. He had yet to do his make-up even as his favorite P!ATD shirt and black jeans were on his body. His suit sleeves peaked out, and his Spidey hood hung out, but it didn’t really matter because it was just Grandma and him today. His dad had headed to Tallahassee for the weekend for a business conference, so his parents were using it as a bit of a break for the two of them. Grandma Storm had long ago figured out that Virgil was Spidergale, and it was confirmed after he’d passed out post panic attack while in suit. Thomas had brought him home, and that’s when everything had been confirmed.

           Today was Saturday, and, even if Virgil had slept in, he was still tired. He and Patton had been on the patrol schedule last night, and what should have been a normal Friday night of purse snatchers and minor theft, of course the Mysterio had to cause all sorts of chaos. Thomas had been out of town, across the country even for a Youtube thing, so it was all hands on deck for the Spiderlings. After dismantling his army of robot monsters (worthy of the Hollywood big screen) and disarming hallucinatory gas bombs all across the city, they’d finally webbed up Mysterio and handed him over to the police around 2 am. They’d stuck around long enough to get the police there, and then there was a LONG ride home. Of course, webbing had run out and Logan’s legs were damaged, so, all around, they were just done. They took the subway home, and, thankfully, most people were just used to weird things like people in hero costumes late at night on a Friday. Virgil had climbed through his bedroom window around 3 am, taking long enough to toss off his costume and grab a make-up wipe to get rid of the last bits from his face before crashing hard.

           He flung himself into the chair that still held his favorite hoodie from yesterday as Grandma Storm pat his head before handing him a bowl of Pho and a cup of coffee. Virgil’s head floated up at the smell. Grandma didn’t always make Pho, but, when she did, it was to die for. “Waited up a while with the news on last night. Last I checked in, you and the boys were fighting a dinosaur?”

           “Yup. That happened.” Virgil noted as he sipped the coffee first. “We beat it and got Mysterio in the end. Sorry for keeping you up, Grandma.”

           She waved her hand. “No worries, một chút. I was your age at one point, and I had plenty of adventures.” Virgil nodded. Grandma had some crazy stories from her younger years, and Virgil was sure it was only half the story. After all, she had pieced together Virgil and his friends’ alter egos within a few months of them going public. “You’re ok?”

           Virgil shrugged. “A little bruised, but I’m already half-healed. Nothing too bad.”

           “You should get more sleep.” She waved her finger at him. “And eat something. You’re as thin as a grass blade, and you look tired.”

           “Gee, thanks Grandma.” Virgil threw as he rolled his eyes, finally eating his Pho. “I have to meet my project group at the library at one, and, no, it’s not Patton and Roman. Logan and I have a group project with some kids over a history PowerPoint.”

           As if being summoned, there was a knock at the door. Before Virgil could even get up, Grandma was up and walking towards the door. When she opened it, Logan was standing there, looking mostly put together. Mostly, because, if you knew the kid, you could pick out that he was as tired as Virgil. His tie was missing, even as he wore a polo and cardigan, his jeans clean but not neatly pressed as normal. A few hairs fell from their neat comb.

           “Good day, Grandma Storm.” Logan greeted. Logan and Virgil had grown up together, so it was easy for the teen to adopt the other grandma as his own. “Is Virgil ready to go? If we are to make the bus, then we must get going.”

           “No, I think not.” Grandma stated as she guided Logan in. Even as he tried to protest, she was quite strong for age and, of course, stubborn. “I’ll give you money for a cab. You need a break and some food as well.” She chided as she somehow got Logan’s backpack away from him and wiggling him into his seat. “I’ll get you coffee and food. You need it.”

           “Grandma, please…”

           “No, listen to Grandma and eat.” She insisted.

           Logan sighed as he accepted defeat. He removed his glasses to rub his eyes, and, honestly, it was somewhat of a relief as he got to rest his bones and smell the homey food of a loving grandma.

           While the two boys were eating, Grandma moved around the apartment with an ease of a woman half her age, cooking up some sweets and began to brew her special tea. She pulled out a nice blouse as she went to the laundry room, the iron plugged in.

           When Virgil woke up enough, he looked to his grandmother. “Grandma, what are you up to?”

           She looked back at her grandson and smiled. “Oh! I guess in the excitement, I forgot to mention that an old friend of mine managed to make time to come over today. He’s very busy most days, and he owes me some tea and gossip. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”

           Virgil nodded. He’d met plenty of Grandma’s friends before. Some were downright odd, but most were cool. They’d share some crazy stories that Virgil was sure were exaggerated, but he would nod at the right points before slipping away to ‘do homework’ or something. Grandma understood that he got anxious around new people.

           Soon enough the two finished eating, and Grandma Storm stuffed a twenty into Virgil’s hands before shooing them off with a few extra sweets to their project time.

           Logan and Virgil had gotten to the library, where they found their group mates of Brittney, Janet, and Robert. Robert was a bit of a douche the whole time, dragging his feet and trying to flirt with Janet. Janet, meanwhile, was getting annoyed with him, wanting to focus on the project. Eventually, Brittney told Robert to shove it, because Janet was too nice to say so, and Logan offered to swap with Janet so that Virgil was between her and Robert. Virgil offered to let her listen to his music, what with the Panic! At the Disco and MCR patches on her backpack.

           Robert THEN tried to start shit with Virgil, but Virgil just reminded him that he was dating Roman, something Robert had completely forgotten.

           It was really ridiculous, and Virgil and Logan were almost happy when the library shook, sirens off outside as a supervillain was attacking their city once more.

           The study session was cut short. Logan had managed to patch his legs, and web fluid was replenished. The Fantastic Four were dealing with Doom once again, so most of the heroes on scene were at street level, helping people out of collapsing buildings and making sure everyone was safe. Arachne and Spidergale kept their sector of the city safe until Doom was foiled.

           After that, the other teens had called it, but Patton, worrying as much as Virgil, had asked if they could meet up after. Since Thomas had taken MJ with him to California, they opted instead to meet at a midway point – Logan and Virgil’s apartment building.

           They met on the roof, hugging the hell out of one another just because, before they threw on some normal clothes. Cutting through the rooftop door that Logan had long picked open for them, they took a few levels down, Roman clutching Virgil’s arm as Logan and Patton’s hands swung between them. When Virgil wiggled his keys into the lock and popped the door open.

           The four took off their shoes as they entered, but Roman noticed something odd. “Wow, I didn’t know I was rubbing off on you. This is so retro.” Roman threw to Virgil as he spotted the leather jacket in the closet. It was old and worn with age and love.

           Virgil blinked as he nudged next to Roman. “Dude, that’s not mine. I’m pretty sure two of me could fit in it.”

           Roman pulled it out, holding it up. Compared to the lithe Virgil, it was very large. “Yeah… Can I have it?” Roman shrugged the jacket on, which was still too big on him (but not as large as it would have been on Virgil). “Think it fits my look?”

           “It’s very nice!” Patton agreed.

           “Didn’t your grandmother mention that she was having guests today?” Logan reminded. “I bet that belongs to her friend.”

           “Her friend has taste.” Roman threw as he put the jacket back on the hook. “Where is my second favorite Storm, anyway?”

           “She’s gotta be around here somewhere.” Virgil noted. He entered the house proper with his friends when the door behind them wiggled. “Oh, maybe she went to check on the…” Virgil began when the door opened.

           In the doorway was a young, fit man, no older than his mid-thirties, but he was built like a god. Blond hair was gently tussled as the blue and red of his plaid shirt was doused with some dust from concrete. His sleeves were rolled, arms chiseled and lightly sheened in sweat. His jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination, curved gluts and strong legs all about. His face was a work of art, and it was a work of art that all of the boys knew.

           “Cap-Captain America?” Patton stuttered. Roman’s mouth was moving, his brain having come to a complete halt as the Gay was too much. Virgil, meanwhile, was clutching his boyfriend’s arm, worried that the hero had somehow pieced together their identities and was there to turn them over to SHIELD or tell them to stop or SOMETHING. Patton was also having some Pan panic at the site of the man, while Logan’s brain was running through different facts and figures and generally having an error noise because two plus two was not equaling four.

           “Ah, glad you could make it back so fast, Stevie.” Grandma Storm rounded the corner with a tray of sweets. “Boys, I want you to meet my old army buddy, Steve Rodgers. Steve, this is my grandson, Virgil, and his little friends, Roman, Patton, and Logan.”

           “Hey kids.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck before offering a hand to shake. “Virgil, right? Your grandmother was just telling me about you.”

           “Uh.” Virgil raised his hand, setting it in the other man’s hand and shaking it. “I hope it was, uh, good?”

           “Holy shit.” Roman shook Virgil as he got his hand back. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that your grandma knew Steve Rodgers. THE STEVE RODGERS! You are the WORST boyfriend EVER!”

           Virgil blinked before swatting at Roman. “I just found out, too, you idiot!”

           “I like your sweater, kid.” Steve complimented to Patton. “Admittedly, I’m more of a dog person.” He noted, the sweater having been cat themed.

           “I LOVE puppies!” Patton cheered. “But I love kitties, too. And all the baby animals! They’re just so CUTE!”

           Logan rolled his eyes. “Never mind that he is ALLERGIC to cats.” Logan offered a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Rodgers. I am Logan Quinn.”

           Logan shook the man’s hand, and, even though the thought was purely illogical, he momentarily entertained never washing that hand ever again.

           “I’m Patton!” Patton said but, before he could offer a hand, he pulled Steve into a tight hug.

           Steve felt the air nearly knocked out of him at the boy’s strength, but the hug was… actually very pleasant. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he got a really strong, good hug that just made him feel comforted, protected. He was usually the strong one, so he had to reel it in. “Woah.” Steve laughed as he hugged the kid back, being careful not to squish him (though he entertained that it would probably do little damage). “I’m guessing you’re a hugger.”

           “Mm-hm! Oh, sorry!” Patton released the man. “I should have asked, first, but I just got so excited! You’ve saved the day, like, a bunch of times! You’re like my third favorite hero!”

           “Third, hm?” Steve smirked. “Who’s one and two?”

           “Logan and Rainbow Weaver.”

           Logan blushed brightly. “We get it.” Logan clapped, even as his face was beat red. “You’re ad-or-a-ble.”

           Steve laughed, throwing back his head. He turned back to the emo boy and the excitable teen shaking him. “Roman, yes?”

           Roman stopped, staring at the man. “Yes! I am Marigold. Roman! Roman Marigold! Actor extraordinaire, future Broadway star…”

           “Sir Sings-a-lot.”

           “Virgil I love that nickname and I am KEEPING IT!”

           “That sweat pea is my grandson’s boyfriend.” Grandma said as she set the sweets down. “Since you all seem so excitable, I’m guessing that you all are fine from that rumble.”

           “Doctor Doom was at it, Grandma.” Patton nodded. “Do you need any help with the tea or sweets? I have a new recipe that I could whip up in a jiff!”

           Patton made sweets as the four boys ended up listening to the two older folks talk about old stories back from the early 20thcentury, Virgil once again wondering how old EXACTLY his grandma was (she was always so vague). Logan, of course, asked a ton of questions, but none were about super heroics or the like, but instead he was just curious about life back then. Patton offered to make some cookies for Steve to take on the road, and Roman was honestly the biggest Gay disaster the whole time. When Steve, somewhat embarrassed, mentioned his time as a stage performer, Roman snapped out of it and wanted to reenact parts. Roman’s enthusiasm proved to Steve that he wasn’t doing it for shits and giggles but was honestly awed by something Steve thought was so silly. Virgil was mostly an avid listener to the people around him, fully relaxed in the presence of his friends, family, and one of the world’s greatest heroes.

           Of course, once Roman had snapped from his panic, he’d ALSO wanted pictures, which Patton enthusiastically agreed with. Of these pictures, one goofy one in a hand-made frame found itself sent to a certain hero via snail mail, which he hung on his wall and smiled at when he passed. Another wound up on a certain Princey’s Instagram, instantly going gangbuster and gaining him about 100 followers in the span of an hour. Another found its way to the cellphone of a Youtuber about to get on a flight home, which gained, of course, confusion and also some similar gay fawning from the recipient and his boyfriend.

           Grandma Storm had Virgil print them all off so she could put them in a box with all her old war photos, many showing the Howling Commandos at their peak, her and Grandpa amongst their ranks. She’d let slip to Virgil someday about how and why she was there, but, for now, that was a story for another time.

           One thing was for sure, though – Steve was in love with Patton’s cookies and couldn’t wait to visit the Storm household again.

[tasharii]

Your Colors: Chapter 11

A/N:  This chapter wasn't supposed to be a thing. I was halfway through chapter 12 and realized I wanted some things to happen before what I was writing. But this part was too long to shove all in chapter 12... SO here we are.

Enjoy~

Summary:  Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4.5K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, relationship angst, fluff

Masterlist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13

****

Towel in hand, she ruffled it through her damp hair, trying to get out as much water as she could. One of Bucky’s shirts hung loosely down to her hips, over the leggings she’d brought with her. They were clean enough that she didn’t feel the need to steal a pair of his shorts. The dark blue shirt had Coney Island proudly written on the front and felt soft against her flushed skin. Threadbare and loved. Long sleeves hung past her palms, bunched up around her fingers. It smelt like him and a glowing sort of satisfaction filled up the tired parts of her soul.

The rhythmic sound of water dripping from the showerhead drifted to her ears as she hummed quietly to herself. The mirror was fogged over except for the small patch she wiped away. Draping the towel over the rack in his bathroom, she carded her fingers through her hair, shaking it out and messing it up. The ends curled and soaked water into the fabric of her shirt, but it was dry enough. Steam wisped out the door behind her as she walked out into the small hall. Delicious traces of food floated down to her and lead her to the kitchen.

Bucky glanced up from his spot on the couch, flicking through Netflix. A plate of food balanced in his lap and his eyes traced over her before he smiled, “Microwave.” Lazily, he pointed with the remote, and she wordlessly nodded. It took her a second to tear her eyes off him and pad over to the microwave. The floor was cold under her bare feet. Inside, she found an omelet, toast, and bacon. It smelt so good that her mouth instantly started to water.

After getting a fork, Y/N plopped down on the couch beside him and sat a cup of juice in front of her on the table. Squawking in protest, Bucky barely managed to keep from spilling his glass of milk from her bouncing on the couch. Immediately, she dug into the omelet and groaned obscenely at the flavor. Her eyes widened, and she looked over at him in surprise, “Where did you learn to cook like this?” She asked, voice muffled by the food she was still chewing. It was completely unfair.

Sparks of pride made him preen with a self-satisfied little smirk, giving a half shrug, “I had to cook for my sister and dad after mom died. Then for Steve once I moved out cause he’s useless in a kitchen.” He snorted a laugh, flipping the remote between his hands, “And once I started working at Rosalie’s I had to learn some more. Mrs. Rosy wouldn’t have it any other way. The place is small, so almost everyone picks up baking shifts every now and again. After you get her stamp of approval anyway.” Bucky finished off his piece of toast, dusting crumbs off his fingers. Jelly clung to the corner of his mouth and he licked it off when she pointed to it, smirking.

They ate in companionable silence, conversation flowing in and out. As easy as lazy ocean tides. The conversation ranged from her classes, to his job, and some memories of when they were kids and snow days used to be consequence free and fun.

Too full for her own good, Y/N helped him clean up the few dishes. Rinsing as he washed.

Once everything was straightened back up, Bucky started sorting through his collection of videogames. He hummed to himself as he went, prattling off different games that he had and options for them to play. Y/N knew enough to appreciate his expensive console and shelves of various games from all different sorts of genres. They settled on a multiplayer zombie game and Bucky handed her a controller. Within 20 minutes she managed to get him killed, much to his dismay. They were supposed to be on a team, but he took it so seriously that she couldn’t resist tripping him up.

Y/N enjoyed videogames but didn’t have as much time as she would like to play them. A lot of her love came from all the artistic work that went into creating the best games. Every game she ever saw or played, she always broke down what they’d likely done to create such beautiful graphics. Tried to learn what she could to apply to her own art.

“Do you think you could actually survive a zombie apocalypse?” Y/N asked, sitting back in her seat and letting the controller rest in her lap. Her knee knocked against his from where he sat slouched forward on the cushions, elbows on his thighs. It was warm enough in his apartment that she felt comfortable in just his long sleeve shirt. From far off, she could hear the beeping of a snowplow as it worked in the street. Hopefully it would be clear enough for Bucky to still take her home later. The light was shifting to gold from the window, the clouds finally clearing enough for the midday sun to poke through.

Bucky glanced at her from his peripherals then nodded, “Ya, I think I could handle it. Especially if I got to Steve and we partnered up. Just have to get to a secure location with nearby resources.” He cursed and clicked furiously at his controller, managing to clear away a hoard of zombies running after his character. Tongue poked out slightly in concentration, he leaned even further off the edge of the couch, entranced.

An understanding hum left her, and she huffed, “I think I’d die within the first week.” Smashing the buttons of her controller, she tried to beat her way through the group of undead that surrounded her character. Doomed, she held her breath and waited for her health bar to bottom out. Completely tapped of bullets and nothing left but a bat with nails. Blood sprayed all around as she wacked as many as she could in the head. Bucky’s character ran back to her and he shot down most of the hoard, giving her a path to run.

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” He stated, giving her a wicked grin that had her toes curling under her thighs. The smile made his eyes flicker with life and he pointedly shot another zombie about to bite her. Point made, he knocked his shoulder against her own playfully, “See?”

A blush crawled down her neck and she looked away, back to the game where they were entering a worn-down hospital. Part of her mind drifted to the anxious pool filling her stomach. Nothing had really changed since their talk that morning. Aside from the small kiss before her shower, they weren’t doing anything new. Hadn’t kissed, or cuddled, or any of the things she’d thought would happen once that barrier had been brought down.

Gasping, Y/N jerked when a corpse fell from the ceiling. An obvious jump scare and she scowled at Bucky when he cackled at her. Leaning forward, she picked up a piece of popcorn and tossed it at him. He swatted at it, but she managed to bounce it off his forehead. A satisfied smirk filled her lips, until he threw a few pieces back at her in return. Popcorn snagged in her hair and she fished it out and tossed it at his obnoxiously laughing face. Then he caught it in his mouth.

“Ew!” She grimaced, and he just winked at her, turning back to the game. He gathered up a few of the pieces scattered on the couch and just ate those too. Side eyeing him, not trusting him to behave, she tried to pay attention to the creepy hospital. Every so often another jump scare would get her, but she ignored his snickers. As their characters got closer to the next checkpoint, her mind started drifting again.

It wasn’t that she expected him to suddenly turn into a gooey romantic or anything, that just wasn’t him. But part of her worried that she’d cornered him into agreeing to be in a relationship. Because he was afraid of losing her if they stayed just friends. Insecurities stirred in her like a waking monster just under the surface, and she kept shoving them away. It was irrational. Logically she knew that, but the invasive thoughts slithered in anyway.

Especially when he hadn’t even told her how he felt about her. Bucky had never outright said he cared about her more than as a friend. It was always her feelings that got dumped out in front of them like a specimen under a microscope. And now she was looking for any sign to ease the self-doubt coming awake inside her stomach. If she let those feelings take up too much control, it wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

Letting out a slow breath, Y/N asked, “What were you and Steve talking about this morning?” Any conversation to get her out of her head was good conversation. The remote in her hands felt sweaty from her holding it too tightly for too long. Distracted, she wiped her palms on the tops of her thighs.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. His eyes blazed with concentration as he focused on the game. Controller in hand, she picked up her soda can from the table, the condensation cooling her fingers as she took a drink. When he still didn’t reply, she lightly bumped her knee against his, jostling him.

“He just wanted to make sure I was ready for our trip over the New Year.” Bucky supplied. When Y/N raised her eyebrows at him in silent question, he paused the game and set his controller on the table, “Every year we meet up with our friends at Tony’s cabin in California. It’s near the Squaw Valley Ski Resort.” He picked up the actual bowl of popcorn and started munching. Noticing a few crumbs on the couch, Bucky dusted them into the floor.

“Tony has his own cabin?” She asked, mind spinning at how much money that man had to have. It took her a second to realize that he was talking about the billionaire Tony Stark. She wasn’t used to hearing anyone refer to the successor of Stark Industries so casually. Peter would die if he knew that Bucky was so close with Stark that they took vacations together. Probably die instantly from a straight shot of jealousy.

Bucky nodded, licking some of the shining butter off his thumb, “It’s huge too. Usually it’s just the 6 of us for a week. Then everyone else comes up for the big New Years Eve party he throws.” Satisfied, he sat the bowl of side and washed the snack down with a drink of his soda. He wiped the condensation of his sweats, licking his shining lips clean of salt.

Y/N had known that Bucky of course had friends, but her mind spun with questions about the friends he spent a week with every year. She took another drink, tracing a finger down the side of the can as she asked, “So you, Steve, and Tony…” She trailed off, hoping he might fill in the rest.

Bucky sat his drink out of the way and started tapping the names off on his fingers, “Natasha, Bruce, and Clint.” He paused and stretched out his legs, letting a foot rest on the ground while he tucked the other up on the couch, “This year I think Pepper might come for a couple days.”

Of course, she was aware of Pepper, the CEO of Stark Industries and Tony’s fiancé. It only made sense that she was coming. The other names sounded entirely unfamiliar. He’d never mentioned any of them before. Which made her even more curious.

Eyes drifting towards the sky, Bucky hummed in thought, “Clint’s wife only comes for the party. Nobody’s dating anyone new. So that should be it.” He smirked, “Which is a good thing. We’re brutal on new relationships.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side in confusion, “I thought Steve was dating someone?” Her fingers carefully brushed through her drying hair, untangling it as she went. She was pleasantly surprised at how soft his condition had made it.

Bucky shrugged, “Didn’t work out. She broke up with him.” When her expression faded into something empathetic and sad, he explained, “Steve works a lot, and his job always comes first. It’ll take a special girl to put up with his bullheaded work ethic.”

“Is he ok?” She asked, fingers snagging on a tangle. Feet tingling with pins and needles, she stretched her legs out, adjusting a pillow behind her. Bucky’s eyes flickered to her feet, and before she could blink, he situated them in his lap. He was still facing her on the couch, and his right hand lightly brushed the bone of her ankle. Instantly, she felt warm and a shy smile accompanied the soft blush across her features.

Bucky’s eyes dragged over her, and a tiny hint of a smile flickered in his eyes as he studied her in his shirt. Then he cleared his throat, as if to put his own thoughts back on track, “Oh ya. They weren’t together that long. He’s had worse breakups.” He propped his head up on his left arm against the couch, softened by his plush jacket. Eyes far away, he smiled at a memory, “One year, Steve actually brought this girl he had been dating for a few months with him on our trip. By the end of the week, she was seriously questioning his sanity.”

Eyes wide, she had to press her lips together to keep from grinning, “Your friends are really that bad…?” She crossed her arms, watching him with amused curiosity. Her toe poked his thigh, feeling the soft material of his sweats. He flicked her toe and she snorted a laugh, kicking playfully at his hand.

Mischief flickered through his eyes and he smirked, nodding, “Oh ya. Tony’s the worst, but we’re all pretty guilty. Clint convinced her to take a trip down a Black diamond slope. She ended up having to crawl down with Steve’s help.” His eyes drifted to the side in thought, “Nat grilled her on everything you could imagine. Not that she had to, she’d already done her research. Just did it to see if she’d lie.”

“And what did you do?” Y/N asked slowly, suspicious. Bucky gave her an innocent, wide eyed look and pointed at himself. In response, she lightly kicked at his hand and narrowed her eyes. Obviously not believing the façade, he huffed a breath, deflating.

“I didn’t have to do much. The girl was too snotty for him.” Bucky scratched at his messy hair, pushing it off his forehead, “She kept trying to ask me about him. Get to know me since I’m his best guy. I didn’t bother humoring her, and she got ticked off, but kept hiding it from him. I didn’t like how two-faced she was, so I pushed until she showed how she actually felt.”

A beat of silence fell, and she hummed in understanding. It only made sense that Bucky was protective over Steve. And that he wouldn’t take shit from any girls trying to win his best friend’s heart. It made her feel a little warm in her chest.

“Bet Steve wasn’t too happy about it.” Y/N guessed, jerking her foot back when he squeezed her big toe. It tickled. Eyes lit with a suspicious gleam, Bucky shook his head and caught her ankle before she could get too far.

“No, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t talk to any of us for a week, but he got over it. He couldn’t stay mad for long. Not when he knew he’d have done the same thing. Maybe a bit nicer, but he wouldn’t have let me be with a girl like that. Plus, we’d already put Pepper through the ringer a couple years before, and if Clint hadn’t been smart enough to keep his wife away from us, she’d have gotten the same treatment.” Bucky explained, and she marveled at the fact he was telling her all this. It was another part of his life lit up for her to devour, and she absorbed every detail.

A thought flickered to life inside her and she opened her mouth to ask, only to pause. Swiftly, she kicked Bucky’s stomach when he tickled the bottom of her foot again and glared at him in silent warning. Amused, he gave her the most boyishly charming grin and she snorted a small laugh at the expression, “Ass.” She muttered, and he pouted, stroking a hand up her calf. As if to sooth her. The touch had sparks dancing up her thigh.  Heat burned through her leggings where he stroked his thumb across the inside of her knee.

Shaking her head, Y/N finally asked, “Have you ever taken anyone on the trip with you?” She left the question open-ended. Expecting him to at least say he’d taken Becca, but she wondered if he’d ever taken Dot, or some other girl.

Bucky’s gaze lifted back to her own, hand stilling on her leg. A shadow passed over his eyes, making his lips purse, like he’d tasted something unpleasant. After a beat of silence, he finally spoke up, “Becca never wants to go. Says I need to spend more time with my friends, and not have her holding my hand.” The corner of his mouth tilted up just a little at that, and she chuckled quietly. He continued, “And I’ve not been with anyone worth bringing along.”

Fingers clenching nervously under her arms, she found herself saying, “Maybe I can go with you next year.” Smiling, she hoped he didn’t think she was assuming too much. It was obvious that they wouldn’t be together long enough to go away for a week and have him introduce her to all his friends. But Y/N couldn’t help hoping he would be willing to take her with him next year. That they would be together long enough.

When Bucky stared at her knowingly, she blushed. But didn’t bother to try and brush off her statement. To make it anything less than what it was. The heater clicked on overhead, and she heard a dog bark out in the hallway. His eyes drifted back down to his hand on her shin, “I’d like that.” He mused, more to himself than her.

“Bucky?” Y/N asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. He glanced back up at her. Her anxiety twisted a knife in her chest and she couldn’t ignore the words anymore. Didn’t really want to. If whatever they were doing was going to work out, they’d have to talk. Even if he didn’t like it. Her toes curled in his lap and she shifted her cold feet, tucking them under his thighs.

“Ya?” There was a small, nervous look flickering across his expression. Lips in a thin line, his left hand winked in the golden light when he clenched it into a fist on the back of the couch.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she licked her lips and sat up a bit straighter. Feet still buried under his legs, she adjusted her legs. Then wrapped her arms around her knees, loosely hugging them to her chest. Seated like that, they were a lot closer and she sighed, “I just…” She trailed off, trying to sort through her words, “I just want to be sure that we’re going on this date because we both want to.” Her fingers tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, bundling them over her knuckles.

Bucky frowned, eyebrows coming together, and he withdrew his hand, carding his fingers through his hair. He didn’t move to get any distance between them. Barely seemed to notice how cold her toes were, “Of course we are.” When Y/N just kept staring at him, biting her bottom lip, he tacked on, “I do want to.” His words were strong, not a waiver of doubt in them. Dark hair falling in sky blues, he looked like a dream. Just a pretty dream that she could still wake up from.

“You’re not doing it just cause you’re afraid of losing me… right?” The sentence left her quietly, hesitant. Nearly muffled out by her mouth brushing her knee.

Pursing his lips, he shifted his legs until her feet were swept with cool air. Then he brought up his own knees, bracketing her legs between his. Bucky sat up closer, and the fingers of his right hand brushed her cheek, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” The words were tender and more concerned than she’d heard from him before. They were close enough now that she could feel his body heat. Close enough that she could see the individual flecks of green mixed with the blue around his irises.

Words stuck in her throat, she winced and let her chin rest on her knees. Y/N’s eyes flickered away from his, too overwhelmed by the solid line of attention he was giving her, “It’s just that you were so serious about not wanting to date. And you said that you just wanted to be friends. But then you kissed me. And now we are just going to see how this all works out and—” She groaned in frustration, voice rising as the swirling motions inside her just started bursting out, “And I just want to make sure I’m not forcing you into this because I want you to like me like I like you and—”

Bucky’s lips touched her forehead, his chest blocking out the light of the window, and her sentence died all together. Then his lips touched hers, his chin brushing her knee, and his hand squeezed her shoulder, warm even through his shirt. The kiss was soft and washed away the nerves that had been plaguing her heart. A cooling balm for her soul.

Then he pulled back and let out a breath. He smelt like coffee and laundry soap and home. When he gave her a shy smile, she returned it. Bucky squeezed her shoulder one more time before letting go. Before he could pull back, Y/N caught his hand and held it loosely with her own, arm down near her shin. They were both still wrapped up in an awkward ball together. But it felt comfortable. Natural.

“I’m not… good with words.” Bucky started, watching their joined hands. His callused thumb stroking her knuckles, “That’s why I said I don’t know if I can give you what you want.” His teeth worried his bottom lip, “You’re not forcing me into this. Not really.” The statement released something tight inside her stomach, “I didn’t want to be more than friends because I still don’t think I’m ready to make anyone happy. I can barely handle myself.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered, and Bucky tightened his hold on her hand. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was apologizing for, it felt like the only thing she could say. Her hair was cold across her back, shirt still drying. The soft current of heat from the ceiling vent felt good across her skin. But the warmth from Bucky felt better.

“Don’t be.” He soothed, when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t tell what emotions were there. Too many conflicting ones to read, “I just…” Bucky’s gaze trailed over to the paused game, jaw tight, “You’ll have to be patient with me. I haven’t been on a date in a long time. I haven’t felt this way in so long.” His left hand pressed to his chest, like he could tug the emotions out from under his ribs.

“What way?” Y/N asked, entirely aware that she was pushing. Selfish in wanting to hear him say it. Needing to hear him spell it out for her. Her thumb stroked along the inside of his wrist, skin surprisingly smooth under her touch.

The look Bucky gave her was an open, vulnerable one. Lips parted like the words were caught on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed and let out a slow breath, “I can’t breathe when you look at me like that.” The confession came out as a whisper, and she interlaced their fingers together. Squeezing tight enough that she worried it might hurt him. He didn’t even flinch, “And I can’t resist staying away from you. Even if I should.”

A confession for a confession, “Sometimes, you make me so happy that it hurts. Why does it always hurt when you like someone?” She asked, hesitant and voice soft along with him. Every confession that drifted to her ears had her heart beating louder. When his thumb traced a circle around her inner wrist, she wondered if he could feel her pulse racing like a jack rabbit. Bucky’s lips quirked up into an amused smile. Right then, she thought she might drift away. And she’d hate it. Hate to miss any minute of this. If she floated to cloud nine, she might miss future moments like this. And she refused to do that.

“I don’t know.” He replied, and a shy chuckle left him. Ducking his head, his knees knocked into hers when he shifted nervously, “But I think it’s ok to hurt like that sometimes. It means it’s real. And there are worse ways to feel.” Bucky smiled more when she nodded in agreement. The smile took years from his life and made the perpetual rings under his eyes lighter. Every smile he gave her was a gift, and she etched his expression in her mind. Tried to memorize it so she could draw him later.

A sweet, peaceful silence fell. And Y/N watched him fall into deep thought. It was gradual, and his eyes drifted off as he stared over at his back wall. Sometimes, she tried to imagine what he was thinking about. Bucky seemed to have a lot on his mind a lot of the time. She was ok with him needing moment of introspection, when he got a little lost in his own head.

After a minute, Y/N reached for her controller with her free hand. The action tugged at his hand still in her own when she leaned over. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain, and she flicked it back over her shoulder when she sat back up, “Want to play some more?” She asked, and he seemed to snap out of whatever train of thought he’d been on.

He blinked once, twice, his eyes clearing back up. Then Bucky nodded, and readjusted himself. Seamlessly, they untangled and stretched out their cramped limbs. Eventually, they were both sitting forward towards the TV, controllers in their hands. This time she was closer, and she curled her legs under her, leaning over until her head rested comfortably on his arm.

Y/N could feel his eyes on her, but he didn’t seem to mind. A couple minutes after they started roaming through the torn down hospital again, she felt a soft kiss press to the top of her head.

The sharp pulse of happiness that shot through her had her heart growing too big inside her ribcage. But it was a sweet sort pain. If this was how she would feel every time he did something precious…. She could learn to live with it.

Next Chapter

Tags:  @boy-leave  @wtfholland  @snjms02. @diariesofthebeautyobsessed

[thisishawkins]

Bring the Curtain Up

Here’s the third part to the ‘Dammit’ series, I apologize for it taking so long, I’ve been traveling and been back at uni. I hope that you enjoy it!

 - K

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Trigger warnings: minor cursing

-----------

You sat between Billy and your mother at the dining room table. The food lay between the six of you, and Billy licked his lips in anticipation. Billy would have reached for the roast chicken once he sat down, but he knew what was coming.

“Susan, will you say grace?” Neil directed, his smile, one that was meant to be a polite one, didn’t quite meet his eyes, you noticed. When you were introduced to Neil, you pushed yourself to be as sincere as possible, but you could not help but feel agitation and uneasiness prickle at your skin. Though Billy did not know that you had your own suspicions about his life at home, he could tell that your smile was forced. Billy was trying to stay composed, too. He constantly felt unnerved while at home, because his father would blow up on him for the smallest of things. If Neil sensed any note or gesture that so much as rubbed him the wrong way, Billy was in for it.

You glanced at your mother, and she gave you a warm smile. She was enjoying herself, which made you relax just a notch. She raised her hand, and you took it. Billy looked over to you, and met your eyes. You had your hand open expectantly, ready to get the grace over with, as was Billy. You showed him a small smile, as his large, calloused hand fit into your own.

The both of you looked away and half-hearted bowed your heads, to act like you gave a damn about the grace. More important things were at work in your minds.

As Susan rambled on, your mind reeled back to everything that had happened that day. Your lunch with Billy, the confessional in the red room with Jonathan, and the conversation with Billy that had happened moments before sitting down for dinner. You knew it was going to be hard to go to sleep that night, with so much on your mind.

On the other hand, Billy was thinking about this thing that was going on between you and him. He didn’t want him, or Neil, to scare you away, and wondered if you had heard anything about him at school. He knew that though he hadn’t been in Hawkins for long, that he was already building a reputation. The bad-boy. The womanizer. The brutish boy that stuck out like a sore-thumb amongst the paler Indiana kids, with his mullet, Californian skin, and his “I’m intelligent but I don’t really want anyone else to know that” philosophy. Billy was a handful, but a handful that he hoped you could handle, whether it be in friendship or something more.

“Amen.” Susan finished, and everyone quickly retrieved their clammy hands to their utensils and dove into their meals. You peered at Billy, who gave you a quick wink, which you returned. Then, you looked across the table to Max, you met your eyes. She rolled her eyes, but gave you a small smirk, and you gave her a wink, too.

It looked like the two new kids on the block weren’t too bad.

*

After Billy scarfed down his meal, and you finished your own with a satisfied huff, the pair of you rose from the table. Max had already excused herself to her room, while your mom, Susan, and Neil continued conversing, happily bantering about the “adult shit” that Billy referred to earlier.

While Billy had it in his mind to spend more time with you elsewhere, you began to pick up the empty dishes from the table.

“Oh, hun, I’ll do that, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, Susan, I don’t mind. Besides, you three should enjoy yourselves.” You reassured her, gathering their plates before taking them into the kitchen, Billy following you.

You switched the faucet handles on with a flick of your wrist, and placed some dishes into the sink, before adding dashes of dish soap into the rushing water.

Billy leaned up against the counter next to you with his arms crossed over his barely-covered chest, watching some of the tension leaving you as you started the chore.

“So, are you going to help me or what, Hargrove? Or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” You asked, playfulness dripping from your words.

You both shared an amused smirk.

“This is definitely not what I had in mind.” Billy told you, while he opened up a drawer to retrieve a couple of hand towels.

“Oh, and what was that?” You inquired, switching the faucet off and placing one of the towels over your shoulder.

“I was thinking that maybe we could either hang back in my room and listen to some Skid Row, or find an excuse to get out of here for awhile.” He replied, his smirk never leaving his face. He handed you a plate, and took a bowl for himself.

“Who says that we can’t?” You questioned, biting your lip with a smirk. You didn’t exactly know where this part of you was coming from, but you were enjoying it.  Your eyes left his as you began washing up the plate in your hands.

Billy leaned in a little, and mumbled, “You sure that your mom wouldn’t mind?”

Not that Billy necessarily cared, but he didn’t really want to cause more trouble than he knew that his reputation let on.

“Guess that we will have to see.” You answered, still not meeting Billy’s eyes, and your smirk growing wider.

As Billy stood next to you and continued washing dishes, he found it hard to revert his focus from how stunning you were, and how much of a mystery that you were to him, to the task at hand: washing the damn dishes. Shaking his head, the two of you began to banter back and forth, warmth seeping from you.

*

Somehow convincing Neil and Susan that you were just going to show Billy around town a little, and grab a slice of pie at the local diner, the pair of you and your mother left the Hargrove house and entered the chill of evening, the grandfather clock in the living room just having chimed eight o’clock.

Your mom didn’t need much convincing, she was just excited that you and Billy had gotten on so well, that you had another friend. Of course, she did not yet know of Billy’s reputation, and she didn’t need to.

“I’m just going to go grab my coat and bag, alright?” You told Billy as he fumbled with the keys to the Camaro.

He just nodded in return, before walking around the front of his muscle machine and unlocking the door. He was itching to get away from his house, and to be alone with you.

After retrieving your denim and wool jacket and purse, and bid your mother goodnight, you practically skipped over to the Camaro.

You quickly yanked open the door and jumped into the welcoming heat and leather seats of Billy’s car.

Billy, with an unlit cigarette perched between his plump lips, peered over at you. You had your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face, basking in the warmth of the Camaro’s cabin. Fluttering feelings filtered into his chest.

Lord, you were definitely going to make a mess of him one day.

Hating breaking your trance, Billy spoke, “Ready to roll?”

Your eyes blinked open, and a small flush rose to your cheeks. Even with a death stick, he looked jaw-dropping. You weren’t going to tell him that, knowing that his ego would bust.

“Hell yes.”

*

With Led Zeppelin’s I Can’t Quit You Baby playing loudly and your hand out the window, grasping at the wind flowing past the Camaro into the dark country roads of Hawkins, you were feeling free, and so was Billy. He sped along the two-laned roads surrounding town, making the cornfields and pumpkin patches into a continuous blur.

Billy reached over to turn the stereo down.

“So, tell me about Y/N.”

You looked to Billy. His eyes alight and vibrant, but he looked relaxed, tired even.

“What?”

“Even though I have enjoyed going on about my hot-self, I want to hear more about you. How is it that a great slice of pie like you is from Indiana? How’d you become so cool?”

Chuckling, you shook your head.

“Well, I owe a lot of that to my mom. She’s definitely made me the “great slice of pie” that I am. My parents got divorced when I was five, so my mom and I moved back here to her hometown, to start anew. Even though I’m glad that I’m with my mom, I just wish she would’ve picked somewhere more illustrious, like New York, California, or even Washington, you know? It’s so repetitive, so routine here. Just farmland and the occasional weird occurrence. I can’t wait to get the hell out of Indiana.”

“I completely understand that.”, Billy began, “Maybe we could leave Hawkins in the dust together some day.”

Billy’s hoped that his proposition wasn’t a step too far, but he meant what he said.

You, on the other hand, liked that idea. Sure, you hadn’t known each other for long, but after some time, you were sure that Billy’s proposition would be solidified.

“Yeah, maybe.” You replied with a wide grin. Billy looked away from the rode and gave you a sly smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*

After driving around, and sharing stories and facts about yourselves, time blurred into an infinite little space, where for the both of you, it didn’t exist while you were in the cabin of the Camaro.

You caught sight of your wristwatch as you and Billy laughed at something you had said. It read 11:34.

Before you could tell Billy, he slammed on the breaks, dust gathering around the Camaro.

“Billy, what-”

“What in the fuck is that?” He asked, pointing at the windshield.

About five feet from the front of the Camaro was a slimy lump in middle of the road. It was a horrid mixture of grey and green, and it had a tail and paws that resembled that of a large lizard. Though, when it turned its front toward the car, it didn’t appear to have eyes, only a wide mouth with menacing teeth.

Your blood ran cold, and your breath caught in your throat. This had something to do with the Upside Down. That weird creature had to be something related to a Demogorgon.

“Billy, drive.”

He gave you a puzzled look.

“Y/N, do you know what this thing-”

“Trust me, I’ll tell you later, just get us the fuck away from it.”

Just as Billy placed his foot onto the gas, the creature leaped onto the hood and latched itself onto the Camaro. Billy slammed on his breaks again, in an effort to get the alien-like thing off of his baby, and it worked. Not prepared, the creature went flying off of the vehicle and back behind it.

Again, Billy began to escape at top speed, and you looked behind you through the back window. The thing, though knocked out of its wits for a few seconds, tried to follow the Camaro, but failed. The car left it as a speck, and eventually out of view. Billy followed it in his rearview mirror, making sure it was far behind you and him.

You both looked towards each other, breathing heavily and completely freaked out.

It looked like you had some explaining to do, and needed to talk to Jonathan and Nancy as soon as possible.

The both of you failed to form proper English. The next twenty-four hours were going to be quite captivating, to say the least.

[simplyadorkable-blog1]

Lillypads - Reaction

Nervous about Ruth's interview at a prestigious preschool, Schmidt recruits Jess to help her prepare; Nick procrastinates writing; Winston prepares to confront his fear of testifying in court.

Reaction:

First off, LOVE Schmidt’s enthusiasm for getting Ruth an interview with the most prestigious preschool in all of Jerry Brown’s California. Though I’m not entirely convinced he didn’t have something to do with the mayor of Malibu’s son’s disappearance. Any way, it’s nice to see Jess’ history of being a teacher tapped into again. (Side note: Is the struggle to get into a good preschool also in every sitcom I watch or am I going crazy? Not just me that noticed this? Good. I mean, no complaints, I love anything I can get with this show.) Honestly, aside from looking like the playground is sitting in the middle of the 1930s dust bowl, Triangles looks fine to me. And as we will see, they eventually agree with me. And when I say “they,” I definitely mean Schmidt. Though considering that extravagant birthday party you just threw your three year old, I’d say, yes, Cece, you may be Lillypads people. But despite this fact, Jess and Schmidt continue to argue over where Ruth should go. I love how passionate Jess is for her best friends’ kid.

Moving on, it kind of breaks my heart to see that Schmidt’s room in the loft in now Jess’ craft room. But she really needs it. I wonder if she has her travel craft cart. Oh and I am absolutely living for Jess’ wardrobe this season. Maybe even more so than usual, if that’s possible. Cece’s too. New Girl wardrobe department is killing the game.

And wow Benjamin is back! I forgot how frustratingly annoying he is. And there is no way his kid is supposed to be three. Maybe he’s supposed to be four? Regardless, he looks too old. And according to Cece, super hot? So weirdly hilarious.

Let’s switch back to Nick Miller, Nick Miller. He is still struggling with writing. It seems like he’s working on some kind of biography now, but I can’t be certain. And omg he hired a guy off Craigslist to punch him in the face! Any way, enter DETECTIVE Winston Bishop with his own set of problems. He has to testify now, but he gets rattled on the stand. That is very, very clear. Poor guy. So Nick takes this as an excuse to drop working on his book to help Winston. He jumps into lawyer mode and questions Winston for a masturbating-related-incident in college that I will not get into.

Back in the loft, Jess proceeds to teach Ruth the skills she needs for her Lillypads interview. But her non-traditional methods drive Schmidt up a wall until he ends up taking over and pretty much just pays Ruth and questions her until he forcefully gets result. Obviously way over the top and not a great pattern to get into with a little one. At least we get that super uncomfortable metaphor of Schmidt being a  Jewish carrot farmer who bludgeons Jess/bunny. Also, “Why didn’t you marry Shivrang?” cracked me up!

Is this switching back and forth, but following the episode chronologically hard to read? I hope not because we back in the bar with Nick and Winnie the Bish. Nick is still grilling Winston on the “incident” and we flashback to the scene of the crime. Winston also turns the table on Nick and accuses Nick of being a procrastinator. Which is also very, very clear. College Nick procrastinating is fantastic, by the way. And then Winston gets really real about why Nick is procrastinating. He’s essentially self-sabotaging. It’s kind of sad to see after all he’s gone through.

Before it can get too deep, we are taken to Lillypads for Ruth’s interview. Jess and Schmidt banter some more outside before Ruth is ushered inside and the adults are taken to a room where they can watch the kids in their interview. All seems to be going well (thanks fo Jess!) until Benjamin’s son “messes up,” causing Benjamin to freak out and chaos ensue. This ends in what is probably the most alarming scene of this entire series, second to Robby’s face being destroyed. There was so much blood. But we get to see how awesome Ruth is! She is such a kind-hearted sweetheart and proves that Ruth is gonna do what Ruth is gonna do, no matter what. YOU GO, GIRL.

And to wrap up Nick and Winston’s storyline, we go to a courtroom where Detective Bottoms is struggling through a testimony. Meanwhile, Nick is struggling through writing at the bar. He realizes that it’s past 3:00pm and gets punched by the drunk woman next to him. It’s actually perfect. He ends up going to the courtroom to boost Winston’s confidence and thank him for helping him earlier. Oh and to punch his nuts hard. He is super successful and Winston kills it in court! Oh and kind of explains the “incident.” He did have the intent.

IN CONCLUSION, Schmidt drinks out of a water hose and Jess climbs on a child’s slide while the rest of the gang hang out at Triangles. Man, do I love them.

Favorite quotes:

“I made eye contact with the chicken. He knows I had eggs for breakfast. Take her. Take the pretty one.” —Schmidt

“Robots are helpful and often delightful..” —Schmidt

“We were just picking up our paperwork and we ran into that super villain/wax figure/former best friend of mine, Benjamin.” —Schmidt

“I WAS NOT MASTURBATING!” —Winston

“I need my eyes for TV.” —Ruth

“Aren’t you eleven pages from getting punched in the face?” —Winston

“You are a queer, little woman.” —Schmidt

“Excuse me, she lived inside of me, ya jerks.” —Cece

“I wanted to pleasure myself, and this man helped me get there.” —Winston

“The doctor at the hospital said that Benjamin will have a permanent smile. Like the Joker.” —Schmidt

Predictions:

Nick proposes next episode… I don’t want to wait any longer!

We at least get some Ness scenes

[junker-town]

Everything you need to know about Antonio Brown’s long, strange journey to the Patriots

Three different teams. Two frostbitten feet. One banned helmet.

Antonio Brown had one of the most incredible offseasons in NFL history. I chose that word “incredible” carefully, because as the dust settles he’s either one of the biggest geniuses in football, or a dastardly villain — and which one depends on your perspective.

Pejoratives aside, this was a year of changing teams, frostbitten feet, uproar over a banned helmet, potentially illegal recordings, arguments with management. Each one enough of a story that if it was ascribed different players they would make headlines in their own right, and yet Brown found a way to possess every single one of these stories in a six month span.

November 2018 - March 2019: It all started in Pittsburgh.

The Steelers were on the verge of transitioning to younger players. Le’Veon Bell sat out the year after refusing to sign his franchise tag, opening the door for James Conner. Antonio Brown was the lock to be the team’s No. 1 receiver entering 2018, but he watched as promising rookie JuJu Smith-Schuster stepped up and showed potential that he could be the team’s new star at the position.

Brown was still getting the lion’s share of targets and opportunities from Ben Roethlisberger, but reported years of frustration boiled over entering the final week of the season.

Brown felt as though he was routinely blamed when the Steelers lost, especially by Roethlisberger. This reached a tipping point on Nov. 25, 2018, following a loss to Denver. It was the team’s third loss in a row, essentially killing their chances to make the playoffs — and Roethlisberger publicly blamed Brown’s route running for the loss. The quarterback would later apologize for his actions on local radio, saying:

“I genuinely feel bad about that and I’m sorry. Did I go too far after that Denver game? Probably.”

Brown and Roethlisberger allegedly got into an altercation during practice, and Brown refused to play in the last game of the season with the Steelers still having a chance to make the playoffs. It incensed management and fans enough that it was unclear whether the relationship could be repaired. Brown requested a trade following the season.

March 9, 2019: Enter Oakland.

After a bizarre 24 hours where it looked like Brown might head to the Bills, it was finally Oakland who pulled the trigger on a trade

The Raiders, who had been shuffling deck chairs on their Titanic since Jon Gruden’s arrival, were in dire need of a No. 1 receiver. The trade-happy front office sent Amari Cooper to the Cowboys in a surprising midseason deal, ratcheting up the pressure on finding someone other than tight end Jared Cook and receiver Jordy Nelson to throw the ball to. Knowing Cook was entering free agency and Nelson would be 33 years old at the start of the 2019 season, the Raiders traded a third and fifth-round pick for Brown, which at the time was seen as a steal for the seven-time All Pro.

Brown arrived in Oakland saying all the right things at his introductory press conference:

“I’m here to elevate everything around me. I’m here to just be a surge of energy, of positivity, and good force. A great teammate and to bring out the best of everyone around me cause we all know it’s not just about me.”

It seemed like a match made in heaven, then things started going wrong.

July 26 - August 3: Missed practices, burnt feet.

The Raiders opened training camp on July 26, but Brown was noticeably absent. He was placed on the non-football injury list to open camp, with very little being known about why Brown wasn’t able to participate.

Then Brown posted on Aug. 3 that his feet had been severely frostbitten after failing to wear proper footwear during a cryotherapy session.

via @ab, Instagram

Brown’s feet looked bad, but the Raiders downplayed the severity of the injury. Brown saw a specialist, and by all accounts would be fine by the start of the season.

August 9 - September 4: From toe, to head.

Brown had a new gripe with the league less than a week after his foot injury was revealed. On Aug. 9, Brown filed a grievance against the NFL for not allowing him to wear his preferred helmet, a Schutt Air Advantage he had been using since his rookie season, due to safety concerns.

Brown refused to practice without his helmet and continued to fight the NFL to allow him to wear it. He tried finding the same model manufactured later in the hopes it would pass NFL testing, but that failed too. Brown filed a second grievance, which once again failed.

The Raiders were supportive of Brown’s grievance, standing behind the receiver in his cases against the NFL — but finally acknowledged that there wasn’t anything that could be done. Shortly after Brown announced he found a new helmet for the 2019 season, which came with a fresh new endorsement deal.

Xenith is excited to announce Antonio Brown has chosen to wear Xenith Shadow this season. When you’re the quickest receiver on the field, you need a helmet that can keep up. Read more about why AB chose Xenith Shadow at the link below. #XenithIsBOOMINhttps://t.co/okPWeoDU2m pic.twitter.com/bNLlZvZYLi

— Xenith (@XenithFootball) September 4, 2019

With a new helmet and his feet healed, Brown returned to the field and began practicing with the Raiders. But you know this story isn’t over yet — not by a long shot.

September 4 - September 6: Big fines, alleged slurs, heartfelt apologies and secret recordings.

It seemed that everything was set and the drama was finally over. Gruden said Brown was “all-in” and announced he would be starting on Monday Night Football to open the Raiders’ season. Fans would get to see the player they’d been waiting on for six months.

Then Brown received a letter from general manager Mike Mayock, detailing that he would be fined for missing an Aug. 22 walkthrough, in addition to several practices. Brown quickly posted the letter on Instagram.

Antonio Brown posts his displeasure with fines from #Raiders pic.twitter.com/0OMhdwFu7K

— Vic Tafur (@VicTafur) September 4, 2019

On Sept. 5, everything blew up. Brown allegedly confronted Mayock over the fines during practice, reportedly yelling at the GM and calling him a “cracker,” which Brown later denied.

Brown walked off the field allegedly saying “fine me for that,” and the possibility of being suspended by the team loomed. Suddenly the football world were asking whether the Raiders could actually cut Antonio Brown, their prize offensive player, just days before the 2019 season began?

On Sept. 6, Brown returned to the team and gave an emotional apology, which reportedly won his teammates back. ESPN’s Josina Anderson said the team captains stood with Brown, and Gruden was allegedly satisfied with the apology and expected to play Brown on Week 1. No suspension was handed down for the altercation with Mayock.

Seemingly everything was over and the beef was squashed — and then hours later, Brown posted this video.

The video, designed to tell his side of the story, featured a recorded phone conversation with Gruden. If it was recorded without Gruden’s knowledge it would have been illegal in the state of California. It presented Brown as misunderstood, with Gruden echoing this statement and asking him to just come and play football. The coach also questioned whether he wanted to be a Raider, which Brown confirmed, while also asking if the team wanted him.

Despite all this Gruden was still excited to have Brown on the team and still planned on playing him.

“Antonio is back today,” Gruden said. “We’re really excited about that. Ready to move on. He’s had a lot of, obviously, time to think about things. We’re happy to have him back, and I know Raider Nation is excited about that, too.”

September 7: The end.

It’s unclear exactly what happened between Friday and Saturday, but it’s a moot point. Mike Mayock reportedly told Antonio Brown they were rescinding his $30.1M of guaranteed money for conduct detrimental to the team, which prompted Brown to say he wasn’t going to play for the team and demand his release.

Shortly before noon the team announced it was releasing Antonio Brown.

The Raiders have released WR Antonio Brown from the team today.

— Oakland Raiders (@Raiders) September 7, 2019

Also September 7: The inevitable conclusion.

An immensely talented player with a penchant for being difficult to work with has just hit free agency 24 hours before the start of the NFL season. Which team could possibly be willing to take a risk like that?

Yup, the Patriots.

Antonio Brown and the Patriots reached agreement on a 1-year deal worth up $15 million that includes a $9 million signing bonus, per source.

— Adam Schefter (@AdamSchefter) September 7, 2019

Brown wasn’t signed in time to suit up on Sunday Night Football, which hilariously enogh is against the Steelers.

Was this all engineered?

Now we get to the sticky part of all this, and back to the part where I said Brown could be “one of the biggest geniuses in football.”

The Patriots have reportedly wanted Antonio Brown all along. They allegedly approached the Steelers about a trade back in February, but Pittsburgh rejected it. Now the defending Super Bowl champs have their guy, and this wasn’t on a league-minimum outreach deal the team normally does.

The appeal here is obvious. The Raiders were never going to be good, even with Antonio Brown. The Patriots are the Patriots, and the only accolade missing for Brown is a Super Bowl ring.

Yes, Brown surrendered $30.1M in guaranteed money from the Raiders — but his contract was for five years. In fact, Brown was set to make $14.6M this season in Oakland, and now he’s making $15M in New England.

Antonio Brown sought advice from social media consultants on how he could accelerate his release from the Raiders, accoring to @mortreport. pic.twitter.com/lXBQmxOB4Z

— NFL on ESPN (@ESPNNFL) September 8, 2019

It’s a risky deal to be sure, but if Brown puts up another 1,200+ yard season he will likely be re-signed to a much larger deal than the one he was under in Oakland. Furthermore, the entire helmet controversy resulted in a new endorsement deal.

Look, I know we’re crossing into conspiracy theory territory here. The most plausible situation is that Brown really had every intention of playing in Oakland and a series of events led to the relationship no longer being tenable.

However, there’s a chance, no matter how small, that all of this — the feet, the helmet, the recorded conversations and fights, were all an engineered scenario to get Brown to the team who wanted him in the first place. The rapidity in which the Patriots jumped on signing Brown, with precisely the right amount of salary cap room to pay him (almost) equally to what the Raiders were giving him is one heck of a lovely coincidence.

If Brown really consulted with experts on how to get himself cut as soon as possible, then you have to imagine he had an inkling a deal would be waiting around the corner. It would also explain why he went from apologizing to his teammates to asking for his release in the span of 24 hours.

All we know for sure is that this is one of the weirdest offseasons ever, with the most bizarre set of circumstances, with the most twists and turns. It could be years before we every get to know the full story of how all this went down.

[readingforsanity]

West with Giraffes | Lynda Rutledge | Published 2021 | *SPOILERS*

“Few true friends have I known and two were giraffes...” 

Woodrow Wilson Nickel, age 105, feels his life ebbing away. But when he learns giraffes are going extinct, he finds himself recalling the unforgettable experience he cannot take to his grave. 

It’s 1938. The Great Depression lingers. Hitler is threatening Europe, and world-weary Americans long for wonder. They find it in two giraffes who miraculously survive a hurricane while crossing the Atlantic. What follows is a twelve-day road trip in a custom truck to deliver Southern California’s first giraffes to the San Diego Zoo. Behind the wheel is the young Dust Bowl rowdy Woodrow. Inspired by true events, the tale weaves real-life figures with fictional ones, including the world’s first female zoo director, a crusty old man with a past, a young female photographer with a secret, and assorted reprobates as spotty as the giraffes. 

Part adventure, part historical saga, and part coming-of-age love story, West with Giraffes explores what it means to be changed by the grace of animals, the kindness to strangers, the passing of time, and a story told before it’s too late. 

Woodrow Wilson Nickel is an old man, hellbent on telling his story to an unknown woman. 

At the age of 17 years old, he found himself to be an orphan: his parents and baby sister had died during the dust bowl in the Panhandle of Texas. With no close family members to live with, he traveled his way to New York City to stay with a distant cousin. But, when the Great Hurricane of 1938 happened, and that cousin passed away too, Woody found himself truly alone in his young life. 

But fate has found its way to Woody. During the hurricane, a freighter was traveling to New York with two African giraffes. The hurricane injured the female. Woody follows them into New Jersey, where they will spend the next several days in an animal quarantine to ensure that they carry no diseases, and when they depart New Jersey to begin their trek to the San Diego Zoo, he follows them as well. 

During a night of rest, the driver gets himself intoxicated and in a bad way with the zookeeper, Riley Jones, whom Woody has dubbed the old man. He offers to drive them, and the Old Man allows it, stating he can drive the rig with the darlings to Washington DC, where he will find a professional driver. 

But DC comes and goes, and the Old Man says get him to Memphis. Along the way, they are met with challenges in the form of a woman named Augusta Red, who is photographing the journey in the hopes that her photos will be used in Life Magazine, but already telling Woody that she works for them. Additionally, they also have issues with a flat tire, done to them when they had to release some of the air in the tires in order to get through an underpass that was too low. 

The challenges keep coming, including being harassed by a circus wanting to get their hands on the giraffes themselves, Red continously causing them grief. When they finally make their way back into the Texas Panhandle, Woody is forced to tell the Old Man his story. His baby sister had already died, and was buried, and his mother was dealing with the dust lung. When a mare who was intended to take his mother to the cemetery in her pine box was suffering due to the ever present dust, his father ordered Woody to shoot it to put it outs of its misery but Woody wouldn’t. He was pushed so far that eventually he did, before turning the gun on his father. Realizing that he was nearing adulthood and couldn’t be made to stay at his home anymore, he began to walk away until he heard his father pull the gun on him and pull the trigger. Woody realized just in time to move out of the way and pull the trigger himself. He shot his father in the shoulder, and moments later, his father shot himself in the head with the shotgun. 

Believing that he had forced his father to kill himself, he buried him and his mother, and the mare, and made his way East like he did at the beginning of the story, having to lie, cheat and steal to do so. The Old Man tells him that he did nothing of the sort, and they continue on their way. 

Red, who had taken into hiding amongst the giraffes in the rig, finds herself pregnant by her husband she had stolen her car from, leaves them in Phoenix to get back to the city, and the two of them continue onward to California. When they arrive, Woody tells the Old Man that he’ll be back the next day, steals a motorcycle to try to make it before Red gets on the train, but is caught by the police and sent to work off his time in the Army during war time. 

When he arrives in the United States at the age of 25, he goes to look for Augusta, but finds that she had died about a year after the birth of her daughter, Augie Ann, due to a heart condition. He goes to San Diego and finds that the Old Man had died just the month before his arrival. He remains in California, working for the city cemetery and visited with the giraffes every day. 

He has shared his story to give to Augie Ann, who never knew of his mother’s wild adventures during her youth, and he wanted to ensure that she knew about them before it was too late. 

Discussion Questions 

1. Woody went through a lot of injustices early in his life, how do you think his childhood shaped him into the person he became? He was forced to grow up far faster than any child should have too. Having to deal with dust storms, potentially being killed by those dust storms, is bound to take a toll on someone. 

2. We know this is based on a true story, do you think there was a good balance between historical fact and fiction throughout the read? I knew nothing about the true story prior to picking up this novel, other than knowing it was a true story, so I can’t answer definitely if it was a good balance between the two. 

3. Woodrow had never met a Black person before his journey across the country, how did his internalized racism change after the trip? He realized that people of color aren’t what people he knew made them out to be. Seeing as he had no interaction with Black people before the group of men helped him and the Old Man during their flat tire incident, it was normal to feel some type of way about them. But, realizing their hospitility went a long way, he pushed any of those internalized feelings aside, and was able to have many friends of different races. 

4. How does the power of storytelling play into this novel? Did you like that Woody was writing his own story? And how did you respond when learning about the “you” that he was writing it for? I thought the “you” he was writing for was so sweet. He didn’t know Augie from Adam, and neither did she, so I thought it was super sweet that he wanted her to know the truth about her amazing mother and what she went through during that adventure. But, I thought the power of the story was amazing. 

5. “Time heals all wounds they say. I’m here to tell you that time can wound you all on its own”. What do you think he means by this statement? Time is a thief. Woody was realizing that he was losing time to tell his story. From the sounds of it, the older he got, the less he spent actually telling the story of what happened in his younger life. 

6. How did Woody mature under the Old Man’s guidance? What factors contributed to their bond? Woody was harboring a lot of anger, and with the Old Man’s guidance and reassurance, he was able to overcome that anger. The giraffes helped as well, giving him a sort of purpose. 

7. “It is a foolish man who thinks stories do not matter - when in the end, they may be all that matters and all the forever we’ll ever know.” Are there any moments and stories in your life that have mattered so much that you recall them often? I wouldn’t consider any stories in my life worthy to note. I do often think of things in my life that mean a lot to me often, like the moment I met my now husband when I was 16 years old, knowing even then that he would be the man I married; the birth of my two children; alll of their first milestones, and all the good times we’ve had as a family. 

8. Red has quite a bucket list - meet Margaret Bourke-White, Amelia Earhart, Eleanor Roosevelt and Belle Benchley, touch a giraffe; see Africa, speak French, learn to drive, have a daughter, etc. How did this list shape her as a character? Do you have a bucket list? At first, I thought her bucket list was going to be completed, as they seemed to be reasonable things. But, now I realize it was a list she wanted to accomplish before she died, and I believe that some of those things she set out to accomplish were never completed, and this is heartbreaking. But she was headstrong, different from other women of the time. 

9. Red is known for stealing, do you think your tolerance of lying and stealing would change in desperate times? Absolutely. If I was ever in a situation where I needed to lie or steal in order to eat, or stay alive, I absolutely would get rid of whatever moral compass I have in order to do that. 

10. What can we learn from Woody’s relationship with the giraffes and our own treatment of animals? San Diego Zoo is known as a world renowned zoo, but many people don’t like zoos. What is your position on them? Woody’s relationship with the giraffes was so wholesome. He loved them, and in return, they loved him. It is the best kind of friendship you could ever have, and for Woody, they were the best friends he ever had. I think Zoo’s are a wonderful asset to the animals of the world. While I understand that there is a natural order to life in the wild, many of the animals that are in zoos were bred there, so they’d NEVER be able to survive outside of their habitats; or even animals who are saved from the wild due to injury or illness. Their purpose is to rehabilitate to take them back to the wild, but are unable to do so. 

The only type of place I don’t agree with are places like SeaWorld. Unfortunately, they get a bad wrap, and while the concept is the same, the tanks that the whales are kept in are often too small for them to thrive, which makes for a shitty living situation for them. If you haven’t already, I’d take a look at the documentary, Blackfish. It is eye opening and heartbreaking. 

Questions provided by libromaniacs.com 

[janetoryim]

Part i.

In my last summer of undergrad, I spent a little over a month living a lifestyle encompassed by an intimate, inflamed love for my God and His heart that can’t compare to anything else I could ever desire in this life.

I had the privilege of being sent on an international mission trip to East Asia for five weeks! In short, my experience was challenging. [Disclaimer: I’ll talk more about these points in the following blog posts to come! I’ve dedicated the remainder of this post to my thought process in applying, what it was like leading up to EASM 17, as well as a broad overview of our schedule. TBH it’s kinda just details and non-personal stuff–wrote this mainly for my own memory. Feel free to read it though!]

Immersion in a country of such a foreign culture and language and way of life posed extremely huge frustrations and challenges for me. Yet I simultaneously saw how the  Gospel goes beyond cultural differences and how God loves all people. My month in EA affirmed Revelations 7:9–that all people need God and that he truly loves all nations, tribes, tongues, peoples.

I learned more about how God created me uniquely and has gifted me. I saw how He is the one who places specific people in front of me in His timing to be the fragrant aroma of Jesus Christ. I experienced how this was only possible through surrender.

And in a place like EA, where being a missionary is essentially illegal, I felt the freedom that comes through knowing Jesus as a stark contrast to the restrictions that the government placed on my abilities to communicate with others and talk about spiritual things openly. This caused my own personal times with God so much sweeter and intentional as I became dependent on prayer and the Bible.

Above all, I hit wall after wall, becoming frustrated with how unfruitful my work seemed. I was forced to and continue to be challenged to have greater faith that true “successful” evangelism is simply obeying in love and the power of the Holy Spirit and leaving the results up to God. 

I went with Epic Movement–the campus ministry that consumed my undergraduate experience with sweet sweet memories, training in evangelism, lifelong friendships, unbearable frustrations, leadership development, interpersonal conflict, a great awareness of my ethnic identity, and much, much more.

At the tail end of college, complaints and frustrations about this ministry filled most of my conversations, and serving as “president” left me feeling jaded from unmet expectations, exhausted from the weekly commitments and inefficient communication, excited to graduate and leave, and hopeful that the new generation of leaders could fulfill all of the hopes and dreams I had envisioned for our movement. In the midst of this negativity, I reflect on the immense growth I’ve experienced through my time serving and leading in Epic.

UT Epic Movement Core Team 2016-2017

As a wide-eyed freshmen who couldn’t articulate the Gospel (what I like to call the “foundations” of my faith), I joined Epic because of the evangelism-centered vision statement. I became so excited about the weekly evangelism trainings and opportunities to grow in this area, and it all came to fruition in the summer after my freshman year, when I got to spend my summer at the University of Hawaii at Manoa on Hawaii Summer Project 2014 (HSP14) with Epic Movement. My time during HSP14 continues to impact me today in really huge ways–I still share the Gospel the same way I did three years ago. I keep up with some of the same amazing, wonderful, and powerful friends I made that summer. My love for poke and acai bowls, beautiful beaches and furikake has only but increased, and much, much more.  But that year, I didn’t expect to go to Hawaii. Long story short, my parents didn’t let me apply for an overseas mission trip because of my young age and the fact that I would have to study abroad later on to graduate. Yet from my freshman year, I somehow knew that God wanted me to go to East Asia, but I never thought it would actually happen.

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// how it all came to be //

Last summer, I spent six weeks in beautiful Oaxaca, Mexico on a study abroad program about global health, which drastically changed the trajectory of my future (you can read my weekly summaries and this crazy life change further down on this blog). Checking this graduation requirement off of my list, I casually asked my parents if I could go to East Asia this summer for missions, not expecting anything. They said, “Yes!” without hesitation, and I became shocked as I compared to the reluctant response they had given me back in my freshman year. So from then on, I knew in the back of my mind that it would happen. Honestly, I didn’t pray about it very seriously, and I had no real compelling reasons as to why I desired to go to EA specifically, and especially with Epic, but I applied, had an in-person interview with my future discipler Christine in New York City while on a grad school visit, and became accepted early on this year.

[ P R E – D E P A R T U R E ]

My last semester of undergrad was hellish, to say the least. From my 12 hr/week internship at Susan G. Komen Austin to my new part time retail job at J. Crew Mercantile, discipling four incredible women to serving as the “president” of Epic, all while taking finishing up my graduation requirements and visiting graduate schools in the Northeast–my last semester could be described as anything but “chill”. By God’s grace, I survived, and I finally graduated! Yet through it all, I got to meet up weekly with my friends Nick and Alan from UT to pray together, motivate one another, and keep each other accountable in our ministry partner development. Even though I had this accountability, I really didn’t start asking people to partner with me on this journey until after graduation, about one month before I had to leave for EA.

Admittedly, this was bad stewardship of my time, but God is still so faithful wow.

18 days before leaving, I had raised 20% of the $5,100 I needed. Over the next two weeks, I sent about 170 letters, made lots of cool prayer update graphics, and spent way too much in my email inbox. By the time I arrived at briefing two weeks later, I was overfunded at 110%, having raised around $500 more than I needed. On top of that, I got to reconnect with old friends and gather some intense prayer requests from my ministry partners to pray over during my time in EA. All of this affirmed that God wanted me to go this summer!! This all sounds awesome, but to be honest, I felt as though I simply went through the motions–I faked excitement, and I had huge doubts that my time in EA would change my world. I had a sliver of hope that it would, but my attitude going in seemed hesitant.

[ B R I E F I N G ]

Thus that’s how I entered briefing. We arrived at Vanguard University next to Newport Beach in beautiful southern California on July 20th with the other two Epic Movement summer international teams, heading to Japan and Southeast Asia. I felt comfortable and happy to be with some of my friends from UT one last time, but overall I experienced immense relief to be fully funded, especially because I had only raised 50% last time.

During that time, we had trainings on cultural norms/conflict resolution/etc., speakers gave talks to encourage and challenge us, and we were reminded to remain intentional in prioritizing our own faith.

I met my whole team, and from the start, it felt as if we had known each other for our entire lives. We shared deeply with one another from the start, and I was super excited to have had the opportunity to room with Noel, another graduated senior who was going to East Asia! I saw some good friends from Hawaii three years ago & said goodbye to some of my friends for possibly the last time before moving to New Haven, including my roommate from college ]: twas quite bittersweet.

Students from Epic Movements UT Austin and Texas A&M at briefing before we head out!

Some truths that I meditated on during this time from the talks given:

Loving the Lord begins with knowing that the Lord loves you.

Forgiveness isn’t earned; it’s a grace thing.

The goal isn’t to be conflict-free; the goal is to handle it well when it occurs. 

There’s freedom that others’ salvation isn’t dependent upon you.

I can’t. God can. Let Him.

We were commissioned with prayer the last night of briefing, and the next day, we headed out to LAX! At this point, I felt nervous and ill-equipped, battling doubts that God wouldn’t use me powerfully the coming month.

At LAX right before boarding to EA!

[ A R R I V I N G ]

We hopped off of the plane after a 14.5 hour flight to EA and were warmly greeted by intense humidity and high temperatures (pun intended). We followed some dude who spoke no English, carried our luggage up some stairs, and got into a bus that took us two hours away to our university dormitory for foreign students. From that point onwards, everything moved so fast. We all got our own rooms and our own bathrooms! This sounds nice, but honestly compared to my dorms back at UT, I felt a bit apprehensive about sleeping on that bed (featured below). I had heard that our dorms were the nicest on campus, but walking into my room which smelled heavily of cigarette smoke, had strange writing and footprints on the wall, and was covered in dust, I was far from impressed. Being a clean freak, I became really stressed out, but told myself to make the most of the situation because I was privileged to have my own space, especially with my own A/C unit and wifi.

We settled in a bit, and were greeted by a few of the people who served as year-long missionaries (“STINTers”). Three of them I had spent the summer with in Hawaii back in my freshman year! We enjoyed a dinner of KFC, an expensive delicacy in EA.

[ S C H E D U L E ]

The remainder of that week, we had our school orientation, met up with the STINTers, who gave us campus tours, paid for our meals in the cafeteria, took us grocery shopping, etc….and we got our bikes. (I’ll talk about this later LOL) We also went on some prayer walks and started meeting students by playing volleyball and just sitting with people randomly during mealtimes.

The rest of our month there, we followed a rough basic schedule:

9AM // Meet with the rest of the team to bike to the staff apartments for Sunday church times, trainings, gender separated processing groups, prayer meetings, Sunday church times, Bible study on Nehemiah

11:30AM // Bike back to campus from apartments for lunch, typically on campus in the canteens

12PM-1:30PM // Lunch [meet w/students, discipleship with staff, intentional meals with other teammates]

1:30PM-5PM // Language classes on Tues, Wed, Thurs, or meet up with friends that we had met

5:30PM-7PM // Dinner [meet w/students, intentional meals w/other teammates]

7PM-10PM // Family business meetings and trainings, Date Night with Jesus (intentional time with the Lord), Family Time, Free Night, hang out with friends

Occasional free days and traveling to nearby cities on weekends

Friday afternoons, we had culture classes for the first two weeks, then we had English club the second half of our time there, in which we would invite the friends we had made so that they could practice English, and so that we could meet others and hopefully build upon those relationships.

  E A S M 1 7 [i] Part i. In my last summer of undergrad, I spent a little over a month living a lifestyle encompassed by an intimate, inflamed love for my God and His heart that can't compare to anything else I could ever desire in this life.

[h-bailey]

One kind of drought ends for California farms, but another—of immigrants to work in the fields—now looms

Joe Del Bosque stands in his almond orchard in Firebaugh, Calif. (Photo: Holly Bailey/Yahoo News)

FIREBAUGH, Calif.—There were moments when Joe Del Bosque wondered if his farm could survive.

For six long years, Del Bosque, the son of migrant farmworkers who has worked the land his entire life, watched as his 2,000-acre farm here in California’s Central Valley slowly dried up, the victim of a near-Biblical drought that many likened to a modern version of the Dust Bowl where every single drop of water was a precious commodity.

It was here on one of his dusty, barren cantaloupe fields that President Barack Obama strolled on a Friday afternoon three years ago to illustrate his call for action on climate change. Del Bosque had invited the president in the hopes he might wade into the tricky politics of California’s water allocation rules to ease environmental regulations, giving farmers more access to what little water the state did have. It didn’t happen, but the visit made Del Bosque the face of a drought that threatened to destroy farming in a region that provides half the nation’s fruit and vegetables.

Then something miraculous happened. Late last year, all over the state, it began to rain, and in the Sierra Nevadas, it began to snow, historic storms that replenished streams and reservoirs that supply water for much of the state. Suddenly, the Central Valley was green and lush, the soil fertile and fully ready for planting in a way that farmers hadn’t experienced since 2011. But with the passing of one crisis came another worry.

“Now we have the water we need,” Del Bosque said on a recent afternoon as he walked a reporter through a melon field he was getting ready to plant. “But now I don’t know if we have the people we need to pick the crops.”

President Donald Trump’s pledge to crack down on illegal immigration has sent chills through the Central Valley, where farmers like Del Bosque rely heavily on migrant farm labor to plant, tend and pick their crops. Though there’s no complete tally, a recent Department of Agriculture study estimated that nearly 60 percent of California’s farm laborers are “unauthorized” to work in the U.S.—a number that has steadily increased over the years as farmers have struggled to find workers willing to do the jobs.

Joe Del Bosque stands on a field where he will plant melons this spring in Firebaugh, Calif. (Photo: Holly Bailey/Yahoo News)

But the farm labor force has gotten smaller and more competitive in recent years as the Obama administration stepped up the pace of deportations for those in the country illegally. And Trump’s rhetoric and more frequent immigration raids in recent months, including in California, has scared some migrant workers into staying away from the fields in the Central Valley—fearful they could be arrested and deported for doing jobs farmers say are crucial to producing the food that feeds much of the nation.

At Del Bosque’s farm, where he is harvesting asparagus and planting his cantaloupes, he has struggled to fully staff his crews in recent weeks. Though unemployment is high across the Central Valley and the job pays at least minimum wage, farm labor is a grueling job that most Americans are unwilling to do. He usually hires temporary workers who live in nearby towns like Mendota, a small farming community that for generations has been a magnet for Mexican laborers who come to California to work the fields to support their families back home. But many of workers Del Bosque has hired before have vanished, forcing him to expand his search to other parts of the region, as far as an hour away.

“Ten year ago, people would just show up and ask for work. We never had any trouble finding people. We never had to worry,” Del Bosque said. “But now we are struggling. There’s not enough people, and there’s lots of competition, not just from farmers here but from people on the coast like Salinas and Watsonville, who are coming over to try and hire our workers because they can’t find people there.”

It’s the same story all over the valley. Citrus producers, who often handpick their fruit to prevent bruising, have struggled to find workers amid the spring’s harvest. Local officials say crops like strawberries and blueberries may be down this year—not because of lack of land or demand, but because farmers couldn’t find people to tend them. And that could drive the cost of food up.

The labor shortage has prompted mixed feelings among farmers in the valley, who overwhelmingly backed Trump in November. In a state that is a bright bastion of blue, the Central Valley largely went for Trump. He easily carried Kern, Kings and Tulare counties—three of the most agricultural counties in the state.

A woman walks near a street mural in Mendota, Calif. The rural community has long been the base for migrant farm laborers who come to work in the Central Valley, but farmers say there is a labor shortage this year amid Trump’s immigration threats (Photo: Holly Bailey/Yahoo News)

Farmers here were openly torn over the campaign. More Republican and conservative than other parts of the state, many farmers couldn’t stomach the idea of voting for Hillary Clinton. But they were also conflicted about Trump’s tough rhetoric on immigration and his promises to roll back trade deals, a move that could dramatically hurt their export markets.

But Trump ultimately won many farmers over. In his two visits to the region last year, the New York businessman vowed to do what Obama did not, to directly intervene in California’s water policies for the benefit of agriculture (at the expense, environmentalists say, of the ecology of a good part of the state). But the crucial turning point came at a fundraiser in Tulare last August, where those in attendance say he indicated to a crowd of mostly farmers that he would be open to the idea of a worker program for farm laborers in the country illegally.

That was a direct contradiction to what Trump has argued publicly—including his position that he would deport all illegal immigrants in the country before considering any kind of worker program, a move farmers say would kill agriculture in California. But like many Trump supporters, farmers here believed Trump in office would be more moderate on the issue than his campaign rhetoric suggested.

But in his first months in office, Trump has given no indication of compromise on the issue, doubling down on his promise to deport undocumented immigrants. Just days after taking office he signed an executive order decreeing that Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents should fully enforce federal immigration laws already on the books—an order that many have interpreted as giving ICE newfound freedom to go after illegal immigrants.

After a series of high-profile raids in California, Texas and New York, Trump bragged that his administration has been focused on deporting the “bad guys,” including hardened criminals and drug dealers. But a recent Washington Post report found that most of those arrested had traffic violations or no criminal record at all—fueling fears here that even illegal immigrants trying to live and work quietly could be at risk for arrest.

The rhetoric and the new policy are upsetting farmers here who backed Trump. More than a dozen farmers who publicly supported the candidate, including several who attended his Tulare fundraiser, declined to comment on the president’s immigration policies—including one who said publicly disagreeing with Trump and his team “wouldn’t help our cause.”

Still, many point to one sign of hope: Trump’s close relationship with House Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy, who represents Bakersfield. In February, McCarthy, who is said to speak regularly with Trump and is close to the president’s son-in-law and top advisor Jared Kushner, told the New York Times that “some sort of guest workers program” was essential to immigration reform.

U.S. President Barack Obama walks with farmers Joe Del Bosque and Maria Del Bosque as he tours a drought affected farm field in Los Banos, California February 14, 2014. California Governor Jerry Brown is at left. (Photo: Kevin Lamarque/Reuters)

For Del Bosque, Trump presents a dilemma. In recent years, he has made it a goal to talk to as many people as possible about importance of California’s agriculture industry and the policies that affect farmers like him. Obama’s 2014 visit to his farm was the result of a Twitter message he sent to the president, which caught the eye of White House staffers. But Del Bosque, who is Mexican American, has mixed feelings about hosting a visit from Trump, given the president’s rhetoric on immigration.

In his office overlooking an almond orchard in bloom, Del Bosque cited his workers who, like his parents, came here to work hard and support their families. His wife of more than 40 years, Maria Gloria, who helps him run the farm, came to the U.S. illegally with her parents to work in the fields. What would it say to them if he were to host a man who has regularly demeaned people like them?

“These people look up to me. They know me as someone who fights, fights for water, fights for the farm,” he said. “Our people feel like we protect them, and that’s true. We do.”

Last summer, Del Bosque was invited to serve on an agricultural advisory board for Trump. But he turned down the opportunity to meet with the GOP nominee, in part out of loyalty to his workers. It wasn’t about political allegiance. In November, he didn’t vote for Clinton or Trump because he felt neither one represented his interests. “I threw my vote away, which in California doesn’t mean anything because Hillary was going to win anyway,” he said.

But now that Trump has taken office, Del Bosque is considering sending an invitation to the president to come to his farm—maybe even by Twitter, as he did with Obama. Though he doesn’t agree with Trump and is scared of the impact his policies could have on his farm and his workers, he thinks the president should see a working farm up close—including the undocumented Mexicans who toil in the fields here producing the food that Americans eat.

“Does he know where his food comes from? Has he ever been to a farm?” Del Bosque asked. “I don’t think he has any idea how it works. And he needs to.”

A sign advocating Donald Trump’s presidential campaign near an almond orchard in Firebaugh, Calif. (Photo: Holly Bailey/Yahoo News)

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IN 2015, as European nations repelled African and Middle Eastern migrants arriving on their shores, the United States was engaged in its own naval operations to ward off mass migration from the Caribbean. With current White House Chief of Staff John Kelly then at the helm of US Southern Command, more than 500 members of the joint military and homeland security task force ran a simulation designed to “prevent future mass migration.” In what the military described as “a migrant interdiction operation exercise,” the agents disguised themselves as immigrants attempting to enter the United States on rickety boats. As Todd Miller shows in his new book Storming the Wall, many nations are investing in border militarization to prepare for future population displacement caused by climate change, and the Caribbean and Sub-Saharan Africa are two of the most vulnerable sites for such transformations. The front lines of climate change overlap with the places where nations are fortifying their external borders and strengthening their internal security. Reporting from the Philippines, Southern Mexico, Honduras, Paris, and the US-Mexico borderlands, Miller weaves together the stories of displaced people and the militarization and securitization they encounter at national borders and within their own countries.

Storming the Wall is a highly personal, narrative-driven book. Miller’s reflections on the militarization of the US-Mexico border, for example, are vivid: in his hometown of Tucson, for example, the nearby Tohono O’odham indigenous people have been gradually fenced in on their own territory by US Customs and Border Protection. Miller’s examination of the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines is the most eye-opening section. When the Filipino government failed to reach rural areas devastated by the typhoon, local communities organized on their own, forming the “People Surge.” Yet, instead of welcoming this help, the central government began surveilling the activists, who were considered a threat to the regime. Then the military arrived and began murdering the movement’s leaders. Miller writes that his book’s meaning became clear to him when he interviewed the father of one activist who was extra-judicially killed in 2014: “I had come here following a story about climate change and militarization, but I don’t think I knew entirely what this meant, knew it with my body and my bones, until this interview.”

From the small towns of the Philippines, Miller traces the story of Haiyan survivors all the way to the 2015 UN climate negotiations in Paris, which took place in the shadow of the terror attacks just two weeks prior. The former climate negotiator for the Philippines, Yeb Saño, and his brother, who barely survived Typhoon Haiyan, arrived at the talks after a 60-day “People’s Pilgrimage” from Rome to Paris. They were greeted by a state of emergency declared after the attacks, with the full force of the French military and police on display in the streets. I too attended the Paris climate talks as a journalist. The scant discussion of climate migrancy was mostly organized by international social movements that had invited farmers from around the world to explain how droughts and storms were threatening their livelihoods. These groups also led marches in defiance of the state of emergency, while NGOs warned their members to stay away from protests. Two years after the Paris talks, the state anti-terror apparatus has only grown stronger, while international action on climate change has stalled.

Miller’s book brings the dilemmas of climate migrants and refugees out of the realm of policy makers and academics, painting a vivid picture of an increasingly stratified, fortified world. Climate change, often discussed in terms of degrees of temperature change and inches of sea-level rise, can often be hard to understand on an emotional level. Miller portrays the front lines of the issue in human terms: a young child on a low-lying island in the Philippines, a Honduran farmer whose crops have withered in a prolonged drought. Miller leads the reader through his own personal process of connecting the dots between militarization and climate change. Even while working on a different reporting project near Mexico’s southern border with Guatemala, he encounters climate refugees, interviewing a 17-year-old Honduran man who is heading north because the rainy season never materialized in his small farming town. As Miller’s book shows, the problem is ubiquitous, especially in the Global South.

Storming the Wall shows that even within the borders of the United States, weaponized authorities control mobility following natural disasters. He imagines what would happen if Phoenix, a city that by 2100 “can be expected to endure temperatures in excess of 100 degrees 163 days out of the year,” were to be evacuated due to a heat wave or deadly forest fires. He envisions Border Patrol checkpoints set up on the highway as the largely Latino population of Phoenix flees. “Borders,” he writes, “can be enacted quickly through road blockades and interrogating agents, and this has already begun.” The notion is not farfetched: Miller describes how people fleeing the Midwestern Dust Bowl in the 1930s were denied entry to California on the basis that the migrants were allegedly lazy and criminal and that California had already taken in too many people.

The book’s attempt to capture the complexity of climate-motivated migration around the world is hobbled somewhat by Miller’s failure to establish a rigorous definition of “refugees.” Miller likens victims of Hurricane Katrina and Sandy to climate refugees; yet, while I agree that some people may be criminalized within their own countries during climate crises, I think Miller would have been better off using the legal term for such populations: internally displaced peoples (IDPs). The difference between refugees and IDPs is not solely semantic, as development scholar Betsy Hartmann has argued in her 2017 book The America Syndrome. According to Hartmann, calling African Americans displaced by Katrina “America’s first climate refugees” is a highly racialized designation. “[W]e are being taught to fear the dark people global warming will supposedly set loose, on the move, whether from across the seas or within the borders of our own nation,” writes Hartmann. IDPs are not subject to the international laws protecting refugees, so understanding the distinct challenges they face is essential to insure their protection. In short, lumping US citizens into the “climate refugee” basket does them a disservice.

On the other hand, Miller’s vigorous questioning of who does and does not receive US humanitarian aid in the context of climate crisis is excellent. Miller’s book was released during the worst hurricane season in modern history: Harvey, Irma, José, Maria, and Nate wreaked havoc from Nicaragua to Barbuda to Puerto Rico to Houston. The Trump administration’s response to these disasters has made clear that black and brown victims will be silenced and sidelined, even when they are US citizens. Thus, although the bulk of the reportage contained in Storming the Wall was generated during the Obama presidency, the book’s lessons are even more crucial today, as President Trump has withdrawn from the Paris Climate Accord and is in the process of dismantling the Environmental Protection Agency. Meanwhile, the actions of Customs and Border Patrol are becoming more egregious by the day — be it denying reproductive rights to asylum seekers or detaining children with chronic illnesses for deportation.

The urgency of addressing climate change and border militarization is unquestionable, and Miller strikes the rare balance of alerting his readers to the threat without paralyzing them with fear. Along the lines of Rebecca Solnit’s argument in A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster (2010), Miller shows that, in emergencies, communities come together and display the best of human nature. Yet politicians and other policy makers are betraying these communities. In laying bare the political origins of climate change and population displacement, Storming the Wall makes clear that the solutions to these problems will have to be political. But solutions will not arise from international climate negotiators tabulating carbon emissions in air-conditioned conference centers; rather, it is the international grassroots — the people organizing from the Philippines to the Arizona borderlands — who are constructing alternatives to the fractured, militarized, inequitable world Miller’s book powerfully describes.

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Martha Pskowski is an independent journalist based in Mexico City.

The post On the Front Lines of Climate Change appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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