#what the fuck gravy boy

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I’m generally a good cook but I’ve never made a hamburger before and uhh I just ate the worse hamburger patty I’ve had in my life I really beefed it

#it was too thick and too dry and just bleh #I think I had too lean of ground beef and I did add seasonings which was fine (I was having it in loco moco so the gravy would add flavor) #and retrospectively I did not smash it flat enough #and I think I cooked it on too low of a temperature so it got dried out and thickened #idk but boy howdy I haven’t fucked up cooking like this in a while #but other parts seem undercooked and like it’s beef so that’s not incredibly alarming #and I fried it in butter bc that’s what my mom recommended

[gravybath]

Getting call from the auto shop about whats wrong w/ my truck and how much its gonna cost asking me if thats okay. As if. I can go pick it up and drive it somewhere else when it aint fuckin startin. Just fuckin fix’r up and if u overcharge me im just gonna burn the shop down and put my foot up ur ass boys

#gravy talks #theyre like oh this other stuff too and im like thats nice boys i dont fucking care about that shit thats just quality of life shit #fix whats keeping it from starting and i will fix the rest myself got it #i cast spell of mechanics stop treating me like im stupid challenge #my dads like itll probably cost this much and im like oh shes already double that peepaw 🙃

[suguru-getos]

| Bully!Satoru Gojo x F!reader | Part 3 |

Part I, II

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After taking an off from school, you are back & Satoru is hovering around you like a looming threat. Suguru is there to defend you this time, but with your rage spiralling, you couldn’t help but ruin the two weeks of you being amicable.

Warnings: Bully!Mean!Satoru ofc, but hey he’s a pookie at heart & he’s contemplating whether to stop!! ✋ Reader-chan snapped in this chapter, soft Sugu<3

Comment down below if you want to be tagged ^^ New chapter comes out every week!

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot @whydohumansss @nyahctrl @a-trashbag @yoontaedotin @tojisworm-5 @mo0nforme @luciledreamz @camilo-uwu @sassyfoxunknown @bitchyinternetinfluencer @bakananya @mizzowizzo @k1y0yo @bl0odycutz @daidaiseam-blog @flirtyjen @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @jihyuniepark @stupiditystaar @lu-lynds @aymasakusa @creative1writings @roscpctals99 @eravariety @nanananananaiknow @b4tm4nn @milkm4nz @millimacis @bubera974 @ranhanabi777 @bleachisfood @thealphagirl @pinkprincessglitterzombie @tojisslxtt @chilichopsticks @deegausserr @tremendousdinosaurpizza @shittyhair234

Satoru feels upset and sick to his stomach, as someone who can be often used to people grovelling for him, being scared of him, and just respecting him as the honored one. You weren’t doing any of those and yet, you were suffering all the same. Any other girl would have chosen the easy way out, what does it need really? Apologize? Cry a little? Why aren’t you doing that?

All he could see was you going back home, the summer sun not being kind to you as you drag your feet back, after carrying his school bag for him. Suguru isn’t talking to him either. He simply said he doesn’t like to associate with feminine men who want to proclaim their ego more than their humanity. Boy that fucking stung & Satoru told Suguru to piss off before he’s beaten to a pulp. It’s not how Satoru was treating you which was a problem for him, he never hoped it would drag so much. All his blinding rage of the moment is fading off easy. He couldn’t drag this for a month for the life of him.

People love hanging out with Satoru also, despite whatever worshipping there is — he still has friends. This is surely one of the reasons they lurk around despite his intrinsic, domineering brattitude. He rolled his eyes upon realizing that he’s been standing there watching you walk away & scoffs, going inside.

Your shoulders hurt but you know his and your home is too far. You decide to use whatever pocket money you have to book a cab and leave home. Once you’ve reached, of course there are questions. Questions from your mum who’s calls you ignored. “Where were you? Why are you coming home from a fucking cab?” She snarled, raising a brow at your tired features. Your parents are normal, not too supportive not too toxic. However, normalcy when you’re imposed with external toxicity sounds toxic. Or maybe they just were… toxic. How would you decide either way? It’s not like you’ve taken trial periods of new parents to come to a decision.

“Sorry; head hurts. I’ll be in my room.” You dragged yourself across the expensive marble flooring of your home. You weren’t poor, per se… you just weren’t made privileged either.

Once you reached home, you sighed, back laid across the mattress and staring out into space. The sight of you drenched in cold water, the way your shoulders have red markings of the bag straps, all because you threw some gravy over the fucking bastard! You grit your teeth, jaw clenching. Fuck you hate him.

You hate that you’re crying again, tears and frustration bubbling in your eyes as you sniffled. Leaning your forehead against the mattress and curling up. You want to kick his ass so bad. If only this parental thing wasn’t involved…

The next day you’re not in school, your period had been unbearably shitty & so was your mental health along with migraines. The next day either, and not even the day after. Satoru is getting restless every day, walking to your class and seeing your seat vacant, walking away. Why the fuck does he not have your number? Why the fuck does it even matter… did he make you leave the school? Nah- why would you leave the school it wasn’t that bad right?

It was Friday again, four days of you not being here… you really thought maybe he would count this in the month? It’s almost two weeks over! Then again, Satoru Gojo would just push it for another four days of you serving him because you were absent. When you enter the school premises, you take a long breath, alright. No biggie, he’s just an annoying bully with Daddy’s money in his pockets.

The moment you enter, you find him lurching towards you, a beaming smile with black glasses. He looks so beautiful if he wasn’t so fucking shitty. You looked up at him and before he could say anything, “I was sick, even in companies and where you work, people are allowed to be sick. You can’t really extend the number of days because I was sick. That’s h-how it normally happens.” You mustered, defensive in your stance.

Oh… wow. He was just here to say hello, ask where you were and that if he had been too annoying that you decided not to come to school. Satoru was going to be nicer. Again, broken a little because you think so shitty of him. Not that he cares… he doesn’t… he— doesn’t…. Does he?

“Yeah, yeah I get you; damn do I scare you that much?” He chuckled, hands in his pockets. You knew you couldn’t say any of the twenty ass biting replies that you had logged at the back of your tongue. “Yeah, you’re my highschool nightmare, Gojo san.” You hummed, walking away.

He’s shamelessly following you, holding your wrist. “Didn’t say I was finished, did I?” His playfulness is gone, replaced by something carnal, icy again. You only manage to shake your head no. “Four days at home got you forgetting how to act right, hm?”

Satoru leaned down, making eye contact with you. You glanced at him back, pouting helplessly and shaking your head no. “Just- didn’t think you need me.”

He didn’t really plan on it, he just wanted to have a conversation! Why were you sick? His stomach was turning upside down at the thought of you handling Japan’s heat at 3 PM that Monday. He could’ve asked if you wanted some water… fuck this. He made this bet to make you suffer & you were suffering. What’s the problem really?

The problem was he wasn’t an asshole he pretended to be… and he didn’t think this would drag so long. Haven’t you seen other girls? They fawn over him endlessly, buzzing around him & always eager to have a speck of his attention. This is what makes him pissed off, again.

“You think a lot for someone who’s as dumb as you.” He chuckled, jabbing at your self respect once more like it’s free reign. “Sorry, tell me what is it you need from me?” You just ignore everything he says and focus on one goal. For this hellish month to end so you are free from Satoru Gojo’s clutches. Though with the way he talks to you, it does seem like you could handle your mother taunting you for months about how stupid you are after giving him the money. At least… she’s blood.

“Hey” the next voice that echoed was Suguru. He was the best friend who was around him of course. You remember his gaze, it wasn’t pity towards you when Satoru practically bore you naked in the cafeteria by spilling water over your white shirt. It was rage, subjected for Satoru & Satoru alone.

Satoru raised his brow, “Don’t interfere where you’re not needed, Suguru.” He snapped, while the latter only smiled in an annoyingly calm manner. “Wasn’t talking to you.” He simply answered your bully, looking at you. “Welcome back, I thought you had left the school.” He smiled, giving you the same popsickle that Satoru had you fetch.

You didn’t take it from him, why is he so hell bent on making things worse for you? Though his act of kindness doesn’t go unnoticed. It was like rain on lava. Bubbling emotions rushing down as you couldn’t help but blink furiously to evade the tears you find coming. “N- no, I’m uh… okay. I was just sick.” You managed, gnawing at your lip and wanting the world to swallow you whole. People on their way to classes were already seeing you between the two hot-shots of the school.

“So you can cry huh?” Satoru laughed, almost in disbelief. This is what he wanted didn’t he? Anything said by Suguru which made you emotional had you snap back instantly. “Do you need anything from me or can I go to class?” You say with such hatred it’s truly shocking.

“Yeah, write one thousand times that you will not leave my side until I’m not finished talking.” Satoru says simply, oh he’s pulling off Suguru’s rage on you now.

“You don’t have to do shit- it’s-” before Suguru could say anything else, you nodded. “Mkay. Can I go to class now?”

Satoru gnawed at his lip, he didn’t want today to be like this. He really thought he could make some progress. “Yeah, handwriting can’t be shitty or you rewrite.” He pushed your boundaries once more, hoping to earn a reaction out of you yet again.

“Understood.” You nodded, walking away. Just two more weeks… just, two more weeks.

During the lunch time, you go to him naturally. “Heh, shouldn’t she sit on the floor?” One of his classmates smirked when you walked to him. Oh?

“Shouldn’t you lay down on the floor?” You asked him, before launching a kick right at his face, knocking him unconscious as he dropped down. Wow… everyone was stunned, including Gojo Satoru. Another reminder that he only has you on a leash because he played dirty, another reminder that you are different.

He snickered, of course he wouldn’t chide you for kicking some random asshole’s ass? He would’ve done the same. How he treats you is his problem. Though, you’re pissed, “This is what I didn’t want.” You looked at him, gritting your teeth. “You treating me like shit gives other people the right to treat me like shit.”

You were… wrong. This wouldn’t end after a month? What were you even thinking? There would be other people who would rise up after him to bother you. “I’ll get you the fucking money to shove far up your pathetic ass.” Here you go, losing it again…

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo angst #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk imagines #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #jjk drabble #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader drabble #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst

[princessbrunette]

outlaw!john b on the run and when you go to check on the cows one morning you see him sleeping tucked in the hay 🥺 ur so scared bc youve seen his wanted posters but hes just so handsome

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱꒱

especially if you’ve been kept locked away and sheltered by your parents your whole life — praying each night to be delivered a man who will make you feel good the way you so desperately need— only to have your prayers answered that morning, the tall tanned boy sprawled out in the hay :(

him awaking with a start to see you crouching right down next to him, staring at him with big googly eyes, enamoured by him.

he tries to scramble away, thinking you’re about to have the sheriff busting the barn doors down to catch him any minute but you just grasp him with doe eyes telling him “please, stay.”

you tell him your parents have gone out of town for a few weeks, leaving you to tend to the farm and that he can stay with you if he likes, hide from whatever bad person he needs to hide from. he knows it’s a bad idea but he agrees anyway, letting you patch up any of his wounds and give him a nice big comfy bed to sleep in (coincidentally it also belongs to you… funny.)

you wake him up from his nap having cooked a big old dinner for him, bringing him to the table n sitting right on his knee for a lil bit which catches him off guard but you’re just having so much fun playing husband and wife and you’ve never been able to have male company round before !!

then you sit opposite at the table n watch him devour your cooking, like — he’s ramming it into his mouth, starving — juices n gravy and what not dripping from his mouth and you’re just watching him wistfully leaning your chin in your hand……

“i’m not the kinda guy you wanna marry, trust me.”

“why not?”

“m’not exactly stellar in the eyes of the law sweetheart, don’t think your parents would appreciate me sniffing around you.”

“i can deal with them… everyone messes up sometimes, i’m sure they’d understand.”

he lets you live with that delusion…. but when he sees you humming to yourself doing the dishes after dinner he can’t help but long for that life too :( before you know it he’s behind you at the sink being sooo gentle, kissing on your neck n bringing your hips against his crotch saying “if you’d like, ‘can teach you what else married couples are meant t’do…”

n you’re just soooo wet, unbelievably so bc you’ve never felt the touch of a man :( guide him to your pretty girly farmhouse bedroom and let this outlaw brute fuck u so good on ur frilly sheets as a thank u for taking him in :(

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱꒱

#outlaw!johnb #cowboy!johnb #anon

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

On a recent rewatch of s2e3, I noticed how interesting it is to spot clues something's up with the gravy basket before Ed does! The entire episode really rewards a rewatch or ten but I think this part is especially neat. For the purposes of organizing my thoughts, here's what I've noticed so far that contribute to a feeling of "something is definitely off here:"

It is so blue. Blue like water, maybe? Especially when you're expecting and noticing it, it's striking just how blue all the gravy basket scenes look. The blue doesn't let up, either - in fact, I almost think the blue filter gets heavier once Ed realizes what's going on.

Hornigold is always bringing up stuff that's just a little too relevant to Ed's situation - for example, when he's trying to get Ed to eat some soup and Ed resists on the grounds of Hornigold's past behavior, Hornigold says that "I was in a bad place back then, last time I was too much on the rhino horn." I don't think it's a coincidence Ed's also been doing so much rhino horn other characters have been commenting on it.

Part of this is surely just for the sake of adding levity, but you know how no one responds quite right to stuff in dreams? It's like how in the opening scene with Stede's dream, dream-Ed's dialogue is just off enough to notice. The way Hornigold talks to Ed reminds me of that - he's hitting enough rational responses that it makes sense and you don't notice right away, but something's definitely weird. For example, he says "I can see you're agitated" when Ed is, like, thrashing and hyperventilating and visibly terrified of his soup. "Agitated" is such a mild word to use that it almost seems inaccurate.

Hornigold flips topics to things that are probably weighing pretty heavily on Ed's mind in a way that really stands out when you watch for it. When Ed tells him about his mutiny, Hornigold seems very disinterested and then suddenly pivots to ask him "are you worried you're insane?" Ed immediately replies "yeah, a little bit," letting us know this isn't the first time he's had that thought. And immediately after that, no buildup or segue or anything, Hornigold launches right into the "I once fed a cabin boy a live crab" thing, which is probably drifting to the front of Ed's mind considering he's thinking about Hornigold and that was such a traumatic event for him. The conversation is clearly following Ed's thoughts, not Hornigold's.

We know Hornigold is Ed and we know Ed hates himself, and Hornigold is so fucking mean to Ed, even when he's seemingly trying to take care of him, like with feeding him soup. He force-feeds him and talks down to him constantly, telling him his mutiny was basic, shutting down his ideas (like the inn), dismissing his emotional reactions, and refusing to offer him any real comfort.

Really interesting stuff. I adore how OFMD has so many little details in every episode you can only fully appreciate on a rewatch!

#ofmd #our flag means death

[triflesandparsnips]

Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

#will it be the content or the length that causes the unfollows? #WHO CAN SAY #but every day is Unfollowing Amnesty Day #farewell and be free #our flag means death #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death seasons 3 rampant speculation #izzy hands #engaging with stories #and curating your own experience #(but for real - I had to stop myself at just the few possibilities I gave for a resurrection) #(real talk if you ask me for more I can just-- come up with more) #(it's my party trick) #(for very certain kinds of very nerdy parties)

[icycoldninja]

1st Class SOLDIER boys spending Thanksgiving with their S/O

A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!! This year, the SOLDIER boys decide to spend Thanksgiving with their beloved Y/N; I wonder how it'll go...?

♡Sephiroth♡

-Shows up to your house bearing a large bottle of pumpkin pie flavored wine (Yes, that exists) and a jar of Cool Whip, thinking that's a suitable dessert.

-Due to having grown up in a lab, the man has no idea what you're supposed to eat for Thanksgiving. He thinks it's just a day where your entire family gets together and eats for no reason.

-This man cannot cook a turkey for the life of him. Don't even let him try, he'll find a way to burn the turkey and make the baking dish explode in the oven, regardless of what it was made of.

-Drinks the cranberry sauce, not understanding it's for the turkey, and tries to mash potatoes with the hilt of Masamune.

-Fortunately, this man is not entirely hopless; he's tall enough to hang all the decorations without a stepladder, so there's that.

-When the Thanksgiving dinner is finally ready, he'll find that he actually enjoys eating turkey, especially the crispy turkey skin, and soon becomes addicted to sweet potato casserole. Potatoes with marshmallows!? He had no idea such a combination could exist and taste this good!

-He had a great time at your place; it was a welcome change of pace, being around all your family members at once, experiencing the familial love he never had.

-He ended up eating way too much, just so he could continue hanging around you guys, and had to literally waddle out the door because of how stuffed he was. 🌝

♡Genesis♡

-Unlike Sephi dearest, Genesis actually knows what Thanksgiving is and how to celebrate properly. His cooking skills are pretty basic, so he ends up gifting you an apple pie cobbled together from store-bought dough and canned filling.

-Very talkative; gets along quite well with all your family members and gets on all their good sides by talking about memories with you.

-His favorite foods are mashed potatoes and gravy. He just cannot get over how creamy they are and how delightfully savory the gravy tastes.

-As mentioned earlier, his cooking skills are basic, so he can help out in the kitchen, but only to a certain extent. He can help mash potatoes, mix sauces, keep an eye on the turkey, etc., basically, he does the stuff an eager 10-year-old does.

-Unfortunately, with Genesis, not everything has a happy ending. Just when you think the night is progressing properly with everyone socializing jovially and having fun, Genesis decides to cause some drama over something as small and insignificant as a housefly that had the misfortune of buzzing over his head.

-The minute he caught sight of that fly, his mind snapped into Total Bitch Mode. He rises from the table with fury, knocking his drink over and sending silverware flying everywhere, shocking you and your entire family.

-He will scream like a banshee, then send a massive fireball hurtling past all your heads and crashing into the wall where that poor little fly once rested. Everyone is in shock as they try to comprehend what the actual fuck just happened.

-Despite this inconvenience, and the fact that there's now a smoldering hole in your wall, everything was quite fine. Genesis had a good time and so did everyone else.

♡Angeal♡

-Angeal is a man of dreams an honor. He knows how to cook. In fact, he knows so much, he takes over as head chef and magically turns into a dad overnight.

-According to him, it is now his solemn duty to cook the turkey, heat up the stuffing, and prep the dessert all at once, by himself. He adamantly rejects all assistance, claiming that a man with true honor can do all the cooking alone.

-Surprisingly, he pulls it off. The turkey was only a little bit burnt and the pie was only slightly too sweet.

-Angeal gets along well enough with most of your family and friends, and even ends up swapping recipes with several of them, though he very much preferred talking to you.

-His favorite foods are the deserts, believe it or not. He adores pie, especially pumpkin pie, and eats so much of it, he gets a massive sugar rush and a bloated belly. Poor guy.

-After everyone was done eating, his honor compelled him to tackle the mountain of dishes that everyone left behind, something you told him not to worry about. However, Angeal refused to listen to you, stating that it was his dream to do the dishes.

-Giving up due to his stubbornness, you left him to do his thing, only to come back an hour later to find an overflowing sink, wet dishes piled up literally everywhere, and a passed out angel on your kitchen floor. Turns out he'd eaten too much, and his food coma combined with over exertion from the daytime cooking caused him to fall asleep on the spot.

-All in all, everyone had a great time, and Angeal ended up sleeping in very late the next day.

#Ffvii #Ff7 #Ff7 crisis core #Ffvii crisis core #Final fantasy 7 crisis core #angeal hewley #angeal x reader #genesis rhapsodos #genesis x reader #Sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #genesis is a drama queen #Ff7 sephiroth #Thanksgiving #Headcannons #Ff7 angel #Ff7 genesis #Ffvii genesis #Ffvii angael #Ffvii sephiroth #Final fantasy 7 angeal #Final fantasy 7 sephiroth #Final fantasy 7 genesis #Thanksgiving headcannons #X reader #Final fantasy vii

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

clingy!higuruma headcanons

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

higuruma x reader, fluff, see also: higuruma with a clingy s/o

i know this isn't related to the request but i need to let y'all know because it's been floating around in my brain for weeks now. 

hiromi is extremely inept when it comes to technology. he types on the computer with one finger and doesn't even have a cell phone

he owns a sparkly pink flip phone, it's true he told me himself

jk he owns an iphone 6 with the same generic black case he's had since he bought it

anyways back on topic, if he's the one that's clingy, oh boy

this man works a 9-5 job but he's texting you every hour of the day

his texts are sweet and domestic: 'what are you having for lunch?' 'what are you wearing today?' most of them at least..... [1 image attached]

on my last higuruma headcanons post i said he's an excellent cook and that's still true btw

if you have an office job, best believe he's bringing you homemade meals during your lunch break whenerv he can

speaking of lunch breaks, he tries to schedule his to be at the same time as yours so he can visit you or vice versa

his office is basically tailored to you at this point: pictures of you framed and hung up on the walls, your favorite foods heavily stocked in his desk drawers, your coziest blanket folded neatly in the corner (a gift from him for your birthday last year)

if you can't take lunch breaks together for whatever reason due to your job, Hiromi will pack your lunches ahead of time at the beginning of the week like he's so obsessed with you (in his housewife era)

even if you went shopping for yourself, he always carries in the groceries for you

obsessed with giving jewelry as gifts, espacially for important days like anniversaries

in his eyes, it's a token to how much he loves you and your devotion to him (and he loves to take it off also)

a copper chain necklace with a diamond pendant for your 4th anniversary, a silver bracelet with his initials inscribed on the inside for only you to see

luckily this man has a high paying job or he'd be broke asf

of course, his favorite part of the day is coming home to you. (he's the little spoon btw)

he takes dinners with you as an opportunity to cook you new dishes and experiment a little himself

if you're not japanese, he'd try to learn dishes from your culture to make (!!!!!!!!)

bonus points when he surprises you with them after you've had a long hard day

he's an expert cook but i can just imagine him severely fucking up biscuits and gravy or something (cue "I THOUGHT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE THAT????")

#higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma

[stuffedteen]

A Christmas Wish for @kindahornydude

Remember to send in your Christmas wishes for you own story!

"What do you want for Christmas young man" asks Santa as you sit on his lap.

You roll your eyes - why does dad still make you go to Santa photos even though you've moved out and are an adult. "I dunno" you say dryly "I guess good food is what I want." You start salivating "yeah, this year I want a delicious Christmas feast - that's my Christmas wish."

By Christmas day you'd forgotten about your silly visit to Santa as you sat down at the dinner table. Your dad brought out a juicy stuffed turkey, followed by your uncle James with roast potatoes dripping in fat and a fatty roast pork, your uncle Brett carried in a succulent roast chicken.

Even your oldest cousin Bram had something special for the holiday season: he brought out his famous Christmas pudding, made from cream and soaked in whiskey and brandy! It was sweet and sticky and served with tons of ice-cream. You began to drool as you stared at the table filled with fatty meat and juicy potatoes. You turned to Bram next to you "let's dig in bro."

Bram nodded and grabbed one plate for each of you and stacked both of them sky hight with dripping cuts of meat. You took a huge bite, then another. "This is so fucking good!" you groaned grease running down your face and your mouth stuffed full of juicy turkey. "Mm yeah it is bro." Bram moaned as he stuffed himself with potatoes and gravy dripped onto his shirt.

The slowly around the table belts were loosened and deep belches rang out as your uncles and cousins stuffed themselves. There were bloated stomachs all around as everyone shovelled down the feast. You looked down at your belly and it felt so heavy. "This is gonna be a fun night." You told Bram as you guzzled more beer and took of your button up shirt - revealing a tight white singlet.

Your dad came back into the room carrying a bottle of beer and held it out to you. His belly was so swollen that you could see his soft hairy stomach peeking through the buttons on his shirt. He grinned as you gulped down the bottle in one go before letting out a massive burp and slapping your swollen stomach. Bram turned to you smirking and placed a hand on your bloated gut "damn, bro have you been bulking. I swear you weren't this big last Christmas." You looked down at Bram's belly which was also puffy, but not nearly as large as yours.

You shrugged and continued to eat, grabbing another plate and stuffing your face. You turned to Bram and saw him staring at you as you stuffed your face, a grin spreading across his face "you're eating like crazy tonight" he said.

You chuckled and wiped some grease off your chin **buuurrpp** You saw his pants twitch as you guzzled another bottle of beer and felt you shirt riding up. Your stomach swelled and stretched outwards as you ate and drank. You could feel air on the belly button as your tight singlet rose.

"I'm just really hungry tonight," you replied. "I couldn't stop myself once I started eating."

"I can tell big boy" said Bram quietly as he reached out his hand and caressed your belly. You smiled weakly and let him play with your fleshy middle section "it feels nice."

"Don't be shy now, we're family bro." He said in a low voice as he squeezed your bloated waist.

You laughed as you pushed his hand away and grabbed another piece of meat. "I'm just really full."

He giggled and put his hand on your belly again. This time you didn't push his hand away. In fact, you felt your tummy tighten and expand under his touch. You groaned under the pressure of your belly and continued to eat as Bram massaged your gut. You could feel your belly swelling and growing with each bit. Your singlet sat firmly around your pecs, leaving your whole gut on display - at the mercy of Bram's firm hands.

You could feel it is was round and bulging outward as if you were pregnant.

It kept growing bigger and bigger but you couldn't stop stuffing yourself. You felt as if you were going to burst.

POP, the button off your trousers flew straight at Bram hitting him in his crotch and making his cock spring up in his pants.

"Oh shit!" You groaned as your stomach bulged out into its new found space and your fly undid letting your belly grow over your white trunks. Bram's belly bloated too and you could see his thick, curly pubes poking out the bottom of his trunks. "Fuck, man! I'm stuffed" you moaned as you sat back in your chair massaging your swollen gut and belching.

"You haven't had any of my pudding yet" said Bram with a mischievous grin as he picked up a fork and an entire Christmas pudding. He loaded a massive piece of pudding onto his fork and shoved the whole thing into your mouth.

"Mmmmmm!" You moaned as you chewed on the sweet cake.

"There's more where that came from, big boy" Bram teased you as he gave you a wink. You felt yourself blush and swallow as you tried to refuse his offer. You were stuffed full to bursting already and you knew that you wouldn't be able to take any more food.

But Bram continued to spoon feed you, with one hand on your swollen gut keeping you pinned to the chair. You sat there moaning and burping as he stuffed you. "You can take it all, big boy. Just keep eating."

And you did. You felt your belly swell and grow as he fed you more and more creamy Christmas pudding until the plate was empty.

"That's it big boy, you should be feeling pretty full right now." Bram said as he stood up and began massaging you gut.

You sat in your chair, in a daze, moaning and chewing on a huge lump of Christmas pudding.

@kindahornydude

#male weight gain #fat guy #fatboy

[livvyisb0red]

“Let me cheer you up ;)”

Wealthy!Best Friend!Hawks x Stressed!Reader

Summary: Keigo’s beloved best friend has been overly stressed with work at their agency; his only way he thought to calm them down is to have a night-in at his penthouse with some drinks and music.

- Best Friends to Lovers (?) -

**CW: overworked, kissing, alcohol, cuddling

*Reader is a prohero with their own agency

NOT PROOFREAD

Another sigh fell from his mouth as Keigo set his phone on the small table in front of him, careful not to knock over his glass of water.

“My one weekend off and everyone is busy!” He grumbled before falling back onto his sofa, the multicolored screen catching his attention as he sits upright, allowing him to fixate on the sitcom that illuminates from the screen.

A few episodes pass before his phone buzzes on the table.

*1 message from: Loser ^///^*

- dude i’ve had so much to do at my agency since my assistant got a new job - 9:30 pm

~ I bet :( Do you want me to send my assistant over to your agency? - 9:30 pm

- omg please i’d literally cry. - 9:31 pm

~ Of course! What all would he be doing? - 9:31 pm

He leaned forward to get a sip of his water before checking his phone again.

- honestly he could probably come in tomorrow. if there’s two of us looking through these reports we can get it done in about two hours. I’ll be paying him a little extra too since he isn’t part of my agency. - 9:32 pm

~ Alright! I wish you luck. You leaving now then? - 9:32 pm

- yeah probably. why? - 9:32 pm

~ I’m booooooooorrrreeeedd - 9:33 pm

Keigo had sent the message with hopes that his best friend would want to come over. He knew they’d want to!

- kei I’m so stressed idk. i just wanna chill tonight - 9:34 pm

Well this didn’t go as planned. He had another trick up his sleeve. Hoping it would work, he took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the screen of his phone.

~ Let me cheer you up ;) - 9:35 pm

“Fuck why did I do that?!” Keigo immediately got anxious after sending that. What if they get mad? Will they hate him? Oh god. Intrusive thoughts starting swirling through his head, playing out the worst possible out come over and over again until…

- yeahh it’s friday why not lmao - 9:36 pm

Jumping off the couch, he cheered loudly before rushing back to his phone.

~ Dress up for me, and bring a bathing suit ;) - 9:36 pm

- okay feathers lol - 9:36 pm

Keigo rushed around his house speed cleaning everything to make sure it was nice for when (y/n) came over. He took the cover off of his hot tub, making sure it was the perfect temperature for the two of them. Throwing some snacks together on a plate for them, he thought it would be nice to pour some Rosé for them. Rushing to his room, he looks for something to where quickly finding some nice dress pants and a white button up for him to wear.

Taking off his t-shirt, he looks at himself in the mirror before taking a deep breath and throwing his dress shirt on, barely buttoning it up since they would be getting in the hot tub.

The knock on the door pulled him out of his trance, and brought him into a new one. He practically appeared at the door, opening it for his dazzling bestie.

“Hey feathers.”

Oh boy. They did NOT have to get that pretty for HIM. If it weren’t for his ego, Keigo would be on his knees IMMEDIATELY for them.

“Hi chickie” Keigo choked out with a wink. He took their hand leading them into his penthouse, while grabbing the glass of rosé to hand to (y/n).

“Oh my god, you didn’t have to do all this for me Kei! I’m serious!”

“Why wouldn’t I? After a stressful day I would wanna be pampered too.”

Walking over to his coffee table, he grabbed the remote putting on music that just begged to be danced to. Keigo strutted back to (y/n), hand out, inviting them to dance with him.

“Really, Kei?” (Y/n) shook their head, giggling before taking his hand and accepting the invitation.

The lights in the room changed to a hot pink before Keigo put his phone back on the table, looking back at his best friend, admiring their eyes. They danced for what felt like hours, the upbeat, glittery music mixed with the pink lights and alcohol had them ignoring anything that happened around them. Keigo grabbed (y/n)’s face, looking deeply into their eyes before asking a question which would change the night for the better.

“Wanna take a shot or two?”

Laughter erupted between the two of them before they made their way to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Ciroc and two shot glasses. They each took a shot before chasing it down with more rosé. Slowly but surely they made their way back into the living room before Keigo looked at (y/n), gesturing to his balcony.

“Let’s take this outside, babe.” Keigo practically drooled from his mouth.

They both got changed in his room before making their way to his balcony, with Keigo leading the way and opening the sliding door. He climbed over the side before grabbing (y/n)’s hand, guiding them into the hot tub with him. Thoughts started swirling through Keigo’s mind. He wanted to put his arm over (y/n) more than anything, but the fear of ruining the relationship they had took over. So he just leaned back and looked over to the city around them. They both let out a sigh, soaking in the relaxing feeling of the warm water washing around them. Keigo jumped at the feeling of someone’s head on his shoulder, looking down at (y/n), who was looking back at him before shooting a wink. They both laughed, realizing the others feelings.

“You cool with this?” (Y/n) asked in an almost whisper-like tone.

“Uh YEAH!” He cheered, causing them both to burst into laughter for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

They cuddled up to each other in the hot tub, his arm over their shoulder, their leg over top of his. Keigo looked at (y/n) with longing eyes before pulling them onto his lap. He looked up at them, running his hand up their body before resting it on the back of their head and pulling them into a kiss.

The kiss lasted hours in their head, when in reality it was only a few seconds. They looked at each other before Keigo let out a drunken giggle and kissing (y/n) once more, this one with more passion than the last. Alcohol running through their mouths, causing kiss to be sickeningly sweet to both of them. Keigo pulled away, leaving his hand on their waist.

“I think we are both too drunk for this, but just know that I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t want anything happening between us while we’re drunk. I’d rather not have any regrets in the morning.”

(y/n) looked at him with the most mesmerizing smile Keigo had ever seen before kissing him once more and nodding in agreement.

“I was thinking the same thing, Kei”

They both got out of the hot tub, drying off before heading back inside.

“Do you want a sweatshirt and sweats to change into?” Keigo asked from his bedroom.

“Yes please! Thanks!”

Keigo came down the stairs with the promised clothes in his hands.

“You can get changed in my bathroom over there, you know where it is.”

Watching as his friend left the room before checking the time on his phone, 1:37 am.

“Wow” he laughed to himself before looking back up and seeing (y/n) in his hoodie and pants which were way too big for them, but he loved it.

He put his arm up, inviting them over to the couch with him so he could put his arm over them.

“You know it’s almost 2:00, right?”

“No?! That much time passed?”

“Yeah, we should get to bed, I got a TV in my room so we’ll have something to watch while we fall asleep.”

“But I just sat down!”

Keigo giggled before picking them up and carrying them up the stairs into his room and laying them on his bed. They both got under the covers before tangling themselves together. He didn’t even get to turn on the tv before they fell asleep together with a new future ahead of them.

#anime #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #i love anime #i love my hero academia #mha fandom #anime headcanons #keigo tamaki #hawks x reader #my hero academica hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #x reader #Mha x reader #night in fanfiction #friends to lovers #friends with secrets #stressed reader #hawks sexy #best friend hawks #boku no hero academia hawks #god i need friends #hawks fanfiction #bnha hawks #fanfiction #anime fandom #anime fanfic #i love hawks mha #my hero one shots

[dmercer91]

ebug's sister, dm91

taglist, @whenmypartysover

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven

this is after the devs were eliminated!

blakefriarr_

liked by seamuscasey26, markestapa and 7,394 others

blakefriarr_: posting this to inform you all that you're legally obligated to facetime me twice a month during the offseason

not to be gross or whatever but thanks for making my life better

<3

view 745 comments..

nicohischier: why. of all the pictures

→ blakefriarr_: excellent question! i raise you this: why not

adamfantilli: i had to share my slide with molly? preposterous

→ blakefriarr_: maybe if you'd stop letting your phone die all the time she wouldn't be the only reason you have sign of life

→ adamfantilli: buy me a charger

→ blakefriarr_: it's on its way to soph house as we speak i'll get mark to bring it to you

→ adamfantilli: the ten foot ones? → blakefriarr_: of course

→ adamfantilli: sick

jackhughes: i got a better picture than nico i feel honoured

→ blakefriarr_: i almost chose the one you sent me after you lost your tooth but then i found the picture of gravy and lukey needed a slide

→ jackhughes: the end result is all that matters (i feel significantly less honoured)

seamuscasey26: "which fantilli brother is your favourite?"

→ blakefriarr_: "that depends on which one of them is currently sitting right next to you" → luca.fantilli: and then she said adam

→ blakefriarr_: and then i said adam <3

dawson1417: who am i flipping off there

→ blakefriarr_: probably jj

→ jj.friar31: probably me

jj.friar31: you're welcome for being solely responsible for introducing you indirectly to every single one of your friends

→ blakefriarr_: this was 99% me you just happen to play for a nearby college

→ jj.friar31: ok but if i didn't play for a nearby college this wouldn't have happened

→ blakefriarr_: that does not change the fact that you have the personality of drywall

dawson1417: oh hey by the way

→ blakefriarr_: yes dawson

→ dawson1417: imagine if like i didn't need to facetime you cause you'd be with me

→ dawson1417: for the whole summer

→ blakefriarr_: interesting concept

→ dawson1417: that didn't sound like a complete no

→ blakefriarr_: so you know how i was working overtime the last two weeks

→ dawson1417: vividly remember wanting to call in sick on your behalf

→ blakefriarr_: what if i said that was cause i was training the two new hires they got to replace me

→ dawson1417: you're not fucking with me right now right

→ blakefriarr_: about the two people to replace one me thing?? i know that's nuts, right?

→ dawson1417: NO

→ dawson1417: ABOUT THE QUITTING YOUR JOB, B

→ blakefriarr_: no need to yell, baby

→ dawson1417: blake, baby, sweetheart, love of my life i almost made jack crash his car from how hard i slapped his arm there are a plethora of reasons to yell

→ blakefriarr_: <3

ryangraves27: every time i'm not running you get closer

→ blakefriarr_: did you take this from the ed sheeran meme

→ blakefriarr_: gravy my boy you're better than that

→ ryangraves27: it felt like it fit at the time

dougieham: oh

→ blakefriarr_: you inspire me hamstring

→ dougieham: ..oh

→ blakefriarr_: i couldn't really tell but that oh sounded delighted

markestapa: no photo creds for the eddy pic??? ouch

→ blakefriarr_: it is technically my screenshot you were just facetiming me

→ markestapa: i still can't believe i picked up the phone at a party just cause it was you

→ blakefriarr_: i am so universally loved and appreciated

→ markestapa: it's unfortunate, actually

edwards.73: why was i so excited

→ blakefriarr_: i'm pretty sure i heard mark scream that it was me on the phone and you yelled like a caveman

→ edwards.73: that checks

_quinnhughes: and just like that my 23 year no facetime photos streak has ended

→ blakefriarr_: in your defence what i said was fucking hilarious

read more comments..

#ebug’s sister series ! #dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

[heartthrobin]

and let our hands make art (3)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 7.5k

warnings: reader is a going thru a lot, swearing, half-assed space terminology (writer is not an astronomer), cheesy ending (everyone cheered)

an: ahhhhh !!! it's the last part. i'm so proud of this fic and i hope you loved reading it as much as i loved writing it :)))

summary: for what it's worth. you'd tried. tried hard not to let him in, but he was slick and greasy and the hot sun had melted you all over. and maybe sometimes you're allowed to want things.

part one & part two

Eddie stepped into the muggy kitchen. Your eyes flickered behind him where daddy was shaking Carl’s hand out on the porch, he handed Daddy a pocket-size bottle of rich brown whiskey.

Your gaze returned to the man in your kitchen.

For what was definitely the first time since you’d met him, Eddie was dressed like he didn’t live elbow deep in engine grease.

His hair was fluffier than usual, not matted down with sweat as it was most afternoons. He wore a black buttoned shirt, it was cuffed at the elbow.

“You— uh,” your gulp was embarrassingly loud: “you look … nice.”

To be fair, “nice” wasn’t nearly an accurate enough description to describe how the sight of him all crisp and dapper standing just close enough to smell the aftershave had turned your stomach into a high-power washing machine.

“Hmm, a compliment?” His eyebrow pinched against his forehead, his smirk was unavoidable. “Better park the truck in the barn, it’s gonna hail pigs tonight.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head. You hoped he didn’t notice where you felt your cheeks warming. “You know what, I take it back—“

He laughed loudly, “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”

His eyes glittered even in the dim room.

He surprised you by speaking again. “And you look … beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

Fiery streaks raged up your cheeks. Of course you don’t look beautiful, he’s just teasing.

The thought didn’t console your thumping heart, however.

“There’s the little miss!” Carl’s voice was booming in the limited vicinity of the kitchen.

His wide warm hand found purchase against your shoulder, shaking you jovially.

You wobbled slightly, “Good evening, Mr A.”

“I hear you been working my boy real hard out here in the dust, hey sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered between Eddie, who was harbouring a curled lip, and Carl where his grip tightened around the edge of the back of a chair at the table.

“Hmph,” you guffawed lightly. “I’m sure he thinks so.”

Carl’s stomach vibrated with laughter, he fell down into his seat across from where you stood. Eddie hesitantly pulled out the chair beside him.

Your eyes clung desperately to the buttons struggling against his chest.

Fuck. 

“Cherry, won’t you grab the salad from the fridge there.”

You felt the heat of Eddie’s gaze against your face: your eyes shifted quickly from where they’d been practically rubbing up his torso to meet the deep brown stare. 

His brow was cocked, amusement alight in his face.

“Cherry?” He mouthed.

Your eyes rolled back. 

“Shut up.” You mouthed back just quietly enough to evade a scolding from Daddy where he was carefully pulling the hot dish from the oven. 

Carl and Daddy did most of the talking that night. 

Forks scraped loudly against the plates between conversation of car engines and peaches and gas prices and incapable senators. 

Keeping your eyes on your plate proved difficult, just as it did most of all those afternoons in the barn, when Eddie was chewing animatedly around his mouthfuls of food. 

He crunched his salad loudly between his teeth and would sigh softly around particularly sweet pieces of chicken. A faint smudge of orange gravy lingered just below his bottom lip and the thought of licking it off was driving you to point of insanity. 

Somewhere around when Carl had dished up his third serving of cornbread, the chatter steered over to the tattooed mechanic at your end of the table. 

“So tell me son,” Daddy sipped at his glass of iced-tea, “How’d you end up in lil ol’ countryside Tennessee? Carl says you’re out from Indiana side?” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing a mouthful. Your gaze greedily watched his Adam’s apple bob at the action. 

“Yes sir, that’s right.”

He shifted in his seat, clearly searching for his next words. If you didn't watch him as much as you did, allow his words and actions to haunt you most nights, you might not have noticed how his hands curled into nervous fists. 

“I-- uh, I graduated late from high school and felt like I needed a new start. So I left and started working, nearby states and the like.”

Daddy surveyed him, clearly interested, “Oh yeah? Whereabouts?” 

Eddie shrugged, he caught your eye for a fraction of a moment before pulling it back to the man at the head of the table. 

“Over the last two years, Kentucky, Arkansas ... Virginia for a while.” He spooned another heaping of mash into his mouth, “Never stay in one place too long.”

His last sentence struck you harder in the gut than you’d anticipated.

So you were right. 

He isn't staying. 

You hadn't even noticed that the conversation had steered to you before Carl rapped his knuckles loudly against the table -- 

“Caught in her own world this one, huh?” He was chuckling again, a laugh that sounded like dragging a bag of fertiliser over tar. 

“Beg your pardon, Mr A?” 

The old man stuck a persistent hand in your direction, swallowing roughly around a mouthful. “Was just asking what you get up to ‘round here, when your toes ain’t between the soil. Surely you got somethin’ keeping you busy.”

“Oh, there’s nothing really--”

“All I mean is I don’t see any young farm boys hangin’ round in the evenings, sure ya old man’s glad for that.” He was jostling Daddy in the arm. The look on Daddy’s face was blurry, like you couldn’t read him, but you swore his eye flickered over to where you could feel Eddie’s gaze on your cheek from across the table. 

“Nope, none a’ that.” He said. 

Carl turned back to you, face twisted in anticipation. 

You shifted the mash on your plate. “Nothing really, Mr A. Lots of work to do, I stay busy with my toes between the soil.” 

“Now that’s not true, Cherry.” Daddy piped up from his end of the table, he waved his fork in the air. “Tell him about all your space things.”

“Space things?” Carl’s brow tightened. “Oh yeah?” 

“Space things?” 

Eddie. 

He was looking at you through those thick lashes, waterline dark with black liner. 

The racing blush heating your face was impossible to miss, you were sure.

“Well, it’s not really--” 

“Yeah, Cherry loves all that stuff. The stars, and the planets and the atmosphere: all that Star Track and Star Worlds--”

“Daddy.”

The unfolding interaction was only brightening the amusement in Eddie’s eyes. He set his cutlery down. 

“Star Trek, hey?” 

“No. It’s not that stuff,” you fought to defend your quickly deteriorating reputation. “The real science, not that crap on television. Real constellations, milky ways, foreign galaxies. Distant stars. Stuff like that.” 

Eddie’s head was tilted against his shoulder, he was watching you unabashedly. 

“I’d say. With all the textbook and posters I’ve bought over the years. Her room is covered in ‘em. Stars everywhere.”

“That’s ... that’s cool.” Eddie sounded out of breath when he spoke. 

“I ain’t smart enough to understand all that.” Carl shrugged, forking more food down his gullet. 

“Sure is cool, ‘least she thinks so.” Daddy pressed. “She’ll show you all her books and that after dinner, Eddie. Won’t you, Cherry?” 

Somehow the mash had hardened upon his words, it lodged like a stone in your throat. 

You coughed loudly. “Daddy, I don’t think Eddie’s interested in my--”

But between the food and the incessant pester of three men who love the sound of their own voices, not for the first time since you sat for dinner, you were unable to finish your sentence. 

“I would actually love to see your posters and your books.”

The edge of that grin could slice a fat, ripe peach all the way across in one go.

Carl overtook table talk again. Something about a memory from when him and Daddy were in high school, something about an old football player with a bad knee. 

It stretched beyond plates scraped clean. 

“How about a bit of that Daniels out on the porch, huh old boy?” Carl asked finally. 

Daddy sighed, hand rubbing over his stomach protruding over the belt on his jeans. “A’ course.” 

He turned to you, he referenced over the plates with his hand. “Cherry would you mind, dear?”   

You nodded enthusiastically, desperate for relief from avoiding looking up to Eddie’s figure across from you. 

The chairs scraped loudly. 

“You’re welcome for a drink, Munson.” Carl pressed. 

A wide hand chased back loose hairs, “No, no, I’m alright. Thanks boss.” 

The plates clattered against each other where you stacked them. A warm grasp made you jump when it closed over yours. 

“Let me take that.” 

He was much closer now when you met his face. 

“It’s-- don’t worry I got it.” 

Warm familiarity lapped at your brain, the memory of that first hot afternoon between the peaches. A crate of fruit against your hip. 

His voice softened, just as it did that day. “Come on. Let me help you, love.” 

The word settled deep into a cove in the pit of your stomach. Love. 

“Okay.” 

Cool water rushed noisily into the depths of the sink, soap frothed happily on the surface. The plates swum below the surface. 

“You washing or drying?” Eddie asked at you where you were searching the cupboard for a sponge. 

He fidgeted with the end of his shirt that was tucked into his jeans, not for the first time that evening. 

God, this shirt is itchy. 

But it was his best one. The one he’d dug out from the back of his cupboard a couple minutes before Carl pulled up and whistled at him from the driver’s seat.

“All dressed up to see ya’ princess, ay Munson?” 

He’d washed his hair, opened up a bottle of shower gel that had been hidden in one of the many boxes scattered around his place and even had a second to struggle against black eyeliner in his bathroom mirror. 

But he hadn’t seen her all week. Seen you all week. 

Like a siren song you haunted him in his dreams, on his drive to the shop and when his fingers fumbled between filthy engine parts he thought of you then too. 

“Uhm, whatever you want.” 

“I’ll wash then.” 

The sight of you in the kitchen with the muddy ends of your jeans and your hair shining with the afternoon sun through the window was enough to convince him that all the dress up hadn't been in vain. That you actually did exist and you weren’t some mirage he'd dreamt up in a haze of Tennessee soil and engine grease fumes. 

His hands sunk into the warm water, you tossed the sponge where he caught it: wetting the side of his shirt. 

The yellow sponge squeaked over the plates. 

You hummed quietly. Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go. 

He was taken back to the drive home from Madison’s. Fleetwood Mac again. 

Eddie could listen to the soft hum of your voice forever, he only wish you’d sing.

Instead you stopped, stopped Dreams to lean over and pick up a dry towel. 

“Nice dinner.” He commented into the silence, head down towards the water. His hair tickled at his nose. 

You smiled only briefly, from what he caught from the side of his eye and between the tendrils of his hair. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Carl’s got a real mouth on him.” 

Eddie chuckled, “Yeah. He likes your old man.” 

You laughed, soft like a butterfly’s fluttering wings. “Clearly. He talks like everything was just yesterday. When they ran track, when they got drunk at Mr Alistair’s house--”

Eddie blew at the piece of hair against his lip. 

He could feel you turn to him, trepidation lingering at your fingertips that had slowed to a stop. 

“You ... you need a hand there with that mane?”  

The question surprised him, but he nodded nonetheless. A little bit of a chuckle preceding his response. 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” 

From around your wrist, you produced a yellow hair tie. 

You laughed in return, “Kind of scared to get my hands into this jungle on top of your head.” 

“Come on: you love it, doll.”

You huffed, “Shut up, Greenie. Lean your head back.” 

He brought his head to rest back against his shoulders, where with absolutely no warning your warm hands reached between the tendrils. 

A sigh escaped him, one he prayed you never heard. Fingertips climbed from the base of his head to just above his forehead, his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Looks clean for once.” Your voice was soft. 

He barely heard your jab. 

“Mhm.” 

Eddie felt the hair lift off his shoulders. 

Your fingers chased longer than they should have. It was quiet. 

He was plagued with the wonder of what those hands would feel like against his own palm. Against his chest or behind his neck. Maybe in the space at the bottom of his back. 

“It’s soft.” You whispered. He speculated on whether you intended on him hearing it at all. 

A plate slipped from his grip. It banged against the floor of the sink. 

Your hands were gone.

His eyes flew open, in the reflection of the window he noticed how you’d tied the hair up into a bun like how he wore it most days. 

You coughed quietly. 

“Looks--looks good.” He clarified, a wobble to the edge of his voice. “Thanks.”

Your hands sunk into the water, you shrugged. “That’s how you wear it most of the time.” 

“So you noticed, hm?” He tried to steady his voice again, falling back into playful banter.

“Yeah.” But your voice missed it’s usual teasing lilt, “I like it like that. Can see your face better.” 

Eddie’s eyes flickered up from the soapy plate. You were wiping away like you hadn’t just made all the hair on his body stand straight up. 

He forwent acknowledging your words.

  “So ... Cherry, huh?” 

You laughed again, it melded with the clink of the plate against the others where you sat it down. “Yep. Cherry. He’s always called me that.” 

Eddie’s brow tugged, motioning over his shoulder back towards where the barn sat behind the house. “Something to do with that Cobra stuck up in the barn, does it?”

“Indeed.” You nodded, “You couldn’t get me out of that thing growing up. Daddy would come fetch me in the driver’s seat long past sunset fiddling with the steering wheel.” 

He smiled at the notion. The image of a younger you sitting, humming Fleetwood Mac behind the wheel of a stationary, cherry red Cobra. 

“That barn is fucking hot.”

That made Eddie laugh harder. “You’re fucking telling me.”

The laughter filled every crevice in the kitchen, enough that he spotted your daddy and Carl looking back over their shoulders from their rocking chairs out on the deck. 

It took a minute before his chest rumbled to a slow, low chuckle. 

You shook your head, the huffs of a last laugh escaping you. “It was my mother’s.”

Eddie’s hands stilled. His brow creased, “What?”

The air had grown stiller. Your smile was weaker. “You asked me that first day, how does a car like this end up on a farm in the middle of nowhere?” 

His chest tightened, his words sounded worse coming from your mouth now than when he’d said them first. 

He nodded slowly. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. The only thing left of her ‘round here.”

The plate squeaked beneath his fingertips, the last one. 

“She ... is she--?” 

“Is she dead?” Your words slipped out with a strange-sounding chuckle, “No, not at all. Just a deadbeat. Walked out. Left the car though, thank God.” 

“Shit.” Eddie didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. “I’m ... I’m sorry.” 

The stark reality of your trooping around the farm washed over him warmer than the already stifling kitchen. Why you patrolled and frowned and worked and shrugged off every grease-head that came traipsing up on the farm. 

It was just you. There was nobody else to do it. 

His thoughts were cut in half when you bumped your shoulder against his arm, wiping down your hands with a cloth before offering it to him. “Don’t be. It’s better without her.”  

You were looking right up at him for the first time since reaching the sink. Your eyes brought him comfort. “Right ... you wanna go join the men outside for a drink--”

He caught you by your wrist before you’d even moved to turn, “Uh, uh, uh.”

Your eyes rolled, already knowing where this was going but still not pulling your arm from his grip. 

“You thought I was gonna forget?” He grinned, “I wanna see your space stuff.”

 “You’re not serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack.” 

His touch moved from your wrist to your hand, shifting it gently against his palm. Still, you didn’t take it back. Instead your lashes rested annoyed up against your eyebrows.

“Fine.” 

Eddie’s heart thrummed against his ribs as you lead him through the kitchen, attached by the hand towards a darkened staircase and pounded harder when you moved slowly up with heavy steps. 

This wasn’t how he’d imagined being lead to your room the first time, but somehow it felt more fitting. 

“I can practically hear you forming a bad joke about going to my room.” 

He scoffed, wondering momentarily if you could really tell what he was thinking.

“No, I wasn’t.”

A narrow corridor, two doors. The tall one at the end. 

“Yes you were.”

The brass knob whined beneath your hand. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Just admit it, I know you were cooking up some perverted comment under that big head of hair, Munson.”

The door creaked open.

“Perverted? I wouldn’t dare dream of such--”

Eddie stopped. Talking and walking. 

Your hand broke from his. 

He’d fallen into a technicolour acid trip. 

The sky lunged at him, an expanse of stars and red and blue fog as far as he could see. 

Clippings, posters, little squares of text cut from what he was sure was magazines and newspapers. They covered every square inch of the room, the colour of the wall a discarded mystery. 

A single bed leaned against the wall closest to the window, a side attraction to the universe engulfing it. There was a blonde wooden desk in the corner, barely discernible from beneath the stacks of newspapers and textbooks leaning precariously upon it. 

“Well, this is it I guess." you wrung your hands, shoulders pulled up against your reddening ears. "I told you it’s not much ...”

Eddie’s eyes found you again. The most beautiful thing between the galaxies, he’d decided. 

He was reminded by your short nervous breaths that he still hadn’t said anything. 

“It’s ... this is amazing.” 

Your shoulders slumped slightly, letting him know that he’d spoken appropriately. You took a small relieving sigh, it was followed tentatively by a smile. 

“Thanks. It took a long time to collect everything, magazines and books and ... posters from yard sales.” 

Eddie took a slow step towards the nearest wall, watching how the stars climbed to the ceiling. “Do you know what they’re all called?”

His finger pressed against what looked like a pink and orange cloud. 

You stepped quickly from where you’d been standing hesitantly by the door, a warm richness to your tone when you spoke: 

“I mean, not all of them, but that one is Orion’s Nebula.” You pressed your finger against his and goosebumps ran up his arm. “It’s in our Milky Way and on some clear nights you can even see it in the sky without a telescope! It’s thirteen hundred lightyears away--”

You were so close against the side of Eddie’s face. His heart was swelling like a parade balloon in his chest, he thought he might collapse at the sound of your voice. 

His finger moved quickly to the next, “And this one?” 

“That’s the Crab Nebula, the reason it’s called that is because--” your words were punctuated with your giggles, “--the guy who first discovered it drew a rough sketch and people thought it looked like a crab.”

His finger moved to the next, “This one?” 

“This one’s a star. Betelgeuse. It’s also called Alpha Orionis--”

But Eddie couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough. His finger shifted to the next and the next and the next until you’d been speaking for nearly twenty minutes and Eddie could see every single constellation behind your eyes as you did, quickly losing grasp on his sense of sanity. 

“-- and they’re building this telescope, it’s called Hubble, that they’re gonna launch in the next ten years and it’s gonna be able to take much better photos than these that I’ve got.”

Maybe you’d finally caught him staring, but you stopped suddenly. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too long.” He watched how your shoulder came back up close to your ears in embarrassment. 

“It’s amazing.”

You’re amazing.

“You’re making me fall in love with space.”

You’re making me fall in love with you.

You nodded slowly, “I’m glad. I’m surprised that not everyone is.” 

“Why didn’t you go study space or something after high school?” He waved over the lengths of stars and galaxies and planets around the room. “You’re the smartest woman in this whole town, if not the state.”

Your mouth opened to respond, then closed again. You chewed around your words for a long moment before eventually spitting them out. 

“I did.” You sounded ashamed. “I applied to astronomy in Arizona and California and a couple other states.” 

“And?” 

Suddenly your hands felt hot. You pressed them down the sides of your filthy jeans. Eddie’s confused eyes held you in place against the wood floor.

“I got in.” 

He took a step towards you, shortening the distance you’d allowed yourself to breathe. “Why didn’t you go?”

The laugh you let off was short and humourless, cold and sensitive to the touch. You motioned your hand over your shoulder at the window. 

“I can’t leave here. My daddy wouldn’t survive all alone.”

Eddie took another step, shorter this time but enough to bring him where his breath tickled your cheeks. A sweaty hand reached to find yours.

“Did he ever tell you that?”

It pressed against your own warm palm. 

“He doesn’t have to.”

There was a couple strands of black hair peeking out around his face and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He was too close, far too close. 

“There’s a planetarium in Chicago, I saw it on TV once. A big one.” His voice was soft like Sunday wind blowing against linen on the line. “We could go. I could take you.”

Your heart leapt up to your throat, your lips open in a silenced gasp. “The Adler Planetarium?” You asked softly. Breathlessly. 

Eddie inched forward and somewhere within yourself you found the courage to allow him to. He chuckled softly, his furry top lip reached out to yours if only for a brush. “I’m sure that’s the one. I’m not as smart as you, doll.”

For a hot fleeting second, the vision crossed your mind: you and Eddie in his white pick-up, driving hours across the country. Seeing a real planetarium like how you’ve dreamed for so long, seeing another state, seeing Chicago. 

Maybe it would be cold like how you never saw in Tennessee. Maybe you’d have to wear snow boots and maybe Eddie would hold your gloved hand the whole time. 

Suddenly, you found his thumb at your jaw. You couldn’t recall how it found it’s way, but it stayed. He twisted his face so as to press his hot lips against your cheek. He kissed there once, then again. 

Your eyes rolled closed, imagining for a moment to be beneath the starry Illinois sky with Eddie pressed against you the way he was just then. 

He moved slowly down, catching your breath at the top of your throat with each peck down over your jaw, to the column of your neck and at the junction of your collar bone.

“Will you come with me?” He whispered. His hand was still tight between your fingers, the other stroking against your jaw. 

“I--”

Somewhere in the distance, Cowboy barked. 

“Cherry!”

Your eyes flew open as if ripped from a dream in the dead of night. The icy cold hand of circumstance tightened over your throat. Visions of Chicago dissolved quickly from behind your eyes. 

You stepped back out of Eddie’s grip.

He straightened up, confusion deep-set in his thick brow. “Uh, I think your old man is calling.”

“I heard.” You were avoiding his eye, wiping a hand over your neck where you could still feel his lips. “We should go.” 

Despite your best effort of trying to pass him towards the door uninterrupted, Eddie caught your wrist. His face dripped in sincerity.

“So, Chicago?”

You shook your head, waiting for the lump in your throat to allow you to speak. 

“T-That’s two states away. I can’t afford to leave, Eddie.” You pulled your hand from his grasp. 

“Cherry, Carl’s heading out!”

The way his cheeks sunk at the fall of his smile made you nauseous. 

“It’s not that far, just a couple hours. We could go for a weekend, or just a night. Or even just a day--”

The rolling waves of embarrassment you’d become achingly familiar with washed over you again. The same ones that drowned you when your friends would visit from college or send pictures of their new lives at the coast or on the road. The waves that reminded you of the decisions your mother made, the same ones you can’t repeat. 

You didn’t want to leave, you couldn’t. 

“Eddie, I just can’t, alright?” You pressed, a sharp edge to your voice. “Not all of us can just jump state to state, I have a family. I have responsibilities--”

“I have a family.” 

It shut you up. Quickly.

It was a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind, you realised selfishly. A thought that paused you in your tracks. 

Eddie’s face was pulled tightly, in a way you’d never seen it. 

“I have people who care about me back home too. I have responsibilities.”

“Eddie, I--”

“Cherry!”

“Doll, if you didn’t want to go you could have just said so. I can take a hint.” 

He moved faster past you than you had opportunity to blink away the tears prickling at the edge of your eyes. 

By the time you’d given up on swallowing around the lump in your throat and reached the landing in the kitchen, Eddie and Mr Abernathy were nothing but a cloud of dust over the driveway. 

- 

He returned the next day. 

You didn’t go down to greet and he didn’t come near the house. 

Around midday the white pick-up pulled into the driveway. You watched down on the yard from the window of your room, the Orion Nebula glaring a hole into the side of your head from the wall. Eddie emerged with a red toolbox and disappeared around the house. 

You didn’t make him lunch and he never came to ask. You hoped he might. 

But the hours passed and the sun sunk while bitterness and guilt tugged at either end of the same rope across your chest. 

I shouldn’t have snapped at him. 

He should learn to mind his own business, he knows nothing about me.

It would be nice to go with him to Chicago, he’s sweet for asking. 

He’s just gonna play with your heart and then jump over to the next state to do the same thing with some other poor broad. And who’s gonna have to pick up the pieces when he leaves? Me!

Your head rung until you were sick in the stomach. 

Past sunset the truck still lingered in the driveway. The air was muggy with the promise of a storm. 

You were packing pesticides in the shed around the back of the house with Cowboy’s tail thumping against the wood when you heard footsteps passing. 

The dog leapt clumsily to his feet, keen to chase after his most favourite person. 

You heard Eddie’s soft coo at the dog, “hey big boy”, and his foot falls up the three porch steps. Then the knock at the door. 

Daddy answered, you tried to listen but the conversation disappeared between the wind and the swaying peach leaves. 

He called for you, Daddy, but you pretended not to hear.

Embarrassment and shame and guilt and anger bubbled too close to the surface. You didn’t want to see Eddie. Maybe not ever again. 

You knew it to be a lie. A temporary comfort to your troubled mind. 

Thunder rumbled grumpily far out above your head. 

His lips still hadn’t left your neck and when your eyes shut you still heard his laugh against your cheek. You thought he may just have driven you insane. 

Only once you’d heard the jostle of the car disappearing down the road did you slip out from the shed under a sheath of lightning strike into the yellow lit kitchen. 

A set of keys was watching you from the counter. Daddy was scrubbing a pair of dirty jeans in the sink. He glanced over his shoulder at you. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded as if he could see you, but your eyes never left the counter. “Those the Cobra keys?” 

Daddy gave a triumphant huff, flicking his hands off by the sink and reaching for a dish cloth. “Indeed it is. Eddie came by just a couple minutes ago, said she’s all fixed up. We can give her a go in the morning.” 

Your heart dropped like a hot stone into your stomach. 

It was done. 

The car was done-- he was done. 

“Oh.” 

Daddy’s barely dry hands pulled the keys off the wood, he cradled your hand and let them fall into your palm. He smiled and you worked hard to smile back. 

“These are yours, Cherry.” He spoke softly, tightening his hand over your own. “She’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. You just need the courage to get behind the wheel.” 

Against the pinching in your chest, you managed a mostly genuine chuckle. “Don’t be so cliché, daddy.” 

He watched your face with an earnest you hadn’t seen from him in a long time. It unsettled you. 

“Daddy?” 

“I called you when he handed in the keys. You didn’t come.” 

Your hand grew hot between his palms. “I didn’t hear you.” 

He knew you were lying, you could tell. A pause hung between you.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter, Cherry.” 

He sucked in a breath, reaching a damp hand to pat against the side of your face. 

“But you’re allowed to want things, sweetheart. To want something more, or want someone to share it all with.” 

“Daddy ...” your thoughts swirled like whisky in a dancer’s cup, “I-- thank you for the car, I’m happy. I don’t know what you’re--”

“You’re not your mother, Cherry.” 

His words stung like steaming coffee tossed over your face. 

You blinked. The pain eased. 

The edges of your eyes prickled and suddenly your throat burned. “I know. I don’t want to be.” 

“Well, you’re not. And the world deserves some of you, too.” 

Daddy had never spoken so candidly, maybe from a shared well of fear you’d both drank far too long from. 

“Where is this coming from?” 

He shrugged. Rubbing a thumb down your cheek, then back up again. 

“Maybe the pathetic look on that mech’s face when you didn’t come say goodbye after I called.” 

“That’s--”

“And maybe something about a planetarium in Chicago.” 

Your stomach jumped violently. “How did you--”

Daddy laughed, head tossed back and old age hanging off his face. “Carl’s a big talker, you know that.”

Reeling from the tug of a conversation twenty years in the making, you nodded slowly. “Right.” 

He leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead before turning to pick his hat off the counter. “And you’re welcome, Cherry. For the car. It was always yours.” 

A smile found your face. “Uh, you wouldn’t mind if I took her for a quick spin?” 

He stalled at the base of the steps where he’d slowly been creeping to bed. Daddy took a glance out the window. “There’s a storm lingering. Don’t be long.” 

- 

The wind was whipping wildly when you met the doors of the barn. 

Night was stronger than the back porch light and Cowboy’s soft upper lip flickered from the force of the gale. He was watching you in concern. 

As the doors opened, the dust from within swirled into a cloud of brown up through your hair and over your face. The keys jingled in your hand. 

You noticed that Eddie had moved the crates out the way, stacking them neatly in a corner behind the car. The same crates you’d leaned against on hot afternoons. 

The door clicked open in the dim air, making the car look a blackened red in the dark barn, and Cowboy was the first to leap in: desperate for an escape from the biting conditions. 

Following him, you collapsed into the seat. 

Stiff knuckles wrapped around the smooth leather wheel and you weren’t sure if you could cry or throw up or even start the car. Alas, the key was slotted with shaking hands into the ignition and she purred to life. 

You didn’t bother with the sentimentality of enjoying the sound - because then maybe you’d really be sick out the window - instead you pressed a hard foot down on the accelerator and let the car fly against gravel out and around the farmhouse. 

The path was dark, following the only road that went anywhere. The first pats of rain were smearing the window before where the headlights reached into the collapse of darkness ahead. 

So I begin not to love you.  Turn around to see me runnin’, I say I loved you years ago. 

Against the thrumming of your brain behind your forehead, you barely noticed that the radio had been playing since you’d left the safety of the barn. The sound of Silver Springs grew softer as the rain began to collapse brutally and unceremoniously against the windscreen. Lightning cracked over Tennessee and town teased you in the distance. 

Beyond the rumbling above, within and below, the warmth streaking down your face had gone amiss until Cowboy leaned his wet nose against your jaw from the passenger seat. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks against the back of your sleeve and with your vision progressively blurring, patted his wide head dismissively. 

The ground passing beneath you plagued little on your mind. Will you come with me?

The car was the only thing your mother hadn’t been able to pack fast enough on her way out. 

You’re not your mother, Cherry. 

The ghost of Eddie’s hand closed over yours on the wheel. You thought for a moment that maybe the car could take you all the way to Chicago without stopping and he’d be there waiting for you. Or maybe San Francisco, he’d be there as well. Or Pheonix or New York or Miami. He’d be there every time. 

You couldn’t say how far you’d driven out by then: surely not as far as Chicago, but not yet close enough to town. The storm roared around you and the streetlights were few and far between when the car gave a long whine and a jerk. 

Eyes flying wider open, your grip tightened around the wheel. 

Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you. Give me just a c-chance--

Stevie Nicks stuttered at you before stalling to silence. 

The dial behind the wheel was slowing, winding closer to zero and the car fumbled beneath you. 

“Fuck ... fuck--” your eyes chased wildly over the dashboard, you slapped the wheel. “No, please not now, please--”

But she did. The car dragged to a roll before a steady stop. Cowboy pawed the dash. 

“Fucking idiot, that son of a bitch--!” 

Behind the fizzled car headlights, you could make out the cloud of smoke rising from the bonnet. 

A scream like a shot bird rang from your lungs through the depths of the car, you slammed reddened palms against the wheel, again, again. Cowboy whined loudly, barking softly and clearly confused. 

You threw the door open with as much force as throwing an axe over a log, tearing out into the pouring rain. The dog leapt after you, barking loudly now at your heels.

Pain chased up your ankle through your foot from where your boot connected with the tire of the car. Your voice ripped again, out into the space between the raindrops and into the flat plains of land.

By then, you hacked and swore against the sobs tearing at your chest. The tears mingled against the rain that weighed your clothes down and stuck your hair to the sides of your face. 

You kicked the tire again. You tugged on the bonnet and it flew up. 

Equipped with limited knowledge of cars, the inky darkness of night and pouring rain: you simply stared into the depths of the car wishing to melt into the tar.

A freckle of light in the distance made you turn. 

The freckle grew to a speck as it neared. A speck to two headlights. 

Cowboy stood firmly beside you, barking hysterically in it’s direction. 

Maybe someone heading to another farm further down the road?

There was a limited range of individuals who would be out at this hour so far from town, but as the car neared it was impossible for the driver to go amiss. 

The white pick-up slowed as it neared you, pulling to a stop just a few metres off. 

You threw your hands up, “Just my fucking luck!”

The door opened, Eddie held his arm up against the rain. Cowboy ran up to and then past him, leaping into the driver’s seat he’d just abandoned. His headlights shone on you.

“What are you doing out here!” He yelled against the sky, “You’re gonna get struck by--”

“I wouldn’t be out here if you had actually fixed this fucking car, Munson!”

You turned against him, back to the bonnet. 

It was in his character to sigh dramatically, you could practically feel it against your back. 

“Let me have a look at it.” He stepped closer, but you raised a hand at him, meeting his eyes across the steps of tar and rain dividing you. 

“I don’t want your help.”

His hands met his hips, hands curling into tight fists there. Eddie was a vision in the mingling headlights of his truck and your Cobra: hair soaked through and framing his face, he was in the same muddy pants and stained shirt he’d left the farm in less than an hour ago.

“So what?” His voice was tight, annoyed and laced in exhaustion. “You gonna fix it yourself? Leave it here and walk home, then?” 

“Maybe I will!”

Eddie took a controlled step forward again, finger raised at you where you’d afforded him just half a glance up from the bonnet. 

“You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that?” 

Your throat still burned. You turned to the Cobra again. Everything was blurry beyond your lash-line. 

“You knew that a long time ago, Eddie.” 

Lightning split the sky and thunder cracked. 

“When are you just going to admit that you like me, too, Y/n?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!”

Your eyes found him again, blinking away your tears against the rain. The vision reminded you of the warm afternoon he’d first appeared: from a haze of dust and bonnet fog to rescue you. Tonight again.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Your head shook, your chest rumbled with sobs. “You only think you like me now, Eddie--” 

His black eyeliner ran, he stepped closer. The cold was seeping into his bones, his brain rattled with the sound of the crying sky but mostly he shook at the sight of you so weary. A reflection of the girl he was coming to love, a ghost of the one he’d been privileged enough to unravel. 

“That’s not true.”

“But it is true. You’re gonna grow bored of me, of what I can offer, of who I am. Then you’re gonna leave to Phoenix, or Dallas or wherever else and find someone else to love and I’m gonna have to piece myself back togeth--”

The sight of your shaking shoulders and shivering hands was making Eddie’s stomach ache. He took the last step into the stretch of road diving you and him, taking your freezing frame into his hands. 

Eddie’s head shook, he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. “Never, my love ... never ever. I’ll go where you go, I’ll stay where you stay. I’ll sleep on the floor of that fucking barn every day for the rest of my days if you’ll allow me.” 

Your forehead fell into the space between his neck and shoulder, you were crying still. “Eddie ...” 

“I want to listen to you talk about stars or galaxies and I want you to make us sandwiches and talk like you know better about everything, because you mostly do. I just want you, I’ll never leave this town if you never want me to.”

He took your face into his trembling hand, lifting you from his shoulder so your gaze sunk into his. Your lashes were tear-stained and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You swallowed hard.

“What do you want, doll? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Your hand found the side of his face, your head shook. 

“If you want me to leave,” he whispered to you, “I’ll go, my love.”

There was a long moment where Eddie thought you might not even speak again. You blinked against the rain.

“I want to go to Chicago.”

Your hand sunk further past his ear and into the depths of his hair, curling your nails against the root. “I want to see the planetarium, I want to go to Indiana ... I want to meet your family.”

You hiccuped, then laughed, then kept talking:

“I want to see San Francisco and NASA with you, and I want to wake up next to you. I promise I won’t make you sleep in the barn--” He laughed and pressed his forehead to yours, “--And I want to do grocery shopping with you and tell everyone in the store that you’re mine. Tell them that I’m so sick on loving you.”

Eddie nodded. “We can do that. I can do that.”

You watched him wearily. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.” His nose bumped yours, “Can I please kiss you now, farm-girl?”

Your body melted against him in response, surging forward so that your lips found his. Eddie’s body slumped against yours, like his body had found rest. 

The taste of rainwater and peach jam swirled against his lips and Eddie was sure it was the sweetest thing he’d ever taste in all his days gone and to come. He grasped deliriously for your hips, his head spinning from your kiss, and nudged you until he fell over you in through the open door into the front seat of the Cobra: a shelter from the rain. 

You laughed beneath him, against him, and his hair dripped over your face. 

Eddie’s knee pressed against the red leather in the space between your legs, he leaned over your sopping frame. 

He gasped for breath, you did the same. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of, doll.” 

You captured his face between your hands, flushing red in your cheeks despite the cold. “Don’t be cheesy, Greenie. I like it too much.”

Silence fell for a moment. Eddie watched your brow crease. He kissed you again, he was drunk on it.

You tugged him off by the root of his hair.

“Why were you driving this way?” You asked, shifting to lean up on your elbows: suspicion heavy in your gaze.

Eddie chuckled sheepishly, eyes falling to your waist. 

“I ... well, I was coming to apologise.”

“What for?”

He shrugged bashfully. “For last night, and ... and for this.”

From the depths of his pocket, Eddie pulled out a piece of something that definitely looked like it belonged somewhere under the bonnet of the car that had so readily given up on you. 

You gasped. “You bastard.” 

Eddie laughed, “I needed you to have a reason to come talk to me again.”

Sighing softly, you moved some hair out of his face. “I’ll always find a reason to talk to you again.”

“Well, well. Who’s being cheesy now?”

You rolled your eyes, catching him by his silver chain and tugging him against your lips again. 

“Shut up.” You mumbled.

-

taglist:

@corrodedcoffincumslut @akiratoro420 @pricelessemotion @chloe-6123 @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @allthefandomstogetheratlast @wyverntatty @munsster @jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille @akiratoro420

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #fic rec #fic recommendation #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

[theearlgreymage]

Okay, but, Snow for Christmas was a fucking TREAT!

Can we please discuss how precious it was? And how I need MORE after reading it.

I'm dropping spoilers below because I've reread this 5 times while at work today and need to let my emotions out.

Baz and Simon having regular lunches with Fiona? Please give me those dialougues. Gimme a fucking screen play of nothing but their lunches

Simon regularly practicing his sword skills AND distracting Baz? You cannot convince me this isn't a flirting tactic doe Simon. Let me read about Simon seducing Baz via a sword 😏

ALWAYS KISSING GOODBYE? MY HEART CANNOT.

Okay, but I also want more family drama from the Grimms and Pitches. Uncle Cyril? Tell me what this man has done to find himself on the wrong side of Malcom Grimm and Simon Snow. Spill that tea. (I will always map Baz's entire family tree if you let me.)

The sofa is PINK!! Need I say more?

Wing Flap Shirts!! I'm so glad our dragon baby finally has clothes he can wear without needing magic. NOW. Which one of you lovelies is drawing this?

"He reaches up and carefully starts to loosen my tie. He's become very skilled at this over the last few months." 😏😏😏

Baz internally swooning at EVERY thought of Simon being his boyfriend.

Simon being a GOOD boyfriend and immediately being up for another dinner with Baz's family. For Baz. Because he's so GOOD

Baz referring to Lady Salisbury as Simon's grandmother? ADORABLE. Lady Salisbury being cool with Simon and Baz bring "as gay we want. We can be extra gay, as a treat." YES. GIVE THESE BOYS A KIND FAMILY FIGURE WHO ACCEPTS THEM WITH NOTHING BUT LOVE. Please give me more visits with the Salisbury family. I need the wholesomeness.

WHERE CAN I READ ABOUT FIONA AND NICOS WEDDING!?!?!?

"We could be married with children --" "Could we?" PLEASE GIVE THEM A FAMILY

Can I get more fanart of Baz with his siblings. Because they are precious little things. And I need more of Petra and Sophie climbing Baz like he's their personal jungle gym. I need more pre-teen Mordelia spending wholesome time with her brother. I need to see Swithin climbing this fucking Tibetan mastiff. Thank you very much.

Can we please give Rainbow Rowell a massive thanks for giving us a more detailed description of Malcom Grimm finally??

I will foot the entire fucking production crew to have that dinner recreated for the screen. I would sell my soul to a Demon like Shepard if it means I can have a quality holiday special of that dinner. Fucking. Hell. Baz IMMEDIATELY grabbing Simon to ground him. Simon SUPPORTING HIS MAN and holding his hand. SIMON BELIEVING IN BAZ THAT HE'S GOT THIS DINNER IN THE BAG AND JUST SERVING BAZ FOOD. Malcom and Daphne crying and pouring drinks over Baz finally finally finally getting to eat dinner with him. Sophie getting gravy in her hair.

And can we also discuss the fact that this scene proves that these little girls know their big brother is a vampire? And they still adore him? They still climb all over him and practically beg for his attention? That these girls just want to spend time with their brother and aren't afraid in the slightest of him?

FANG BACKSTORY BREAKING MY FUCKING HEART. Baby Baz fucking hiding in the barn. Terrified. And Fiona just fucking supporting her nephew. I 100% cried during this scene.

Edit Add cause I somehow forgot to mention : Simon's fucking obsession with Baz's fangs. Like. Honey. No, his family does not want to watch him drain a deer. That's just you.

"I think I got drunk with Baz's dad at dinner." Had me rolling.

Backtracking. WE HAVE CAREER OPTIONS FOR SIMON. And so help me. I would refuse to talk to this man too if he tried to join the RAF or police force. Like. He really needs to address this hero-savior complex with his fucking therapist. For fucks sake. Stop trying to save people Simon. Just get your fucking fork lift license and RELAX.

Really. Die Hard? Are we shocked?

THE. FOREHEAD. KISS.

End of discussion. (But really. Discuss. Because I am feral right now. And I cannot focus on writing lesson plans in this state.)

#snowbaz #carry on #sfc #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #basilton pitch #baz pitch #simon salisbury #rainbow rowell #scattered shower #snow for christmas #spoilers

[powderblueblood]

GETTING TO KNOW YOUR EDDIE

— the 411 on the loser playboy of the midwestern world

Tagged by @jo-harrington & @deathbecomesthem who got this stunning prompt on the road, love this love youse

let’s talk MUNSON!

What story is he from? What kind of story is it (Fix-it fic, Older!Eddie, Rockstar!Eddie etc)? The Eddie darling that takes up prime real estate in my brain is of course Hellfire & Ice Eddie, which is a teen romantic-dramadey with sprinkles of crime capers on top. We meet him at 18 years of age, drug dealin’, Dungeon wheelin’, at the absolute top of his bottom of the food chain game. He’s all raw nerve and engine sputter, our consummate not ready for prime time player. He is brassy, ballsy, funny, terrified.

What inspired you to write this Eddie? Flight of Icarus, actually! It reignited my initial love for him by basically confirming what I had already known to be true—he’s a little bitch that’ll take any opportunity to be struck down lovesick and he’s doomed by his bloodline.

What are your favorite headcanons about him/share something you never shared in your story? Eddie runs on a full tank of defiance, just burning rubber against what’s expected of kids his age—but to zoom in? Eddie sometimes wonders what it would be like if he was different. Tried harder. Cut his hair, joined the basketball team, really pulled himself up by his bootstraps and divorced himself from his stain of a last name. Folded in and blended, made all the right moves. Why couldn’t I do that? he thinks, Just pretend. I’m good at making shit up. But that’s selling out. And Eddie Munson is no sell out—rap sheet or no, his life is his own.

What does he wear on a casual day? On a dressier day? What does he wear to bed? Casual day, it’s your cartoon character stock costume of insert band t-shirt here, ripped jeans there, doubled up battle vest and leather cut to top it all off. There might be a variant in jean shade but that’s it. He likes to stick to a look. The dressiest he’ll go (he does not own dressy clothes) is a black cable knit sweater, very old, with the thumb holes worried through the cuffs. To bed, preferably nothing, but boxers of absolutely necessary and a very old, ratty pair of flannel PJ bottoms and an old t-shirt or a faded sweatshirt of Wayne’s if it’s freezing.

Favorite foods? This FUCK loves a pizza with the most fuckass toppings. Anchovy, black olive, pepperoni, sweetcorn (for the vitamins!), pineapple (for the jizz thing!) all on the one pie. But he can cook, to an extent, and we unfortunately have to hand this to ex-line cook Al who taught him how to grill a cheese and make a bitchin’ spaghetti with honeyed tomato gravy and lots of oregano. Eddie also loves a snack he can gesticulate with, see: Twizzler, corn dog, ice pop. Bordering on phallic foods.

Tell Us About His Family/Friends: Immediately in the gene pool—Al, the absent and up-to-no-good father who somehow still has a knife in Eddie’s side and will twist it with the simple words, “C’mon, that’s my boy!” Wayne, uncle and father figure, silent but loving and the only real pillar Eddie could ever lean against, and he feels like such a burden for it sometimes. Elizabeth, mommy dearest and dead, canonised like a saint in Eddie’s mind, and might have been but also might not have been. The root of his love of music and his need to tell stories to survive. The found-by-the-hand-of fate family— Ronnie Ecker, the Stalter to his Waldorf, the Bonham to his Page, the only person he’d ever follow into battle because you wouldn’t think it but Ronnie, who is secretly rage akimbo, would accidentally lead that charge. He loves her like a sister, she loves him like a dog. Just kidding. Maybe. He wants to be Ronnie Ecker when he grows up. Granny Ecker comes as part of this deal, one of the people credited with whooping Eddie into shape. We don’t quite know what shape yet, it’s Picassoan in nature. Then, the extension again that is the great Corroded Coffin/Hellfire crossover event—Jeff, Cyrus, Dougie and Gareth. He’s not quite as close with the boys, but they’re good boys. They love and fear him, except for Cyrus who is a true enigma which pisses Eddie off because he’s supposed to be the fucking enigma here, dammit.

Yeah Yeah, he's a Metalhead. Tell Us MORE About His Taste in Music in your story: We are working off Flight of Icarus rules so he’s got a taste in the mouth for Howlin’ Wolf style blues, real down and dirty Detroit shit. He also loves a sleazeball, so enter Tom Waits and when he’s feeling REALLY sentimental, Leonard Cohen. Eddie loves to bite a thumb so he has some punk spinning too—Richard Hell, MC5, The Cramps, and reluctantly Iggy and the Stooges. They’re Al’s favourite so kind of tainted. Last but not least, I think that Johnny Cash’s Live From Folsom Prison album gets a lot of play. Particularly Cocaine Blues and Dark in the Dungeon, which he’s definitely incorporated into some campaign. He does NOT listen to CHICK MUSIC because he’s a loser boy (Wayne has a Linda Ronstadt record that makes him cry).

What are his views on romance? On sex? Eddie Munson falls in love fourteen times a day because at the be all and end all, he’s an artist and he’s sensitive as shit. Let’s get one thing straight—he can flirt to beat the band, once anyone gives him the time of day. Which they don’t. But in his mind? He’s a silver tongued Casanova. It’s just easier to use on people he hates. Once he has a crush, he has an obsession, even if he’s oftentimes too chickenshit to act on it. Cue pulling pigtails in the playground routine. He wants so badly to worship someone and be worshipped in return, okay, it’s reciprocal worshipping—give him mutual pathological obsession or give him DEATH. He wants to build a shrine, and will, to the right person. He’ll preoccupy his mind with every detail about them to the point where, yeah, it is borderline kind of stalkery but he’s still 18 years old. Speaking of, sex? Yeah, he’s done it. Badly. He’s like to do it again, goodly. He’d like to do it with someone that wasn’t treating it like an experiment, someone who’d let him slobber all over them and rut and keen and whine like the hound in heat he fucking feels like. He has no goddamn control! He experiences pleasure in a total headrush, never been able to stay cool and sexy and commanding a day in his life. He just wants, wants, wants and he burns so hot. Eddie wants so clumsily that it comes out at the most inappropriate times, like the nurse’s office after he gets his fist busted. He’s not some sex god, just some dick with an overeager cock. But he sure is willing to put in the work.

Is he optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic on the surface, the life is shit and then you die so might as well do some whippits poster boy but so so secretly, Eddie holds the tiniest flame of hope that someday, somehow, things will get better. At the very least easier. That he’ll grow into his bones somehow, or someone will help soothe him into them. That he’ll feel some kind of belonging. Because he does want that, really. Some soft place to land.

Where or with whom is he most comfortable? Those pockets of alchemy at Hellfire Club when he’s got a rapt audience. With Ronnie, sitting on the sagging couch outside his trailer. Playing chauffeur to a certain princess across-the-way.

What are his views of his future? What are his hopes/dreams? Pie in the sky? Cover of Circus with his cheeks out, duh. A Grammy or two, his own metal club, a published fantasy author, shit. He’s not askin’ for the world, here! But honestly, Eddie’s view of his future is 18 year old misanthropist bleak. He hasn’t even considered college as an option, not that he’d get there with his grades. He figures he might just start selling full time for Rick once (if) he graduates then hopefully have the good enough sense to take his money and split to Chicago or someplace. Might hit it lucky when he’s played in a couple more iterations of Corroded Coffin and con someone into letting him be a session guitarist—which wouldn’t be the cover of Circus, but would still be a huge deal! But as much as an ego game as he likes to talk, he’s got this terrible, looming feeling that he’ll never leave Hawkins alive.

What do you imagine his future looks like? (If your story is incomplete or if this would be a spoiler you're not willing to share, you can skip this question.) I’ll give you a couple details, because I am writing a sequel about this. Picture a brief stint in Indianapolis. Meaner, grizzlier, bartender-ier, going on a decade of heartbreak, performing at his sexual best but nearing burnout and about to turn 30 with some side dealings at home that are edging out of the side and into the forefront. Heavy is the hand that wears the ring. You look so much like your father!

Anything else you'd like us to know about your Eddie/your story? He is so full of love and piss and vinegar. He is going to end up cherished. Like, violently so.

Optional Vulnerable Question: Why do you write fics for Eddie Munson? I love a tragedy touched smartass who folds at the first sign of affection. I want to nourish him and eat him up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Or have Lacy do it for me, whatever.

tagging: YOU. READING THIS. Not KIDDING IF YOURE READING THIS GET TO WORK

#YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #you can tell I came up through rp by reading this #wrote on mobile so if you see typos NO U DIDNT! #e. munson by powder #hai brainrot

[g0dspeeed]

5 Songs, 3 Outfits

Tagged by @carlosoliveiraa 💕 Thank you, this was so fun!

RULES: Post 5 songs associated with your OC(s), followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

The Storm by Bronze Radio Return

"She is the storm and the calm that proceeds. The howling wind and the still air in-between"

Blame Brett by The Beaches

"That's why I won't get vulnerable Don't you dare get comfortable Heartbreak is impossible Feelings doing somersaults I'm not ready for therapy To take accountability Right now it's about me Me and only 'bout me"

Damn (Unstuck) by Vox Rea

"Damn, it's all in my hands Bottle of gin and a cigarette Oh man, don't you think about lighting up? Damn, forgot all my plans Dangerous dance on quicksand Oh man, don't you think about giving up?"

King by Florence and The Machine

"I need my golden crown of sorrow My bloody sword to swing My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king"

All About Me by Lilyisthatyou

"I don't give a damn if you're not at ease This is not about you, it's all about me Swallow your pride, fuck off and die This is not about you, it's all about me"

Girl just wants to be cozy fr

Free Animal by Foreign Air

"You get what you came for, what you stayed for I only know how to satisfy your craving This is what you crave Know what you're made of, what you're made of Flesh and bones won't lie They won't lie"

Waiting For The End by Linkin Park

"I know what it takes to move on I know how it feels to lie All I wanna do is trade this life for something new Holding on to what I haven't got"

WAM by A$AP Ferg

"Man, I got all the flavor, bitches say I'm delicious I'ma have all you motherfuckers laying in ditches I'ma kill all you rappers, I'ma aim with precision They was rocking with your ass 'til they made a decision All my friends making millions 'cause they knowin' my vision A lot of entertainers crash, I can see the collision Destined to make the money, I was great at division I'm finna take all your food and I'ma eat up the dishes"

Build Me Up by Reaubeau, Elle Hollis

"Something's coming, I wanna be Everything I thought that I could never be Build me up, piece by piece Figure out on my own the parts that made me"

Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron

"I have seen what the darkness does Say goodbye to who I was I ain't never been away so long Don't look back, them days are gone Follow me into the endless night I can bring your fears to life Show me yours and I'll show you mine Meet me in the woods tonight"

Country boy aesthetic ✨

Tagging @noodlecupcakes , @simplegenius042 , @voidika , @v0idbuggy , @direwombat , @socially-awkward-skeleton , @cassietrn , @ivymarquis , @ladyoriza , @la-grosse-patate , @nightbloodbix , @strangefable , @inafieldofdaisies , @shallow-gravy , @onehornedbeast , @henbased , @josephseedismyfather & else who wants to try!

#oc: cappie de la costa #oc: river palmer

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets A Gun AU" Somewhere in Vale... Part Deux

Inspired by @howlingday's RU-JA-GUN-CON

Junior: What the Fuck, Neo?!?!? Call her off!

Harley (Annoyed) : Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!

Junior: I don't know who the fuck you're talking about!

Junior dodges under a wild swing that shatters the mirror wall at the back of his bar. Ever since the encounter with that blond huntresses-in-training, Junior's boys had been a little gun shy, and that was proving to be a serious problem as this face painted psychopath started trashing the place.

Harley (Angry) : Stand STILL!

Junior: Not happening!

Junior dove away and rolled to his feet. The twins had been taken out fast by this wacko, so Junior was having to deal with her on his own.

Harley (Calm) : Please, we NEED to find Mister J!

Junior: AND I TOLD YOU! I don't know who you are talking about!

Harley (Annoyed) : He's blond, sweet, kind tall, a knight, or dresses like one...

Harley (Aroused) : is going to fill us to the brim with baby-gravy...

Harley (Motherly) : That was inappropriate, Harley.

Neo just sits there laughing silently. The utter chaos of this lunatic she adopted was definitely making her look like a saint.

Harley (Embarrassed) : Sorry!

Junior: (Hiding behind a table) I'd love to help, just so I can get you to stop wrecking my club, but that description applies to what like over a thousand people. Is there ANYTHING more specific you know about him?

Harley (Calm) : Well, Mxy did tell us he's in school, training to be a slayer or something.

Junior: Slayer? Do you mean a huntsman?

Harley (Confused) : Huntsman, hunter, slayer... what's the diff?

Junior: (Still cowering behind a table) Well, Slayers don't exist unless you count movies and graphic novels... so if you Mister J is training to be a Huntsman, then maybe you should go wreck Beacon's reception area and not my club?

Haley (Confused) : Beacon? Where's that?

Junior: You are definitely not from around here, are you?

Harley (Serious) : I'm from Gotham by way of Arkham.

Junior: I have no clue what you are talking about.

Harley (Angry) : So how do I get to this Beacon?

Junior: Bullhead station near the docks.

Harley (Confused) : Bullhead? What the hell is that?

Junior looks at Neo...

Junior : Seriously?

Junior noticeably swallows when a shadow falls over him. Looking up, he sees...

Harley (Serious) : So... so... so...

Junior: So?

Harley (Serious) : Are you going to help me?

Junior: Yes?

Harley (Happy) : Excellent!

Harley (Whiny) : But I wanted to kill 'em! You've not let me kill anyone in two days!

Harley (Motherly) : Now, Now, Harley. We can't just kill everyone.

Harley (Whiny) : Why not?

Harley (Motherly) : If they're dead, they can't help us get our Mister J.

Harley (Aroused) : Without Mister J, we can't be barefoot and preggers! It just makes me so w...

Harley (Motherly) : Enough Harley.

Harley (Embarrassed) : Sorry.

Harley (Serious) : No Mister Junior, please at my convenience assist me in getting to this Beacon?

Junior: Sure. What every you say.

#Jaune and Harley... Hm... Court's Fool? #rwby #dc #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #jaune gets a gun au #neopolitan #jaune arc x harley quinn #court's fool