#would anyone in the continental united states

[before-you-are-gone]

my shrimp EXPLODED

*walking into different rooms and poking my head inside each room* would anyone like some shrimp? would anyone like some shrimp?

[happytapirstudio]

Me at 1 am adding to my 100k+ X-rated fanfic doc.  Rest of the family asleep.  Noises upstairs.  Stop.  Noises again.  TV noises.  Loud.  I go upstairs.  Very loud!  Grandma somehow managed to turn on the TV but forgot how to work the volume (recurring issue--one she did not have last month) ((our remote is the same as hers, as everyone else’s, as remotes everywhere have been since the day they first came out)).  I grab the remote from her and turn it down from 99 to mute.  In a hasty and whispered (ashamed) voice, she demands I turn the TV off.  Done.  Radio also on, presumably in her addle-brained attempt to fix the TV volume.  I turn it off.  Go take my fat piss in the bathroom.  Come out.  “Can you get those lights off?”  Dead dark in the room.  Only lights are the two red dots on the TV setup.  (She asks this every night.  Asked my dad to do it only one hour before.)  “No, Grandma, they don’t turn off.”  “Are you sure?”  “Yes.”  Leave.  Add 2k more to the doc.  Good night, gamers.

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.

[crazyinluvfix]

PROLOGUE

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

a/n: this is just the intro ! future parts will be longer, that’s where the story really begins ;)

series masterlist

1.8k words

┌──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┐

Beacon Hills was supposed to be a sanctuary from all things supernatural.

After what felt like over a century (because it was), Sera Salvatore needed a break.

Which was admittedly a little hypocritical considering she herself was a vampire, but she was desperate for an escape from all the drama and chaos that her family - namely her brothers - had brought to Mystic Falls. So she decided to start afresh, again.

After only one year of living back in her hometown, she picked up and went to the furthest most point in the continental United States, which just so happened to land her here. From Georgia, all the way to sunny California. It would be a nice change.

She was fortunate enough that she could pass as quite young whenever she settled in a new place. With the help of makeup, clothing, and a healthy amount of dishonesty she managed to blend into freshman year at Beacon Hills High without anyone even batting an eye.

It was now one year ago today that she had started her first day, which turned out to be a breeze.

~

January 3rd, 2010

“You’re humiliating,” I expressed my annoyance flatly as I stood by the door, waiting for my brother to let go of my jacket that he had been straightening before I left the house.

He patted my shoulder with a motherly smile as if he was sending his child off to kindergarten, then took a step back to play the role further.

“Have you got everything?” he asked as he nodded to my bag.

I let out a breathy chuckle. I didn’t hate him as much as I let on… mostly.

“I packed you a blood bag for lunch,” he continued, that smirk of his right at home on his smug face - never a dull moment.

My hand reached for my keys on the side table as I walked backward towards the door, shaking my head to stop my lips from forming a smile of their own. “How thoughtful,” I retorted sarcastically.

But just as I was about to step outside I stopped to say one last thing, “Thanks for helping me move in and all,” my tone was much more genuine than it typically was when speaking to him, but I really was grateful.

Moving across the country would’ve been infinitely harder without his company on the road, and without being able to play the little sister card and sit back while he does the heavy lifting. But… and I would never admit it… but even now, starting a new school was just as scary as it always has been and a part of me liked that I had my big brother there to see me off.

I quickly cut our sappy little chat short with another comment, “But, I expect you to be gone when I get home.” I arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

He was definitely the fun brother, but with fun comes impulsivity - a trait that must be genetic, and must have skipped my twin - and with impulsivity comes a long string of ‘animal attacks’. And that was exactly the drama in question that I wanted to escape, so I had brought along a surplus of blood bags to hold me until I found a more permanent solution.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be out within the hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya,” I said finally as I stepped outside, hiding from the brisk winter cold in the confines of my leather jacket.

My words were met with another smile and a nod from my brother before he spoke again. “Tell me how it went when you’re home.” The protective mother was back. But this time, it wasn’t just a joke, he was lucky we had no witnesses since he’d hate to ruin his tough-guy persona.

I almost laughed at him again, but I didn’t. As humans me and my brothers were incredibly close, but over time that faded. Me and our other brother never really settled that, but over the past year back in Mystic Falls me and the eldest fell back into old patterns.

“I will,” I gave in with a joking eye-roll. “Bye Damon,” I waved his way.

“Bye Seffie,” he returned, getting a kick out of my suddenly sour face.

Seffie. A nickname he saddled me with at the age of 4 and has stuck with me ever since. But my real name was a mouthful, so I chose to go by Sera - a fact Damon will insist on disregarding for the rest of our eternal lives.

As I walked away my once friendly hand gesture turned into a middle finger as I heard him laugh behind me and shut the door as I made my way to my new school.

~

The moment I stepped foot in the doors I noticed some heads turn, some overheard whispers from passers-by that fuelled my ego just that bit more as I walked up to reception and signed in.

First-period English went smoothly, then it was History which ironically was focused on the confederacy (not me and my siblings' proudest fight). And it was safe to say the teacher was thoroughly impressed with my knowledge on the subject, little did he know I quite literally lived it.

But after class was when my day took a turn.

“1076, 1076,” I repeated under my breath as I went to scour the halls for my new locker, but the break rush made my search all the more difficult with what felt like a million people charging around.

But finally, I seemed to be in luck as I read the numbers to my right; 1080, 1079, 1078, 1077, and…

Crash.

I took a deep breath and a frustrated sigh at the smug-faced, blond jock who had just practically booked it into my side, knocking all of my books out of my hands, and causing me to jump at the deafening sound of them hitting the tile floor. ‘Great,’ I thought satirically. The prick didn’t even bother to look back! Let alone be kind enough to help me pick them back up again.

But someone else did. In fact, two other boys seemed to have played witness and immediately came scrambling up to my side.

“Hey, uh-” the one with darker features and a crooked jawline, giving him a somewhat goofy smile stuttered, stopping after his friend who stood politely next to him not-so-subtly jabbed him in the side with his elbow, causing him to bring a hand to it and shoot his friend a glare.

“What he meant to say was, do you want a hand with that?” The slightly taller friend with the buzzed brown hair asked after his friend's failure to do so.

I could do nothing but laugh slightly at both of their clear excitement and reply with a smile, “I’d love one.”

Picking up books was a simple task that I most definitely could’ve done myself in probably half the time, but nothing compared to watching them both drop to the floor and bat at each other's hands in a frantic competition to ‘help the most.’ My smile grew wider and I brought a hand up to rest on my forehead. This was already a refreshing change since none of the boys back home would have ever done the same.

Soon, they both stood back up in front of me, proud looks on both of their faces as they put the books in my open locker for me.

“Thank you,” I chuckled in response.

“No problem,” the more hyper one added before quickly speaking again at a constant, lightning pace. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he gestured to himself, “and this is my buddy, Scott,” his hand moved over to pat the other boy on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles and Scott,” I nodded back at them, still trying to bite back an amused grin, “I’m Sera.”

“You’re new here right?” Scott spoke again with an innocent look of pure curiosity.

I put my hands together behind my back and rocked on my heels slightly, “Mhm, started this morning,” a somewhat nervous chuckle left my lips, which the one called Stiles seemed to pick up on because he quickly interjected.

“I mean, we’d be happy to show you ‘round if you wanna hang with us,” he offered, a hopeful shrug on his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

“Wouldn’t we, Scott,” he then batted the back of his hand against his friend’s arm, glaring at him to respond.

Scott quickly blinked and nodded rapidly, “Oh, yeah, of course.”

I bit my lip in contemplation, they did seem awfully nice. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go to the office quickly, but maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later,” my counter seemed to be accepted without a second thought as I studied their expressions.

When I stepped backward I noticed how they didn’t leave just yet, so I said, “Bye boys, I’ll see you around,” with a small wiggle of my fingers as a wave.

“See you around, Sera,” Stiles repeated as he and Scott both mimicked my step back, his hand raising up to do a little salute before we turned our backs to each other.

I could not help the quiet giggle that escaped my mouth after I was out of their eyeline, but I also could not help but hear what they were saying to each other down the hall.

“Why the fuck did you salute?” Scott whispered, hitting Stiles back in retaliation for earlier.

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Stiles replied slightly panicked.

My smile grew. What idiots.

As for the conversation with the receptionist, it went smoothly with a little help from my immaculate ‘people skills’.

“I’m sorry but we insist on transcripts. And your immunisation records seem to be missing,” the lady said, peering over her glasses as she looked through my files.

My sigh was followed by me leaning forward, looking into her eyes as I watched her pupils dilate - she just had to make this more difficult.

“Please look again, I’m sure you’ll find everything you’re looking for.” A proud smirk laced my lips as she did exactly that, nodding and sending me on my way. Too easy.

During lunch, I did end up joining the boys at their table, taking a seat next to Stiles and definitely not missing the wide-eyed look he gave to Scott, along with his stuttered breath as I leaned over him to reach my pen that had rolled across the table.

The portrayal of vampires in Twilight had always annoyed me due to its incredible inaccuracy, but it was beyond amusing how easy it was for me to read their minds, even without special powers.

~

That day had ended with new numbers in everyone’s phones and Sera scoring a new ride to school and back every day in her new friend’s beaten-up old Jeep (which she thought had enough charm to distract from the deafening sound it made when running).

And from that moment forward, the three were inseparable.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you enjoyed !

this was basically to just tell you what to expect from the rest of the series. might not post it all on here unless you want me to so check out my ao3 and wattpad ( @crazyinluvfix ) like and comment x

└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘

[patheticbatman]

@answeringmysister won this round!

The 53rd Win A Commission story was ‘West of the Sun, East of the Moon’, based on the Norwegian fairy tale, ‘East of the Sun, West of the Moon’! If you would like to read the story and see the illustrations in context, please

Dani was tired of the East Coast. Tired of the traffic, tired of the loneliness of being one in millions, tired of her family's drama.

So when a recruiter offered her a contract in Alaska, she snapped it up.

“Are you out of your mind?” Asked everyone she knew.

And every time, she would tell them the same answer. She loved her friends, her family, even her very dependent maman. But it was just too much.

“Dah-nee-el-la,” her maman would say, drawing it out in a way only a Dominican accent could. “We have no family up there! No friends! Who will take care of you?”

Unspoken was the ‘Who will take care of me?’ Maman had cancer attacking her spine.

Dani had been her roommate, her confidant, her servant, and a little bit her punching bag for too long.

Meanwhile, her brother had finished school and then some.

The lawyer for the misdiagnosis case was still working on it, but it had been eight years – so Dani did not expect anything to happen now.

Dani was 27. She deserved to have her twenties too.

“Maman, I’ll be fine. I can fly back whenever I want!” - provided that there wasn’t a snow storm – “and it’s only a year. Jordan will stay here” – to keep an eye on you, finally – “until I get back.”

Dani was not going to be dissuaded.

So when her contract at Cooper finished up and Christmas was over, Dani hopped on a plane with several bags of clothes and left for Alaska, much to her maman’s dismay.

“At least I probably won’t have any seizures!” She assured her maman as she stood in line to board. “You know they don’t really happen unless it’s too hot or bright, anymore.”

Dani flew from Philadelphia to Chicago, from Chicago to Seattle, and then stopped at a hotel for the night. The next morning, she flew to Anchorage, got delayed for 17 hours due to a storm, and finally arrived in Qikiqtaġruk.

Once upon a time, the town was called Kotzebue, after an ‘explorer’, but it had recently returned to its Iñupiaq roots. She was to work in the Maniilaq Health Center, and emergency room. She adored the fast pace, and the stretch of her mind as she sought a solution. Sure, a lot of the time she would mostly just work with colds or mild allergic reactions, but she knew how to take the fun with the boring.

She picked up the keys to the car she leased, loaded her stuff, and slowly made her way through the icy roads to the little house on the northern outskirts of town that she was renting for the year.

As she suspected, the pictures had managed to hide a couple of issues – a mold spot in the bathroom, peeling paint – but otherwise, it was a good house. Toasty, already furnished, and quiet. Plus, it had a beautiful view of the sea to the west, and the low foothills to the east.

She would never tell her maman this, but on that first day, she slept straight on the mattress, no sheets at all.

By the third day, the house was mostly set up. Dani knew that she’d have to work the next day, and was not used to the time change yet. So she made everything comfortable, treated herself to some local sushi and set up her own house.

Her very own house.

The quiet was initially unnerving – her maman’s house basically needed a revolving door, with the amount of relatives from France, England, Dominica, and all over the continental United States passed through. Dani had loved it, but long to try something a little different.

Plus, it was pretty hard to date when your maman was constantly around.

But Dani pushed that thought away. Surely she’d be too busy for that!

———

She was not. It turns out, while living alone meant that she was the only one doing chores, that also meant she did not have to clean up after anyone else. Leaving her a lot of free time.

She thought about getting a cat, but decided against it. She really liked only having to take care of herself.

But that didn’t mean she liked being with only herself, all the time.

The other staff at Maniilaq were extremely friendly, and Dani could not keep track of how many outings, parties or high school sports games she attended with her new friends. Most of them were paired up or married to someone in town or close by, but that did not mean her options were limited.

After all, EVERYBODY had a cousin or a friend or a grandmother’s dog’s groomer’s husband’s brother’s neighbor who was just perfect for her.

And when she let slip she was pan? That just opened her up to more matchmaking attempts.

Finally, after the potential stress of starting dating around Valentine’s Day had passed – she had spent that weekend watching sappy romances over Teleparty with her old friend Manuela - Dani agreed to go on a couple dates.

“Just a few!” She warned, stomach sinking at the overly large grins on her coworkers’ faces. She could’ve sworn Melissa in the back was chanting under her breath, “Fresh meat!” Over and over again.

A few (“Just three or four!”) turned to several (“Eighth time’s the charm!”) Until the amount reached the double digits. Dani was becoming pretty familiar with the restaurants in town, much to her palate’s delight and her wallet’s chagrin.

A few were a little too quiet for her taste people. People she ended up befriending, but not dating. She wanted someone to help her fill her house with singing, talking and just general noise.

Some just had beliefs and habits that grated on her own. Things like not stopping completely at a stop sign, or asking excessively personal questions when she mentioned her last boyfriend was trans. Those people, she ghosted as soon as she got home.

Then there was that lady who was extremely forward and did not take no for an answer when Dani refused to kiss her good night. Danny had to jab her in the kidney before she got the message. Dani had a slight frame, but a mean left hook.

Thankfully, the friend who recommended Ms. Handsy was very ashamed and told Dani that her cousin had really only been up for the the woman anyway. Dani happily never saw her again.

On her thirteenth (“And last!”) date, Dani went out with a person named Ada. They were tall, and rounded in a way that told Dani that they really liked food, but enjoyed exercise too. They had spider bite piercings, catching the light under their smooth brown lips. Their dark eyes sparkled with mirth, accentuated by their eyelashes and facial tattoos, a skin tapestry of pride. Their hair and little mustache were black with cinnamon strands in the light, and straight as a pin. Overall, Ada was pretty cute.

“What’s something fun I can do when it’s hot out?” Dani asked after they made their introductions and ordered. “I’m enjoying catching up on my shows and books here – one of the first things I did was get a library card – but I am looking forward to the sun again.”

Ada giggled. “Yeah, I guess it’s a big change from New Jersey! It won’t even be warm enough to play in the snow for another month, basically.” They thought for a moment. “Well, we have a couple wailing festivals around the area – I am a champ at blanket-tossing.”

Dani didn’t know what that was exactly but nodded anyway.

“–And there’s sailing and hiking and – oh! Probably the biggest change is that we kind of become – what’s the word? You know, not diurnal or nocturnal but the other one?”

Dani nodded in her head. “Crep- crap- creps-”

“Crepsuc- crepus-”

“Crepuscular?”

“Crepuscular!” Ada hit their palm on the table. “Yes, that!” Suddenly embarrassed, they lowered their voice. “It doesn’t get disgustingly hot exactly. Our summers usually only hit the 60s, with only a few days much higher than that. Global warming, you know.” They rolled their eyes and Dani joined in. “But what does happen is that it gets so bright you could burn just like that!” They snapped their fingers.

Dani looked at their skin, a warm terra-cotta, darker than her own tawny. Both were slightly pallid from the lack of sun. “I don’t burn easy. It even affects you?”

“Oh yeah. So we all kind of exist during the sunrise and sunset. Even some jobs switch their shifts to those times.”

“Don’t they like, end quickly? You make it sound like sunset is a whole eight hours.”

They shrug. “It’s not eight hours, but it is a couple hours. If we were a few hours more north, the sun wouldn’t go down at all!”

Dani sat back. “Huh. I know the sun shows up differently around the world – I was even attracted to the darkness of your winter! – But I guess I didn’t really think about how it would balance with the rest of the year.”

Ada’s eyes gleamed. “Yes! And –”

The server returned with their food. For Ada, a mushroom burger with no cheese and lots of fries. And for Dani, French toast and a small salad with a vinaigrette.

“God, food is so expensive here!” Dani complained when the server walked out of the earshot. “Unless you’re getting fish – which for the record I do like – then it costs an arm and a leg!”

Ada shrugged. “Well, when the government heavily regulates our local food sources, and businesses don’t want to ship up here…” Her mouth twisted and she shrugged again. “We eat the shipping costs. But I’ve heard that the shipping lane up to Anchorage is getting more popular. Used to be, we’d get everything shipped from Vancouver or Seattle.”

Dani, who had grown up smack dab between New York City, Philadelphia and Baltimore on land colonized partly for its fertility, could only shrug back. She had always been in the center of food and shipping. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. But all this talk about food made me remember we were talking about things to do in the summer!”

“Oh?” Dani said, taking a bite of her French toast.

“I like to go on sunset picnics. Dawn’s are pretty too, obviously, but then the daytime hits and there’s hardly any chance to see the lights.”

“The aurora borealis?”

“Yeah. I, of course, have seen many,” they said smugly. “But I never get tired of them.” Ada took another bite of their burger. “I heard this year, 2024, is going to be especially pretty and strong. Magnet cycles or something.”

“I’ve always wanted to see one,” Dani admitted. “My cousin in New Zealand once saw the southern one – the australis, I think? And didn’t shut up about it for weeks.”

“Well, we’ll have to go and see some.” Ada smiled shyly.

Dani smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.”

They chatted as they ate, and Dani enjoyed herself so much that she suggested they stay for dessert.

“Best not,” Ada said, genuinely remorseful. “Looks like we’re due for another storm.” She pointed a thumb at the window.

“Oh snap! That reminds me. I have to go to Margie’s Materials before they close.” At Ada’s bemused look, she explained, “I’m making curtains. To block out the noise from the wind and I guess now to block out the summer sun.”

Ada nodded. “Yeah you’ll need them. Mention my name, she might knock off a dollar or two. We go way back.”

Dani beamed. “Thanks, Ada! Text me!”

She was still smiling as she paid her bill, picked up the material, and drove all the way home.

———

Of course, this was the one time that winter that the storm lasted for more than three days. On days Dani had to work, she woke up early, drove incredibly slow to work, hands gripped tight on the wheel, practically slid over the road, ice inches thick. Otherwise, she stayed at home, cursing at all the streaming services that were unavailable, and the frequent power outages. She did a lot of reading and sewing by candlelight and by the window. It was not the best thing for her eyes, but as a friend back home liked to say, boredom was the mind killer.

What she most enjoyed was texting with Ada, when the signals permitted. They were quite sweet and funny, and helped her create increasingly bizarre meals as her food supplies dwindled.

Dani

<<I swear my fridge was full just a few days ago. But I just don’t like driving out in this weather. And on a workday, by the time I get out, either the store is about to close or I’m so tired I just wanna go to bed!>>

Ada

<<I know what you mean lol. I live closer to my work than you do but further from Rottman’s. It sucks.>>

Dani

<<Yes! And really, they’re not that far! If it was warmer out, I’d walk>>

Ada

<<And I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more. To be the nb who walked a thousand miles to bring food to your door>>

Dani

<<😆❤️>>

Ada

<<Wait, actually do you live far? Maybe we can still have lunch together.>>

Dani‘s heart skipped the beat. Her maman did always say romance bloomed fast out in the country. She texted her address before she could lose her nerve.

Ada

<<Nice, I’m less than a five minute drive to your place. I’ll bring some home cooking. Lunch tomorrow sound good?>>

Dani

<<Omg you’re too amazing. Thank you!!! ❤️ >>

Casting her eyes around the house, Dani felt renewed vigor for her projects. “I have to show Ada my magnum opus when she gets here!”

Outside, a gust of wind blew especially hard, as if in an agreement.

———

Dani expected Ada around noon – but had yet to hang up her curtains.

A text came through.

Ada

<<Truck won’t start, I’ll be a little late.>>

Dani

<<No worries! I’ll put some candles at the window so you know which house is mine if it gets snowy again. My porch light is broken.>>

She started hanging the curtains all around the house, working double time. But as she was short and did not trust the chair she used a stepladder all that much, she was still very slow.

By the time the very last one was finished, her phone said it was 12:17.

Outside the wind started whipping again, and she neither saw a car coming up her street or anybody off-roaring in the snow planes and the low foot hills behind her house, encircling the ocean and bay.

Which meant she probably still had enough time to put all her candles out. Her family had always prized appearing perfectly ready for guests. Dani kept the habit up, because she enjoyed feeling organized. She drew away each curtain from the windows, and placed a candle on the sill. She missed summer, so she had all the more tropical scents out.

Just as she was sitting out her favorite piña colada candle, the wind cleared away from her eastern window, and she saw a large shape out back. Was that …

“Holy crap,” she breathed. “A polar bear!”

She knew they lived in the area, of course. As per her coworkers advice, she kept her trash in the garage and only set it out the morning before garbage trucks came by.

“They eat ANYTHING,” Barry emphasized. “Polar bears would be happy to eat your trash. Or,” he wiggled his fingers, “you!”

Dani had rolled her eyes at the time, but had listened, and was now glad for it.

The animal was huge – possibly 5 foot at the shoulder. And it was dragging something?

A thought struck her, and Dani’s blood turned ice. She hadn’t heard from Ada in a while, and they’ve been talking about, walking to her house just yesterday.

She grabbed her phone out of her pocket. No answer. Called Ada. No answer. Call Ada. No answer.

Her gut roiled as the beast got closer to the house. There was even something red in the trail following the bear.

She tried calling again, but her service went out. Desperately she typed out,

Dani

<<There’s a polar bear near my house! Please tell me you aren’t walking!>>

But just as she was about to hit send, the polar bear stopped right next to her window. She ducked around the window.

And suddenly there was no polar bear anymore. Instead, there stood Ada, adjusting their kuspuk, hat and mittens, shivering occasionally. And the thing behind her was a sled with a bundle on top. It was leaking red, but instead of blood, it was just a jam jar, fallen over and cracked open, dripping.

Dani could only gape.

Apparently satisfied with their looks, Ada pulled the sled a little further, out of her sight.

Oh God. Was she going to let them in? Maybe she had imagined it. But it was so cold! Plus, kuspuks were about as warm as sweatshirts – pretty good for weather over 40 degrees but nowhere near warm enough for a day like this. So something was definitely wrong. But she couldn’t just leave Ada out there! Even if she was a polar bear before, she certainly wasn’t one now.

Knock, knock, knock!

No time to hesitate now!

Swallowing down the rush of rmotion she weathered the last few minutes, Dani flew to the door. “Ada!” She plastered on a smile.

“Dani!” They answered back, their smile real, spider bite piercings glinting in the sun.

Dani’s heart skipped a beat.

And the wind smacked her in the face and invaded the house. “Come in, come in! Do you need help bringing the food in?”

“No,” Ada said, grabbing the sled one-armed. “I’m good.”

Dani’s heart fluttered again. That sled looked heavy. Still, she scooted around her tall date and grabbed the leaking jam jar. ���Don’t want to spill in the house!” She tittered.

Ada covered their mouth with their other hand. “Oh, I didn’t even see that come. Dang it! That was my last jar of nagoonberry jam! Aata - my Dad - won’t share anymore of his.”

“Nagoonberry? And how did you get here? I don’t see a car.”

“My truck still won’t start, so a friend dropped me off down the street.

They hadn’t come in the direction of the street.

“Are you insane? It’s single digits out there!”

Ada shrugged asshe finished shaking off her snow pants - the last of her winter clothes to go. “Darling, maybe I’m just built different.”

Dani couldn’t help but laugh. In more ways than one! “Okay, so what did you bring me, muscles?”

Ada pulled a large basket out of a snugly wrapped blanket, which in turn had been wrapped in a tarp. “To keep the ice off, but the cool in,” they explained. The basket was woven tightly, wide and low, with a huge a huge lid, topped by a carved fish, probably made of ivory or bone.

“So, I hope you’re not too hungry, because I wanted to give you a little lesson before we eat.”

She nodded. “Are you gonna tell me about the nagoonberry?

Ada waved their hand. “All good time.” They pulled two Tupperware containers and stuck them in the freezer. “For later.” Finally, they opened up the basket, and began laying out the food.

“So I was mostly raised up in Utqiagvik, with my aakaga, my mom, until I was about 14-ish. My parents divorced when I was little. I’d see Aata in the summers and sometimes winter break if the weather was mild. Then mom’s writing career finally took off – remind me to bring a couple copies over sometime – and she had to go on a tour. So I moved in with Aata!”

“Let me guess – that’s when you started being interested in making food?”

“You bet! I mean, I knew how to heat up a pizza or make cookie dough. But Dad’s budget was a little tighter, and he’s a lot more connected to his people, so��� yeah. Aaka and I are Iñupiak – that’s the dual form of Iñupiat, which is –”

“I know what a dual form ⁂ is!” Dani said excitedly.

Ada lifted their eyes brows, but continued. “Fair enough! Well, Aaka was not very traditional when I was growing up. She had to attend a lot of church as a kid, and she spent a lot more time with her father’s family than her mother’s. I think she was still sorting herself out from that, you know? But anyway, Dad is very Yup’ik. Not dual form for that, by the way,” they flashed a smile. “The plural is just Yup’ik, we don’t really conjugate it anymore.”

“Is this going to be Yup’ik food?”

“You bet! You say you like sushi –”

“Oh yeah,” Dani confirmed, eyes gleaming.

Ada chuckled. “Well, then you’re definitely going to like this. More protein, less filler, all local.” They pulled off the lid. “You seem to tend towards sweet-and-sour foods more than anything, and you mentioned wanting to eat more protein.” They smiled shyly. “So I took that into account. I’m going to introduce you to qassaq.”

Once again, Dani was speechless. Both because she was touched and in awe of the gesture, and because she didn’t know what that meant.

Ada must’ve seen her her face, because they started grabbing dishes out of the basket. “Okay! So this is not the most comprehensive introduction to Yup’ik cuisine, and I did end up going to the grocery store for some ingredients, but I figured we could ease into it.”

“This,” they held up a small casserole dish. “Is modern assaliaq. It’s a fried fish casserole with mostly bulb and root type veggies. That’ll be our main course. I’m going to heat it up in your oven, if you don’t mind.”

Dani shook her head and took the assaliaq, mouth dry. All this, for a second date? “How hot?”

Ada told her, then continued “This, if you dare,” they smirked. “is ciss’uq. Much more traditional, and a bit of a delicacy.”

Dani sniffed. Even wrapped up, its scent was strong and inviting. “What is it?”

“It’s fermented herring. Pulled it out right before I found out my truck wouldn’t start.”

“It definitely smells sweet!”

“If you enjoy this, then I think you’ll really like Tepa. But, that’s more of a summer food, remind me to show you later.” They moved on. “This is tepcuaraq, which is fermented frozen salmon. We can dip in some seal oil!” They set the container aside, with a little tureen on top. “And finally … drumroll, please!”

Dani happily obliged, giggling.

“Ice cream! Just in case you do want dessert. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I bought Neapolitan.” They grinned, a little sheepish.

After a moment, all Dani could say was, “I am blown away. You made all of this?” She gestured all around the kitchen as she put the ice cream in the freezer.

Ada smiled, still bashful “I really enjoyed talking with you, Dani.”

“I feel so unprepared!” Dani joked. “But I really like talking to you too.” She felt the blood rush to her face. “I hope you aren’t expecting to go home with leftovers, because I really want to try everything!”

———

Dani wasn’t sure if she’d ever eaten so much in her life. “You eat like this every day?” She asked, dipping another filet into the nearly gone seal oil. Another bite couldn’t hurt.

“I mean, not usually when I’m working. The counseling center is great, but I don’t normally pack a ton just for one meal. I’m a snacker, so I make a bunch of little stuff on the weekends and eat it throughout the day. But you can’t snack all day for a date!”

“How is that? By the way, don’t you guys counsel like, everyone from miles around? That must get a little bit conflict of interest-y with everyone being so tight around here.”

Ada shrugged. “I mean, I like helping people. Especially kids. On Thursday and Fridays the Center sends me to both of the schools to check up more personally, in case parents don’t want to bring them in.” They shook their head. “It’s like no one remembers how tough it is to be a kid sometimes.”

“I know!” Dani fumed. “Back home, a little girl was brought in after burned her foot when she put it on the stove top.” Both winced. “Not only were the parents careless, but they didn’t understand why she nearly screamed herself blue! It was the most painful thing that little baby had ever felt. It’s like they forgot everything is new.”

“Exactly.” Ada nodded.

Dani couldn’t stop smiling. A pretty date, good food, and excellent conversation. She didn’t want this to end. “Do you wanna watch something?”

“Sure! Have you seen Dungeon Meshi?”

Dani shook her head. “Isn’t that on Netflix? I think my friend just started.”

“Let’s watch that! I think it features cooking and fighting.”

Laughing, Dani grabbed two bowls and two spoons. “Everything is food with you, huh?” She grabbed the ice cream and a scoop. She could probably fit in dessert. “So why aren’t you a cook?”

Ada laughed too. “I tried for a year! But I like to take my time while cooking. I just couldn’t keep up at any of the restaurants. So I eventually got my psych degree.”

“Yeah, the restaurant business is tough. I do not miss being a waitress.” Dani handed Ada their half of the ice cream, with most of the chocolate and some of the strawberry. Dani took most of the vanilla nd the rest of the strawberry. “Hey, doesn’t Alaska have its own type of ice cream or something?”

Ada nodded as she pulled up the show. “Mhm. We call it akutuq, Inuit or Alaskan ice cream. It’s kinda like this?” She held up her bowl. “In that it’s a cold mix of sweet and fat. You have to try it. But I used up all my berries, so you’re not getting any soon. Though Lou still owes me – wait. I doubt xe has any either. Ugh.”

“Another summer treat?

“We’ll have to see,” Ada shrugged. “Oh well. You ready to watch?”

———

By the time the two had reached the second to last of the episodes released - they kept one-moreing it straight through episode six - it was quite dark.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Dani said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier.”

Ada snorted. “You’re silly. But yeah, I’d be happy to save the trip.”

Dani dashed out to start the car, and they finished episode seven.

After both had finished redressing - for if the trucks heat suddenly failed, they did not wish to be cold – Dani drove her home. The sky was briefly clear, and they could see the moon setting on the sea.

It looked like a fairly normal home, even with an absolutely true part-time† polar bear living there. Dani did not see any polar bear paraphernalia. Not even a Welcome mat with paw prints in the pattern. She shrugged mentally and and gave Ada a kiss on the cheek.

Judging from their bashful reaction, they really liked it. With a wave goodbye and a “Text you later!” They grabbed the sled from her truck bed and rushed in the door, narrowly avoiding a particular vicious torrent of wind.

Dani played some instrumental music on the slow ride back, truck occasionally rocking and sliding against the onslaught of wind and ice. She hummed along, in between growls of frustration.

It had been kind of stupid to invite someone new over her own house, when emergency services could take a while to respond, for a second date. It had been monumentally stupid to invite a known anthropophagous bear into her house.

But God, Ada was cute. Dani was surprised they hadn’t kissed during their long date. Had it really been six hours? Dani had trouble enjoying that amount of time with any of her previous partners – and she had been thinking about marrying her ex-boyfriend!

Ada was witty, and sweet, and quite cuddly. And God, could they cook! The food they made was delicious, and made Dani feel brave and adventurous. Their shoulders were to die for, and Dani didn’t think she had felt that warm since last summer.

She shook her head. “I’ve got it bad.”

And what did this mean magically? Were all the things her grandparents worried about real? Was the Evil Eye real? Should she start wearing a cross? Was God real?

Then Ada popped up in her head again, and her worries melted away at thought of her cute date. Dani’s existential crises could wait until she got home.

———

Both Ada and Dani were busy with work, but they made time to see each other at least every Saturday – often extending all the way into Sunday.

Spring was slow to come, but as the weather warmed from ‘Immediate frostbite’ to only ‘You really just need one pair of mittens to go outside’ Ada delighted in showing off the beauty of town in the spring time. They walked around Swan Lake, pointing out the animals’ coats shifting to summer morphs, and the occasional bits of green fighting their way to the surface. They worked out together most days, and Ada would often fill Dani’s fridge up with food, but especially qassaq.

The sunlight increased every day and Dani loved it. She missed the easier weather back home, the earlier flowers, and the perfect days of May, but Dani was enjoying her break from home far more. It was worth it.

Dani’s hair, which she usually kept straightened, was starting to get on her nerves. The static electricity from the cold certainly did not help.

Dani

<<Ugh, I wish I had remembered to bring the good straightening stuff. I bet it will cost me an arm and a leg to get it shipped up here.>>

Ada

<<Darling>>

<<We do have hairstylists>>

Dani Scoffed.

Dani

<<Babe. No offense, but your hair is straight>>

Ada

<<Darling>>

Ada liked to double text for affect.

Ada

<<Where do you think my cousin Kayla and her mom got their hair done?>>

Dani had met their cousin when she came to visit Ada’s dad, Greg, for the first time. Delighted to finally meet her, Greg celebrated by cooking a little feast. The three stuffed themselves full of qageq, cuakapaq and tamukassaaq, which they ate like if chips were chewy.

While they played Sorry!, relatives stopped by to chat. They would then see Dani, and then the little chat would last at least half an hour while they introduced themselves and told at least one embarrassing story about Ada.

Dani quite enjoyed it, though by the end, she was a little exhausted. It was the first time she’d been on the other end of the dynamic.

One of the other relatives, a very old man, had referred to Ada by a different name a few times, but his son, who’d been with him, smiled apologetically. “He gets confused sometimes.”

Kayla had been the adorable daughter of Cousin James and his wife Kendra. She and her mom had most definitely not had she and her maman most definitely did not have hair as straight as a pin. In fact, Kendra had tried to talk to Dani about her hair, but then Greg’s cat Hobbes had knocked her glass off the table. By the time everything had been cleaned, the little family had to go because it was a school night.

Dani

<<All right, I’ll bite>>

A little part of her wanted to ask if this is where they got their fur done as a polar bear.

Ada

<<Guys & Gals Inc.>>

Dani checked out the next day, and was pleasantly surprised at their work. For the first time in over 15 years, she let herself be talked into a natural hairstyle, instead of straightening it. Maybe all that talk about reconnecting from Ada had gotten to her.

Sabrina, her stylist, was mixed Yup’ik and Black, and very chatty but in a welcoming way. “So why did you straighten it for so long?” She said, working on another bead. “It seems like you took care of it, I don’t see too much damage, but that’s a long time!”

Dani considered the question for good moment. “My hometown, back in New Jersey, was almost perfectly half and half black andwhite when I was growing up. It’s a little different now, but there’s pretty much the same ratio between black-and-white.”

Sabrina was nodding.

“But my family is from Dominica – NOT the Dominican Republic – so we were pretty different from the other black folk already there. My parents have accent, we eat goats and organ meat, and with my Papa away for work a lot, no one could drive us kids around. I just wanted to be,” Dani tried to find a better word. “Normal.” She winced.

“So you hung out with more white kids?

“Yes. Jordan – my brother – didn’t really care, but I did. And to be normal –”

“You have to be like everyone on TV, AKA, mostly white people.”

Dani felt small. “Yes. After a while, it just became habit. And my maman’s half Kalinago❧ , so her hair is just wavy.” She sighed. “When she had to learn how to deal with all this,” Dani gestured to her own hair, “she had quite a lot to say.”

Sabrina chuckled. “Sounds like your mom should have thought of that when she married your dad. Because you have beautiful, definitely curly, 4A hair.” Sabrina squeezed her hand comfortingly on Dani shoulder, “In any case, hon, better late than never. Look at yourself!”

Dani looked up, and gasped.

She hadn’t been sure if she’d been able to pull off the hairstyle as an adult, but she had wanted it all the same. Her scalp had always been sensitive, and she avoided tight braids when she could.

Instead, she had opted for long twists, stabilized by beads of bone and baleen, the latter of which had a stripe of golden paint in the middle of each bead.

She felt gorgeous. Even if she never wore her hair like this again, she knew she treasure the beads forever.

Dani was still feeling gorgeous by the time she got home. But she was also exhausted.

Staying still for several hours with genuinely hard work! Ada had been knocked out all weekend when she got her hand kakiniit done. She flopped onto the couch after lighting a candle. She looked at the time on her phone. It was three hours until six… That meant she could have an hour to snooze, an hour to cook, and then she should be ready! Dani set an alarm on her phone. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

———

Dani was at a restaurant, alone. She kept ordering qassaq and quaq dishes, but the polar bear waiter kept bringing foods that were further and further away from what she was ordering. From sashimi to grilled chicken and on and on, until the waiter lifted the lid to her plate, and it was a lettuce leaf vegan burrito.

In between all that, the polar bear brought up a ringing telephone, set it down, and left it on the table.

She would pick up, or immediately hang it up, but after what felt like mere moments would pass, it would ring again. In exasperation, she picked it up and threw it away. There was a crash, but finally the ringing was far enough away that it stopped bothering her.

“Dani!” Someone in the restaurant called. “Dani! Wake up!”

Dani whirled around, but couldn’t seem to locate the voice.

CRASH!

With the start, Dani woke up to see her candle on the floor, burning, her door was off its hinges, her phone was still ringing on the other side of the room, and for half a second a polar bear stood at her doorstep.

Then a flash, and it was Ada.

The fire caught onto Dani’s sock. She ripped it off, and beat the blaze on the floor with it.

When she looked up again, sock and floor out but still smoking, Ada was running over with a pot of water from the kitchen. She dumped it onto the smoky mess.

Heart beating wildly, Dani caught their eye. And started giggling.

Ada tried to keep their face straight, but soon started giggling with her, both falling back onto the couch and relief and the stupidity of it all.

“I can reattach - hehe – the hinges,” Ada said, after they mostly finish laughing. “Are you okay?”

Dani was not done laughing. “Just – hmheehm – Bam! And you’re there,” she kissed Ada, then giggled a bit more. “My hero!”

Blood rushed to Ada’s face. “Yeah, yeah. Your hair looks pretty, by the way. The beads are a nice touch.”

“Heehmhm – you just like them because your cousin carved them.”

“How did you know Josie makes beads?”

“Well, the little stand at the hairstylist had a blurb about her, and from there it was a lucky guess. You have a lot of cousins.”

Ada smiled. “You got me there.” Their face turned serious for a second. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Dani’s heart raced. Did Ada realize that she had seen her as a polar bear today? Could they both finally come clean?

Ada took a shuddering breath. “Yeah, so, I’ve been thinking, and… I’m going to change my pronouns.” Dani’s trepidation fell, but then turned to excitement. “Awesome! What are you thinking? Neo pronouns? I played fae/faer in college. Or xe/xir? My friend uses those. Or –”

Ada looked a little overwhelmed. “No, no. I was just thinking she/her. Like, I’m going to try both they/them and she/her for a while.”

Dani hugged her. “Thanks for telling me. I have a question for you too.” She had actually been planning on asking this at dinner, but now felt right.

“Oh?” Ada said, slightly mocking.

“Yeah, oh. Listen, do you want to be my themfriend?”

Ada kissed Dani. “Hell yeah.” Then her stomach rumbled. “I’m guessing you didn’t make dinner?” Her stomach rumbled again. “Because I’m starving.”

“Yeah, next time I say I’m cooking, I won’t get my hair done first. How about I pick up Chinese, and you get my door. Thank you, by the way.”

Ada waved her off. “It was no problem. Now go get me some General Tso’s!” They got up to get the tools from underneath Dani’s sink.

“As you wish.”

———

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a festival up in Utqiagvik, where my aakaga, my mom lives. Do you want to go?”

“Sure! I’d love to hear more embarrassing stories about you. I’m sure your aaka has tons.”

“Ugh, why do I love you?”

“Because I’m cute. Now hand me some of that arumaarrluk.

———

It had just been getting into light jacket weather in Qikiqtaġruk when it was time to fly up to Utqiagvik.

“It’s the northernmost spot of the Unethical Spoils of America!” Ada grinned while Dani worked that one out.

“Oh, USA. Okay, good one. Why are you bringing that up while I am packing, my thrilling themfriend?”

“Because, my striking sweetheart, it will not be warm enough to wear your pantsuit.” She said, pointing out the pantsuit Dani had laid out.

“Don’t you mean my PAN-tsuit?” Dani grinned briefly as Ada groaned. “And for real?”

“I mean, pack it if you want? Global warming and stuff, I could be wrong, but whenever I go there, it’s still pretty chilly. But suits look weird layered, my pretty panwoman.”

“I think I will, my lovely lesbian.” Dani stuck out her tongue, and Ada pretended to grab it. She shrieked and tackled her girlfriend to the floor, both laughing.

———

Utqiagvik, or Barrow as some of the older people said out of habit, still had snow. Dani wondered briefly if Ada’s polar bear form missed it, but she did not ask.

She loved Ada, but knowing the secret – and knowing that Ada was both keeping it from her and didn’t want Dani to know – was eating her up inside. And she was determined to have a good time – and if the opportunity arose, and the time felt right? Then she’d bring it up!

After an exhausting few flights – they had to fly south to Anchorage to catch a flight to Utqiagvik – Dani was ready to fall asleep. She was still adjusting to incredibly long days, and the solstice had just passed.

Thankfully, Ada’s mom Barbara was waiting for them at the airport. She gave her child a hug and a kunik∵ , and then turned to Dani. “You must be the girlfriend I’ve been hearing so much about!” She opened her arms once more.

Dani hugged the woman back. “Hi Ms. Stevens! I just finished reading book 6, and I’m itching to find a copy of next one! Ada doesn’t want to give me hers!”

Ada squawked in indignation. “Aaka, that’s not true! I los– I mean, I lent it out to someone else. I’m sure … Barry will give it back soon!”

Ada‘s mom rolled her eyes. “Please dear, call me Barbara. And I have extra copies to give you both so that Ada can ‘lend’ out a few more.” She winked.

“Aaka!” Ada whined.

———

Somehow, it was even brighter in Utqiagvik, then Qikiqtaġruk, despite the extra fog. But that didn’t stop the whaling festival, Nalukataq.

A lot of the butchering was already done, so the whales were fresh and ready to eat, and people were clearing out their freezers for any bit of last year’s catch.

Since everyone there was a fan of snacking all day, Dani was soon stuffed. As a newcomer, the whale guts and flippers were offered, and then there was the coffee and the goose and the caribou soups. And of course, the frybread! It was a delicious medley.

Ada happily introduced her to her maternal family, and friends from before she moved. They ran into many of them, because virtually the whole city had turned out for the festival.

There were so many vendors selling beautiful combs, baskets, parkas, kuspuks, embroidered boots, and so many other beautiful things. Dani ended up buying a basket for herself (topped by a polar bear), an arctic fox carving, and a baby blanket embroidered and lined with rabbit fur. It was ridiculously soft and fluffy.

Her friend Annika, who she was going to see on her trip back to New Jersey the following month, was due August, and she figured it made for a great baby gift.

Barbara winked when she saw the baby blanket, and Dani tried to explain herself, but Barbara just poked her in the side. “Come on, dear. You should see Ada at the blanket toss. It’s what the festival was named for, after all!”

The activity so far had been fun, but more expected, like prayer at the church, singing, storytelling, there would be dancing later, and the distribution of meat between family. Ada’s cousin Malik had done the majority of the hunting this year, but Ada promised to come help in 2025.

The songs were lovely, but sounded off to Dani, who been hearing a lot of Yup’ik the last couple months.

“Yes, it’s like Spanish and Portuguese, or so I’m told,” said Barbara, as they strolled over to the blanket toss. “Yup’ik and Iñupiaq. They’re fairly different, despite being relatively close. I couldn’t understand Greg when he slipped into Yup’ik, I’ll tell you what!” She chortled.

“Do you miss having Ada up here?” Dani asked quietly. Being around Barbara reminded her of her maman.

“Of course. But they’re happy in Qikiqtaġruk, and I’m happy here, and they come visit very fairly often. If they,” here she raised her eyebrows meaningfully, “ ever were to have kids, I would of course expect to have quality grandma time. But seeing as all involved are adults, we all do as we wish.”

To cover up for her blush, Dani laughed. “You should meet my maman, I’m sure you two would have fun, bugging about grandkids.”

The two arrived at the blanket toss. A huge blanket, mapkuq, sewn together out of walrus and seal hide, lay stretched between ginormous whalebone stands, with a host of people surrounding the edges.

“Okay, Dani, I have to help out now –” she nodded over to the tarp, where a few spots around could still be seen – “But why don’t you climb up on my truck! That way you can see my girl best.”

Dani, excited because she still wasn’t quite sure what to expect – she hadn’t spoiled herself at all – clambered up the red truck and situated herself upon the roof.

First came the captains. All but the oldest, who held a cane, got up on the mapkuq, and took their turn.

One, two, three bounces, and then four! The naluaqtit, the pullers, would pull the mapkuq taut, and up would go the captains.

Being generally older and serious, they would perform as straightforward a jump as possible, with minimal kicking, but by the end, even the most of dour of the nalukatat, blanket dancers, would land back upon the mapkuq, slightly winded, but grinning despite themselves.

Non-pullers were gathered around the mapkuq, which worried Dani somewhat. What if someone fell on them?

After the captains were the wives. “In old times,” Dani heard a nearby father tell the little boy sitting on his shoulders, “They used to toss baleen and tobacco, and other such treats, to show their competency as providers. But today they throw –“

“Candy!” Squealed the little boy, leaning past his father’s head as he reached for the tossed candy. The father, nearly bowled over by his son’s excitement, chuckled and gently warned the boy to be careful.

To Dani’s relief, the boy obeyed, and the two moved closer to the candy rain.

The last of the wives, who seemed young and athletic, hopped up on the map with clear excitement bubbling under her skin. She held a bag of candy, but unlike her predecessors, seemed to have something more in mind.

The young woman whispered to the leading naluaqtiq. He nodded, and then the woman went to the center of the blanket.

This time, the naluaqtit seemed to lift the mapkuq with an extra heave, and on that final bounce, the young woman went sailing into the sky.

She twirled the bag of candy by its bottom, high above her head and whooped, much to the delight of the entire crowd, Dani included. The candy went far and wide. Then she when she landed, the naluaqtit sent her up again! This time, she did a backflip and landed in a curtsy. Everyone cheered. From their reaction, it appeared the captains’ wives usually did not do such things.

Next step was apparently amateurs. Three separate people accidentally bounced off the mapkuq and into the crowd – who caught them quite readily. Dani realized they were so close so they could catch any accidental crowd surfers. The mapkuq was held on hard ground, so that the naluaqtit could hold it steady. Which meant a terrible landing for any who weren’t caught. Dani was just glad she didn’t have to rush into action.

Someone called for any new volunteers, and Dani thought about it, but ultimately held off. Between her full stomach, and the fact that she didn’t know many people, she felt it would be best to hold off. Maybe next year.

Next year? A small part of her whispered.

Shut up, a larger part whispered back.

Finally, she spotted her themfriend and cheered.

They strode up to the mapkuq confidently, with a few wolf whistles and whoops in their wake.

“Ada!”

“Ayo! It’s the champion!”

“We missed you at the Olympics!”

Ada smirked and shrugged off their attention.

The crowd stood at the ready.

The blanket bounced one, two, three times. She went up. A simple jump. Then to Dani’s awe, they flipped not once – not twice — but thrice.

They were spinning, so tight that it was like Dani was looking at a ball.

Only their braids, whose fur wrappings were coming loose, flew freely as they soared higher, higher, higher – nearly skimming the clouds it seemed – and then hurtled down.

Dani‘s breath caught in her throat her girlfriend approached the mapkuq. Would she fall, just like that?

Then the last second, her legs shot out, the mapkuq arose to meet her feet and up she went again. Two barrel rolls, a backflip, and on the last flip, Ada unfolded herself a little early and landed like a surfer. She lifted her arms and whooped.

The city went wild. Dani went wild. She launched herself off the truck and flew over, grasping Ada’s face and kissing her in front of the roaring crowd.

She had the coolest girlfriend in the world.

———

Barbara was incredibly proud of her child, and was bragging all the way back to her place after the day’s festivities ended. She stopped to breathe for a second, and Ada was about to get a word in edgewise, when Barbara turned to Dani, who was riding shotgun.

“Ada is great at all sort of sports. They must’ve been practicing quite a lot at your little gym – the Lord knows no one’s pulled that level of a trick for a while.”

“Aaka,” Ada pleaded, blushing.

———

“So you were in the Winter Olympics and you never told me?” Dani poked Ada in the side. They were walking at dusk, the cool air blowing off the water just this side of kuspuk, not coat.

Ada laughed. “It’s not the Olympics you’re thinking of, I’m surprised I forgot to tell you.” A pause, then, “I won third place in the 400 m dash in the Summer 2016 Olympics.”

“Really?!”

“No, no,” They said, and laughed. And then yelled when Dani poked them in the side once more. “Okay, okay! I used to do some jumps in the World Eskimo – Indian Olympics, the WEIO¤, in Fairbanks. I went for the first time with my dad, competed two years later. I didn’t go during Covid, and between this trip and then the trip to NJ,” they squeezed her hand, “which I’m very excited about – I haven’t been able to go to one in a while. But maybe we can go, next year!”

There was that dreaded phrase again. Next year.

Dani swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Was that the only kind of jump? The nalukataq?”

“Nope. But I mostly did stuff like the tow jump or the knuckle jump. I’d show you, but one requires a little set up and the other would hurt on the concrete.”

“I’ve never done anything like that.” Dani confessed after a moment. Then, “But I used to be point guard on my middle school basketball team. We should totally play some on one when we get to find a court! After you show me these jumps, of course.”

Ada squeezed her hand. “It’s a date.”

Fog started rolling towards their path, so both turned tail to head back to Barbara’s.

“Oh, is that a … rainbow, or something?” Dani pointed to a ring of light that encircled the setting sun. It appeared white, but the more she stared at it, the more pink and blue appeared at the edges.

“Oh!” Cried Ada, pleased “A fogbow! I haven’t seen one in ages! I think Qikiqtaġruk is too far south for any.”

“That’s neat! Back in NJ, I saw a triple rainbow once. But never anything like this! It kinda looks like a trans flag. Happy pride month to us!”

Both giggled, and then a harsh gust of wind swept away both the fog and any desire to stay outside. They hurried in.

Barbara was clacking quite loudly at her keyboard when Dani and Ada walked in – it no longer threatened to fall off her desk, thanks to Dani bolting it to said desk – but it still rattled. The woman pulled off her headphones and said, “There’s leftover assaliaq in the fridge, tepa if you want something sweet.” She put her headphones back on and returned to her clacking.

Dani rushed over to the kitchen. “Tepa? Isn’t that the sweet-and-sour stuff you wanted me to try?”

Ada actually wiggled to fingers. “Yes, oh my God. This is going to be good. I knew putting off fishing was a good idea!”

Tepa was a great way to end a great day. It was less sour than Dani expected, and she would happily admit to stealing some heads off of Ada’s plate. That got her an evil glare, but she just stuck at her tongue.

Ada put down her fork. “Hey, do you want me to show you another Olympics activity?” Her tone was innocent. Too innocent.

Despite herself, Dani aquiesced.

They sat upon the floor, and Ada showed her how to arrange herself.

With their right leg bent with her knee up, foot on the floor, and their left leg outstretched, toes of the sky, Ada folded themself around Dani, so that their left leg stretched under the arch of her right, and right foot by her hip. One mirrored the other. Ada and Dani put their left hands on each other’s right ankles, holding one another down. “Then, we cross our right arms, like this, and we pull away from each other.”

“No fair, you’re bigger than me!” Dani stuck her tongue out again. “You’ll push me to the ground.”

“Well, darling,” Ada purred, and leaned in even closer. “I could be mistaken, Ms. Basketball-Star, but I think you go to the gym more than I.” They pulled back, laughter in their eyes. “And besides, you win by pulling your opponent towards you. Whoever gets to hit the floor first, etc.”

Dani saw where this was going. She darted forward and picked Ada on the lips before they could say more. Then before the shock could wear off, she pulled them both down. “I win.”

Ada licked their lips. “You most certainly did,” they said after a breathless moment.

“Is this actually a sport, or is it just your special move to get all the girls?”

Ada rolled her eyes and kissed Dani back. “Oh no,” she deadpanned, “you found out my deep, dark secret. My armpull skills bring ALL the girls to the yard, and you’re just the latest in a slew of broken hearts.”

Dani had to laugh at that. Ada was NOT that smooth. “Well babe, I have to say, your reasoning and methods are solid. When am I getting replaced?”

Ada pretended to think for a moment before kissing her again. “Hm, I’m thinking this time next never. Sound good to you?”

“Do I have a choice?” Dani tugged on a strand of Ada’s hair.

“Nope. Suffer.”

That earned them another giggly kiss. “Love you, darling.”

“Love you too, babe. Bon swé.”

———

Something was off. Dani woke up in the middle of the night, alone in bed, dawn rising in the distance. She got up to look for Ada (and maybe grab a little tepa - the snacking lifestyle was rubbing off on her) when she heard voices just outside the lee-side living room window, accompanied by the flickering glow of a candle.

“I just don’t think it is a good idea. She’s a lovely girl, I really do like her, but you barely know her! Give it time.” That was Barbara’s voice.

“But Aaka, I think she get it, you know? She’s even Indigenous herself, I don’t think she’d reveal anything personal. She knows what it’s like to feel different in your own home. Even if we,” Ada’s voice went quiet, “broke up. Or something. She knows what it’s like to be ostracized for things you can’t control. She would not tell!”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s not like she’s planning on staying. You have to protect your heart, Ada.”

The hurt silence was only interrupted by the low moan of wind on the other side of the house.

They must’ve switched to Iñupiaq after that, because Dani couldn’t catch anything more. She could’ve sworn she heard nanuq a couple times – she knew that to mean polar bear - but that was about it. Her heart became more and more numb, crouching under the window sill.

Only when she heard a growl did Dani wake up from her miserable trance. She peeked and yes. Ada was a polar bear again.

She heard the sound of footsteps towards the door. Dani flew to their bedroom, and threw herself under the covers.

Of course. Of course, she could not be told. She was just another outsider, a stranger. How could she be anything more?

———

When Dani woke up, Ada still wasn’t back.

“Oh, she just went fishing with her cousins!” said Barbara cheerily. “You know how early dawn is around here! Maybe we can all have some barbecue when they get back. Then I’ll take you up to the airport.”

Dani nodded, too morose to say much.

Ada did, in fact, bring back some fish, and they fried it up in some seal oil.

Dani tried to muster up her usual enthusiasm, and the food was delicious, but she just felt heavy.

“Are you okay, darling?” Ada asked, after Dani sighed for the third time.

Caught, she spluttered, “Oh! No. Just thinking about something, you know how it is after the adrenaline crashes!” A half truth was better than a lie, right?

“If you’re sure.”

———

Things were a little colder between them after that.

Sure, they still ate together, worked out together, and enjoyed each other‘s company. But how could she open up to Ada if Ada was not open to her? And why should Ada open up to her if she wasn’t staying? Did she want to stay?

Dani kept promising herself she would talk to someone about it. She was putting up walls and shutting Ada out – and she hated to see that hurt look flash cross their face. Dani hated hurting them. Dani loved them. But would she stay for them?

Her maman needed her. And it wasn’t fair to expect Jordan to step up all the time. Was she a bad daughter if she likes keeping away from her maman? Was that the reason enough to stay?

Was she just using Ada as an escape?

All that roiled in Dani’s gut as they flew across North America.

They caught a flight to Anchorage, to Portland, to Minneapolis, to DC, irritatingly down to Atlanta, and then finally to Newark, where Jordan picked them up. The cheapest flight plan wasn’t always the best flight plan.

Ada, who hadn’t been out of the state since college (partly due to Covid) basically had her face pressed to the window the entire time, especially when they crossed over the desert.

Dani had to laugh. Maybe next time they could stop in Las Vegas. If there was a next time. Dani did not have to laugh anymore.

To her surprise, Jordan looked older. More mature. They texted and called occasionally when she was in Alaska, but Dani had not realized how much he had become an adult. And it didn’t look like a weight on him.

She hugged him, long and hard. “I missed you! She cried. “I swear, you weren’t this tall when I left you.”

Being a whole 2 inches taller than his older sister and proud of it, Jordan gave her a noogie.

“Hey, not the hair!”

Jordan turned to Ada. “Hey,” he said, holding out a hand.

Ada reached to shake it, but Jordan withdrew his at the last second, sweeping it over his cornrows and lifting his left hand to cup his chin and smirk.

Okay, maybe he had not matured that much.

“You won’t help with the bags?” Jordan said, already grabbing two bags and hauling them towards his backseat.

It was a tight fit in the two hours it took to get back to Cottington.

Being laconic over the phone, but verbose in person, Jordan filled her in on all the family drama that their maman had forgotten to share.

“What do you MEAN, Sienna got into Princeton?! Is that why she’s ghosting me? Too good for the likes of a Rowan girl?”

Jordan sucked his teeth. “Man. I don’t know. She hasn’t been returning my calls or texts either.”

They all laughed at that.

“This is it!” Dani exclaimed as Jordan pulled in front of the house. “Let’s hit the hay, I am beat.” She grabbed both suitcases beside her, excitement beating exhaustion.

The door was unlocked, so she burst into the house. As per usual, her maman was in her armchair. But to Dani’s surprise, she actually got up. “Dah-nee-el-la!” The woman opened her arms wide. “Oh mon fille, you’re home!”

“Maman!” Dani could believe help could not help but get a little teary.

They hugged.

Maman let go first. “Now where is she? That Ada girl? Oh!” She dropped Dani like she was yesterday‘s news. “Oh, you must be Ada. You look so strong, so pretty. Though the silver bits in your mouth –” she plucked at one of them, causing Ada to yelp. Mama and sucked her teeth. “Well, nobody’s perfect. Still!” She turned back to Dani. “You’ll make even more money.”

Ada looked at Dani wide-eyed over Maman’s head – all were short, but her maman was by far the shortest – and Dani shook her head and rolled her eyes. Ada winked in understanding and went back to surviving the woman’s chatter. Her stomach rumbled audibly.

“Oh yes, and you must be starving! Tell me, do you like hot food? Dani only likes it mild, she must’ve gotten that from her father –” Maman lead them all to the kitchen, whereupon a small feast laid.

“I just thought the island food was like. Fresh fruit and pork. Maybe some fish.” Ada whispered to Dani, eyes wide, and nose at work.

Dani giggled. “Not Dominican food, babe.” She grabbed an accra. “Try this first. I told my maman you were a foodie.”

Maman had brought out the good stuff. She was a great cook, but rarely did she pull out all the stops. She must have caught a train to Philadelphia to get the ingredients this fresh, this flavorful - this Dominican.

There were grilled breadfruit strips, fried in coconut oil, accra to the side – ready to be eaten with the fish and sweet and spicy goat stew, and of course, the crêpes.

“Crêpes are more of a breakfast food, said Jordan in between stuffing his face. “But they’re Dani and Maman’s favorite, so she made them for dinner. She really pulled out all the stops with this one!”

“Yeah, we don’t usually have this much meat.” Dani said, daintily wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“But when my Dani comes home after being gone for so long –”

Dani could feel THAT little needle.

“- and she brings home such a pretty girl, I wanted to spoil her.” Maman grabbed both Dani and Jordan’s cheeks. “Not that they aren’t spoiled enough.”

“Maman!” The sibling said in unison.

Ada, who could not get enough of, well, anything, nodded politely, mouth quite full. Her eyes were watering, but Dani could see the excitement there too. Finally, she swallowed. “I must say, Ms. Romain, youre cooking is inspiring. Would you mind sharing the recipes with me?”

“Please, call me Patience.” Maman grabbed Dani‘s arm. “You better keep this one. Mon Dieu, she could make up for your lack of charm!”

Dani flushed angrily, but did not say anything, as did Ada. Her maman was a master at blending a compliment with an insult.

———

How could she keep Ada?

———

They went to Great Adventure. They went to New York City and saw The Wiz. They went out with her friends and cousins. They visited a friend’s petting zoo farm. All these things.

Dani enjoyed herself. She could tell Ada was having a blast.

But every night, Dani’s dreams, when she got to see them at all, were plagued with questions. How could she be with someone if they couldn’t be honest with each other? If they couldn’t be themselves with with each other? How could she love them this much and not be sure if she could stay? If she could leave her maman, forever?

Maman had been high energy that first night, but her chronic pain made itself quite known during the following week. Every day, after all their activities (With the exception of their day in NYC. Her papa was home that evening and he brought pizza). Dani would get home and be expected to make dinner. She could make a mean crab farci, but she did not take joy in cooking like her mama or Ada.

Her maman’s pain and love were real, but as Dani grappled with her own dishonesty and commitment questions towards Ada, the old anxieties and irritations of home reared their ugly heads.

Her maman would bark orders at her, and fawn on Jordan the next. She had been away from home for over six months, and yet she had to cook for the household again? God, she loved her maman, but hate and love were not opposites. They were two sides of the same coin.

As Dani trudged upstairs to bed, hands wrinkled from washing dishes, her maman called to her. “Dah-nee-el-la!”

Dani groaned internally and turned around. Her parents’ bedroom was on the first floor. “Yes, Maman?”

“This house is a mess. You will help Jordan and I clean in the morning.”

That meant Dani would have to get up at six to clean while Maman supervised and occasionally wiped off counters. Jordan might wake up in time to maybe sweep and take out the trash before he had to go to work.

Dani turned to go. “Oui, maman. Bon swé.”

“Bon swé. Je t’aime bien.”

“Mon aussi, je t’aime.” She meant what she said, but wished she did not.

———

Nearly everything went as she expected, much to Dani’s displeasure. 6 AM wake up, clean up for a couple hours, and then Jordan took the trash out before he went to work, apologetically smiling. Ada woke up halfway through and joined in, making Dani love her all the more, though Maman looked on disapprovingly.

Their last fun day was to be spent at the beach. Ada didn’t know how to swim, and Dani’s hair had just been redone, so they didn’t spend much time under the water. Still, they splashed and got a bit burned - despite using sunscreen, both forgot to lotion their ears - and ate overpriced ice cream and fried Oreos.

“I can feel my arteries wheezing their death rattles,” Ada said while stuffing another Oreo in her mouth “I need a salad, stat!”

Dani snorted. “There’s no saving you now. Your palate will forevermore be unclean.”

Ada died.

Dani slid her remaining Oreos over.

Miraculously, Ada came back to life to take them back just as thunder cracked in the sky.

“Snap, that looks like it’s moving in fast!” Dani said. It wasn’t raining on them just yet, but she heard the pattering of precipitation and saw a sheet of darkness fall and saw a sheet of darkness fall a mile down the boardwalk.

The same direction as her car, of course.

She grabbed Ada’s hand. “Come on!”

Everybody started fleeing, much to the couple’s dismay, the crowd moving against them. Apparently everyone else had parked in the opposite direction.

When the two finally found the car, it was cold and the wind was whipping. A sheet of rain rapidly approached the vehicle.

“Beat you there!” Ada challenged, and ran to the car.

Dani cursed and ran too.

Ada had already reached the car and was pulling on the doorhandle. They turned to Dani. “Come on,” they whined. “Let me in.”

Huffing and puffing to the driver’s side, Dani hit the unlock button. But only once, so only the driver’s side was unlocked. She slid in.

“Jezebel!”

The rain was only two cars away.

Smiling, Dani unlocked the door.

Ada slid in, frowning. “Evil woman,” she groused as the rain hit the car.

“I don’t start things,” Dani flipped her twists over her shoulder. “I just finish them.”

Ada sniffed delicately. “You better not leave me out in the cold again.”

Dani laughed hollowly at the words that reminded her of the questions that plagued her each night. “I’m sorry, babe. Let’s go to the house.”

Ada reached for a kiss, and Dani barely returned it. It was too much. She hated seeing the hurt on Ada’s face – so she did not look.

———

Their full morning in New Jersey was spent hanging out with her maman and any family who stopped by. With a farewell that part of Dani wished had come sooner, the couple left her family’s house.

Their flight was at 9 AM the next day, and her old friend Annika live close to the Newark airport. As such, she had voluntold her husband Antonio to drive them to the airport the following morning.

So, the two took an Uber to Annika‘s house.

“I’d take you myself,” Annika said over the phone, laughing, “but I’m just too big to fit behind the wheel anymore!”

It was true. When they arrived at Annika and Antonio‘s house, the woman had to waddle out. She was tall, but her husband was tall – tall. Dani did not want to know how big that baby would be at nine months.

“I’m not sure that baby blanket I packed is going to be big enough,” she whispered to Ada from the backseat.

Ada snorted.

“Dani!!!” Squealed Annika as she made her her way down from the porch, carefully.

“Nika!” Dani squealed back, getting out of the car and forgetting her bags. She rushed over and slowed down, just before impact, going in for a side hug and a cheek kiss instead. “How are you?”

“Ah well, the baby is coming along. It was beating me up earlier, the little stinker.” The woman caressed her stomach with a slight wince. “I’m surprised I’m not lack and blue yet!”

Dani chuckled. “That’s great and all, but I asked about you, not the kid.”

“Oh!” Annika smiled. “I feel like a bumper car, I can hardly walk, and I only ever feel like sleeping or crying. But I’m also bored and tired of waiting. Does that make sense?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Dani, but I don’t have the app and the driver wants us to pay.” Ada butted in, embarrassed.

“Oh sorry babe, I’ll go get that.” Dani squeezed Annika once again and rushed over to the driver, phone in hand.

“So you are the famous Ada!” Dani heard her over her shoulder.

———

The rest of the afternoon, all three chitchatted and played monopoly, too tired or too pregnant to do much else. Antonio got home and made them burgers – Annika‘s favorite, aside from sushi, which she wasn’t allowed to have due to the fetus.

“I miss it, I really do!” said Annika, eyes watering.

Antonio’s eyebrows rose with alarm.

“After the kid is out, I’d love to come up and try some of your qassaq, Ada. It sounds divine!”

Antonio cast his eyes pleadingly over at Ada.

But Ada never needed any encouragement to share their cooking. “I’d love to make some for you! You should absolutely come up, we’d be glad to have you.” They glance to her stomach. “Once the baby is ready, of course.”

“Of course!” Annika said.

Dani could see the relief flooding Antonio‘s face. “And on that note, does anyone want dessert?”

Ada declined, looking at her phone and saying that she wanted to hit the hay early. She went upstairs with a “Thank you, you two! It was nice meeting you!” Dani was pretty sure her girlfriend was actually not going to sleep just yet, considering this sheepish look on her face. She probably just saw an update notification for a fanfic she liked.

Antonio graciously got both Annika and Dani ice cream, waving off her thanks with a “It’s habit now.” Then he went to bed, probably to actually go to sleep.

Annika was a night owl – Dani remembered how they both stayed up 37 hours one weekend when the two were eleven, just because they could. Being a medical professional now, Dani winced at the thought. Both had improved their sleeping habits, but to say Annika was cured would be laughable.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Does it have many flashing lights? My head is still spinning a bit from the amusement park.”

There had been a light malfunction on a dark ride and Dani was pretty sure she almost had a seizure. Which would have gotten her stuck in NJ, meaning a bunch of breach of contract, meaning her decision about Ada would have been temporarily made for her. SHE wanted to make the decision. Even if her decision at that moment was to put off said decision.

“It’s animated, but I looked it up earlier and some parenting site said it’s decently epilepsy safe. There’s a few fireworks, and some characters made of fire, but no strobing, or big flashy changes!”

Dani narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me to watch that elements movie again?”

Annika pouted. “It’s like, the best movie of 2023 and you didn’t even watch it!”

“You know I don’t watch a lot of kids movies.”

Annika thought for a moment. “I’m pregnant, and you need to see this movie.”

“Your logic is astounding,” Dani said dryly. “Okay. Put it on.”

———

Dani had gone into the movie expecting to endure it. Instead, she began to draw … similarities to herself.

By the end, they were both weeping. “It’s like me with the farm a couple years ago!” exclaimed Annika. Then she blew her nose, and offered the tissue box to Dani.

“I think it’s like. My maman and I. But nicer.” Dani took a tissue.

“Mhm.” Annika snatched the box back to herself. “And you know,” her voice suddenly turned sly. “I think somebody in your life is a little like Wade.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dani balled up her tissue and threw it at Annika’s head, who squawked an indignation. “What do you know, anyway?”

Annika smiled and tapped close to her eye, creepily reminding Dani of the Beldame from Coraline. “Mother’s intuition.”

“It hasn’t even been born yet!”

Annika shrugged. “You can’t help with sneak glances at her, even this far into the relationship. You desperately wanted your mom to like her, which I don’t think she even met any of your previous partners.”

“That’s more because of her than –”

“And it looks like you’re keeping secrets, and it’s killing you.” Annika caught Dani’s eye with a long steady look. “This isn’t just a fling for you.”

Dani looked away first, unable to hold her gaze. “I’m not even sure if I should stay in Qikiqtaġruk,” she said to the floor. “Why should I make any drama if I can’t even stay.” She started to weep.

Annika opened her arms, and Dani nestled into her side. Annika gave pretty good backrubs – her calluses from work, always scratching Dani‘s back just right. “Let’s not talk about should, or would, or can.” Annika said. “Let’s just talk about want.”

“I know what I don’t want.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t want to let anyone down. But I don’t want to take care of my maman – I’m 27 for God’s sake! She loved on me the first day, and then it was like I never left!” She thought for a moment. “Plus I want to keep my girlfriend. She is pretty cool.” They both chuckled. “And I don’t want to leave all that pressure on Jordan. And it feels wrong to kind of leave Ada hanging.” Dani sighed. “I just don’t know what to do, and it’s biting me in the butt. Ada and I had a great time this trip, but I kind of held them at arm’s length. And Ada definitely saw that.”

Annika chewed on this. “Your mom doesn’t put things on Jordan the way she does on you, does she?”

Dani shook her head.

“Maybe you should ask him what it’s been like for him, instead of assuming. Either he gets out of it, or he found a way to keep her happy that works for him. Maybe … the workload changes when you’re not here.” Annika sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks. Anyway, when you start feeling like a family member is a burden –”

“It means you’re a crap person, and –”

“No! It means you need time away from them! To reevaluate and appreciate each other and stuff. I got to know my parents and like them a lot better when I moved out for college and stayed out! And you, you never had that. Until now. And with a person who looks at you like you hung the moon.” Her voice softened. “You had a terrible taste before this. All your exes were way less fulfilling, and more toxic than nuclear waste. I don’t know what compelled you to get with this person, but they’re keeper.” The woman grinned. “Especially since you still have a gooey look when I say their name. AdaAaAa!”

Dani’s face did not change. She made sure of it.

“AdaAaAa,” Annika repeated, this time poking Dani in the side.

“Hey! Cheating.”

Annika rolled her eyes like SHE was not the childish one. “Anyway, the only person you need to be worried about disappointing, is yourself. I know you love New Jersey, and me, obviously and me, obviously,” the pregnant woman put her hand on her own chest. “But I don’t think it’s enough to make you content, let alone happy.”

“I miss you,” Dani offered.

“I miss you too,” Annika squeezed her. “But it’s not like we can’t see each other. And besides,” she laughed. “With the time difference, I’m sure the baby will keep me awake long enough to call you, if this kid is anything like me.”

They both laughed at that.

“Oh! Hold on.” Dani got up and found the gift bag she’d been hiding up in her room. She waved at Ada, who was indeed reading on their phone, and went downstairs. “For you,” she said, holding out the gift bag.

She saw the water in Annika‘s eyes and she handed over the tissue box as well.

“What’s this?” Annika sniffled.

“It’s for the baby. From when Ada and I were in Utqiagvik. I saw this adorable booth selling things like this and I knew you’d love it.”

“I do,” wailed Annika, who hadn’t even opened it and was reaching for more tissues.

“Nika. Look in the bag.”

After a bit more sniffling, Annika finally opened the bag. “Oh my God, it’s too cute!” Annika practically shoved some tissues up her nose to avoid getting snot on the beautiful blanket. “My mom has this cradle her dad carved for her when she was a baby, and she put my brother and I in there when we were babies for pictures and, and, and,” she blew her nose again. “I am totally putting my baby in there with this blanket. Oh my God, thank you, Dani!”

Dani just hugged her.

———

Dani helped Annika settle on the couch. The doctors had said minimal stairs, and the couch was nice, so the woman slept there most nights.

After helping her friend, Dani went to bed. She had a lot to think about.

———

At 4 AM, Dani smacked the alarm.

Ada snorted, but snuggled back into her pillow and went back to sleep.

Dani sighed with relief. She slowly got up and dressed, packing both their things into the car (Annika said she could borrow it), only leaving each of their handbags with change of clothes in their room. Then she grabbed Wawa for breakfast, a last little New Jersey treat before returning to Alaska.

At 5 AM, she shook Ada awake. “Babe, wake up.” She planted a kiss on her themfriend’s cheek. “I want to show you something.”

Ada stretched and nodded, sleep still clouding her vision, and trudged off to the bathroom. At 5:20, Ada finally got her butt downstairs, where Dani was champing at the bit.

“Babe, come on, we’re going to miss it!”

Ada yawned as she closed the door, then fixed her eyes upon the Wawa bag. “What do you have there?” She woke up a bit.

“A reward for after we get to the beach. Come on!”

“Why are we going to the beach? I don’t think it’s safe at right now, it bei dark and all. And you didn’t tell me to get in my swimsuit!”

“You’ll see. Just come on already! Before it gets hot and you melt again.”

“In my defense, it’s stupid humid in New Jersey. I don’t know why anyone wants to live here.”

Both giggled as their flip-flops hit the sand path through the dunes. The birds were singing their sunrise songs, and already catching bits of seeds and bugs.

The couple reached the surf. Dani sat down carefully, cursing herself for not bringing a towel, and beckoned for Ada to sit too. “So I actually brought you here for two reasons.”

Ada suddenly looked guarded. “Oh?”

Dani swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Yes. First, I wanted to show you the dawn on the ocean. It’s pretty cool, and… I know you like sunset picnics back home.”

Ada smiled. “I do.”

“And… I think I’ve been dishonest. And kind of … noncommittal. And I hate that, and I want to respect your time and –” Dani realized she was rambling. “–And I know you can turn into a polar bear.”

Ada‘s eyebrows almost reached her hairline, and her mouth opened in shock. Whatever she had expected to hear, it was not that. “What?”

Dani felt all the blood rush from her face. “When you walked to our second date – I saw you. Walk up with the sled. And again – when you broke down my door? Polar bear. And – and, when you talked to your mom that night after Nalukataq!”

Ada’s face was stone.

Dani panicked. “And I think it’s totally cool and I didn’t tell anybody and I wasn’t sure if you knew that I know or if you’d be mad especially since –”

“So you’re afraid of me?”

“What?” The word vomit stopped.

“Have you been afraid of me, this whole time? Is that why you always say yes?” Ada stood up, hands shaking. Her voice remained quiet. “Is that why we’re dating? Too afraid to tell this giant, man-eating beast no, unless you’re in your home territory?” Their voice broke. “Do you … not love me?”

Now what it was Dani’s turn to be shocked. “What? No!” She grabbed Ada‘s hand.

It was the wrong move.

Ada’s eyes went impossibly wide with fear, and quicker than Dani could track, they were a polar bear, and Dani was holding air. They turned to run into the ocean, but Dani swallowed her fright at the change and jumped in front of Ada.

“Ada,” Dani worked hard to keep her hands by her side. She desperately wanted to hold her love’s face. Even with the teeth, the fur, the sudden immensity, she saw Ada and those eyes.

“Ada,” she repeated. “I love you. All of you. I just don’t want there to be secrets between us.” Dani closed her eyes and breathed in Ada, and after a moment, Ada breathed her in too. A kunik.

To the east, dawn bloomed.

Ada transformed back. “I can’t speak when I’m using my Nanuq Atiq, they explained hesitantly. “I – are you … sure?”

The tension in Dani’s gut roiled into laughter. “Babe, I’m moving to Alaska permanently. What do you think?”

Tears welled in Ada’s eyes. “You what? You’re staying?”

“You bet, babe. I’ll figure it out with Maman.” Dani was tearing up too. “So you better not be planning on getting rid of me.”

“Okay,” Ada choked out, laughing between tears. “Okay.”

They sat silently, watching the sunrise.

———

“Jordan? Hey,” Dani said at the O’Hare airport lounge. Her arms were crossed over her chest, AirPods in

“What’s up, Dani? You made it to the airport okay?” He sounded sleepy but concerned.

“Yup! All good on that front. I’m in Chicago. But I wanted to talk to you about Maman.”

“Maman?”

“Yeah,” Dani heaved a breath. “You know … she treats me differently than you, right?”

A long silence, then, “If this is about me not helping you clean, I’m sorry, Dani. This was like the one week the cleaninglady couldn’t come in, and they were all these emergencies, and –”

“She let you hire a cleaning lady?” Dani’s hurt and anger rose up. “She never let me do that. Said it was a waste of money, didn’t want any strangers in her her house.”

Jordan was silent for a moment. “Did she not tell you?” He said quietly, angrily. “The compensation from the doctor who misdiagnosed her finally came in.” He cleared his throat. “She pays for a cleaning lady, a nurse and a meal service now.”

Dani was burning up. “I’m not coming back. I’m staying in Alaska.”

“What?! Listen, I thought she told you. I thought you liked taking care of her!”

“I literally moved thousands of miles to get away from her!” She yelled.

The whole lounge looked over.

Ada stood up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. Dani put her hand on top of Ada’s, just holding on.

“I – I didn’t think. Jordan said lamely.

“When did she get the compensation?”

“What?

“When did she get the compensation?”

Jordan went silent. “A few weeks before you decided to move. I thought that was why you went. Because it was okay now.”

“It was never okay, Jordan. Dani hissed. “I barely survived, keeping things as she liked and perfect for when you and Dad get home.” She swallowed her fury. “I get to live my life now, Jordan. I love you, Papa and Maman. But I’m disappointed in you all.”

Dani could hear him crying through the phone. Some big sister part of her wanted to make it stop, hated herself for making her baby brother cry.

But the truth needed to be said.

“I love you, Jordan,” she repeated. “And I always will. Call me if you need me or have a question about Maman‘s care. I’m not gone forever.”

A sniffle. “I don’t think maman is going to get better.”

Dani pressed her hand to her mouth to cover up her sob. Her breath hitched anyway. “I don’t think so, either. I’ll come help when she – when it happens. But for now, I need some space.”

Another sniffle. “OK, Dani. A beat, then, “I’m sorry I never stepped in for you. I know she and Papa were always,” sniff, “harder on you than me.”

“Thanks, J, she said simply. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re back safe?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Ada came around and hugged her tight. “Do you need to go and clean up?” She asked, nodding her head to the bathroom.

Dani nodded, trying really hard to hold her tears back.

Ada grabbed their stuff, sacrificing their seats to a young couple with two children who had been loudly complaining about the lack of seats and that parents had it hard.

Ada helped her clean up and kissed her when it was done. “You okay?”

Dani shook her head and held her forehead against Ada’s, just breathing her in. “About this? I probably won’t ever be, not completely. But thank you.” She leaned back and shook a finger. “Don’t you start psychoanalyzing me, doctor. Conflict of interest.”

Ada chuckled, their warmth soaking into Dani’s heart like a bomb. “I’m still working on that doctor part, darling.”

“Oh, so it’s all right then.”

Together, they rejoined the lounge, and resigned themselves to standing. They’d be sitting for the rest of the day on the plane, anyway.

———

To Dani and Ada‘s delight, the flight attendant informed them that they had been bumped up to first class for their flight straight to Anchorage.

The loud family who stole their lounge seats looked at them with poison in their hearts.

Dani and Ada did not care.

———

Dani and Ada had both been busy at work, Dani catching up on her hours and Ada catching up on her patients. It was August when they finally had a time where both were free, neither were tired and it was a clear sky.

“The long sunsets are going away.” Dani observed as they walked towards the where the Pacific Ocean became the inlet.

“Yes, but tonight’s perfect for the for seeing a really good aurora. You ready?”

“You bet, babe.”

The two eventually settled in a clear spot, the wind gently whipping away the genuine heat of that day.

Dani pulled out some curry colombo and crab farci, the spices for which she brought home in her luggage from New Jersey. She was finally getting into cooking for herself.

Ada pulled out some slightly thawed kumlaneq and niinamayak. The niinamayak tasted just right when thrown in with the curry – and Ada had been working on her spice tolerance.

They ate peace for a while.

Then Ada turned away. “I can’t tell you everything.” She finally said, face hidden.

“Huh?”

“I can’t tell you all my secrets,” Ada said. “Some of them are things I share. My family’s berry patches, I won’t share with anyone except with any kids I have. The secrets my patients tell me. Even what my dad likes to put in uquq to make it so sweet. But everything I can’t tell you, I’ll tell you that I have to hold back if you ask. And everything else, is yours.” She turned away to grab a crêpe.

Dani gently put her hand on Ada‘s shoulder and kissed her. “Thank you. That’s enough for me, babe. I’ll do the same for you.” Then she handed Ada some jam. “Finally the famous nagoonberry jam! You made me wait months for this!”

Ada took it and thanked her. “You ready?”

“You bet!”

The hype was not unfounded. It was naturally sweet – Dani could tell hardly any sugar was added – and a little savory. Ada’s aata Greg probably couldn’t resist cutting in a little uquq. There was hardly any citrus taste, just enough to heighten the sweetness - it was clearly added by someone who knew their jam. It also tasted slightly of the sea – there was a good chance Greg had sourced the salt from the ocean to get just the right taste.

“This is delicious! I can’t believe you would hold this out on me!”

Ada grinned. “I owed Barry a lot for a favor he did me a couple years ago. I just finished paying it off, then he introduced me to you.” They winked. “Looks like I owe him again. Better memorize the taste – he’s got one hell of a sweet tooth. You probably won’t be getting any for a while.”

“No, this is mine now. He can get his own,” Dani said with a devilish smile. She glanced up and - “Oh my God! It’s here!”

The couple laid back on the blanket and watch the aurora dance its way across the sky.

It made Dani’s heart feel light, and strange.

She squeezed at Ada’s hand. “I think the only thing more beautiful than this is you.”

Ada spluttered, then smiled and gave her a kunik. “You're cheesy.”

Dani gave her one back. “And yet it works on you.”

Ada squeezed her hand and turned back to the lights above them. “To us.”

“To us,” Dani echoed.

And the aurora danced on.

———

This post is VERY long, so I split up the glossary and the explanation. Enjoy!

Glossary

Explanation

The following are footnotes from within the story

⁂ A dual form is the term that specifically refers to two objects. Like how with English, adding an -s to the end of a noun makes it plural, but Iñupiaq has a way to make it clear that there’s just two nouns, and not one or many.

So one person is Iñupiaq, two people are Iñupiak, and any more than that is Iñupiat. Same q/k/t rules apply to most nouns. The language is referred to as Iñupiaq. The Iñupiat people are neighbors and cousins of the Inuit, but are a different culture entirely. Same thing with the Yup’ik.

† There’s a cool book called, ‘The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian’ by Sherman Alexie. It’s about a Spokane Indian* boy named Arnold who learns to code-switch (change himself to fit within one’s original culture and that of the majority) to survive going to a better school off his reservation. It’s meant for young teens and up, and it’s totally worth the read. I’m pretty sure it was my introduction to modern Indigenous characters - historically, they usually only portrayed in conjunction with early colonization efforts, AKA the cowboy genre and the like, from the point of view of the colonizers.

*Indigenous is a rallying, unifying term for (generally) all peoples originally found in lands that were so heavily colonized that they are now the minority. So the Koori of Australia are Indigenous, but the Akan people of Ghana are not, despite both being colonized. Indigenous in this usage is fairly new. Usually if someone uses that term as a self descriptor, they’re young. It unifies peoples from all over the world.

Native American is a legal term to describe all peoples with ‘enough’ blood connection to the Indigenous people of the contiguous United States of America, where the blood quantum is determined by the state and not by actual connection to those cultures. This is a huge problem that legally separates actual Indigenous people from their cultures and rights just because someone(s) in their family married outside the culture. Most Indigenous people do not like to be called this, but would prefer it over slurs or inaccurate guesses.

Indian (or American Indian or Amerindian) is the historical term that many older Indigenous people use as another pan-Indigenous rallying term. While many do not like it or the inaccuracy and bloody history behind calling Indigenous Americans (both continents) ‘Indians’, a lot of people were upset when the (USA**) government changed the legal term to Native American. It’s because they did not get a choice in the matter. So many people still use it because they decided it’s their word to reclaim (which it totally is). However, mostly Indigenous people within the USA have reclaimed the word - in other areas it is a non-issue or is considered rude or out-dated. And it’s more popular with older people.

**Other modern countries in the Americas do/used to call their Indigenous peoples Indians. Some have kept that name (such as Chile, though they say ‘Indios’, which is Indians in Spanish), some have not. For example, the Indigenous peoples of modern-day Canada are now called ‘First Nations’ by the Canadian government, but were once called Indians.

So to review: Indigenous is the younger identity word that covers all populations that were colonized and are now a minority in their historical lands. Native American is the legal term as used by the United States for Indigenous peoples originally from nations in the contiguous USA. And Indian is the preferred term by older Indigenous people in those areas. The label ‘Eskimo’ is also preferred in a similar fashion for the Inuit people, and more broadly, the Indigenous peoples of Alaska and north/western Canada. See footnote 5 later in the story for the idea in context.

However, the most polite thing to do is to not mention anybody’s ethnicity unless they bring it up themselves. If you must talk about it, then use the most specific terms possible to be polite. That’s why I mention that Arnold in that book is Spokane, and did not use the very loose term ‘Native American’.

❧ So there’s the Indigenous Kalinago people of the island of Dominica. They were once called Caribs - and thus the Caribbean Sea was named - but that was from a misunderstanding on Christopher Colombus’s part. Carib likely just meant ‘brave warrior’. So in 2015, the people legally changed their name to Kalinago, their original name. Kalinago is the plural form, and Karifuna is the singular form. So Dani is Karifuna, and Dani, her maman and her brother Jordan are Kalinago.

∵ A kunik is like a greeting kiss in terms of intimacy. But it’s not just for romantic partners. One (or two! It can be mutual!) people will hold their nose close to the other’s skin, and breathe them in. It’s like loving someone so much, one just has to breathe their atiq, their spirit, in. A lot of ***Alaskan Native Peoples practice this, as their mouths were often covered outside during the long winter months (to keep water and warmth in). An ‘Eskimo kiss’ is a bastardized version of a kunik - it does not usually involve rubbing noses together.

***Alaskan Native is a legal term for the Indigenous peoples of Alaska. They get slightly different rights and restrictions by identifying as such and not ‘Native American’. The Indigenous Hawaiian (Native Hawaiian) people have a similar deal with the USA government. Both Indigenous Alaskans and Hawaiians prefer this legal distinction - while both got the shorter end of the stick, they still have a better deal with the government than the Indigenous peoples lumped under the category ‘Native American’. However, ‘Alaskan Natives’ prefer to be referred to their individual ethnicities (Yup’ik, Athabaskan, etc.) or Eskimo when relevant, and ‘Native Hawaiians’ prefer ‘Kānaka Maoli’, ‘Indigenous Hawaiians’ or just ‘Hawaiians’.

¤ This is an example of where older terms, such as Indian and Eskimo, are still used, because both Indigenous groups lumped under those old labels got to choose the name themselves. Despite ‘Native American’ and ‘Alaskan Native’ (respectively) being the legally correct terms according to the modern USA government, both groups like exercising their autonomy by sticking with the names they chose, despite the terms being legally out-dated. The WEIO’s name is a case where tradition and pride combine well.

[soul-controller]

Owen’s Solo Mission (Teaser)

Set in between the events of Fallen Kingdom and Dominion, Owen Grady is trying to find a way to keep himself and his new family of Claire and Maisie safe. When a mysterious note appears on his doorstep offering assistance in helping protect them, Owen secretly heads out to meet with the sender.

When Owen Grady first took up the position as a Velociraptor trainer at Jurassic World, the former Navy man didn’t have a shred of admiration towards the formerly-extinct dinosaurs. Although he vehemently turned down the prospect of militarizing the dinosaurs to use in the field, Owen still found himself not really embracing the concept of becoming the alpha of the four raptors that he trained. This however changed though after the events of Isla Nublar, when only one of Owen’s raptors (a female named Blue) survived and stayed on the island after all of the humans were evacuated. 

Upon returning back to the island at a later date to find and rescue Blue and several other dinosaurs from the now-active volcano that would completely decimate the island, Owen found himself slowly growing more protective of his favorite raptor and dinosaurs in general. This was most certainly assisted by his renewed relationship with Claire Dearing, who turned her life around after the events that occurred on Isla Nublar. Once a ruthless businesswoman who ran the park with an iron fist, Claire now found herself becoming a self-less activist trying to save all of the remaining dinosaurs from the volcano. 

After defeating not only the Indominous Rex but also the Indoraptor, Owen and Claire’s pseudo-family with Blue further expanded upon “adopting” Maisie, who was orphaned upon the death of her guardian during the events of the Indoraptor’s rampage. While the Indoraptor was going on its aforementioned rampage, several of the saved Isla Nublar dinosaurs were quickly sold off to countries and militias all across the globe to further line the pockets of greedy businessmen. However, many dinosaurs still faced extinction due to a gas leak in the basement of the dinosaur sanctuary where the sale was taking place. This quickly changed due to Maisie’s actions. Having recently discovered that she herself was a clone of her guardian Benjamin Lockwood’s deceased daughter, the girl began to empathize with the dinosaurs. With this in mind, the genetically engineered girl opted to free the remaining dinosaurs into the California wilderness to have a fighting chance at survival. 

In the time since the dinosaurs spread across the continental United States or arrived at their new locations across the globe, Owen and Claire had found themselves trying their best to care for the still-grieving Maisie after the death of her grandfather Benjamin. While Claire continued her activism by working at the Dinosaur Protection Group, Owen relocated Maisie to a cabin in the woods of California to prevent anyone from finding the cloned girl and using her for genetic experiments to find out how to continue cloning more humans. 

Due to his constant efforts of trying to prevent anyone from taking advantage of Maisie, Owen had quickly found himself growing incredibly protective to the point where he truly cared for the young girl. As such, when a note mysteriously showed up on the cabin’s doorstep one morning with the promise of helping provide “reinforcements” to protect Maisie, Owen was quick to accept the invitation. After convincing Claire to come to the cabin for a few days to stay with Maisie while he “went to meet up with some old Navy friends”, the hunky man quickly headed out to go meet the mysterious individual. 

Upon arriving that next night at the location listed on the note (a dilapidated house near the California-Mexico border), Owen tapped into the skills he’d gathered during his time in the military and cautiously approached the house before making a slow entry. As he slowly walked around the creaky old house with his gun drawn, Owen was quick to call out for anyone there to slowly make their way into the large foyer so he could see who sent the note. As he suddenly began to hear the sound of squeaky wheels grow louder, Owen quickly directed his flashlight in the direction of the noise. Upon seeing who the individual was, Owen was unable to prevent his jaw from dropping...

To read more about who Owen meets and what happens afterwards, click here to sign up for my Patreon!  

[fagsex]

i had been too scared for years to check up on this really shitty thing from when i was a kid because his name his face the building they all made me nauseous and i knew if there was any justice at all it would be too little. i researched it today and turns out i was right. fucking scum got let go and all charges dropped for lack of competency. should that not speak more? when he was initially charged, it was on cnn, usatoday, cbc, covered so much that ive had friends ive made over the years in different states tell me they heard about him. ive found news articles in french about him. and yet not a word from any source outside of local about how he got fully away with it.

this is a weird thing for me to be randomly rambling about but sometimes it just hits me what happened. dr howard schneider of jacksonville florida, the only pediatric dentist to take medicaid in the largest city by area in the fucking continental united states, tortured, not exaggeration, tortured children for 30 years. at least.

when i say im afraid of dentists, im testy around dentistry, and teeth, and so much related things to it, everyone brushes it off easily as a common fear. which is naturally how he got away with it for so long. we were children physically restrained with leather straps. the doors were locked, parents werent allowed to come back, at a pediatric dentist. there were patients with teeth they just got being ripped out of their heads. i was either never given anesthetic, or, on more than one occasion, given so much i violently threw up, while lying down, restrained. i was seven years old tied strapped down choking on my own vomit with a bubblegum gas going in my nose. i can still smell it.

cold air still makes me nauseous. gas masks make me anxious. i couldnt lie down or feel relaxed anywhere that wasnt my bedroom for years. i would be sent to the nurses office as a kid, and refuse to lie down, because i felt like if i did, pain would begin. i would go in for a checkup and leave with too tight, too wrong crowns, covering my teeth. often, my teeth were not inspected or cleaned beforehand, just straight in with the drill. adult clamps in a childs mouth because i was being 'a whiny brat'.

have you ever been to a dentists office, or any medical office whatsoever, where an entire wall was a mirror? i could see myself held down and put through hell. i was too scared to put anything in my mouth at home, it repulsed me, not to mention my gums, my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, tongue, everything hurt so bad. i figured out later it wasnt normal, he was slicing them with a scalpel, with a pick, anything and everything. he put a hole in my sisters cheek. my baby sister walked, toddled out of there with a hole in her cheek after her first check up. we still went back, we couldnt afford anyone else, and he kept telling us how much work my mouth needed. he kept trying to convince my parents i may need braces, but i had the straightest teeth my parents had ever seen.

my heart still drops when i hear a drill, any drill. certain smells make me feel like i cant speak or breathe. my own mother screamed at me for being dramatic, for complaining so much. she said itd only hurt if i didnt listen, and he said the same. he said id be in trouble, big trouble if i told, and i remember it clear as day. he put on a movie on the ceiling tv he bought with the money medicaid gave him for ripping our milk teeth out, and it was the same movie everytime. some people dont understand that even the silliest, oddest thing can scare you if it sticks. he put his hands on my neck several times to restrain me and keep me from moving, and had me stare at the ceiling, and as fucking lame as it sounds, i could not listen to jerry seinfelds voice or participate in any bee movie jokes that became en vogue in 2016 or so, because i was legitimately terrified.

my own mother would mock my fears of putting things in my mouth to clean them, saying that if i was actually scared, i'd want to clean my teeth more so i'd see him less. it wouldn't matter what i did. and a scared 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 year old doesn't have that logic. i was just a lazy kid with disgusting teeth who was scared of the dentist, to everyone. in late 2019, the crowns he gave me all exploded, and took my teeth with them. four, five of my teeth were slowly destroyed and chipped out of my mouth. and every day i had to feel that scraping again, the cutting up of my mouth, how it filled with blooded. i couldnt talk or eat, but my family saw that as a positive, and i was too ashamed to tell them my teeth broke in my mouth. i knew they would see it as a sign of how disgusting i was. to be in my teens, and already have teeth abandoning me.

the state of florida forgave this. over 100 parents and children presented stories like mine, and he was still forgiven. i dont have a reason for sharing this, not now, not really. its not a special date, nor recent news. i dont even have some message behind this, other than oversharing. it was not just him either. it was every adult who did not listen or care, i suppose. it was the nurses there too. it was the state, it was his attorneys and lawyers that he could use his millions on that he made putting patients off anesthetics in papoose boards.

he was never even charged with child abuse, but fraud. the money was the most important thing the law found. i didnt smile with my teeth for years, my sisters speech was delayed for years, i had panic attacks in the middle of the day in middle school over a cartoon bee, ive had to remove 4 shattered teeth from my head and have several other teeth reconstructed where he broke and did not fix them,i was blamed for all the dental problems that suddenly appeared in my mouth when i began going to him, ive been belittled my entire life for such a childish 'fear', and that was never in question. just the fact he took my teeth to make money, that he put me and thousands of poor children, in both senses of the adjective, through hell to charge medicaid.

anyway what the fuck right. im sorry i dont know why im writing this all out right now but it just feels so stuck inside me that itll burst from my chest if i dont write it out. its actually relaxed me quite a lot. if you live in florida or georgia and you see some old bitch who looks like this just feel free to get him on sight 🤙

[deadpresidents]

11.22.1963: One Minute In Dallas

The strangest thing about the day was also the most welcome and surprising thing about the day.  It was quiet — no protests, no angry demonstrations as expected — just blue skies, excited crowds, and an unseasonably warm and bright November day in Dallas.  In fact, the most startling aspect was just how colorful the day was — a truly, aesthetically colorful day.  That may be the first thing people noticed — the color.  The color of the majestic Presidential aircraft, Air Force One; the color of that endlessly blue Texas sky; the color of the red roses handed to the beautiful First Lady after she walked down the steps of the plane at Love Field;  the color of her pink Chanel dress and signature pillbox hat as she shook hands with the throng of cheering people greeting her and her husband; the color of the healthy glow on the tanned face of the young, yet secretly unhealthy, President; the color of the shiny blue and black limousines organized in a motorcade set to transport John F. Kennedy and his party to the Trade Mart in Dallas for a political speech thought to be the kick-off to the President’s 1964 re-election campaign.

Yes, it was the color that most people noticed at first.  It’s the color of that day that people still notice.  In a time where the images we look back upon are frozen in black and white, the color of November 22, 1963 jumps out at us as if it was the day the world was finally painted.  In a way, it was very similar because this was the day that the world changed.  This was the day where America became a jaded adult.  And, even now, the colors still strike us as being from another world.  Beautiful, horrible colors illustrating our history, stirring our souls, and destroying a new frontier as we watched in disbelief and wondered what was happening to our hopes, wondered who was extinguishing our dreams, and wondered what reason there was for dragging us into a cold, modern reality.   

Umberto Eco has written that “time is an eternity that stammers”.  But time is as abstract as it is definitive; as much a matter of opinion or judgment as it is measurement or tool.  For example, doing something for 46 years is long enough to make you experienced; yet dying at 46 years old means you died too soon.  Living for 24 years is barely an instance in comparison to a long, full life; yet 24 years of bitterness and anger and misguided actions is equal to torture.  However, you can change the world just as much at 24 as at 46, and it only takes a fraction of a second.  In Dallas that day, in a collection of nightmarish seconds bracketed within several sudden minutes, a 24-year-old man who had never accomplished anything changed not only a nation’s leadership, but its attitude, by killing a 46-year-old man who had accomplished more than almost anyone else ever had at that young of an age.

John F. Kennedy had given power to youth.  The first President born in the 20th Century; the torch-bearing, charismatic leader of a new generation of Americans; the first President who Americans didn’t view as one of history’s statues but, instead, as an agent of progress.  Youth put JFK in the White House.  Youth drove JFK’s message and his administration.  The United States — a young country — was being led by a young President who energized young Americans, kicked down old walls, and set the nation sailing towards a new era.  

John F. Kennedy gave power to youth, youth gave power to JFK, and on November 22, 1963, a young man killed the young President in front of his young wife and a young, ever-changing country — a country that would never be as young again.

In front of the world, in a few short, hectic minutes which seemed to last forever -- a new beginning was brought to an abrupt and violent end.

After greeting the crowd at Love Field that came out to welcome them to Dallas, President John F. Kennedy and his wife, Jacqueline, climbed into a highly-customized, dark bluish-black Lincoln Continental limousine code-named SS-100-X by the United States Secret Service.  The driver is 54-year-old Bill Greer, born in Ireland, and the oldest man on JFK’s Secret Service detail.  Next to Greer is Secret Service agent Roy Kellerman, the designated agent in charge of the President’s trip to Texas.  SS-100-X is built specifically for Presidential use, heavily armored and fitted with running boards for Secret Service agents to stand on, as well as hand grips on the trunk that agents can hold on to as they ride on the vehicle.  A United States Air Force C-130 accompanies Air Force One on its stops, hauling vehicles and equipment such as the Presidential limousine, from city-to-city.  It is not easy to do this, nor is it cheap, but it is necessary.  The protection of the President requires complete control by the Secret Service when it comes to the planning and execution of Presidential trips.  

The President does control some aspects, however.  This trip to Texas is a political trip.  This is the unofficial kick-off of the 1964 campaign, and Texas is a must-win state — probably the most important state in the nation to JFK’s re-election chances.  The President has the ability to electronically raise his seat and footrests by as much as eight inches, in order to give the crowd a better chance of seeing him.  The President also can make the call about whether or not the limousine should be open or covered.  In Dallas, the weather was perfect -- clearing up after a rainy start to the morning in Fort Worth.  The President would go without the clear, plastic bubble-top which could normally be used to cover the limo.  A lot of people had turned out in Dallas to see their President; he wanted to be certain that he could be seen.  For that reason, as well, there would be no agents on the running boards of Kennedy’s limousine as it slowly drove through the streets of Dallas.

Besides Greer, Kellerman, the President, and the First Lady, the limousine also carries the Governor of Texas, John Connally, and his wife, Nellie.  Connally is a protege of the Vice President, Lyndon Johnson, who is sitting two cars behind the Presidential limo.  Connally is young, ambitious, popular, and rising quickly in the world of politics.  Many observers believe that Connally could become the first Texan to become President.  In less than an hour, they would already be incorrect.

Eight motorcyle escorts and a lead car with Dallas Police Chief Jesse Curry at the wheel pilot the Presidential motorcade, with the District of Columbia license plate “GG 300”, out of Love Field and towards the Trade Mart, site of President Kennedy’s lunchtime speech.  Following the President’s limousine is a convertible code-named “Halfback” containing Secret Service agents inside the vehicle and on the running boards, as well as Presidential aides Kenneth O’Donnell and Dave Powers, devoutly loyal, close friends of the President who help form his “Irish mafia”.  Halfback is followed by Vice President Johnson’s limousine, also containing Senator Ralph Yarborough and more Secret Service agents, including Johnson’s lead agent, Rufus Youngblood.  Another Secret Service follow-up car is behind LBJ’s limo, followed closely by press vehicles, photographers, cars full of Congressmen, local politicians, White House aides, military aides, and others.

As the motorcade makes its way towards the Trade Mart, it is sunny and bright and Jackie Kennedy wants to wear her sunglasses.  After leaving Love Field, the caravan travels along lightly-populated roads with very few spectators.  Governor Connally wasn’t expecting anyone to view the motorcade until it reached downtown, but here-and-there are a few people catching a glance at the President’s limo heading towards downtown Dallas.  Inside the car, President Kennedy vetoes Jackie’s attempt to put on her sunglasses.  The people want to see her eyes, want to see her smile, and this is a political trip — you have to give the people what they want.  So, Jackie does.  But she welcomes every overpass that the motorcade travels under because it provides a brief respite of shade and whenever the crowds momentarily thin during the drive, she slips her sunglasses on quickly to shield her eyes from the glare.  Presidential aide Ken O’Donnell had reminded Jackie prior to the motorcade’s departure that she should do her best to look to the left side and greet those people who were on the opposite side of the street from the President that were prevented from getting a good view of JFK.  Help temper their disappointment by allowing them to see you, Jackie.  A lot of the time, she forgot that people enjoyed seeing her, too.  She had a habit of looking at the President, watching the President greet the crowds.  She admired his ability to turn on that switch and release that charisma that attracted her to him in the first place.  For the most part, she did just as requested.  For the most part, she wasn’t looking at the President.  For the most part.

For weeks, fears gripped the Presidential advance team planning the Texas trip because of anti-Kennedy tension in many Texas cities, particularly Dallas.  With the motorcade greeting happy, smiling, excited crowds, Governor Connally relaxes a bit.  He was worried that this trip through Dallas would not be an easy one.  Dallas is the most conservative city in Texas, and for the past few days, leaflets attacking the President have circulated amongst every level of Dallas society.  Governor Connally thought that this would be an ugly trip through an unimpressed citizenry.  President Kennedy wasn’t much more confident about Dallas than the Governor -- noting earlier that "We're heading into nut-country today."  Yet, as they inched closer downtown, Connally is relieved and the President appears to be genuinely enjoying himself.

In the follow-up car behind the President’s limousine, the Secret Service is scanning the crowds which are gaining in size as the motorcade gets closer to the Trade Mart.  In that same car, Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers also scan the crowd.  Probably more worried about a hostile crowd than the President, these two aides are satisfied.  O’Donnell is pleased that the First Lady remembered his suggestion and is facing the people on her side of the limo.  Over the noise of the cheering crowd, O’Donnell tells Powers, “There’s certainly nothing wrong with this crowd.”

The motorcade is heading towards Dealey Plaza — “Dallas’s Front Door” — where the biggest crowd is gathered to see the President pass on his way to give his speech.  It’s 65 degrees and the motorcade makes a turn onto Houston Street from Main Street.  The crowds are now thick in numbers and bursting with anticipation.  Cheers are drowning out the noise of motorcycles and big cars.  The trip down Houston is short and leads the motorcade into a sharp turn on to Elm Street — almost a U-turn and fairly difficult for the long, awkward limousine to handle.  From Main to Elm, less than one minute ticks off the clock.  They are just five minutes away from the Trade Mart and this trip has been a pleasant surprise — astonishingly positive despite Dallas’s reputation as being virulently anti-Kennedy.

As they are navigating that sharp turn on to Elm Street, Governor Connally’s wife, Nelly, turns to the President and smiles.  “Mr. President, they sure can’t say Dallas doesn’t love you, can they?”.  Smiling back, the President responds “No, they sure can’t.”

A non-descript building called the Texas School Book Depository stands guard over the sharp turn where the motorcade merges on to Elm Street.  At the top of the seven-story brick building, a large Hertz sign displays the time to Dealey Plaza.  For hours, anxious Texans have been glimpsing at the clock from the positions they staked out in Dealey Plaza, waiting for their glimpse of the President of the United States.  There are people with their children, pointing out the motorcycle escorts that signal that the President’s arrival is imminent.  There are white people and black people, old people and young people, men and women, standing on grassy areas of the plaza or along Elm Street’s sidewalk, waiting and watching.  There is a man named Abraham Zapruder, a local dressmaker, who is excitedly waiting to use his new Bell & Howell 8mm video camera to film a few seconds of the President’s visit to Dallas.  In the buildings surrounding Dealey Plaza, there are workers who have interrupted what they are doing so they could flock to the windows and watch history pass through their city.

The motorcade is only moving at a speed of 11 miles per hour, but the trip through Dealey Plaza will be measured in seconds, not minutes, so the crowd is ready to catch their quick glimpse.  On the sixth floor of the Book Depository building, an employee has taken a break from work to watch the motorcade.  He is young — the type of person who is likely to have voted for John F. Kennedy if he was actually old enough to vote at all in 1960.  He is also focused, even determined.  Everyone wants to see the President, but this young man can’t miss him.  He won’t miss him.

Just above that young man, the clock on the Hertz sign changes.  It is exactly 12:30 PM in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963.  The sky is blue.  The temperature is warm.  Pigeons on top of the Book Depository building seem to be just as interested in the activity below as the young man in the sixth-floor window.  Below him, crowds are cheering wildly.  The President and his beautiful wife are finally passing by, along with the Governor and Mrs. Connally.  There are smiles and waves and cheers.  But when that clock strikes 12:30 PM everything changes.  

It’s inexplicable, but time acts unnaturally in the next few minutes.  The minutes seem long while the seconds seem instant.  At 12:30 PM on Elm Street, however, everything changes.  Some think it’s a motorcycle backfiring, some think it’s a firecracker, but the pigeons on top of the Book Depository building think it’s time to fly away quickly.  A smiling President doesn’t even have time to stop smiling as everything changes.

••• What can you do in 4.6 seconds?  It takes twice that amount of time for the fastest human being who has ever lived to run 100 meters at top speed.  Some people take longer than 4.6 seconds to process thoughts, to start sentences, to absorb facts and make conclusions.  Some people only need 4.6 seconds to leave an indelible imprint upon history, to make a wife a widow and children fatherless.  For some people, 4.6 seconds is all the time required to change the world.  

The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  President John F. Kennedy’s motorcade has passed the building and is on Elm Street, in the open air of Dallas’s Dealey Plaza, en route to the Trade Mart, just five minutes away.

On Elm Street, Jackie Kennedy sees another overpass that will provide a brief, shady respite from the glare of the bright Texas sun.  Those quick seconds of a cool shield from the unseasonably warm November day have been welcome interruptions from the waving and smiling that she has been greeting crowds with since the President and the First Lady arrived at Love Field just a few minutes earlier.  As Presidential aide Kenneth O’Donnell had reminded her to do, Jackie is looking at the crowd on her left while President Kennedy looks to his right.  Directly, in front of the President is Texas Governor John Connally, pleasantly surprised at the friendly Dallas welcome the President is receiving.  Next to the Governor is his wife, Nellie, who just finished joking to the President that it would be impossible for people to say that Dallas didn’t love him.  Driving the President’s Lincoln limousine at 11.2 miles per hour, Secret Service agent Bill Greer just navigated a sharp turn below the Book Depository building while agent Roy Kellerman scans the crowd from his front passenger seat.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

On Elm Street, a large crowd has gathered on the grassy expanse in Dealey Plaza, as well as along the sidewalks, hoping to catch a wave or a smile from their popular President before he disappears underneath the triple railroad overpass that Jackie anticipates while give her a momentary break from the sun.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

On Elm Street, Secret Service agents in follow-up cars search the large crowds for unnatural movements, suspicious characters, and anything which might interfere with or cause harm to the Presidential motorcade or the President himself.  The car behind the President, code named Halfback, also carries the President’s close aides, O’Donnell and Dave Powers.  They watch the President intently, studying his interaction with the crowd, soaking up what is working and what is not working on this almost purely political trip into suspected hostile territory for JFK.  Up until now, they too have been surprised by Dallas’s warm welcome.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.    

On Elm Street, the car behind Halfback carries Vice President Lyndon Johnson, his wife Lady Bird, Senator Ralph Yarborough, and several Secret Service agents.  This is his home state, but Lyndon Johnson is just along for the ride.  He’s not happy with his role as Vice President.  He’s not thrilled to be riding with Senator Yarborough, who he has been feuding with for several years, and he’d rather be home at his LBJ Ranch or running the country that JFK is in charge of.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

Above Elm Street, 24-year-old Lee Harvey Oswald sits in a sixth-floor window of his place of employment — the Book Depository building — watching, waiting, and ready.  Oswald has an Italian-made, 6.5 x 52 mm Carcano rifle which he purchased by mail order eight months earlier.  Inside of the rifle is a round-nosed bullet with a copper jacket.  With this rifle and this bullet, Oswald is going to change the world.  Before the clock on the Hertz sign a couple of floors above him ticks off another minute, Lee Harvey Oswald will change the world with something that weighs just 10 grams.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

The loud crack that everyone hears at exactly 12:30 PM is difficult to figure out, even for the highly-trained Secret Service agents guarding the life of the President.  Most think that it is a motorcycle backfiring, perhaps even a firecracker.  The First Lady would later say that was what she thought.  Only one of those highly-trained Secret Service agents reacts immediately.  He is Rufus Youngblood and the instant he hears the crack of Oswald’s gun, he leaps into the backseat of his car and shoves the 6’3” Vice President as far down into the limo as possible, screaming “Get down!” while covering him with his body.  Later, Youngblood notes that he briefly worried that he he might be overreacting.  He wasn’t.

One person does realize that the sound he heard isn’t a motorcycle backfiring or a firecracker exploding.  Governor Connally is an avid hunter and he realizes that someone just fired a rifle.  The Governor — relieved that the Dallas trip was going better than expected to this point — also realizes that the perfect trip just turned into an attempted assassination.  Immediately after hearing the first shot, Connally begins saying, “Oh, no, no, no!”.  In the 2.3 seconds after the first shot is fired, people are still trying to figure out what just happened.  The clock on the Hertz sign still reads 12:30 PM when a second shot is fired.

Still looking to her left, Jackie Kennedy shifts to the right when she hears the Governor’s words.  The President is smiling at a young boy and beginning to wave when Oswald’s second shot tears through the back of the President’s neck just to the right of his spine.  The bullet causes damage to Kennedy’s right lung, shreds his trachea and exits through the front of his throat, slicing through his tie.  The bullet doesn’t stop there.  Governor Connally had jerked quickly to his right upon hearing the first gunshot.  The same bullet that passed through the President rips into Connally’s back, exits his chest, re-enters his body at his right wrist and plunges through to his left thigh.  Greer, the driver, looks back over his right shoulder.  Kellerman, the passenger, looks over his left.  Inexplicably, they don’t react.  Agent Clint Hill, on a running board of Halfback, does.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

The President is hurt, but his wound is not mortal.  In fact, Governor Connally is injured far more severely from the shooting.  Blood is pouring out of his chest, but a delayed reaction means he doesn’t feel pain for a second or two after being hit.  When the pain hits, it is excruciating and Connally moans, “They are going to kill us both!” as his wife grabs him and pulls him towards her.  Jackie now realizes that something is terribly wrong because the Governor of Texas is screaming with fright and pain.  She looks to her husband and he has a look on his face that reminds her of when he’d get a headache or was in the middle of a deep thought.  Later, she would describe his look as “quizzical”.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

President Kennedy jerks into an odd position as he is hit.  He grasps at his throat, his hands clenched in fists and his elbows higher than his shoulders.  This movement — exceedingly unnatural-looking — finally elicits a response from the Secret Service.  While Greer unsconsciously slows the Presidential limousine down and Kellerman freezes, Clint Hill has bounded off of Halfback and is running towards the back of the President’s car.  Several Secret Service agents reach for their guns, still unsure of what happened, but positive that something has gone wrong.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

The President slumps slightly towards his wife, as if he is choking and needs assistance.  Jackie leans towards the President.  With her white-gloved hands, she gently grabs JFK’s left elbow and begins pulling him towards her.  It has been less than five seconds since the first shot was fired, but it is now clear that the glare of the Texas sun is the least of Jackie Kennedy’s worries.  She glances briefly towards the front of the limo at Governor Connally, whose lap is drenched with blood; at Nellie Connally who is pulling her husband into her lap; at Bill Greer, who actually slowed the limo down in his confusion; and at Roy Kellerman, who is looking back at the President, yet still sitting in his passenger seat.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

As the President leans towards his wife and the First Lady leans towards her husband, it appears as if Jackie is looking now at the area of the throat that Kennedy is clutching.  Their faces are just inches apart from each other.  Jackie is no longer looking to her left.  There are no more waves, no more smiles.  Kellerman remembers hearing the President say, “My God, I’m hit”, but no one else in the limo remembers that.  In fact, it was probably impossible for the President to speak after the bullet tore through his throat.  The clock on the Hertz sign above the Texas School Book Depository building reads 12:30 PM.  

If there was any doubt about what was happening as the first two shots were fired, the doubt disappears in a thick mist of blood, bone and brain matter when the third shot hits its mark.  Motorcycle cops escorting the President’s limousine are sprayed first by the sickening result of Lee Harvey Oswald’s third shot.  One likened it later to being hit with “wet sawdust”.  Before the third shot, there is no blood other than that pumping out of John Connally’s wounds.  John F. Kennedy has been wounded, but he is not bleeding noticeably.  Yet, as Jackie leans into her husband everything turns red — the limousine, Jackie’s fashionable dress, the Connallys, Greer, Kellerman, the naturally red roses, the windscreens on motorcycles near the limo, and the faces of Secret Service agents inside Halfback.

By the third shot, Secret Service agents have turned their attention to the the Presidential limousine and many are watching President Kennedy’s head when the final shot hits.  Later, people remembered the sound just as distinctly as the sight.  One agent recalled the dull sound as being similar to the noise of a watermelon being smashed or a bullet being shot into a jug of water.  Almost all of the agents watching the President immediately know that the wound is fatal.  Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers, two of Kennedy’s closest friends as well as longtime aides, begin praying.  Clint Hill is almost to the back bumper of JFK’s car when the third shot hits and covers him in blood and flesh.

The fatal shot strikes President Kennedy in the back of the head, almost directly in between the ears.  The entrance wound is small, but the bullet violently exits the right side of the front of his head, exploding into a cloud of blood, pieces of his cerebellum, skull fragments, and flesh with hair still attached.  The President’s body jerks suddenly to the front and then to the back, awkwardly slamming into the seat and falling into the lap of Jackie.  Blood is everywhere.  Thick clumps of blood which immediately cover the limousine.  Jackie screams, “My God, what are they doing?  My God, they’ve killed Jack!  They’ve killed my husband.  Jack!  Jack!  I love you, Jack!”.  Jackie is cradling her husband’s disfigured head in her lap as blood stains her pink suit and white gloves.  The brain of her husband — a brain admired by so many for it’s ability and intellectual curiosity — is leaking out of his head along with bright red blood which is as thick as mud.  

Suddenly, Jackie jumps up and climbs towards the trunk of the limousine.  She is later asked about this action and doesn’t remember why she did it.  In fact, she has no recollection of doing it at all, even when looking at photographs of herself doing it.  Clint Hill has caught up to the hand grips on the back of the Lincoln as Kellerman finally acts and orders Greer to accelerate.  Hill nearly loses his grip and is also unsure later why Jackie was climbing out of the backseat.  To some it looks like she is trying to escape the horror, to others it appears as if she is trying to help pull Hill on to the limo.  To a lot of people, it’s thought that she was retrieving pieces of her husband’s shattered skull.  Despite Greer’s acceleration, Hill jumps on to the limo, grabs Jackie, puts her back into the seat, and lays spread-eagle above the mortally-wounded President.  The site inside the limo sickens him.  A flap of Kennedy’s skull is hanging to his head only by a thin thread of flesh.  There is blood everywhere.  Pieces of detached skull fragments with Kennedy’s hair still attached lie in the backseat.

Hill knows that the President’s wound is not survivable.  As he shields the dying President and the shocked First Lady, he slams his hand against the car’s exterior, realizing that the Secret Service just failed to do it’s most important job.  Nellie Connally cradles her husband in her arm’s as well.  Not all of the blood is Kennedy’s.  Governor Connally is bleeding profusely.  He is also losing consciousness.  Indeed, Nellie Connally believes her husband is actually dead until his hands move slightly.  Jackie Kennedy is repeating over-and-over again, “They’ve killed him!  I love you, Jack!”. 

The President of the United States is still breathing, but barely.  His eyes are open, staring blankly at Jackie as she tries to shield him from the horror that has already befallen her, her family, and her country.  Kellerman orders the limousine to head to Parkland Hospital and the Greer slams the gas pedal to the floor, heading out of Dealey Plaza and underneath the triple overpass that Jackie was looking forward to.  The people in the plaza are stunned.  Most don’t even realize what has happened.  Those who do are convinced that Kennedy is dead.  

Before lapsing into unconsciousness from his wound, Governor Connally hears Jackie Kennedy’s tears.  He hears his wife screaming.  He hears static on the police and Secret Service radios as they frantically, belatedly take action.  He hears orders being given, engines being revved, and his own heart pumping blood just as quickly as it pours out of his body.  

What he doesn’t hear are frightened pigeons flying up and away from the Book Depository building.  What he didn’t hear was empty shell casings popping out of Lee Harvey Oswald’s rifle and landing on the floor of his sixth-floor perch.  What he doesn’t hear are the labored breaths and gurgling sounds coming from the President’s wounded throat.  What he doesn’t hear are the preparations being made to receive a Code 3 emergency at Parkland Hospital involving the President of the United States.

What Governor Connally most remembers hearing as he drifts into unconsciousness is Jacqueline Kennedy — elegant, beautiful Jacqueline Kennedy — sobbing and saying over-and-over again, “What have they done to you?  I love you, Jack!”.  And, finally — tragically, heartbreakingly, horrifically — he hears the First Lady softly tell Clint Hill, “I have his brains in my hand.”  

In less than five seconds, Lee Harvey Oswald changed the course of history in the most dramatic, violent, brutal, and sickening way — and he made it look easy.  As the President’s limo sped towards Parkland Hospital, someone who looked towards the building that the shots came from would have noticed the pigeons flying upwards and away from the building.  And as those pigeons rose into the bright blue Texas sky of November 22, 1963, someone who looked towards the building that the shots came from also might have noticed a clock on the Hertz sign on top of the building’s roof.  

If they noticed that clock on that sign, they would have seen that the time was now 12:31 PM.

[runwayrunway]

No. 40 - Southwest Airlines

One of my most requested posts, it's time to cover a carrier anyone who's flown in the US is probably very familiar with. After all, Southwest has for decades been the largest low-cost carrier in the world by both revenue and fleet size (though IndiGo is coming for that title).

Southwest's history is longer and more substantial than many may think, a central figure in the genesis of what we now know as the low-cost carrier. But one thing I think a lot of people know is their livery.

A common theme on this blog is trends in airline liveries - in particular, the modern trend towards the minimalist, sterile, underdesigned, and above all generic. As an anecdotal example, someone who lives near Boston's Logan Airport, the 16th-busiest airport in the US and 30th-busiest in the world, served by every major US airline and every major international carrier from countries within 787 range, were they to watch the takeoffs and landings, would be treated to the following...menagerie.

Can you believe these planes fly for different and indeed unrelated airlines?

Safe to say from 5,000 feet below it's a challenge to tell these planes apart. Even taxiing past them you'd need to pay attention. If I forced someone to squint I'm not sure they could identify them properly. How about Southwest?

Bam.

Southwest Airlines was founded in an era that borders on incomprehensible to those of my age bracket. The United States is a nation united in grumbling about Spirit Airlines, and most of Europe is constantly cursing Ryanair under their breath, but it wasn't always like that. The fact of a united enemy at all is new in the US. Back before the 1978 Deregulation Act, it was so prohibitively expensive to operate interstate flights that most airlines just didn't. Interstate flights were left to giant full-service airlines like Delta and Eastern, while international flights were the domain of an even more elite few - Pan Am, TWA, Braniff, and National (no, not that National, the other one) while the scrappier little companies flew short hops for commuters.

One airline which emerged in this pre-deregulation era was Pacific Southwest Airlines, commonly abbreviated to PSA, an initially tiny airline operating in California. You may recognize them from my icon! PSA is one of the single most important airlines in history because it all but invented the idea of the low-cost carrier. Beyond that, they were a Fun Airline. And while they were flying their grinningbirds all over California something else brewed in the background.

image: SouthwestArchive I have never before in my life seen such a profound pairing of undereye bags with the slicked-back hair and piercing blue eyes of a YA dystopia novel film adaptation villain, darting around to lock onto any sources of potential wealth ripe for acquisition.

In 1971 Southwest Airlines began operating flights. The company was actually incorporated in 1967 (as Air Southwest), the brainchild of then-lawyer Herb Kelleher (and two other people who nobody ever talks about because they're boring). They saw what PSA was doing and saw potential for the massive profits that could be gained from avoiding fees from operating interstate and charging drastically lower fees than the larger carriers. Unfortunately for them the larger carriers also realized this, and they were trapped for three years in lawsuit purgatory, with Braniff, Continental, and Trans-Texas Airways taking the case all the way to the Supreme Court, who apparently declined to review it, recognizing that 'they have come up with an idea that will make them make more money and us make less money' is not a particularly powerful legal argument.

And with that little hurdle over Southwest was open for business! Though they weren't quite starting out as a single rented DC-3 Kelleher very closely modeled the airline after PSA, who seemed to be okay enough with it if them helping to train mechanics at the nascent airline was any indication. After all, at this point they were both intrastate airlines fundamentally unable to compete with each other - Southwest was staying put in Texas with no reason to think this would change anytime soon. They brought a bit of PSA to the state, like the low fares and the stewardesses in hot pants and go-go boots.

So what was their answer to the grinningbird?

The rare and deeply cursed Southwest 727.

The mustard rocket. It was called "desert gold" but I think we all know that this is mustard. At this point in history brightly colored airplanes weren't even unusual either, so it would have just been regular ugly instead of ostentatious. (I mean...I like this shade of mustard yellow, honest, but I recognize that most people think this is hideous.)

Southwest kept on Southwesting from there. These days, they're massive, and the most common response on my questionnaire for best airline experiences. No comment, as I've never flown with them. Highlights of their journey there include getting a federal amendment passed because they didn't want to relocate their hub from Love Field to Dallas-Fort Worth, getting sued for only hiring female flight attendants, having the first Black chief pilot of any major airline in the US, technically legal tax evasion measures, having to invent elaborate work-arounds for the restrictions placed on them which could have been avoided by just relocating to Fort Worth, absorbing a bunch of other airlines, being the launch customer for both the -300 and MAX 8 models of the Boeing 737, and making approximately a zillion dollars. In 1990 they absorbed Morris Air, a vacation charter airline which developed innovative cost-cutting measures like e-ticketing, including high-up positions on the Southwest corporate ladder for the founders...

image: conde nast traveller Strange millionaires lurking in woods distributing model airplanes is no basis for an airline industry! ...scratch that, it does appear to be working.

...oh, for heaven's sake, there he is again. Yes, David Neeleman's cost-cutting acumen was indeed put to use at Southwest, meaning that between this and founding jetBlue he basically created low-cost carriers. I reluctantly tip my hat to the man. I would not be able to afford airline tickets without him. But he's just everywhere.

Here is my handwritten faMintly tree. Southwest is jetBlue's cousin once removed, do with that what you will. Anyway, let's hope I never have to add to this. (Not least because I already binned the piece of paper I wrote this out on.)

The turn of the century brought new things for Southwest! In 2000 they had their first major accident (a nonfatal runway overrun resulting in loss of the aircraft). Unrelatedly, in 2001 they released a new color scheme for their fleet, now several hundred strong and entirely composed of assorted models of Boeing 737.

The era of Canyon Blue had begun.

I mean, it's a statement. At this point a plane painted to look like a poisonous frog was in fact a pretty major statement. They were setting out to be an eyesore and I'm sure people were upset about this one, but to the modern eye it looks muted and unfinished. Still bluer than anything David Neeleman had made at that point, but not quite what we know today.

Okay. Yes. There we go.

This livery is meant to be the heart from their logo, the same one worn where the plane's heart might be if planes had hearts instead of air-conditioning systems, the colors unwrapped and deconstructed. And boy, is it almost violently colorful! It goes so far that it takes a minute to notice only three colors, plus white, are used in the entire livery. It's almost eyestraining, and I did have to turn the contrast down on my monitor while writing this because I'm fairly photosensitive. It's...less painful when pixels aren't involved.

So this is definitely one-of-a-kind. Well, it was. jetBlue has made choices recently. But this livery is definitely not one that gets lost in the crowd.

There's very little white or even silver on this airframe, in sharp contrast with...basically every airline. The rest of the livery is vivid and searing yellow and red, unusual shades in airlines, which tend to stick to slightly more muted schemes. And if you couldn't tell who they were by that, the big white billboard wordmark would let you know real quick. I think the white is a bit less legible than I'd like, but I'm not sure how to improve that without making it genuinely eyestrainy. At least it's large and visible, which is crucial for a low-cost carrier, instead of subtle and out of the way on the tail. That might work for an airline with a prestigious air, but that's not Southwest. Southwest is blue and yellow and red.

The main differences between the modern livery and Canyon Blue are in the placement of the logo and the colors used. Each shade is brightened significantly, which is why the once-garish Canyon Blue now looks pretty dusty in comparison. They entirely removed the blue from the tail, making it the airframe feel a little less like it's blue with accents and a little more like it's a circus tent. I do wish the yellow and red covered a bit more of the belly, but still...wow.

Some uses of Southwest Sans demonstrated.

The success of this design isn't by accident. Apparently, Southwest consulted no fewer than five design firms, and the font used for the livery and all their material (which I think looks totally fine) was actually commissioned from iconic foundry Monotype. A lot of airline liveries are designed in-house, and that can turn out fine, but Southwest clearly pulled out all the stops and it shows.

Southwest is a low-cost carrier, and this does affect the standards by which I judge their livery. They aren't here to be guided by legacy or decorum the way a flag carrier is - they're here to sell you a cheap ticket on an airline with funny cabin announcements. Circus tent with big lettering in a sea of Eurowhite? Nice, clean execution - I'd call that a job well done.

Grade: B

[kimhargreeves]

Love is War-Caine x Reader (John Wick Chapter 4)

Summary: You've remained a friend to John Wick throughout years, that hasn't changed since he's been excommunicado. Now finding you in Osaka and a few more allies he asks for your help again, which leads you to reunite with an old friend.

(Watched John Wick 4 a few days ago and I am surprised no one has written on this character! Donnie Yen is such a badass playing blind characters. So I wrote this myself. Sorry in advance since I suck at writing a fighting scene, and because this is short.)

The day Santino D'Antonio was shot was officially the day John Wick's life changed. The man had to rest, looking over his shoulders every second to be aware of anyone trying to kill him. The people who continued to remain by his side would be punished.

I was one of them when The High Table came over to my place. They punished me well but I embraced the pain and moved on with my life, and so I went to Japan.

Continuing with my work and wanting to be far from my previous life in the United States.

"Shimazu, my friend. This sushi is delicious as always!" I smiled looking at the tall man.

The man smiled a little and poured some sake for himself. "I believe you've had enough drinks for the night, (Y/N)."

I pouted at the man, he's asking like such a dad. I've known the man for years and met him way back along with his daughter, both of them welcomed me with open arms when I arrived. In exchange for their help I would offer my help and the yakuza.

I exchanged my guns for a katana.

"The night is still young. Besides, I want a bit of fun, the other night I almost got my ass beaten if it weren't for your men arriving."

"Still reckless as ever. I have someone you might want to see." I hummed looking at the man and I heard light footsteps.

I rose from my spot suddenly sobering myself up when I saw another man with us. It was none other than John Wick. "…J-John."

We saw John standing by a cherry blossom tree close to us.

I know it wasn't the time but I did the first thing that came to my mind, which was to hug him tight. I always considered John as an older brother, so seeing him back again was so refreshing. I felt his hand on my back patting me. I looked up at him and smiled.

Shimazu had a straight face when he looked at John Wick. I decided to stay silent but remained by John's side as I heard both men exchange words, Shimazu agreed on helping John, as soon as he did his daughter came by.

She warned us about a group about to Osaka's continental. We looked at John and told him to hide himself while we went out to fight. I grabbed my katana and followed Shimazu closely and started to walk further into the hotel. I watched more of his men grabbing their weapons and getting ready.

We see people hurriedly leaving the hotel after Akira told everyone to evacuate. I remain to Shimazu's side when we come face to face with a man I wasn't expecting to see. Caine.

I felt my body freeze when I saw him standing by the enemy.

Sharp as ever I see. He's wearing a suit and as usual with his cane guiding him. It's been a while since he gave his vision up, that's the consequences for working in this profession.

He is an old friend of John and I. So, he's leading a group of men then, the men working to the Marquis. I stay silent listening to both me exchange words. I glanced around when I saw men pointing their bow and arrows at the enemy.

"John Wick isn't here. So, as my master said give your weapons up." I declared glaring at the group in front of us.

I noticed Caine had tilted his head a bit. He wasn't expecting me to be here. It has been quite a while since we last saw each other.

Despite the warnings, a quick fight ensued when the enemy refused to give their weapons up, since they were determined to find John Wick in the hotel. I raised my katana and quickly slashed down one of the men, quickly I ran forward to attack another one and was able to penetrate the blade through two men in suits.

I harshly pulled the blade back and wiped the blood with my sleeve and I saw Shimazu give me a sign to follow a group of men who entered further into the hotel to look for John. I ran faster and began to avoid being shot and kicked the gun away from a man's hand when he was ready to shoot me.

I raised my leg up and kicked the man's head down and quickly turn around when I heard another one rushing towards me. I easily slashed the man's throat and watched him fall to the bloody floor.

"Have to hurry over to John and get him out of here." I ran faster through the empty halls and made it to the glass room where every antique is displayed.

As soon as I arrived I saw men on the floor and I huffed sliding down the floor and I froze my movements when I saw Caine was in the room. I have to be very quiet. I looked over my shoulder and saw John was hidden nearby.

Quietly I began to stand up and tried not to step on the shards of glass. "There's no use in hiding, (Y/N). Why are you helping a man like John Wick?" Caine spoke knowing I was in the room but not knowing where exactly.

"And why are you working against us?" I spoke seeing Caine standing still and looking at my direction.

"They'll harm my daughter if I don't do this. If it were between You and John and my daughter. I would choose my daughter. You won't be getting in my way."

"Wasn't planning on your trying to stop me. Last time I checked I bear your ass on a fight, you quite liked being under me." I tease standing up straight and raising my katana.

I saw John giving me an odd look but quietly began to crawl over to a gun. I gave him a nod while he continued.

Caine and I rushed over to one another and I huffed dodging his attacks and falling back when he almost hit me. I'll try my best not to slice him up, I'll only hit him with the side of my katana.

"Hmph!" The sound of my katana hit against his cane made a loud sound and I had to grab my weapon with both hands when I began to lose a bit of strength when my hands began to shake. I yelled and tried to kick him back but he was quicker and he hit my stomach hard and made me fall back to the floor.

I let out a cry when I felt glass enter my skin. "You always liked to talk a lot, but I was the one who did most of the action." I blushed when I saw a stupid smirk across his face.

I moved my legs and did my best to make him fall but he easily dodged my moves and hit my leg with his cane making me hiss and he stepped over to stand over my chest and pressed his shoe against me.

A loud movement was heard behind us and we heard John loading up his gun, Cane quickly took his out and both began to try and shoot each other. I struggled to breathe and before I had the chance to strike him again he grabbed me making stand up as he held me close.

"I would suggest you stop this, John. You would want me to harm her would you?"

I angrily looked back at Cain. "You bastard. How dare you use me as a human shield?!" I ask unimpressed with his work.

Caine only fell silent when I asked him and saw a annoyed expression on his face.

"And after everything we had?" I laugh bitterly which wasn't a good thing since he tossed me aside, I tripped over my own feet and ending up falling on one of the art glass in the room.

I groaned trying to stand up and tried to ignore the shards of glass on my palms. I continued to hear John and Caine trying to shoot each other and fight.

"I know our line of work is dangerous, but what kind of a sick bastard with threaten you with that?!" I shout at him.

I find it hard to imagine how he must have felt to have his little girl at risk. His daughter is so hard studying intelligent girl, I had the pleasure of knowing her many times before, I've known the girl ever since she was born, helped Caine in raising her in a way when his wife passed away.

It was her or her daughter. The bright and nice woman chose to give her daughter life. Caine was distraught and needed some peace, so that's when I took action and offered to help him raise his girl.

Both men continued to fight and John was the first one out. I watched him run out of the room so the people here in Osaka wouldn't be harmed because of him. I started to chase after him but I felt a hand hold onto arm tightly before I had the chance to leave.

I looked back and looked at Caine. I couldn't quite read his expression but behind those dark glasses he seemed worried. "They know what happened… They threatened my daughter, myself and you as well. If I don't kill them they will kill us..they are going to kill you too."

He wasn't harming me. His grip on me loosened up and I didn't do anything to provoke him. My expression turned to sadness, why must something always happen to us.

I huff trying to laugh, "I'm flattered to know that you still care about me.", He continued to frown. He was always a serious type, especially with work.

"What if we were to work together? We can stop this and kill the man-"

"That won't do, haven't I made myself clear?!" He said raising his voice.

Caine remained now silent until he let go of me and I saw a smirk across his face again. "I see you haven't changed.."

I fought back at laughing at him for saying that. "No matter what happens, I'll continue to worry about you. Hand me over John Wick and this will all be over."

"I'm sorry but I can't. I promised from the start that my loyalty to him would remain." I slowly started to back away now afraid if Caine would harm me because of my answer.

My loyalty to John Wick.

Too afraid to stick around I turned around and quickly began to follow to where I saw John run off. I was all bloodied up and hurt but I continued to run and made it at the train station. And got inside when I noticed John sitting by himself. I smiled when I saw the man also bloodied up and bruised.

I sat right by his side and we continued to not say anything on what happened back there. I felt extremely tired and so was John, I glanced over to him when I felt his stare on me.

"Did you seriously date him?" John asked after a moment of silence, out of everything that happened that's the first thing he asks??

I sighed leaning back on the seat and crossed my arms over my chest, "Was that such a big surprise for you? I thought it would be obvious, at the amount of times the three of us would reunite."

John must've not remembered of the time we invited him over for dinner but he decided to stay with Helen instead. I didn't blame him.

"Sorry. I just didn't expect the reveal." He muttered holding onto his injured shoulder. I glanced back at him and smiled.

I'll continue to fight by his side, but this'll all be a mess later on. We have to figure this one out and take revenge for those who have tried to kill John. I don't want any of this to happen, but I swear if someone were to harm him, Caine or his daughter, I'll be the person to kill the Marquis even if it means that I could die trying.

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 12

The Time to Unite (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

September 5, 1774

Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia. The place where twelve of the thirteen colonies would meet to present unified action against the recent British abuses of power. Thirteen wished all thirteen colonies had sent delegates, but he understood Georgia’s reason for not coming. They had a war with the Indians to deal with and couldn’t risk losing British support if they needed it.

Thirteen pushed the thoughts of Georgia and their troubles out of his mind. He wasn’t here to think about Georgia’s troubles. Thirteen was here to help the delegates give a unified response to the British. It was a bit nerve-wracking. This is the first time the colonies are genuinely going to unite on an issue. This hadn’t happened before, and Thirteen was nervous about how it would turn out. 

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Most of the colonies have the same goals in the end. Regardless of what debates happen, we still have a common goal.’

‘But the Albany Plan of Union failed. What if this fails too?’

Thirteen shook the negative thoughts out of his head. Now wasn’t the time to be dealing with them. He had a job to do. Thirteen walked into the building, looking around to see if he recognized anyone besides the Massachusetts delegates he had met in Boston.

Thirteen saw Colonel Washington out of the corner of his eye and turned toward him. There was at least one familiar face, which helped Thirteen’s anxiety slightly. Thirteen walked into the meeting room and stood in the back. The seats were organized by colony, and since Thirteen was all the colonies, he didn’t pick one to sit in.

Standing in the back also let him observe the Continental Congress better. Thirteen wanted to be able to see everything that was going on. 

‘I hope this doesn’t end badly…’

Thirteen watched as everyone began making their way to their seats and felt his nervousness grow. He pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time to be nervous. Thirteen had things to take care of. Hopefully, whatever conclusion this Congress made, his father and England listened to what Thirteen’s people had to say.

Hopefully, his people could find something to agree on.

——————————————

It was the second day of the Congress, and they were already lost on what to do. No one seemed to know where to start, and Thirteen saw several delegates continuing to look back at him. It made Thirteen feel weird. He’s not used to his presence being a big deal to people. After all, he was a colony, not a world power like Britain. 

Suddenly, a man stood up and began speaking. He talked about the wrongs Thirteen’s people have suffered because of the acts of the Parliament. He said that all the governments in America were dissolved and that the colonies were in a state of nature.

He said this Congress was the first of a long series of Congresses. He talked about how he was worried the decisions here would form a precedent. He argued for representation according to population.

“What about the smaller colonies? If representation is according to population, the larger colonies can project their influence, while the smaller colonies will lose their voice.” Someone countered.

His response was something that Thirteen knew he would never forget. 

 "British oppression has effaced the boundaries of the several colonies; the distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, and New Englanders are no more. I am not a Virginian but an American."

Thirteen smiled at that. That line was the most important thing this man had said. It was a call to unite, not to let the colony someone came from deny them the ability to get along with the other American colonies. 

Thirteen felt divided over everything. That gave him hope that maybe someday he would be able to represent the colonies in agreement, united, for once.

“Who was that?” Thirteen asked the delegate closest to me.

“Patrick Henry, from Virginia.” 

——————————————

The Congress has achieved two things so far. They made Peyton Randolph the President of the Congress and endorsed the Suffolk Resolves. 

The Suffolk Resolves was a big step, and Thirteen knew it would infuriate his father and England. It ordered his people not to obey the Intolerable Acts, not to import British goods, and to raise a militia.

‘We should join the militia!’

‘We should stay here and help our people decide.’

That last point was going to piss England and Britain off the most. But they were bringing soldiers into Thirteen’s land. Soldiers who have hurt him and his people, even if it was accidentally. They couldn’t let themselves be pushed around by his father’s army. 

He brought an army into Thirteen’s land. Thirteen was going to make sure his people could fight back if needed. After Golden Hill, after Boston? Thirteen’s people needed to be able to fight back.

His father may not like it, but sometimes the most necessary actions aren’t well-liked.

‘He would use that argument against us to argue why these acts are supposedly necessary.’

Thirteen pushed that thought out of his mind.

Now, the Congress was trying to figure out the Continental Association, a plan to stop British imports by December and exports to Thirteen’s father by September the following year. They wanted it enforced by the colony and local officials. The problem was that many of his people were smugglers, and Thirteen knew some wouldn’t listen.

Besides, some delegates thought that the entire Continental Association would be impractical if Congress didn’t send Thirteen’s father our demands and a plan to redress the issues that had arisen between them. Some delegates, like Colonel Washington, didn’t believe petitioning was useful. Nevertheless, they all wanted peace, and petitioning was the best tool.

Then there was Virginia, which was doing everything it could to delay the issue of banning exports to Britain.

‘We need to take the farmers into account! This could hurt them! We cannot rush into these decisions. These decisions hold the future of our colonies. They are too important to rush.’

All this indecision and arguments had led Thirteen to the painful situation he was in right now.

Thirteen held his head in his hands as his thoughts battled the two opinions. It made his head pound, and he gritted his teeth before removing his head from his hands and facing the ongoing debate. He knew this would happen, so He couldn’t let it affect him this badly.

But still…the conflicting opinions made his head hurt like nothing else. Thirteen hated moments like this when he could not agree with himself. He supposed it was the downside to representing many colonies instead of just one. Sometimes, he wished he had just remained Virginia, and the other colonies had their own personifications. That would have made everything easier.

“We need to delay the stoppage of British imports! Otherwise, we risk leaving our farmers in bad situations. To protect our farmers, we must do this!” Edmund Pendleton, a Virginian delegate, argued.

“We need to take action! The longer we wait, the more acts the Parliament could unfairly place on us! We need action!” Silas Deane, a Connecticut delegate, argued back.

‘But what about our farmers? We cannot help our people if we rush into things without thinking it through!’

“We need to stop arguing endlessly.” Thirteen sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Some of you say that the Continental Association won’t work unless we have demands and a plan of redress. Why don’t we do that? This debate has gotten us nowhere.” 

‘That seems like a good plan of action. This debate is just annoying at this point.’

“I agree with British America.” A Maryland delegate said.

“Thirteen Colonies. British America refers to me, my siblings, my cousin, and any other colonies my Father has on the continent.” Thirteen said, correcting him.

“Apologies, but he’s right. If we aren’t going to go anywhere with this discussion, then let’s address the other half of the issues involving the Continental Association. That way, we get something done,” the delegate said.

“Let’s hold a vote on where we should move on to creating a list of demands and plan of redress or continue the debate on whether the date for the stoppage of exports to Great Britain shall begin.” Peyton Randolph said. 

Thirteen really hoped they voted to move on. Hopefully, that would help with his headache, although he knew the Continental Congress was probably not what was causing it. That didn’t mean they made it any better.

———————————————

The Grand Committee. Created by Congress to work on coming up with a list of rights, grievances, and demands. 

Debate had stalled on other issues as Congress debated what would be included in this list. Every colony had a different option, which made this, just like everything else, be drawn out. 

It was annoying, but everyone was getting a say, which was important. If they didn’t give every colony a say, they’d be just as bad as Parliament. And Thirteen wasn’t interested in being like Parliament. They had been making progress, but one issue was causing a lot of debate.

“I know that we have been debating over who gets the right to regulate trade, but we must release a statement that clarifies Great Britain's right to regulate trade.” Joseph Galloway, from Pennsylvania, said.

“We cannot give the British explicit rights to trade!” John Adams argued back. Many other delegates agreed with John Adams, but many stubborn people still argued against them. 

‘Why not?’

‘These acts, that’s why! They have not given us a reason to trust them to control their trade!’

“I have a plan that will help us. A plan of union!” Joseph Galloway continued, ignoring John Adams. Thirteen raised an eyebrow at that.

‘Union? Between the colonies?’

“Between who?” Thirteen asked. 

“Great Britain and us.” Joseph Galloway said.

‘What?’ 

‘Is he trying to make us lose any form of government?’

‘We haven’t even heard the plan yet! We need to hear him out before we start jumping to conclusions.’

“Are you-” John Adams began before Thirteen cut him off.

“Mr. John Adams, we should at least hear him out. You cannot object to something because you think it sounds bad. Object to something that you know is bad.” Thirteen said. John Adams seemed to want to argue, but he sat down and let Galloway continue.

“My plan would have a Colonial Parliament that would work hand-in-hand with Britain's Parliament. The King would appoint delegates for a three-year term. This would ensure that we get representation and allow the Parliament to still have a say in our taxes and governance,” Joseph Galloway explained.

‘The King, or the current monarch, can still pick people who agree with him. Yes, we get representation, but we don’t get to pick the representation.’

‘It’s a good plan, though. I think it could appeal to both sides and give them what they want.’

“If the King chooses the delegates, is that representation?” Asked Robert Treat Paine, a Massachusetts delegate, sparking another debate about the plan. Thirteen prepared for his headache to worsen and then listened to the discussion.

——————————————

6-5. Galloway’s Plan of Union was defeated in a 6-5 vote. After that, the Congress decided to pause the debate on Britain's ability to regulate trade and focus on the Continental Association. 

Which resulted in more debate. Eventually, they could agree on everything involving the Continental Association before returning to the issue of who should regulate trade.

Thankfully, they reached another agreement and accepted that they would not say who they thought should regulate trade.

‘Because that definitely won’t bite us in the ass later.’

“And lastly, if our grievances are not addressed satisfactorily by next year, we will meet again and invite delegates from Quebec, Saint John's Island, Nova Scotia, Georgia, East Florida, and West Florida to join us.” Henry Middleton, the new president, said. 

‘Georgia better join us next time. If that colony is going to be represented by the Thirteen Colonies, it should join the Thirteen Colonies when the rest of them do something.’

‘Georgia had their reasons, just as all the other colonies did.’

“I will personally invite my siblings and cousin, St. John's Island, and East Florida, and hopefully, by representing Georgia alongside your colonies, they can be convinced to join us,” Thirteen said, standing up.

“I hope so as well. Convincing the British to listen would be much easier if more of British America joined us,” a delegate said, although Thirteen wasn’t sure which one.

“It would. Thank you all for doing this for my people.” Thirteen said before leaving the room. He wanted to head back to Boston, which seemed to be where everything was happening, but he decided not to. He needed to convince Georgia to join them.

Hopefully, they would.

[midnightactual]

Physical Constraints in Bleach

I've said for a while that Bleach has exactly two known and quantified physical feats in 1. Gin's Bankai speed being given as Mach 500 (chapter 400), and 2. Rukia's Shikai and Bankai achieving absolute zero (chapter 567), but it turns out there is a third in chapter 582:

For the record, per Wikipedia:

6 gigajoule is about the chemical energy of combusting 1 barrel (159 L) of petroleum. 2 GJ is about the Planck energy unit. One megawatt-hour of electricity is 3.6 gigajoules.

and

The terajoule is about 0.278 GWh (which is often used in energy tables). About 63 TJ of energy was released by Little Boy.

So, if you do some simple math, 63 TJ is 63,000 GJ, meaning Candice is using 1/12,600th the power of Little Boy on a decently serious attack. Little Boy is best estimated to 15 KT of explosive yield, meaning Candice is using a little over 1 ton of TNT, and indeed a TNT equivalent is calibrated at 4.184 GJ.

Even if we're extremely generous and assume her later Electrocution fired at Ichigo in chapter 583 is 10,000 times stronger than the Galvano Javelin cited above (100 to 1,000 is probably more accurate), she's only getting to 10 KT of yield, which is a small tactical nuke. Even very strong Bleach characters are generally using attacks with absolute powers measured at the low-end of the tactical nuclear scale.

(I have had someone on Reddit argue with me that the Bambies are "mid-Espada level" based on their combat performance in CFYOW as compared with Grimmjow and Luppi, apparently wholly ignorant of the fact that Grimmjow and Luppi are much stronger by then than in HM Arc, as Kisuke explicitly states souls power up after near-death experiences [chapter 60] and Grimmjow has had at least 2 or 3 near-death experiences and Luppi actually died. They are likely much stronger than Starrk in HM Arc was by then, given Robert Accutrone in TYBW quite casually does much better against Shunsui than Starrk did. The Bambies are not weak. Also worth noting here that Bambietta is by Kubo's own admission stronger than Candice without Blut, unclear if Vene or Arterie. In short their attacks should be taken as quite high-end here, not low-end, especially as they just finished beating down a [substantially] weakened Kenpachi with all of 3 hits in chapter 580.)

As I've said before from just visual estimation, we can maybe say that Mugetsu Ichigo and Ultrafragor Aizen were in the 1 MT to 10 MT yield range and managed to get to the level of strategic nuclear weapons, but it's worth noting the largest bomb ever tested was Tsar Bomba at around 50 MT (209 PJ), or 5,000 times stronger than our extremely generous estimate of Candice's Electrocution, and it was a 100 MT design that had been partially disabled. (Nuclear weapons can be made arbitrarily large through staging.)

Anyone wanting to put Ichigo head-to-head with Goku, Saitama, or even Naruto, is on the basis of canon figures, an idiot. The series simply does not scale that high. Even Naruto does things that are on the order of gigaton or teraton nuclear weapons if not more.

Likewise, that neither Ichigo nor Aizen could dodge Gin's Bankai, and Gin's peers and contemporaries remained relevant into TYBW, means that Bleach's speed scaling likely never breaks Mach 1,000. For the record, the powerscalers want you to believe that Cero and Negación are lasers because a translated databook called them "light" and Bala are stated to be 20 times faster than Cero, and therefore even Lieutenants are moving at 20 times light speed... which would be Mach 17,480,600. Yet nobody can dodge Gin's Mach 500 attack. Sure, that makes perfect sense.

In other words, when powerscalers try to tell you that Bleach has continental or planetary or stellar or galactic or universal or dimensional feats, and is superluminal, they're full of shit. Bleach is an extremely small and constrained setting when it comes to both power and speed.

The Cold War nuclear forces of the USA or USSR could absolutely sweep Soul Society through sheer saturation, no diff. (And that includes Yamamoto, because his 15 million degrees Celsius Zanka no Tachi, Nishi: Zanjitsu Gokui is pretty weak compared to the 100 million degrees Celsius or higher fireballs of strategic nukes. This explains why Bazz-B could literally fight fire with fire against him. Maybe Mayuri could survive through trickery if he knows enough about ablation. And yes, those nuclear forces would eventually saturate speedy Shinigami with tens of thousands of nuclear warheads, they couldn't cut them all down, especially as they wouldn't perceive many of them coming from both the speed of reentry vehicles and the lack of reiatsu or reishi. And yes this does also mean that human nuclear weapons development should've concerned Shinigami greatly, even beyond the possibility of megadeath and gigadeath overwhelming the reincarnation cycle. And yes you can probably make the equivalent of a Naquadah-enhanced nuke from Stargate SG-1 using reishi or reiatsu to improve fission and fusion yields or just straight-up make the equivalent of an antimatter-catalyzed fusion bomb. Humans post-Trinity should be treated as being spooky if their governments learn about souls. Yes, this should have been considered the main reason to stop Yhwach and Tokinada's plans, as if the realms were merged, even the US of 2003/2004 would indisputably have military power over the Gotei 13.)

[mariacallous]

So much on this planet depends on a simple matter of density. In the Atlantic Ocean, a conveyor belt of warm water heads north from the tropics, reaching the Arctic and chilling. That makes it denser, so it sinks and heads back south, finishing the loop. This system of currents, known as the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation, or AMOC, moves 15 million cubic meters of water per second.

In recent years, researchers have suggested that because of climate change, the AMOC current system could be slowing down and may eventually collapse. A paper published yesterday in the journal Nature Communications warns that the collapse of the AMOC isn’t just possible, but imminent. By this team’s calculations, the circulation could shut down as early as 2025, and no later than 2095. 

That’s a tipping point that would come much sooner than anyone thought. “We got scared by our own results,” says Susanne Ditlevsen, a statistician at the University of Copenhagen and coauthor of the new paper. “We checked and checked and checked and checked, and I do believe that they're right. Of course, we might be wrong, and I hope we are.” But there’s vigorous debate in the scientific community over just how quickly the AMOC might decline, and how best to even figure that out.

It’s abundantly clear to researchers that the Arctic is warming up to four and a half times faster than the rest of the planet. Arctic ice is melting at a pace of about 150 billion metric tons per year, says Marlos Goes, an oceanographer from the University of Miami and NOAA's Atlantic Oceanographic and Meteorological Laboratory who was not involved with the new paper. Greenland’s ice sheet is also rapidly declining, injecting more freshwater into the sea. That deluge of freshwater is less dense than saltwater, meaning less water sinks and less power goes into the AMOC conveyor belt. 

The consequences would be brutal and global. Without these warm waters, weather in Europe would get significantly colder—more like that of similar latitudes in Canada and the northern United States. “In model simulations, the collapse of the AMOC cools the North Atlantic and warms the South Atlantic, which may result in drastic precipitation changes throughout the world,” Goes says. “There would be changes in storm patterns over the continental areas, affecting the monsoon systems. Therefore, a future AMOC shutdown could bring massive migration, impacting ecological and agricultural production, and fish population displacement.” 

Ditlevsen did her team’s calculation by using measurements of Atlantic sea surface temperatures as a proxy for the AMOC. These readings go all the way back to the 1870s, thanks to measurements taken by ship crews. This meant researchers could compare temperatures before and after the start of the wide-scale burning of fossil fuels and the ensuing changes to the climate. 

Because the AMOC system involves warm water heading north from the tropics, if the circulation is slowing down, you’d expect to find cooler temperatures in the North Atlantic over time. And indeed, that’s what Ditlevsen’s group found, once they compensated for the overall warming of the world’s oceans due to climate change. “When it is established that the sea surface temperature record is the fingerprint of the AMOC, we can calculate the early warning signals of the forthcoming collapse and extrapolate to the tipping point,” says University of Copenhagen climate scientist Peter Ditlevsen, coauthor of the new paper. (The Ditlevsens are siblings.)

The result echoes previous studies finding early warning signals in the circulation, says Stefan Rahmstorf, who studies the AMOC current system at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. “As always in science, a single study provides limited evidence, but when multiple approaches lead to similar conclusions, this must be taken very seriously, especially when we're talking about a risk that we really want to rule out with 99.9 percent certainty,” says Rahmstorf. “The scientific evidence now is that we can't even rule out crossing a tipping point already in the next decade or two.”

Still, scientists don’t agree about whether sea surface temperature (SST) is a good indicator of the health of this massively consequential circulation. “Fundamentally, I am deeply skeptical that SST is actually a proxy of AMOC,” says climate scientist Hali Kilbourne, who studies the current system at the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science. “But there's certainly a school of thought of people who think it's the best thing going—and it may be the best thing going right now. I don't think we have a good alternative, which is why people are using it."

“I really question whether [SST] is an adequate proxy for AMOC itself,” agrees Kevin Trenberth, a climate scientist at the National Center for Atmospheric Research. “But the trouble is there aren't really adequate measurements.”

The core of the issue is that sea surface temperatures are just one component of the AMOC system; other factors also help determine Atlantic temperatures. Warm waters flowing north have an effect, but so does the atmosphere touching the water. “There's a lot of what we call air-sea interactions—the heat exchange between the atmosphere and the ocean,” Kilbourne says. “And that's not at all related to ocean circulation.” 

“This SST fingerprint, although sensitive to the AMOC, is not solely driven by it, so these changes may be overestimated,” agrees Goes, the oceanographer from the University of Miami and NOAA. “Current climate models do not give a strong probability of the collapse of the AMOC this century.”

The beauty of the SST dataset is that it stretches back 150 years, so scientists can see longer-term trends in temperatures. However, those early shipboard measurements were made by people hauling buckets of water aboard and sticking a thermometer in—not exactly the precision that modern science demands. “It is not ideal, but it’s the best we can do,” says Peter Ditlevsen, “since we need measurements to go back to the pre-industrial era to assess the natural state of the AMOC, before it began slowing down toward the collapse.” 

Satellite measurements of SST began in the late 1970s, providing much better coverage across oceans. And it wasn’t until 20 years ago that scientists deployed a dedicated AMOC sensor array, known as RAPID, which also measures current velocities and salinity—another factor that influences the density of water. By comparing this modern data to the historical SST data, Peter Ditlevsen says, they can compensate for the influence of the atmosphere on the sea surface, isolating the signal of the AMOC system.

When the RAPID array went online, the assumption was that it’d take 40 years to get an idea of whether the current system was in decline. “It's just hard to tease apart, because we really don't know what the intrinsic timescales of AMOC are,” says Nicholas Foukal, an assistant scientist at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, who wasn’t involved in the new paper. “We haven't had an AMOC collapse in the past 20 years, so it’s like trying to predict a hurricane—having never seen a hurricane.” 

Since RAPID started operating, scientists have seen a good amount of variability. “We've been directly measuring AMOC since 2004, and we don't have any evidence of long-term decline,” says Foukal. “The first six years, there was a very strong decline. And people jumped on that, saying that it's declining, and we have observational evidence of it. But since then, it has recovered.” 

Scientists also use models to simulate how the current system might change as the climate does. Compared to the studies indicating a slowdown and eventual collapse of the circulation, models indicate more stability, says Oluwayemi Garuba, a climate scientist who studies ocean-atmosphere interactions at the Pacific Northwest National Laboratory. “Observations are showing more statistically significant early-warning signals of a collapse of the AMOC, whereas most models are not showing that,” says Garuba. “So, it could be that the overturning circulation in models is just more stable than in observation, as earlier studies have suggested.”

Going forward, Greenland will be a major wildcard. Last week, scientists reported how they used ice cores from an abandoned military base to determine that around 400,000 years ago, northwest Greenland was ice-free. Back then, temperatures were about the same as they are today, yet atmospheric carbon dioxide concentrations were far lower. That raises the alarm that the decline of Greenland’s ice sheet could accelerate. If it does, the melt would load the north Atlantic with astonishing amounts of freshwater, fast-tracking the decline of the AMOC and adding many feet to sea levels.

It’s complexity and uncertainty all the way down. “The fact that, with continued warming, AMOC will slow down is a very robust result. The uncertainty—and where science still needs to figure things out—is when,” Kilbourne. “But I kind of think that by the time we figure out when, it'll already have happened.”

[maribyrne]

* — meet mari.

— * KENNEDY MCMANN. MARIANNE "MARI" BYRNE. CIS WOMAN. SHE/HER. TWENTY-SEVEN. AUTHOR.

(parental death tw, abandonment tw)

QUICK FACTS

born in bar harbor, maine. moved to lincoln city at age 13.

was a cheerleader and a writer for the school newspaper in high school. was also there on scholarship.

has two older brothers and one younger brother, was raised almost entirely by her father due to her mother's abandonment.

mari's a published author - she secured a publishing deal for her dark academia novel while still in undergrad (were there some similarities between events in her book and things that happened at st. mary's? maybe so!).

that money instead went towards her father's debts and keeping her life on track after her father was killed in a drunk driving accident.

back in town because of that (as of august) - her younger brother is a senior at "New Horizons", so she's serving as his guardian while he finishes the year.

Very Not Good at making friends.

dry humor. sarcasm. judgment.

STATISTICS

full name: marianne bridget byrne

nickname: mari (mar-ee)

age: twenty-seven

date of birth: december 30

zodiac: capricorn

place of birth: bar harbor, maine

gender identity: cis woman

pronouns: she/her

sexual orientation: demisexual

family.

father: tom byrne (deceased)

mother: caroline byrne nee matthews

brothers: liam byrne (30), noah byrne (29), connor byrne (18)

no extended family

additional details.

relationship status: single

education: bachelor’s in english with a specialization in creative writing and a double minor in psychology and education from bowdoin

languages: english, basic latin

physical appearance.

height: 5’8”

hair color: red (natural)

eye color: blue

HEADCANONS

mari doesn’t drink. she also doesn't let anyone else drive her around.

she doesn’t do phone calls, if she can avoid them. she’s precise with her words and gives them thought, therefore preferring text messages.

this may or may not (it does) also stem from three strikes of bad news phone calls.

though generally closed off and elusive, mari is determined to have some sort of a presence in town and she would ideally like to make/reconnect with a few friends.

when she’s had friends in the past, she’s sort of been seen as the ‘dad friend’ - a little emotionally distant, but she’s got the spirit.

her father was a pediatrician, but marianne has zero interest in anything medical. her eldest brother is currently in med school and the second-eldest is doing something medical-adjacent, but on this one thing the apple fell far from the tree.

her favorite color is green.

her favorite drink is coffee that’s a solid 60% milk and sugar. she can be found publicly ordering such a drink multiple times throughout the week.

FULL BIOGRAPHY

marianne byrne did not grow up in lincoln city, or even oregon. in fact, she grew up almost as far away as you can get in the continental united states - in bar harbor, maine. the daughter of a pediatrician and a stay-at-home mom who, as it turned out, had no intention of sticking around, marianne was nine when her mother took off. she probably should have been psychologically traumatized by it, but marianne bounced back quickly. she’d had a father who loved her, two older brothers who were ridiculously overprotective, and a younger brother who she vowed to always look out for. and after just a few months she was perfectly content.

however, the summer between eighth grade and mari’s first year of high school, the byrne family packed up and moved to lincoln city, the cost of living in the town and a retiring medical professional being enough to convince mr. byrne that his kids were better suited for a west coast upbringing. mari’s brothers were easily able to integrate themselves into the culture their new fancy school - handsome, sporty, and varying levels of smart (the third time was the charm for that, it would seem). marianne, on the other hand, took her time settling in.

the men in her family may have been convinced that the move was the right call, but mari not so much. she had loved her life in bar harbor and she was heartbroken to have to leave her friends. she’d been at the top of the ladder when it came to the middle school popularity hierarchy, and she had been right about to coast into a coveted spot on the cheer squad at her high school. had she stayed, it was almost guaranteed that she would have secured the american dream of high school experiences - the kind the movies are full of. prom queen? super hot football captain boyfriend? admission to yale? all was lost upon their escape from town.

and, y’know, maybe she thought that someday her mom would return. how would she know where to find them if they weren’t still right where she’d left them?

marianne took her time settling in, not intending to stay past when it was absolutely necessary. she floated from group to group, purposefully remaining elusive but working to stay well liked enough that occasional visits to town wouldn’t be awkward in the future. she was a cheerleader who didn’t hang out with cheerleaders, a smart kid who avoided academic decathlon or any voluntary honor societies. she didn’t go to dances, refused to attend town events, and only did the bare minimum when it came to school spirit, but her grades remained good enough to maintain her academic scholarship. and she may not have hung out with people much, but she understood them. she knew when to step back before she got too involved or made any permanent ties. she was not going to have a reason to come back. on that front, lincoln city, oregon would not break her.

except, in the end, it sort of did.

upon graduation, mari went off to college in maine to study as an undeclared major, quickly discovering a long-buried love of fiction writing. she took the risk of concentrating in creative writing, double minoring in education and psychology for a safety net. by that point in her life, her personality was set and she didn’t have many friends, but it is what it is. by the end of her sophomore year she’d finished her first novel, a dark academia piece set at an elite private college in maine. a chance encounter with a literary agent at a book festival had her work submitted months later, and within a year the book was on shelves throughout the us.

with the money from her advance, the world was truly her oyster. she moved to new york, tried out the whole writing full-time thing, quickly realized how difficult that could be and pivoted to nannying so she wouldn't have to dip into her emergency fund. but the words were still flowing. as per her contract, in which quite a bit of money is tied up, a follow-up to her debut novel was imminent.

but one cannot control external events.

just weeks prior to the start of her younger brother's senior year, mari was called back to lincoln city to say goodbye to her father, the victim of a drunk driving accident.

the words had not come since.

to add insult to injury, mari’s two eldest brothers have now abandoned her for their own chaotic lives, insisting that since she has the least location-dependent profession, she needs to remain in lincoln city to look after their youngest sibling until his high school graduation. when tragedy struck, there had never been any doubt about where her true priorities were. could her brothers say the same?

she doesn’t love that she’s back in lincoln city, and she feels suffocated every time she runs into someone she knew when she was in school, but she’s managing. it’s been months since her arrival and she refuses to socialize any more than necessary. the lingering pitying looks are still more than she can bear, and she hadn’t exactly kept in touch with anyone when she’d left town for college.

but returning has been good for something…

after all, suburban gothic is a popular horror genre. and in a place as apple-pie-friday-night-lights as lincoln city, inspiration abounds. she may be trying to force words out while maintaining upkeep of her (inherited) home as she attempts to be a parent to a teen who wants anything but that, but maybe this is a good thing. because she has to write this book. she truly has no choice, much of her income from her first having gone to funeral expenses and paying off debts. this book either gets published or she is in some deep shit.

with time running out until her brother is off to college and she’s free to try and pick up the pieces of her own life, marianne is doing her best to keep the plates spinning in a life that’s been absolutely turned upside down in the last year. to the outside eye, nothing seems wrong – mari has made sure of that. but no matter how hard she tries, it feels like she’s one parenting or career mistake away from the delicately built house of cards that is her mental health and sanity coming crashing down, and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do when it does.

but no one else needs to know all of that. so of course she signed up to speak at her alma mater for their ten year reunion, determined to prove to everyone that she's successful and a-okay in the hopes that she'll be left alone.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

pls feel free to message me via dms for plotting! also happy to exchange discord usernames.

book inspiration. it's no surprise that she does a fair amount of peoplewatching, focusing intently on a person or two. would they notice?

source of secrets. mari is very observant and at some point bound to stumble across a secret. sometimes, secrets DO make friends. and sometimes... they end up in a published novel a few years later, attributed to someone who looks and sounds nothing like you with a legal disclaimer that it's just a coincidence.

eventual confidant. a little tricky to assign immediately, but if they talk and mari finds herself opening up a little, this could be one direction for a connection.

reader. have they read her book? did they hate it? i personally think it would be very fun and cool if someone thought her book was absolutely awful.

major annoyance. sometimes opposites attract and sometimes opposites are opposites for a reason. this would be one of those times.

absolute loathing. concerningly easy to acquire this status but to sum it up, the vibes between the two could not be more off.

*childhood friends. one of the only people mari has ever spoken to about her mom/her abandonment, they would've been incredibly close back in high school. they could've been the one to get mari to socialize or they could've spent most of their time just hanging alone. either way, at some point one of them left the other and they failed to keep in touch. it's not a great relationship now. how are you supposed to talk to someone who used to mean so much to you but is now a stranger?

close friend. this is the vibe. they just get each other. they may have been friends back in high school or their friendship may have developed quickly since mari's return to town.

*ex. an exception to her "don't make permanent ties" rule back in high school. they would've been together for no more than a year, and they would've been friends first. knowing that it couldn't go anywhere, there would've been a strict timeline on the relationship. upon graduation mari would've been the one to end things. were they in love? maybe not. but were they important to each other? absolutely.

family friends. if they knew her brothers, who are 30 and 29 and were pretty popular back in high school, then mari is likely a loose acquaintance. alternatively, maybe her dad was friends with their parent(s) and they were encouraged to be friends due to that.

TAKEN CONNECTIONS

cherry amin. disliked by (because of the book).

chris wilder. it's complicated/ghost. they were friendly, in that mari understood why he was the shining star of the paper and she enjoyed talking to someone equally as passionate about literature, but there was some resentment there too. rivals but not quite. friends but not quite. his disappearance (death?) has haunted her, and not just because it made being the new star writer a little meaningless back in high school. he's popped up in her writing since, though always with a different description and a different ending. she was at the party.

helena carvalho. disliked by (because of the book).

iris argylle. like and dislike. back in high school iris was the head of the paper. the paper that always put mari in second place. mari definitely wasn't her biggest fan back then, but things shifted after chris's disappearance. they parted on okay terms and things are fine now. it would feel kind of wrong to hold a grudge about it?

kai wilder. one night stand (but no sex, just emotions). they ran into each other at a bar in maine shortly after mari sold her book to her publisher. one thing led to another and they ended up confiding in each other, sharing things they'd never told anyone else. they both remember that night with alarming clarity. mari doesn't know that kai has since read her book and was hurt by the depiction of the character loosely based on him. however, she's felt bad about writing it from the moment she laid eyes on him in that bar.

malcolm wright. ex. an exception to her "don't make permanent ties" rule back in high school, malcolm was really important to her. did it progress to love? maybe not. but there was a genuine fondness there that's lasted to this day. even after graduation they kept in touch here and there. it's nice to see him again.

michael geary. former friend. mari actually really appreciated michael's friendship... right up until he said he loved her and asked her to run away with him at graduation. she didn't think he was serious. apparently he was serious enough to stop talking to her after she said no.

nick lehoy. major annoyance. details pending.

river calloway. future partner in crime.

sanem kemal. person of interest. like, quite literally, mari is interested in sanem and her terrible tragedy. and sanem would actually be happy to have a book written about her. so it works out.

zahra burch. friendly face. mari mostly knows zahra through her mom's coffee shop.

zeppelin cardoso. friendly. he was over at her house regularly in high school, given that her older brothers were both on the soccer team. her walls were down at home. they got to talking. the rest is history... minus the several years where she went away. they were never all that close, but running into him again... well, he's easy to talk to. even if it's only about surface level stuff, like how to best support her younger brother who is now on the very same soccer team that brought them together.

[maenage-a]

THE HOTEL

introduction: continental hotels are structures found all over the globe, usually in main and highly populated cities. despite not looking any different from any other luxury chain hotel, it serves as a focal point for every high end criminal and elite hitman crossing the city and it offers a wide range of services from weapons and work appropriate wear (tailored and modified on client specifications) to food and lodging for however many days needed.

the new york city's continental hotel was first established in 1904. situated in lower manhattan’s financial district, the building stands fifteen stories tall and it displays a neo-renaissance architecture style.

you know the rules. no business can be conducted on this premises, lest incurring heavy penalties

generally speaking, there are two vital rules to keep in mind when stepping inside any continental: no blood is to be spilled on company grounds and all guests are forbidden from going after their contracts or seeking information relevant to them inside the hotel

the sentence for anyone who kills inside the continental hotel is being considered excommunicado. all services are barred and entrance is no longer permitted, with (usually) immediate effect

all services must be paid with specific coins issued by the continental itself,  although payment through regular means is allowed for outsiders

people who are not making use of the hotel's services can be allowed sanctuary. this is strictly subject to the manager's discretion and authority

continentals   (and their managers)   are subjected to the high table's authority.  if there is a violation of the rules,  or any anomaly is perceived,  an abjudicator is sent to regulate matters.  they can declare a continental deconsacrated,  effectively shutting it down,  or issue a state of interregnum,  meaning business is temporarily halted   (usually due to a change in management).

THE STAFF

manager.   winston scott has been the manager of the continental hotel of new york for nearly forty years,  uncontested and widely respected.  there is very little that goes on in the city he doesn’t know about.  he can usually be found on company grounds,  whether in the lounge or up above in his penthouse

concierge.   a continental hotel concierge is not simply a desk clerk.  their authority is second only to the manager's and they can implement house rules if they see fit   (although this could not be true for every continental),  with authorization

assistant-concierge.   a specific staff member among those qualified that has received or is receiving special training in order to fully take on the role

other staff.   a continental,  like any other hotel,  needs many people to function properly,  such as kitchen staff,  cleaners,  bartenders,  guardians and so on

affiliated.  those that,  while not officially among the hotel's staff,  might offer their services,  such as:  bank clerks,  tailors,  doctors,  bodyguards and drivers.

+ blog relevant specifications

winston abides by the rules, generally speaking. but he is not unwilling to bend and twist them a little when he needs to. however, he is not in the business of doing favors for people with no reason. if he has a solid enough relationship with your muse and convincing motive, then he might meet them halfway (this mostly pertains to him providing information, which is easy enough for him to do without raising suspiction)

i go by the assumption that new york isn't the only continental in the united states,  because that would simply be impractical.  there should be at least one,  if not more,  for each main area. 

[little-qngels]

Maybe?

There’s evidence that humans have been baking bread in some form for about 30,000 years, but sliced bread has only been around since the early 20th century. The first automatically sliced commercial loaves were produced on July 6, 1928, in Chillicothe, Missouri, using the machine invented by Otto Rohwedder, an Iowa-born, Missouri-based jeweler.

Rohwedder’s quest to make sliced bread a reality was not without its challenges. A 1917 fire destroyed his prototype and blueprints, and he also faced skepticism from bakers, who thought factory-sliced loaves would quickly go stale or fall apart. Nevertheless, in 1928, Rohwedder’s rebuilt “power-driven, multi-bladed” bread slicer was put into service at his friend Frank Bench’s Chillicothe Baking Company.

Rohwedder’s newfangled contraption was greeted with an enthusiastic report in the July 6, 1928, edition of the Chillicothe Constitution-Tribune. The publication noted that while some people might find sliced bread “startling,” the typical housewife could expect “a thrill of pleasure when she first sees a loaf of this bread with each slice the exact counterpart of its fellows. So neat and precise are the slices, and so definitely better than anyone could possibly slice by hand with a bread knife that one realizes instantly that here is a refinement that will receive a hearty and permanent welcome.”

The article also recounted that “considerable research” had gone into determining the right thickness for each slice: slightly less than half an inch.

Sliced bread didn’t take long to become a hit around the United States, even as some bakers contended it was just a fad, and by 1930 it could be found in most towns across the country. By that point, the majority of Americans were eating commercially made bread—compared with just decades earlier, when most of the supply was still homemade. The factory-produced loaves were designed to be softer than those prepared at home or at small, local bakeries because the bread-buying public had come to equate “squeezable softness” with freshness, writes food historian Aaron Bobrow-Strain in his book White Bread. The timing, therefore, was right for an automatic slicing machine because, as Bobrow-Strain says, these softer, “modern loaves had become almost impossible to slice neatly at home.”

One of the first major brands to distribute sliced bread was Wonder, starting in 1930. Wonder Bread originally appeared in stores in 1921 in Indianapolis, where it was manufactured by the Taggart Baking Company. An executive there dreamed up the bread’s name after being filled with wonder while watching the International Balloon Race at the Indianapolis Speedway. After the Continental Baking Company bought Taggart in 1925, Wonder was sold nationally; the bread’s popularity soared once it was marketed in sliced form.

During World War II, factory-sliced bread, including Wonder, was briefly banned by the U.S. government in an effort to conserve resources, such as the paper used to wrap each loaf to help maintain freshness. In 2012, Wonder Bread disappeared completely from store shelves after its then-owner, Hostess Brands (which also made Twinkies and Ding Dongs, among other famous snacks), declared bankruptcy. The following year, another company stepped in and re-launched the iconic brand.