#ITS LIKE CORRALLING CHICKENS

[nocanonhere]

I am FUCKING STRESSED WITH THIS SHIT

[hanasnx]

nose-riding.

MINORS DNI 18+

"Don't get shy on me now," HAN SOLO chides, those big hands clamped on your thighs to make sure you stay pinned where you belong. Your hesitance is demonstrated through the tremble in your legs, wrestling with the instinct to hover over his mouth while his strength overpowers you, muscling you into your seat. “the fuck are you going?”

“Han, give me a second.” you plea through a whimper, but he yanks you down, his lips kissing the ones between your legs as the roughness of his shaved face scrape your soft tissue.

“Mm-mm,” he denies, muffled by your flesh as he mouths your folds, enveloping them in wet warmth that makes your eyes flutter. Thick arms lock around your thighs, cords of muscle swollen atop your lap, taking advantage of your position to jostle you gently over him. A rhythm is set, one your body adapts to within seconds, obeying his silent command to grind. The new sensation that comes with wetting his entire face with your slick tightens your grip on the headboard, releasing a burst of air in a gasp as you chase that growing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Encouraging groans sound underneath you, seemingly enjoying this just as much as you, heightening in volume as your enthusiasm becomes clearer.

Juices drip down his chin and the sides of his face as you ride it, listening to the sounds of sex fill the room as he continues to liven your efforts with his flexing biceps, rocking you on him with fervor that you meet with eager cooperation. He ducks his head, straining his neck from the weight of a body on it, but he ignores the pain, reaching his tongue to circle your hole, shoving it in. A sharp keen is drawn from you, one so vulnerable it rips you out of the trance. Another wave of heat is swift to bloom on your cheeks, and briefly you slow to cover your mouth in embarrassment. It's reprimanded as quickly as it occurred, Han's massive hand swatting the fat of your ass to imprint the colored shape of his scold. You yelp, jumping forward that brushes your clit against the tip of his nose.

The feeling introduced to you shoots electricity up your spine, and you follow it. You aim your hips just as he angles his head, reading your mind. He nuzzles your bud, puffy from stimulation, as his tongue traces the outline of your sex. One of those powerful and low moans of his, vibrating you, is enough to corral you to the edge. Your hips quicken, grinding down, desiring more and more pressure as your swirl your clit around his nose. You can feel him surge as he tugs you down—it's a wonder how he's not suffocating yet—desperate lips latching onto your delicate tissues, swiping side to side on your sex, painting himself with your new layer of cream. One hand releases the headboard to fist his hair to which he groans obscenely about. Your fist tightens, digging him into your hungry sex, letting him devour you as you direct him.

Since you're going at it on your own, he unlocks you, those callused hands running up your body, molding your pretty flesh in his grasp as he wanders your torso and chest. He gives your tits a hearty squeeze, pinching your nips between his thick fingers, before running down your back so he can get at your ass, groping you.

"Just like that, Han, almost there, just like that," you whisper, winded from effort, riding his face without a shred of inhibition. Your clit swipes across the bridge of his nose, hitting the bone, and your cry out as the coil snaps. Sweet juices flood, pouring out of you, drowning Han just like he wanted. Arms wrap around your hips, keeping you moving while your orgasm takes you over, squeezing your eyes shut as your body locks up like its got a mind of its own. He's not gonna let you chicken out, forcing you to keep grinding, overstimulating your abused clit. Even your fist banging haphazardly against the headboard, nails of your other hand digging into his scalp doesn't deter him. Choked noises of pain and pleasure release from deep within your gut, and the violent spurts of your pussy gradually slow to a stop. Your hole flutters, and carefully he lifts your leg for you, pushing you to lean to one side so he can extract himself. He envelopes you in his arms, tucking you into his chest as you breathe hard.

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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[snippychicke]

Poppy Seeds --Part Two

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

@twistedcece wanted tagged, anyone else?

Four: Water

It did end up raining later that afternoon. You had found Ollie a fresh change of clothes and had been showing the four around the farm. Thankfully, the day was warm enough that the cold droplets weren’t going to chill anyone too much, though Ollie squeaked as soon as the first droplet hit him. 

It was just a light spring shower, but it was still tricky to convince Ollie to come out from the chicken coop he had taken shelter in. It wasn’t until you decided to join the others that he slowly peeked out, sunken eyes wide.  

Kissy was twirling in the middle of the drive, her arms spread wide and her smile bright as ever. Poppy had her own arms outstretched, her face tilted up against the tickling drops and a smile on her eternally-painted lips. Dogday was brightly laughing as he pulled you out from the sheltered area to where several puddles were quickly forming. 

Seeing you and Dogday stomping in the water looked far too fun for the boy to ignore, and soon he was brave enough to leave his place of safety (to the relief of the hens not used to the small child in their home). IT took him a moment to get used to the constant patter on his skin, but both you and Dogday were becoming him closer with open hands. 

Laughter soon echoed in the air as the three of you would stomp from puddle to puddle. Kissy and Poppy didn’t join in --both not fond of getting muddy-- but enjoyed watching the three of you, two acting like overgrown kids and one finally able to act his age.

Things seemed perfect.

---

Later, Kissy and Poppy had corralled Ollie into the upstairs bathroom for a ‘proper’ bath. Judging from the splashing and outraged squeals from Poppy, the boy was still enjoying the new lease on childhood… or maybe Kissy had decided to join in the impishness. You weren’t sure, and was more focused on Dogday anyways. 

Your bedroom had its own bathroom, complete with an old large clawfoot tub that Dogday was able to sit in, though it was a tight fit. So you had taken it upon yourself to grab a basin and a few washcloths to scrub his back that was still coated in sticky things you rather not think about while he handled the rest. 

“I wish I could have done better on these stitches,” you offered as you gently cleaned around the sloppy uneven stitches where you had sewn his bottom half back on. The thread you had been able to find was a bright neon green and easy to see against his tan hair, and the ‘hide’ of his top half flapped over a bit of his bottom half since you had no idea how else to stitch the pieces together. Sewing has never been your forte. 

You swore magic had to be involved, considering that a simple sewing together and undoing the tourniquet had somehow ‘healed’ the connection and he could feel and control his lower body once more. 

“They’re fine,” Dogday reassured, currently scrubbing a stubborn stain on his arm. “The fact you were able to fix me in the first place is a miracle in itself, angel.” 

“I know,” you whined, unable to stop glaring at the poor stitchwork. “But it’s green. And all wonky…” 

He paused to look down at the stitching, a fond expression on his face (though you couldn’t see it.) “I like it that way. It’s a visual reminder of how much you cared.”

Your heart thumped at his words, and you bit your lip. It had been an act of desperation… but he wasn’t wrong. You had cared-- you had been terrified that you would do something to hurt him. To cause him to die no matter what you did. You wanted to save him-- to be able to save someone.

The memory threatened to overwhelm you, and you dropped your washcloth so you could wrap your arm around his shoulders, uncaring that you were getting your clothes wet by hugging him. 

You had been so close to losing him. Close to losing your own life. Failing everyone  yet again after you had failed years prior. 

“Angel?” Dogday managed to shift, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, cradled against his body as you cried. “What is it?” 

“I-I-” you stuttered, clenching your eyes as if you could push those memories out of your mind. Not just of him, but of everything. It was like a crack had formed and everything you had stubbornly ignored came rushing in. 

“Oh Angel,” he sighed as if he understood, pulling you closer. “Sweetheart. It's okay.”

“How can you call me that?” You choked out. “I-I left all of you, ten years ago. I saw what they were doing and I ran away.” 

“You were little more than a child yourself,” was not the answer you were expecting. As if he remembered just like Mommy Longlegs had. “Probably a bright-eyed intern or something, am I right?” 

You weakly nodded your head. You had been so excited when your application had been accepted. Everyone was hushed about the project, but they were looking for brilliant minds to help lead the future. You had been chosen out of hundreds of others. You had signed so many non-disclosure and other legal papers you thought it was weird for a toy factory but dismissed it as corporate paranoia. 

You didn't realize why until you stumbled upon that first file. Realized the toys looking after the kids weren't advanced animatronics. You hadn't discovered the whole story, but enough to send you running for the hills.

Literally. 

You quit everything, and ran away into the woods hoping they would never find you. 

“Besides, you came back. And now we're here. Safe.” His thumb wiped at your tears. “Cuddling in a bathtub.” 

The last but made you laugh despite yourself and helped bring you back into the moment. You had to admit, it probably looked odd; giant Dogday squished in the tub with you--a full grown adult--more or less cradled in his arms. Both of you now thoroughly wet.

Your laugh made his smile widen faintly. “There we go. I know we'll all have hard days, but as long as we're here for each other, I think we'll get through it.” 

Five: Wait

“I won’t be gone long, I promise,” you had said as you climbed into your truck. Without him. Dogday had all but whined at you, unashamed at the puppy-eye expression he gave you. “Day,” you had sighed, leaning out the window to cup his cheek as he leaned down. “I’m sorry, but the back is going to be full when I come back. And besides, who’s going to look after them?”

He should have pointed out that Kissy and Poppy were well able to deal with anything, the two girls were much more capable than they appeared. However, he had quietly conceded and stood back, allowing you to disappear down the steep drive. 

That had been early this morning. Nearly five hours ago.  

Dogday had barely moved from his spot, waiting to see the sunlight glint off your truck as it climbed the driveway. Or to hear its engine grumble as it approached. What if something happened to you? His sweet angel? He may have been trapped in the factory all those years, but he still knew the outside world could be just as dangerous. Especially to someone sweet and kind as you. 

“You’re really whipped, aren’t you?” Poppy spoke as Kissy approached, carrying the smaller doll on her shoulder. “When I said they’d be our angel to come save us, I didn’t think you would take it this far.” 

“They saved me,”  he answered, his eyes still focused on this distance. He meant more than just his life, when he was strung up like a piece of meat for the miniatures to come feast upon. When he had been so blinded by rage and the need for revenge…

He could still see your eyes through the thick glass of the gasmask, begging him to stop. Your voice as you asked him to spare Catnap’s life because there had been enough death.

 “If that doesn’t deserve loyalty, I don’t know what else would.” 

“Loyalty. Right.” Poppy sighed, shaking her head. “You sure you’re not suffering from a bad case of puppy-love?” 

Dogday paused, his thoughts screeching to a halt at her words. Kissy Missy giggled behind her yellow hand as he struggled with the idea. Puppy love? Certainly not. What he felt wasn’t all warm, fuzzy, yet superficial. 

It was deep and all encompassing to the point it almost overwhelmed him sometimes when he looked at you. Whether covered in blood and dust with a look of grisly determination, or freshly showered and wet hair clinging to your face while you laughed, you were his angel. He’d do anything for you. 

“Not puppy love… but I do love them.” 

Just as the admission left his voice box, he heard the grumble of an engine, and looked down the road to see your old truck making its way up the zig-zagging path, the bed filled with things as you had predicted. His tail slowly started to wag behind him, belying his excitement and joy. 

He loved you so much, and he didn’t care if you never felt the same. As long as you let him stay by your side day after day, he’d be happy. 

Even if he had to wait sometimes. 

Six: Memories

Ollie may have been naive to things you presumed as common knowledge, but when it came to technology, he was a veritable genius. Considering he had to use the old machines to often run and hide from the others in the factory, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. 

The scrawny boy was able to help you hook up the various equipment you had brought home with you amongst the tons of groceries. A scanner, an old VHS reader, and an internet router with enough power to accomplish what you wanted. 

You hadn’t left the factory empty handed, after all. Dozens of VHS tapes, hundreds of files and loose papers. You had collected every bit of proof you could. And you were going to finish Rowan's work. 

“Are you sure about this?” Ollie asked as you popped the first VHS tape to convert into a digital file. “You’re going to be in big trouble if they find out…” 

“I should have done this a long time ago,” you said with determination. “Besides, I promised everyone else. They’ve waited long enough.” 

Poppy and the others were silent. This had been part of Poppy’s plan all along, after all. Bring the crimes of Playtime Co to light and assure nothing like this happens again.

Yet your hands shook as you scoured for the email address for every news company and journalist you could find. You remembered what Playtime did to Rowan, and while their factory had been decommissioned a decade ago, it was hardly the only one. They were still one of the largest companies on the scene.

Who’s to say that similar things weren’t happening there? More than one had an orphanage on site, after all. 

This would certainly be their downfall, and they were bound to come after you if given half the chance. This little piece of heaven that you had these last few days would be stolen away from you…

Dogday leaned on you from behind, lanky arms wrapped around your shoulders while his chin rested on your head. The heavy weight was comfortable, as was the soft scent of vanilla that you had worked back into his fur after his bath the other day. 

“Nothing is going to happen to Angel,” he growled softly. “Or any of us. We’ll protect our new home.”

“Our family,” Poppy added quietly, and got a determined nod from Kissy and a cheer from Ollie. You relaxed into Dogday’s embrace, wrapping your fingers around his arms.

--*--

Dogday and Catnap circled each other, growls and snarls echoing in the small chamber. Red Mist filled the air, yet somehow Dogday was still awake. Aware of what was reality and what was a waking nightmare.

 Catnap had not expected to see his old friend again after ripping him in half and sacrificing him to the miniatures. All these years and he thought Dogday was with him--with the Prototype-- and only to learn he sided with her. Poppy. And you. The one Dogday called angel.  

Dogday finally made the first move, swinging a broken pipe he had been carrying. Normally Catnap could avoid it, but his feet stumbled over the debris hidden in the thick red mist. 

“Stop it!” You screamed, voice muffled by your gasmask as you suddenly appeared out of the mist. Dogday nearly slammed the pipe into you, but stopped a hairbreadth away. Catnap was just as stunned as his counterpart as you stood protectively between the two large beings. 

“There’s been enough death,” you continued as Dogday lowered his weapon. “I know he hurt you. I know he’s done a lot wrong, but…” 

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy, angel,” Dogday growled softly. “None of us do, but especially not him.” 

You shook your heads, arms still stretched wide. “Maybe, but I’m tired of all this death. Everyone’s been wronged here. The horrors that you all went through, even before the Hour of Joy. It has to end, and I want it to end now.” 

You protected him. Stood up against the Prototype when He came down and tried to end Catnap’s life and steal his body to integrate with His. Catnap vividly remembered the determined expression on your face as you faced off against his fake-god. 

You… were merciful. Kind. Real.  While the Prototype had stayed to himself, distant from everyone else, you walked with them. You had taken those four away from the factory, swearing to those left behind that help would soon come. 

You would save them. 

Catnap had to waitfor little less than a week before seeing your promise come to fruition. Not years, or another decade of pain and suffering. Less than a week and all sorts of people were swarming the factory. 

You had made everything public knowledge, so the company or anyone else couldn’t just sweep them under a rug and dispose of them. He watched as humans cared for the little ones, offering the food and water that they had been deprived of for so long. PJ Pug-a-pillar, Huggy Wuggy, and others he didn’t know were still alive were pulled from the hands of death and into life. Freedom. 

He could have stepped into the light and joined them. He knew the miniatures would be happy about that…yet watching one of miniature counterparts huddle close with its brethren, all of them with juice boxes and blankets, reminded him harshly of what he had done. He had done so much in the name of that false-god…

He had to find The Savior and do what he could to be redeemed. 

[a11eya]

birthday post!! warning, yapping ahead!!!

saturday morning was overcast, misty. quiet. the roads leading into town were winding, lined by unfamiliar trees. the sun burned off the mist, revealing clear blue skies, and i branched off onto a different road which brought me to the ranch.

the ranch had chickens and turkeys, baby donkeys and full grown pigs. alpacas and a cow! but everywhere i looked were ponies and horses. some stabled, some tied to a hitching post, some being trained in a corral.

the horse i rode that day is a former competition rodeo ropes horse named walt! he's fifteen, all white. there was one other rider there aside from our guide, and that rider's horse's name is marley. she used to jump hoops!

single file, with our guide in front, marley in the middle, and me and walt last, we set out on an hour-long trail through the bed of a former river. it's overgrown now with greenery, shrubs and small trees. the dirt trails were still littered with rocks, big and small, and poor marley must have slipped on them at least five times.

walt was very patient with me. the goodest, bestest boy. i know a little of the basics. a good seat requires balance, good posture. makes it easier for the horse to carry you. how to handle the reins for steering, how to urge the horse to go and or ask it to stop. i've ridden horses before, but you can count the number of times on two hands. so walt was patient. despite the fact i had to adjust my seat a couple times, despite the fact that he was last in a single file line with the longest legs of the three horses.

if you've never ridden a horse, there's an initial discomfort to overcome. straddling the horse's back, adjusting to its gait. paying attention to the road ahead of you. but once you get situated, that all fades to the background.

the rustling of small animals in the brush, the birds flitting back and forth. i heard the screech of some kind of hawk overhead, in a sky whose blue stretched far, uninterrupted by even a single cloud. the dust the horses kicked up as they walked, their snorts as they cleared their noses, the thud of their hooves against the ground.

we finished up around 11:30 AM. though i'd planned to have lunch after riding, i found i wasn't hungry just yet. so i set off to the olive grove where the olive oil tasting was happening.

the grove was out on the other end of town, out where there were more ranches and farms growing food. i passed an orange orchard that, spoilers, i ended up buying clementines from at the farmer's market i went to on sunday (more on that later, maybe).

at the entrance of the grove, there was a building, the tasting room, where containers of olive oil and balsamic vinegar lined one wall. you're given a wooden tray with circular indentations in it, deep enough to allow a small disposable cup (think—the kind you put pump condiments like ketchup for fries out into at restaurants) to sit in. next to each indentation is a label engraved into the wood to delineate between the oils and vinegar. you're also given a small loaf of sourdough baguette to rip apart into dippable pieces to taste with.

you make your way along the line of containers, filling your small cups yourself. they had a selection of extra virgin olive oils, infused olive oils, and interesting balsamic vinegars.

outside, they had picnic tables and hammocks under a small canopy of trees where you could sit and take your time tasting. i tried the olive oils first.

for the most part, the olive oil i've had has been cooking olive oil. the big containers you can get at costco, or at the grocery store. i've had good olive oil only a few times, back when i was in italy a couple years ago and wasn't in the headspace to really appreciate it. so i didn't really know what to expect from this tasting experience.

my brother-in-law asked me what i was surprised by from this experience, or something i learned from it. and it sounds so pretentious, but. i told him it's that you can really taste the notes in each olive oil, the ones that're mentioned in their descriptions. even just in the uninfused olive oils. the mild, buttery flavor of a more mellow oil and the spicy, almost peppery flavor of a more intense one. the way that a balsamic vinegar tones down or complements an olive oil when tried together.

they had a delicious garlic infused olive oil, a white truffle olive oil. a rosemary one, a lemon one. aside from their traditional balsamic vinegar, they had a peach one, a fig one, an expresso one, a cinnamon pear one. apparently, you can make a great lemon cake with the lemon-infused olive oil, or a bubbly, carbonated drink with the peach balsamic vinegar.

i ended up going home with an extra virgin olive oil made with olives from their heritage grove (peppery, spicy), the white truffle infused oil, and their traditional balsamic vinegar. i got my sister and brother-in-law an extra virgin olive oil that's smoother, milder, fruitier, and the peach balsamic vinegar—super sweet.

finally, i went for lunch. nothing too interesting to note.

following lunch, i headed over to an outdoor bookstore! it was lovely, exposed to the sky, greenery and plants everywhere. i ended up buying a book on art—The Artist's Palette by Alexandra Loske. it takes 50 artists from the 16th century until now and dives deep into one of their paintings and its color palette, the techniques used to create the painting.

i happened to pick it up because it caught my eye, and upon flipping through it, it fell open to the section on Artemisa Gentileschi. during my undergrad, i took a class on art history to fulfill some requirement, and in that class i wrote a paper on artemisa. she achieved a hell of a lot as an artist during a time when women weren't given opportunities to achieve, particularly in male-dominated circles. if you're curious, one of her most notable works is Judith Slaying Holofernes (warning for violence/blood/death). she's stuck with me, even after all these years, and the book opening to her section felt a little like fate.

after the bookstore, i headed to a wine tasting. i'm not a big alcohol person, and even less so now that i'm out of my 20s, but the area is known for things like their food, their olives, their wine.

my server was super sweet. she gave me a glass of rose on the house, and i didn't even tell her it was my birthday. i ordered a tasting menu of four white wines, and i sat at my table people-watching as i sipped.

it was still a little early for dinner, so i took a walk through downtown and came across a very busy park, despite the chill and setting sun. kids were running around, crawling all over the slides and monkey bars. people were walking their dogs. so i sat on a bench for a while and just let my mind empty as the blue sky flared in yellows and pinks and purples.

[ladyhallen]

Betting Pools and Man Eating Sheep: Behind the Scenes

Hermione felt a headache blossom under her eyes.

“Harry, why do we have a dozen sheep in the front yard?” she asked Harry, hoping for a different answer.

Harry beamed and answered, “Fon called. He said he found some and needed to get them off his hands.”

With her perfect view from the window, Hermione saw one of the sheep eat one of the chickens. Hermione felt faint.

“Harry, your sheep just ate a chicken. Whole.”

Harry blinked for a few times. “Well, he did say something about it plaguing the countryside if left alone…”

This was just like that time Fon found a few hundred parrots that needed to be re-homed. Harry had, of course, agreed. Like she always would with anything her husband asked. And then it turned out they were parrots that had eaten a magical mandrake by accident and their cries would and could kill now.

And someone in Fon’s workplace had been breeding them to assassinate his enemies before Fon’s coworker Reborn noticed and killed the man...but not before getting saddled with the impossible task of moving a hundred song-killing parrots.

Harry had agreed when Fon called and her incredible Potter luck made sure that Luna tagged along and noticed the birds strange feather mutations and identified it before the birds could kill anyone else.

But it had been exceedingly close!! No matter how much Hermione stressed this out, Harry would always just shrug off the danger. And her damned Potter luck was not helping matters! Neither was Fon. He always wound up in such strange situations and needed Harry's help. Hermione rued the day they met.

“Harry,” Hermione said in warning. She was a bit nervous about this. If this sheep could unhinge its jaws and eat a chicken whole, what else could it eat whole?

Harry nodded obligingly. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of it. Maybe Charlie would like to have his dragons play with man eating sheep.”

Hermione whirled around to shout, “Man Eating What!” but Harry ran out of the door to corral the sheep to Romania too fast to hear her.

.

Note: I updated the AO3 to include this snip, coz it just occurred to me. HAHAHAHA

[buglass]

Me, Me More Cowboy

(A Short Series)

Summary: Based in the mid-1960s, ranch hand Elvis Presley is a new hire to the West Family Farm. He grows irate as cattle and livestock turn up missing over 6 months. Unbeknownst to the ranch, the hippie woman, Lilibet, he sees on occasion in their small town—along with members of her commune—is behind it. An ongoing dispute of right and wrong both morally and romantically ensues as Elvis takes Lilibet up on her offer of viewing things through her perspective.

Pairing: Cowboy!Elvis Presley x Lilibet Stevens!OFC

Chapters: 1/5

WC: ~5.8K

Warnings (for the entire series): Some historical and geographical inaccuracies, fluff, slow burn, no beta reader, mention of DV, cult/commune culture, and smut.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little spin. The original one-shot will be well over 20K+ words so I’ve broken it up into chapters for the sake of making it bite-sized. The title is based on the hit Brudi Brothers’ song. Please feel free to give feedback or thoughts. Thanks for reading :)

Next Chapter

✧ Chapter 1 ✧

ELVIS

Elvis Presley was a Tupelo boy through and through but the call of Tennessee sounded out to him for some time. Winter had come and gone. Despite his family managing to put food on the table between what they grew and bought, Elvis still felt they struggled to do so. His mama would never admit to it and his daddy was damn near no good about closing the gap. He heard stories of Memphis’ city-like charm and music scene which was out of his depth. The closest Elvis got to music was his guitar and church. The older he got, the more he sought it out and saved up for records he couldn’t bring along the way. There was nothing for him back home besides a quiet life and stagnant progression. 

If he wanted to do something with his life, he had to get out from under his mama’s wing and his daddy’s lazy habits. He had been contributing financially to the household since he was a teenager. Elvis’ parents sent him on his way with a few dollars to hold him over until he could find a job in Memphis and settled for bussing in a diner temporarily until he found pinned, handmade posters for ranch work helping cousins Sonny and Red West on their family farm out in small-town Water Valley—an hour away from Memphis. They promised housing, food, and a moderate income in exchange for work.

When Elvis came to the ranch by hitchhiking, selling his dingy Chevy truck, and using his charisma to his advantage, he first met Red then Sonny. Their families lived on opposite sides of the shared one-hundred-thirty-eight acres, their parents opting to live with their respective grown sons. 

“We’re probably gonna end up buildin’ somethin’ small for the both of us to get the hell outta dodge,” Red scoffed.

That’s what families did, confined by tradition and obligation though both men were in their twenties. The two of them gave Elvis an extensive tour of the property aided by a rusting pick-up truck that rumbled as if it was on its last leg bumbling on dirt roads and uneven paths. The newly built horse stables sat empty which gave Elvis a bit of relief since he didn’t know how he felt about the towering beasts. Elvis rode on the bed in the back, his large pea-colored duffel bag from his time in the Army held between his strong and capable legs as he took in the expansive land. The truck eventually came to a halt outside of the chicken coops, with a few hens and roosters roaming about outside. On the opposite side, goats were corralled and gathered. Some were eating and others looked their way curiously.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom in our house,” Sonny said. “That’s where you would stay.”

“We’ll get ya some better jeans than those, too,” Red added, gesturing to Elvis’ worn and torn pants.

The first month took some adjusting, waking up before the sun and the Spring heat turning to Summer breathed down the back of his neck. He liked handling the animals and watched as they grew used to him, trusting he wouldn’t hurt them. Red and Sonny did explain that sometimes the cattle were sent to and bought by a butcher in town or further away. Same for some of the chickens, but otherwise the West family prided themselves on being strictly dairy-related. The goats came second for their cheese and milk. Their greatest use was clearing the land and clothing production. 

Come Monday, they were loading up cases of bottles of milk from both the cows and the goats to drop off at the corner and grocery store in town. Elvis secured the straps over the cases, making haste to load up. They couldn’t afford to let the milk sour by taking their time and making the drive. Sonny rode passenger after he insisted that Elvis man the wheel. 

“You’ve got that lead foot,” Sonny laughed.

Elvis did enjoy driving fast.

Within twenty minutes, the pair arrived at the storefront and pulled into the paved parking lot. The door to the truck cried out as the old hinges moved and Sonny followed, climbing up the back of the bed. Sonny hoisted himself up with a boot on the top of the rear tire and swung his other leg over the side. Elvis came around to wrench the tailgate down and they moved the cases to the ledge it provided. 

“Go get a dolly, E,” Sonny directed.

“Yes, sir,” Elvis nodded. 

Sonny was three years his junior but that didn’t make him any less his boss. Elvis wiped the condensation of the bottles onto the front of his striped button-up shirt as he started toward the store. Sometimes Mr. Tom Parker, the owner of both the corner store and grocery, greeted them and other times he was too busy in his quaint back office to recall when they would arrive. The bell to the door tolled as Elvis pushed it open, reaching for his cowboy hat with his opposite hand to remove it from his head. The slightly cooler inside was welcome as the air conditioner on the truck was out and rolled-down windows could only provide so much succor. 

The store was filled with shelves that Elvis easily towered over, the slight hum of the plugged-in refrigerators holding beverages and groceries filling the small store for those who didn’t want to make the grueling trip into a fluorescent lighting hell. Behind the counter sat a young, black woman he had never seen before. She was flipping through a magazine long before she noticed Elvis watching her. He wasn’t staring at her solely because of how she looked or what she was, but she was beautiful all in her own right. 

More beauty than his eyes could stand. 

Her cheekbones were high and her long hair was done in two downward braids on either side of her. The outside heat didn’t stop her from donning a cardigan over what he assumed to be a dress, the front of the bunched material cupping at her breasts. She glanced in his direction because of the bell above the door but said nothing to him. When she moved to stand, she left her magazine open and tiptoed around the divide to walk the aisles. A stack of forgotten boxes and an adhesive pricing labeler took up half of an aisle. Elvis caught himself stuck, watching as she casually walked around to the waiting bunch as if minding her business instead of working a job.

“‘Scuse me, miss, is Mr. Parker in the back there?” Elvis asked.

Lilibet squinted at first, not quite looking at Elvis as she had started labeling cans and stacking them onto the shelf. His presence kicked her productivity into gear for what little it was worth. When she finally looked him dead in the eye, she softened as her incivility had nothing to do with Elvis. 

“He is. Want me to go grab him for you?” Lilibet offered, pausing as the pricing gun and large can in her hands went slack.

“I know where his office door is. Hard ta miss,” Elvis chuckled to lighten the mood, showing he wasn’t a threat. The same way he had done to the animals he cared so dearly for. Her large eyes and thick lashes made her look like a fawn he wanted to coo at and placate.

“Have at it,” Lilibet shrugged. She returned to her task as quickly as she spared him a few words. 

Elvis nodded, walking down the same aisle she filled to pass her. She smelled of rosemary and mint as if she carried it in her pockets. Elvis exhaled once he was down at the end and in the corridor where the janitor’s closet, water closet, back door to the store, and Mr. Parker’s office were. He rapped his knuckles against the thick wood and a grunt came from the other side. Elvis grabbed the steely knob and twisted it open to a smoke-filled room a la cigars and the heady smell of body odor of the overweight man propped behind his desk. Elvis stood in the doorway to make it quick so Mr. Parker would ready their payment for both stops there and the grocery store. 

“Good mornin’, Mr. Parker. Just stoppin’ in to let you know we’re rearin’ to bring in some milk. We’ll stop by the grocery store too right after.” Elvis said.

“Good morning, my boy, good to see you. Happy to have anything from the West family. Good quality, too. Come by when you’re done.” Mr. Parker said between puffs, holding the cigar between his lips once he was done speaking. 

“Yes, sir,” Elvis agreed with a polite smile. 

Elvis left the office for the janitor’s closet to grab the dolly knowing he would get an earful from Sonny about the whole thing taking as long as it did. He could bite the bullet with no problem. In the past month, he, Sonny, and Red formed a brotherly bond that included shit-talking without repercussion. Not including the wrestling bouts that broke out and noogies to the top of someone’s head. Red swore they were going to make him go bald if they kept at it. 

“You givin’ a soliloquy in there?” Sonny asked the second he was in view.

“You ever quit bitchin’?” Elvis smirked before he fully got the words out. 

“When you get to work, yeah.” Sonny laughed. 

They stacked the crates one after the other until Elvis figured it was enough. He didn’t want to risk breaking a single bottle to prove a point. His hat stayed in place as he tugged the door to the store open swiftly, using the dolly to catch the door. Elvis wheeled over to the cold section to place the crates in groups of six. He made two more trips before returning to the truck, mentioning to Sonny how Mr. Parker requested to be seen once they were done. 

When Sonny returned, Elvis was sitting in the passenger seat, prompting him to the other side of the truck as he counted through the cash he was given. The truck rocked as Sonny’s large frame slid in beside Elvis.

“You know that girl inside?” Elvis asked soon after.

“Why? Got a problem with ‘er?” Sonny raised a brow, disapproval in his tone.

“The opposite. I didn’t catch her name. Don’t see too many… You know. I grew up with black folks, like kin. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.” Elvis shook his head. He dug his finger into the top of his cowboy hat where it lay in his lap.

“Good. ‘Cause I can’t stand a racist,” Sonny grunted, shifting forward to slide the bills into the back pocket of his jeans.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Elvis wasn’t much of a drinker and was known incontestably as the household homebody. He spent more time with Sonny’s side of the family—his parents and six other siblings. Why did he need to go out when they were their own party? Sonny damn near had to beg Elvis to go out because he needed something to do that didn’t include one of his sisters in his ear or even seeing his one other brother’s face. Red was lucky to be invited at all. Elvis obliged under friendly incumbency. What he quickly learned about Water Valley was that unlike much of the South, black and white people lived relatively symbiotically, especially due to the small population. 

When Elvis was dragged into the only bar in town, he was fully expecting the plain, usual sort of music he found lacking any diverse rhythm and swing he grew up around. The entire place was a mixed bag of company though people somewhat stuck to what they knew besides the performers on the simple wooden stage that was one step up from the creaky floorboards. Elvis lagged, the West cousins wandering ahead grabbing a table. He broke from his thoughts, warmth spreading through him with the realization he was the happiest he had been in some time. Even when he sent most of his money back home to his parents, all the people he knew and loved were the same ones he worked and lived with.

LILIBET

Lizabeth Marie ‘Lilibet’ Stevens was the daughter of two working-class parents and was born in Arkansas. By the time she was old enough to understand how hard her daddy hit her mother and what made her little sisters cry, her mama took them away to colorful Memphis without warning. Her mother scraped by with mere pennies or bills she scrounged secretly from her father. When her calling turned out to be the commune down in Water Valley, Lilibet found new normalcy. The commune made up one big house where most resided, if they chose, and the rest of the surrounding land was covered in what could be seen as shacks or shotgun houses. There were horses which she had loved since she was an itty bitty thing and enough dogs to go around that each family in the commune could easily have two. The chickens weren’t her favorite—they liked to peck and got in the way. The feral cats were her second favorite because some days they weren’t too bad and soft to the touch when they let her pet them.

Everyone had a job or place of some sort to help that was based on winning Godly favor. Not contributing was frowned upon unless someone was injured, sick, or out of sorts. Lilibet didn’t know much else or see anything wrong with how she was being raised or taught to view the world. As of late, she questioned a few things though there was no one she trusted to convey her thoughts. She was in quite the bubble though sometimes someone said something she couldn’t grasp if they referred to somewhere like Memphis. When she had the time or control of the remote to watch one of the only televisions around, she was enthralled by what she read. Some parts about the rest of the world seemed strict but others seemed a lot more carefree than she had been told.

If she were truthful, she was afraid of the rest of the world but so curious about it.

When she was faced with a tan and tall cowboy, she grew nervous the second he entered. For how quickly she saw the man, his blue eyes stuck with her. His type could either be sincere and warm or cold and demeaning. Lilibet was mildly embarrassed to be seen behind the counter reading her magazine to pass the time. The usual rush of morning folks already passed earlier that morning. The lull between the lunch and evening rush typically left her with nothing to do. Being seen as lazy always bothered her. She took a job at the corner store to earn money for herself. Back at the commune beyond the town’s center, everyone shared and did everything together. 

As she entered her twenties, she began resenting her mother’s preferred way of living she and her two other sisters had been dragged into. While she respected her mother’s decision to leave their abusive father, she accidentally entered another abusive relationship by becoming a part of what some might say was a cult. The rest may have called it free-thinking, but sometimes boundaries were overstepped where the men benefitted more than the women. She didn’t want to think about how misogyny still managed to taint their upbringing and home.

As Lilibet got closer to the gentleman, her eyes dropped to his long fingers which worked against the brim of his cowboy hat. When she did finally raise her eyes just enough, she was too shy to hold his gaze but managed to soften her features. She went back to labeling the forgotten cans she left in the aisle before he spoke. His voice was a lot deeper than she expected it to be. Gentler, too. When he disappeared to the back, she wished she asked his name since they would see each other again in due time.

The time came two weeks later during an outing with some of the only other young women in their twenties—Corinne, Grace, and Morrow (her parents were hippies through and through). They were seated at the bar, leaning forward onto forearms as they all spoke excitedly and giggled. After already sipping down their first drinks, they were all unbelievably chatty. Lilibet liked to just listen since Corinne and Morrow had the most to say and everything was dramatic and heightened. The two of them liked to play off of the other. Lilibet was turning in her seat as the music on the small half-round stage drew her attention. The first week after she encountered Elvis—Mr. Parker informed her of his name after asking if she should expect deliveries—she stopped expecting to see him. Eventually, through word of mouth, as most news traveled in a small town, she learned he worked on the West Farm which was nearly half an hour away by car. 

No wonder why she never saw him. 

But she did that night for the first time since their original encounter. Last week, he wasn’t with Sonny for the drop-off. Instead, Sonny’s brother took Elvis’ place. She tried to mind her business to hide her disappointment. Elvis was standing near the doorway of the bar, unable to notice Lilibet with how many people filled the bar that Saturday night. Nearly all of the town could have filled the place, especially once someone looked up to see there was a second floor slightly shrouded by dim lighting and the thick railing blocking seated bodies. She crossed one leg over the other, smooth skin gliding under her linen dress and her faded, hand-me-down cowgirl boots knocking together. Lilibet bumped her elbow into Grace at her side.

“There’s that Elvis guy I was tellin’ you about. Don’t be too obvious,” Lilibet said, holding her straw at her lips.

“You told me dark hair, handsome, and white. How am I s’posed to point him out in here?” Grace snorted, turning her chair to look around the bar.

Lilibet waited until Elvis was seated and she glanced around before pointing in his direction. She thought she was caught when Elvis’ head shifted in a way that could have been mistaken for being in their direction. She wasn’t sure because he didn’t make a show of holding her attention. Lilibet dropped her eyes and turned back toward the bar again, clearing her throat.

“Oh, he is handsome. Makes for eye candy in this cesspool of a town,” Grace smiled, proud of her sarcasm. Her name shouldn’t fool anyone. She was mouthy and confident. Lilibet swore she could read her mind because everything she kept inside always found its way fumbling past Grace’s lips.

“He’s a farm hand. I’ve never seen him here.” Lilibet used her straw to stir her drink.

“We’ve barely been here before,” Grace reminded her. “West Farm, that farm? Lots of people in the commune don’t care for them. Says they slaughter their animals haphazardly.” 

“Really?” Lilibet asked, not knowing any better. Neither of them did. “I wouldn’t’ve taken him as the type to get his hands that dirty.”

“Those animals deserve better than being someone’s food,” Grace said firmly.

Lilibet should have summed it up as Grace being drunk rather than a good idea yet she agreed. Most things were easier when everyone agreed. Worse, Lilibet was one of the few in the commune who partook in eating meat. She was a little hypocritical but she could empathize better with a cow than she could with a chicken. Then, that’s when the conversation spread to Morrow and Corinne who were also convinced the moral decision would be to free the West Farm cattle. In the back of Lilibet’s mind, she thought it was asking for trouble but they were preached at about how they should follow their hearts and do the right thing. How did they know the cows were being sent to slaughter? 

Lilibet had never even laid eyes on the farm herself.

“Maybe we should think on this. We hardly know where to go to get there and how will we get there,” Lilibet cut in.

“Borrow a car,” Morrow offered with a snap of her fingers.

“My boyfriend has one.” Corinne nodded.

“The horses?” Grace suggested.

“They’ll hear them clunkin’ ‘round once y’all take off with ‘em. This is one big mess waitin’ to happen. I don’t want any part of it. I couldn’t face gettin’ in trouble. My mama would be beside herself.” Lilibet shook her head, having started on her third drink in the past half an hour.

“You’re bein’ such a normy square, Lil,” Morrow cracked a smile.

“A square that won’t be in jail for the night. Sheriff Schilling might be a nice man but he can be a piece of work.” Lilibet said.

Lilibet fussed about the idea even as they saddled up. Their horses, belonging to the commune as a whole but generally untouched at the hour it was, were tied up outside in the bit of grass and alongside the building where riders could tie their horse’s reins. Somehow driving a car was far worse than drunkenly steering a horse. Corinne was the only one with a vague idea as to where the farm was. Lilibet stayed quiet on the matter as they rode at a steady gallop. Lilibet didn’t know why went with them. Her guilt would have eaten at her if something happened to her friends otherwise and she wasn’t there to stop it. Then again, the world was spinning and she was lucky her horse, Chip, was as cooperative as he could be.

The next hour was a blur of large animals, wind in her face and hair, and vomiting off the side of Chip. She was fortunate to find the softness of a bed and pillow on her face when it was all over. 

ELVIS

“I can’t believe this shit,” Elvis snapped. “I-I swear we secured that gate. There is no way in hell.”

When the news was brought to him about the cattle, one of Sonny’s sisters had been the one to find that some of their cattle strayed from their pasture and passed it on to Red’s side of the family and Sonny directly. Not only did she see it for herself but there were phone calls and a house visit by Water Valley cops responding to concerns. 

“It’s not your fault, E. Can’t be. Besides, there could have been any number of us that done it. Don’t let it get you down. All we can do now is go out and round ‘em up. Any good with a rope?” Sonny asked seriously, his brow crinkling deep in thought.

They stood outside along one of the dirt roads of the property and Elvis grimaced, knowing what was coming next. He had yet to fully acquaint himself with the horses, sure they could smell his fear and would react poorly to his wary disposition. 

“Aw, hell, Sonny,” Elvis breathed. “No better time than the present to become skilled at somethin’.”

“That’s the spirit. Good man,” Sonny clapped a hand on his back.

“‘Good man’,” Elvis mocked as they started toward the horse stables.

The mistake Elvis and the West family made was assuming the cattle escaping was a mistake. Because when it happened a second and third time, it made no sense for any of them to be so careless. None of them enjoyed having to convince the cows back home. Even with the aid of a herding dog, it was a pain in the ass. Production and profits slowed down every time they thought they were in the clear. One night, Elvis took it upon himself to stay up, shotgun in hand and a chair poised toward the pasture the remaining cows resided. The first few nights, there was nothing and eventually shifts were exchanged and taken over by West family members. 

Nothing then, too.

Weeks passed with nothing until he encountered any trace of someone risking being shot for a statement. That night, he was dozing off as he became fairly complacent about the whole thing. The sound of Earth being displaced by heavy, hooved movement caught his ear. At first, he thought he was dreaming it up for how quickly it stopped and crickets chirped in the cooling summer heat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, damp with sweat and tickled with an anxious trigger finger. He had always liked guns. The way they made him feel in control and unafraid of the rest of the world. 

Elvis moved to stand, almost tipping the lantern next to his boot, and he squinted in the dark, beginning to raise and cock the shotgun just below his chest.

“If anyone is out there,” Elvis shouted in the dark, black night. The only visible beings under the moonlight were the white spots on the cows and the grouped shadows surrounded by harrowing trees. “You’d better think carefully unless you wanna be shot!”

Silence at first, practically nothing and so loud of a nothing that Elvis’ ears rang painfully. There was some trotting he heard going the opposite direction, fading into the distance. The slow steps that did come his way seemed to hesitate, hooves starting then stopping before turning away and fading into the night as well. Elvis’ throat bobbed as he held his breath, waiting to confirm he was alone again with the cattle. 

He exhaled only then.

LILIBET

Lilibet was losing sleep and not solely because the venture of freeing West Farm cattle was a late night job. Somehow her friends got more people in on the idea. More wasn’t a lot but it was enough. Corinne’s boyfriend was a deep believer in doing the right thing, so much so it bordered on wrong because of it. Morrow’s fraternal twin brother joined, too. Lilibet felt it was mostly out of brotherly love for his sister than actual interest. As for Lilibet, even three months later she still felt inclined to keep an eye on everyone and mostly without drinking. When she laid in her bed at night, she thought about the ruckus their actions caused. Sure, some of the cows were on the loose but she felt terrible. 

The horses shouldn’t have been ridden so late and neither should any of the West family been trapped taking shifts for their cause. She recalled seeing Elvis, slumped in his chair sleeping when he could before the sound of the horses woke him. What little bit of light came from the lantern covered him in shadows once he stood up and took half-assed aim. Lilibet’s group was too far away for any real damage but it wasn’t worth being seen or discovered.

“You heard ‘im. We’re goin’ home. Go and I’ll be lookout in case they send someone for us,” Lilibet whispered to her fellow riders.

She watched them disperse into the trees and when she turned back, Elvis was there and stern. Lilibet wanted to tell him the truth. Every time since then when she saw him in town making deliveries as needed or shopping for himself, she wanted to say something that wasn’t a quick hello or a quick goodbye. She lacked the courage and convention to open herself up to him. There was no way either of them were alike. What could they speak about or have in common? Lilibet led Chip forward a few times before shaking her head and turning away to trot after her friends.

Days passed since then and she was firm in her belief that she wanted no part in continuing. A message was sent but playing with the livelihood of the richest family in town was a looming threat waiting to come down on them. 

When Elvis came into the corner store later in the week, he saved the pleasantries and beelined for the register. Lilibet sat straight, his brows rising as he held his hat between his hands as normal. 

“Hi, Lilibet. I know this is gonna sound intrusive, but I’ve got to ask you somethin’. I hope you know I don’t mean ta offend ya,” Elvis said.

None of it sounded good, not as good as their rapport as of late. Though her guilt sat on the outskirts of every waking minute and thought, she enjoyed passively getting to know Elvis. They had yet to dive into one another’s lives but she felt something deep within her chest every time they locked eyes. She disregarded it as her own delusions and fantasies but the hunger in Elvis’ eyes couldn’t have been imagined. Sometimes he caught his eyes dipping to her lips when she spoke and his own would part subconsciously. What little hope she had to feel his strong, scarred hands on her was replaced by common decency and understanding that politeness didn’t directly mean anything. 

A sweat broke out across Lilibet’s nose.

“Yeah, okay. What is it?” she asked, dog-earing the page of her latest magazine read.

“Would anyone where you live be prone to showin’ up at the farm? I mean, I know you told me that the community is very…liberal. Nothin’ wrong with that but I can’t see why else we’re bustin’ our asses to get these cows back.” Elvis grimaced, toeing the line of treading carefully and downright accusing the commune.

Lilibet never outright spat it out that her commune was filled with hippies but anyone could see it or speak on it. The commune loved it when people did ask questions because the more the merrier. The more in touch someone was with God and a higher power, the more free they would be. That’s what they would say but Lilibet felt the iron fist of the commune around her throat at times. Her mother was so quick to please that the amount of things Lilibet or her sisters were lended out to do in the hierarchy soured her feelings about their beloved home.

“I think you should speak to the Community Leader if you have any concerns. I can’t speak on it or others’ beliefs,” Lilibet said meekly. 

“I don’t think I could ever truly say I knew you were holdin’ back until now. Now, I’m sure what it looks like, Little Bet.” Elvis said, using the nickname he had chosen for her. His voice was laced with warning and sickeningly rich sweetness that twisted her insides and dropped between her legs. Her face grew hot as she met Elvis’ eyes and knew then he could see her. She was flayed by him to the bone, unable to hide the hand she had been dealt.

“Where can I find this Community Leader?” Elvis pressed, his brow furrowed in contempt.

“It’s easier to show you—”

“Show me.” Elvis said firmly.

With a sign left on the door noting Lilibet’s projected return, she prayed Mr. Parker would stay put in the grocery store for the remainder of the day and not fire her. Elvis came into town by horse so that was their only means of travel to the commune. There were worse things—such as walking. Lilibet wore a long, patterned dress that pooled just at the top of her boots. Elvis was a gentleman, asking if she was sure about riding forward, and helped her up onto the saddle.

“What’s her name?” Lilibet asked, cooing at the horse while petting.

“Prestige,” Elvis said, grunting as he climbed behind Lilibet. “She’s also a pain in my ass. We get along when we can.” 

It was the closest the two of them had ever been outside of face-to-face conversations. The already beaming sun felt hotter, its flames licking at her shoulders as the heat of Elvis pressed into her rear and upper back. The sleeves of Elvis’ shirt rode up as he reached for the reins, steering Prestige in the opposite direction of West Farm. 

“What if you’re wasting your time?” Lilibet asked after ten minutes. At the pace they were going, they had time for a bit of chit-chat. 

“And what if I’m right? I may not know you, Little Bet, but I think it’s safe to gather who is comin’ ‘round to my doorstep at night.” Elvis said above her, eyes dropping to his company. Sweat had long since formed between them but there wasn’t much either of them could do to lessen it. Lilibet’s less pure thoughts faded into discomfort riding in the Summer heat, temporarily put at bay by tree cover. 

“If it’s nighttime, how can you tell?” She asked.

“Can’t, but it’s a feelin’ I can’t shake. Bit of common sense helps, too. Anyhow, this is why we’re goin’ to speak to your Community Leader and this will soon be water under the bridge. Won’t it, Lil’?”

“I—” Lilibet began. 

Prestige was startled by something neither of them could see. With Lilibet’s familiarity of horses, she gripped the reins as Prestige reared back onto her hind legs. Elvis, who lacked the instinct and force of habit, flew back hard into the ground and got the wind knocked out of him. 

“Whoa, girl!” Lilibet commanded, steering her away from whatever was on the ground and Elvis. She didn’t want to see him get trampled in the process. Lilibet grit her teeth as she pulled hard at the reins and directed Prestige off to the side. A snake was slithering away and out of view by the time she could calm the horse down and hop off. 

“Stay,” Lilibet pressed, hurrying to tie the reins to a low-hanging branch. 

She rushed her way over to Elvis who hardly moved but when he did, he blinked as if he weren’t all there. He groaned as he gained consciousness and her heart hurt further. They should have never touched their cattle. 

“Oh, my God,” Lilibet whispered, bringing her palms to either side of Elvis’ cheeks.

“Told you she was a no-good sonofabitch,” Elvis croaked, letting his eyes shut. 

“At least you’re talkin’,” Lilibet said frantically. “Can you move?”

“I could but goddamn, I don’t want to. Head stings somethin’ terrible right now.”

“Okay. Just… Try not to move too much.” Lilibet breathed shakily.

“I think my head is bleedin’. My stomach is turnin’ just thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Elvis breathed, opening his eyes to look at Lilibet. 

She was moving without hesitating, tearing a part of her dress to create makeshift gauze. Lilibet told him to stay calm while she folded the wrap and placed it beneath his head. When his eyes fluttered shut, she panicked and shook at his shoulders.

“Elvis? Elvis!”

[monster-rinds]

Chapter 6: Not the world’s greatest gangster movie

As I crouched and leapt away from the violence, several people outside the restroom screamed as if they were being killed, too. Not just fear, terror, and surprise, but indignant rage.

My ability to sense the emotions I was feeding on made it more acute to me. They felt like echoes of the goth’s death cry.

Frenzy.

I was surrounded and in the middle of it, with nowhere to go or hide.

In the restroom, I had the most space between me and anybody else. But I couldn't see what was happening in that stall of death and feeding. And noises kept coming from it. Something was struggling with the seat of the toilet as it messily swallowed its meal.

And when it was done, it could burst out and come for me. It clearly didn't care about being obvious.

That made me want to run for the exit, and I was definitely putting space between myself and that stall.

I turned to look at the entrance of the restroom to consider diving into the crowd outside, where the frenzy was, but a man (I presumed) in school janitor coveralls and a navy blue trucker cap sauntered in blocking my path.

Everything was off about him, but not in a way that could be enumerated. The two key giveaways were that he wasn't trying to look like he belonged, not even by demeanor, and when he locked eyes with me he grinned with shark teeth.

Ah.

I had a brief thought that Felicity had set me up, but I didn't have time to think about it.

Now I felt like my only escape was straight up through the roof somehow. And I was definitely being charged with enough energy to make that effort possible.

It still wouldn't be easy.

Transformations for me aren't instant. I have to exert skill and determination to make them happen. It doesn't hurt, but each body part changed requires attention. And I started with my legs, to give myself more power to dodge my assailant.

Two steps back toward the accessible stall drew him further into the restroom.

He walked crouched over, arms out to each side like he was trying to corral a chicken. I was his chicken. And he clacked his teeth in anticipation.

Whatever had eaten the goth finished up its meal and crawled off the toilet with a series of slaps and thumps on the floor.

I jumped and Sharky started, both of us glancing at the still closed stall door.

We both watched as two clawed flippers the color of algae infused clay slapped down on the floor below the stall door, and the chin of a heavily toothed jaw made itself briefly visible. And there was a snort.

I leapt before I was ready.

As I rose up in the air, I forced my fingers to catch up to my now quite bulbous and shoeless toes, deepening my fingerprints dramatically and altering their molecular structure. I barely managed to do this fast enough.

Sharky saw me crouch briefly and made his lunge just as I left the floor. But he missed.

And I was well above his head bringing my hands and feet up to the vaulted ceiling of the restroom when the door of the accessible stall broke and slammed outward with the force of the people eater’s weight behind it.

I don’t use a fancy word for that kind of monster. It’s a people eater. It eats people. And probably also monsters.

I was so glad that the theater had taken out the false plaster ceilings in the bathrooms for better viral control, thanks to covid 19. It gave me more room. But without looking up, I slammed into the exposed ventilation duct, my feet and hands going further back than expected to clang into the sides of it, to cling there like a gecko. The noise was startling and distracting, and my posture was awkward and weak.

But the crashing noise of Sharky being pushed into the line of sinks by a broken stall door, driven by what looked like a long limbed hairless walrus with the face of an eyeless sarcosuchus, was louder.

There was a deep fluttering noise that made my whole physical emanation feel like it was gently imploding, and then Sharky shouted like an enraged sportsfan. And the door and people eater began to rise up in the air as Sharky exerted his inhuman strength to get them off of him.

Everything about this was alarming and untenable.

And the duct I was clinging to started to buckle.

---

Felicity was stretched thin and hurting badly.

Part of her had been riding the young woman in the accessibility stall of the restroom when she’d been attacked and eaten by the sewer beast. The horror and pain of that, experiencing it as if she’d been the one consumed, had gripped her entire being and wrenched shrieks of terror from all of her hosts simultaneously.

Later, they’d all have flashbacks they wouldn’t be able to explain.

To say that she herself was shocked would have been a dangerous understatement. To say that she was in shock would have been closer.

Part of her was missing, amputated with the death of one of her hosts. And she felt that loss acutely in a way that was fundamental to her very being. Like how a vertebrate might feel right after a traumatic brain injury.

Almost immediately, she recoiled and recalled herself to her primary host’s psyche and curled up deep in her subconscious. Not even thinking, she wrapped herself in darkness and quaked, giving her host the shivers.

Later, as she regained consciousness, she would remember with a start that she’d made a new friend and left her to die at the teeth of two other emanants. But it would take her a while to remember her friend’s name or the details of the agreement they had made.

Some memories she’d have to reconstruct from second hand accounts.

---

And my section of the duct collapsed, hinging on the end closest to the door. The screws and fasteners nearest to my feet gave way, and as that end swang down it collided with the head of the upward moving people eater as it was being shoved by Sharky.

And I let go and let my momentum carry me forward toward the door, windmilling my arms and working my feet to stay upright. But once I gained my balance, I ran.

I did not even bother to look back.

The panicking people in the hallway of the theater, what few were left there by the time I stumbled into view, might have seen me as half wearing a costume of some sort. Boots, leggings and gloves of some sort of alien or horror movie monster. And if that startled them further and caused them to pick up their pace, so much the better.

There was a people eater in the city. In public. Careless of the teratovore attention its antics might cause.

Their survival depended on their fear and panic.

As did mine.

And as I ran through the building after the people retreating before me, I continued to alter my anatomy for speed.

By the time I reached the front door I was leaping in a long gallop on all fours.

I got lucky.

Nothing was chasing me when I zigged and zagged and glanced back. But I also didn’t slow down. Speed and darkness shrouded my bizarre appearance, and my body language adapted to resemble that of a fearful deer more and more closely.

And by the time I reached my wooded lot, I no longer resembled a b-movie frog woman but had fully adopted the appearance of a doe.

Before entering to reach my clearing, I came to a stop on the sidewalk and glanced around to be sure I was safe and away from any predators.

And then I turned and tentatively strutted into my home.

And there, I curled up and rested as a deer, to regain my composure and consider what had just happened, before returning to my disguise as Synthia.

I found myself worried about Felicity. She’d clearly been hurt, if not killed, by the people eater’s attack. And though my life could very easily continue as before without her, I guess I’d developed the habit of caring about the people I knew, even if briefly, whether human or monster, apparently.

But the implications of the people eater’s hubris worried me.

People eaters, by their nature, are the most corporeal of monsters. Even if they can do some wild things like squeeze a pinaped’s worth of bulk through the pipe of a toilet, and reconstitute boney jaws strong enough to crush a goth, the fact that they can eat a living being and draw sustenance from that biological matter means that they are more strongly rooted in physical reality. And therefore they are more vulnerable to the defenses that living beings can bring to bear, like guns, knives, fire, and the like.

People eaters rarely, if ever, come into a city. And if they do, they typically lurk in the shadowier, more secluded places, and hunt when their prey is alone. Not only do they want to avoid the attention of other monsters, but of the humans they feed on as well.

People eaters are the first to die in a monster hunt.

Think about how rare the monsters of urban legend are. That will give you an idea of how careful people eaters tend to be.

It had been so long since I’d been around the antics of a careless people eater that I was looking forward to the human gossip of the next few days. The headlines and what people might say during checkout would inform me a great deal about how modern humanity deals with such things.

It would be a lesson I could use to further my own chances for survival.

But also, I wanted to know more about the goth who’d died right behind me. I doubted that their identity would be known right away, or even revealed, unless someone reported them missing. The people eater had likely left no identifiable remains. But as I cared for Felicity, I found myself caring about them as well, and simply hoped that something regarding their life would be shared.

And with that second stray thought about Felicity, I felt the urge to talk to her. I wanted someone I could trade notes with, and she’d been there.

Focusing on my fake human life had immersed me in a world of discourse, and I’d gotten used to it. Whenever something in the human world vexed me, I could always look forward to talking to Cassy, Ayden, and sometimes even Greg, about it. We could ask each other questions, share our experiences, and try out ideas together.

I know that there are groups of monsters, or emanants, who get to do this same thing with each other. Epialivores, with their tendency to collect in numbers within a single psyche, tend to be social like that. Other affectivores congregate or move in herds for safety, and I’ve done that a few times myself. But I wasn’t currently among any of those groups. It had been a long, long time since I’d had a monster friend I could confide in.

I wasn’t sure exactly why I had become solitary, but looking back I could see that I’d started to drift away as I’d become more and more interested in humanity.

Humans were a great novelty, and always full of new insights and perspectives. A great source of discourse!

But if you’re an emanant, you can’t really talk to humanity about emanant matters.

It eventually draws attention.

So, now I had two reasons to find Felicity.

I felt at least a little bit of responsibility for her well being, even if she’d been the one to lead us into that situation. And I felt like I needed her as more of a friend.

Someone I could talk to.

But I couldn’t figure out right away how to go looking for her. Not safely, at least.

So I let myself rest.

I don’t sleep. Not in the same way that most lifeforms sleep. But I do relax completely and revert to my base state for a few hours at a time, because I’ve learned that that’s beneficial to me.

I let my physical projection dissipate, let go of my thoughts, and dropped into the ambient probabilities of my clearing, to wait until morning.

[ceruleanmusings]

the impression that i get - mickames

i've had the basis of this dialogue exchange in my head for ages but couldn't figure out what fic to put it in and where or how until i decided to just take it out and make it its own scene instead of trying to shoe-horn it in somewhere else. i was going to wait and post this on james' canon birthday in two days but i got impatient. i need the fluff. this is set in season 2. @raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

“You’re still here?” James asked, leaning against the door frame to Kelly’s office. Feet crossed at angles, hands shoved in pockets, arm pressed against the wood from forearm, backpack hanging off the crook of his bent elbow. The perfect pose of nonchalance—practiced nonchalance because he had to always have everything regarding his appearance on point.

Mickey glanced at him from around Kelly’s laptop on her standing desk. It was the slight crease to her brow that made him realize his mistake.

It was Wednesday.

He knew that.

He knew she knew he knew that.

She always stayed behind to help Kelly with her administrative work on Wednesdays. It usually amounted to taking messages or ignoring calls Kelly didn’t want to deal with or translating meeting notes or updating contact information for potential talent recruitment.

“You’re still here,” she commented, still looking at him but clicking at something on the screen. “Didn’t you finish laying down tracks a few hours ago?”

He did, indeed. Getting songs done in one take wasn’t hard for him but he wanted to make sure they had more than one perfect track to use. It was always good to have options, wasn’t it? “Gustavo wanted me to get some new headshots done.”

The crease smoothed out and was replaced with the tiniest of smiles pulling back the corner of her mouth. Anyone else might not have noticed but he for sure did. He’d spend enough time looking at her. He had all her micro expressions memorized.

“He wasn’t a fan of Hot Janitor or Hot Librarian?”

“No!” James rolled his eyes and stood straight. Clearly Gustavo didn’t know what he was talking about. “I, for one, think he’s just jealous.”

“Well, he has a few things to choose from on that front.”

He didn’t have a chance to dig more into that comment because her attention too quickly moved back to the screen. All mirth left her face and a deep concentration took over as she hid behind the screen once more. He twisted his mouth to the side. That wasn’t how he planned this encounter to go. He had to keep it going.

“What’re you doing?” He stepped further into the room, his steps halting and tentative. It wasn’t that he thought Kelly would stoop so low to have shock pads on the floors of her office but, well, Gustavo had some interesting ways to corral them that he wouldn’t entirely put past the staff of Rocque Records to be a little unique themselves.

“Uncle Gustavo wants his audition tapes organized.” She sighed and rubbed an eye. “Thing is it’s already sorted and named by date, but he wants folders in folders and some arbitrary system that makes sense to no one else but him.” She lifted a piece of paper that had what looked to be chicken scratch scribbled all over it.

James nodded. “Sounds like Gustavo alright.”

She hummed and slapped the paper back down on the desk. A few loose Starburst wrappers—pinks and reds—flew off the desk. “Thankfully it’s only for the last year so it’s not too much but…”

Last year? James’ ears perked up. That meant his audition had to be in there somewhere. Had she seen it? Studying her face gave him no answers. She had a way of keeping everything locked up tight. And with her concentration thrown on top of it, chipping away would have to be delicate.

“Didyouwatchmine?”

Being delicate wasn’t his strong suit.

Something crossed her face, a sort of careful contemplation mixed with that made every second pass like an eternity. “Yes,” she finally answered. The simple word nearly knocked him over. Or maybe it was the gust of relief wooshing out of him that made him take a step back. Made him take stock of the reality of the conversation they were having. She’d seen his audition. She had thoughts about his audition. He needed to know what they were.

"And?" The question burst out of him, his body nearly vibrating with anticipation.

"And I thought you were good.” She shrugged, shuffled papers again, and put them in the small metal basket marked OUT with a small white label. Oh. Good. Not great or fantastic or anything. Just good. But “good” was better than nothing wasn’t it? He could take good. “And then you stage-dived onto security.” She pointed at the screen as if to remind him.

“Yeah, well, Kendall needed my help." James shrugged. “He had my back. I needed to have his.”

That look came back to her face. Her mouth twisted to the side and, for second, he didn’t think she’d say anything but, after a small shake of her head, she continued, ”…For the record, I thought Uncle Gustavo was crazy not to initially pick you.”

“Really?” He for sure thought so, especially following up with his crazy idea that James had no talent. But to hear someone else say it to him, for her to say it to him, he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A light flush came to her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “…But it all worked out in the end. For the best, I think. You belong here.” She flashed a small smile and he may as well have burst into a thousand pieces. He wasn’t hard to please: some pie, a compliment or two, maybe tell him they were proud of him, someone acknowledging his talents and his efforts, and he was good to go. But this…

She’d said that to him before; in fact he remembered it was the very first thing she’d ever said to him, and it meant as much now as it did then, nearly a year ago. She had to have said that on purpose, right?

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” James nearly groaned when Kelly came into her office. She had to notice she was ruining the moment, right? Because there definitely was a moment and he wasn’t making it up. He wouldn’t come crashing back down to reality like that if there hadn’t been one. The little wings on his feet must’ve melted.

“Almost done,” Mickey replied though the weariness in her words clued James in she didn’t actually believe it. But it was probably what Kelly wanted to hear. “Are you ready to go?”

Kelly grimaced. “That’s the thing. We had another meeting called; it’s going to take some time. You should probably grab a bus and head home.” Mickey groaned. “I’m sorry but those pesky things called child labor laws have my hands tied.”

“You’re not even paying me.”

Kelly gestured with her ever-present clipboard. “And that makes it worse.” Her eyes slid over to James. “You should be going too.” Walking past him, Kelly moved to her desk, pausing only to give a brief glance at the scattered candy wrappers on the floor before reaching for a drawer. It slid open with a few squeaks and she removed her purse, then her wallet, then some money. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Mickey’s palm, “I won’t be too late. If I am, you girls can order a pizza.”

Mickey clicked her tongue and pocketed the money. “You say that like you’re doing us a favor, but you just don’t want to do the dishes if we make dinner.

“Two things can be true at once,” Kelly replied and then kissed her cheek. Kelly was back out of the room in a flurry, sucking the past ease out behind her in her fast-moving wake. Awkwardness settled in. Mickey shifted her weight from foot to foot before she went around turning off the computer, checking the drawers of Kelly’s desk and filing cabinets, closing the blinds, watering some plants he thought was fake, turning on a desk lamp, to turn off the overhead lights, grab her bag, and lock the door. James watched it all with curious eyes. He’d seen enough rom-coms—enjoyed them, devoured them, studied them—to know The Stall. But was it for his benefit?

“I’ll wait with you,” he said when she gave him a look, turning away from the door. “I’m heading in the same direction anyway.” She couldn’t argue that. Kelly did tell him to leave too, after all. She played with the keys in her hands, they jingled and jangled in her twitchy grip, and she nodded.

She still swung them in restless fingers when the bus drove up five minutes later. It was drowned out by the loud hiss as the bus settled and the doors opened. People gathered and bunched up, waiting to board after others got off. James swung his bag to the front digging in it as the line moved forward. Mickey boarded and he stepped back, still rooting around, giving space to others.

Finally, he found a few crumpled bills at the bottom of his bag—the leftovers of his per diem from the week—and dropped it in the collection container at the front of the bus. He quickly navigated his way past the rows at the front until he reached Mickey’s and dropped into the empty seat next to her. She froze, earbuds dangling from fingers halfway to her ears to stare at him.

“James?”

“Yes?” He settled his bag on his lap and stretched one leg out into the aisle. He forgot how close the seats could be.

“You don’t live this way.”

The bus rocked with new passengers boarding. “I know.”

“You’re going in the opposite direction.”

“For now.” She blinked. “You don’t like the bus.” She blinked again. Hmm. Maybe he needed to be a bit more obvious. “I’ll just ride it with you this way and take one back to the Palm Woods.”

It took for the bus doors to close and another hiss to be release as the bus pulled away for her to speak again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.” Her hands slowly lowered back to her lap, earbuds rolling between her twisting fingers. His skin burned beneath her scrutinizing gaze. Okay, he had to change the subject. Lighten the mood. Find a safe topic to talk about. And what better, safter, topic than himself? “So! My audition really must have stood out!”

“…Among others.”

“Did I make a lasting impression?” He bumped her shoulder with his own as he asked, smoothing over his question, downplaying it even though it was filled with sincerity. He wanted to know. Needed to know, even.

“You’ve made a few.” In the past? Recently? Right now? What. Did. That. Mean? His answer came a second later, like an afterthought, "Your first impression was great.”

Awesome! Upgraded from good to great!

“Your second, not so much.”

A record scratched in his head "....Huh?"

The bus rattled and shook as they moved over a bump. Her nerves seemed to shake out her thoughts along with it. "Aunt Kelly would send some of the auditions to us. Usually the bad ones so we could laugh about them. Yours was really good. I actually had Mel call them to yell at them for me for how wrong Gustavo was.”

His mind whirled, slow to catch back up from that jarring hit. He hadn’t been rattled that hard since the hockey state semi-finals in freshman year when he had a cheapshot from behind into the plexiglass. Like then, it took a bit for him to reorient himself. So that meant… “…You’ve seen my audition before.”

“Yes. You, um, how can I put this?” She paused and he waited, held his breath, didn’t make a sound. He wanted to be sure he caught every word. She always chose them so carefully. “You had this…soul? To the song. I haven’t heard anyone else sing it like you did. Like you were deeply feeling the words and what he was saying. Which…only made me believe it. You know?”

“Oh.” He should’ve been able to come up with something better but his brain glitched as he took on the new information.

 “After Kelly told us the news Gustavo was making a boy band? I, um, was hoping to meet you at some point. Especially after the song you chose.” He gaped at her and shrugged. “Which is why I was so confused that the James from the audition was so different from the James I met at the Palm Woods.”

“Oh.” He really needed to find something better to say. Sorry didn’t even come close. But how could he explain just what he felt when he first saw her? It was like he was struck by lightning, like everything he’d done in his life had brought him to that moment. Like he had an answer to a question he didn’t know existed or he’d been trying to find.

So he chased that feeling, that experience, and her by extension. And he messed it all up.

Boy, was he a giant turd.

Still… “…How’m I doing now?”

“…They say, third time’s the charm, right?” She bumped his shoulder with his, smiling softly. The sight of it made his shoulders drop and his breath ease. She held out one of her earbuds, gesturing to his ear. “I still have some bad auditions saved if you want to watch them.”

“Um, yeah!”

He pressed the earbud into his ear and leaned close, heads resting against each other’s while she pressed play.

[obscuredilfoff]

Propaganda below the cut!

Solomon "Doc" Saturday

He's buff. He's a scientist. He cares about animals and the environment. He loves his wife, his son, and the three Literal Cryptids that they've adopted. He went blind in one eye protecting his son. His son turns out to be the reincarnation of an evil god and he's like "Okay. He's still my son and I still love him. We just have to get the evil god out of him." He's snarky. He's trying to corral his wife away from doing insane shit, except for the rare occasions where he's the one doing insane shit. He and his wife have an ongoing science vs mysticism debate that affects every mission they go on.

Uncle Jim

he got bankrupted by his ex boyfriend's parents (ex died and the bank account was in the name of the ex) and had to build his life up from scratch. hes raising his 17 year old nephew for atleast 7 years because his sister did want to be a parent. he has bills to pay but can barely make ends meet. hes the sweetest man on the planet. he famously said 'why do you have to be gay? is it not enough to be poor?' while pursuing a guy he has a one night stand with (its famous because HES gay, hes had to fight his mildly homophobic sister about it and is estranged from her - while raising her child at her request) he nearly got punched by a pretty boy loser of a banker guy (ex bf of one night stand guy). one person is introduced as someone with a long time crush on jim and he turns him down by calling him a Good Kid. the actor for this character is 29 so its a fandom belief that hes probably at most 32 and Dramatique TM. he has so much game. the end scene of the show is him pulling one night stand by his id card, whispering dirty things in his ears and then BITING the lobe. mostest tierdest gay of the neighbourhood, we love uncle jim (additional info with no joke whatsoever because that would be soooo rude and inappropriate - jim in thai slang means pussy, which is the name of this gay elder who everyone in 1km radius wants to fuck. do what you will with this addition)

He's got two young twinks fighting over him. Is like in his late 30s but acts like he's way older. Tells one of the guys who has been in love with him for years that he's a good kid. Dick so good that he got a guy to work for him for free for like a year before he finally acknowledged that they could potentially get together (they only fucked once at the very start). Tells his gay nephew that lives with him that he shouldn't be gay since he's already poor.

[llatuna-angel]

WEEK 5-6

Steve’s Barbeque Steve's Barbeque, run by Dulce J. Asoy, is a popular restaurant located inside The Warehouse on Corrales Avenue, Cagayan de Oro City. Known for its tasty chicken barbecue, famous sisig, and other delicious dishes, this branch opened on January 6, 2020, as the third in the chain. The first Steve’s Barbeque was started in 1977 by Casilda Ibanes Carson in Cogon and has since grown to multiple locations around the city. The restaurant focuses on serving locals and barbecue lovers, attracting new customers through social media and recommendations from satisfied diners.

NLM Consumer Goods Trading Next Level Millennial (NLM) Consumer Goods Trading, founded in 2020, sells household items and furniture, mainly through social media platforms like Facebook and TikTok. The business relies on live selling to connect with customers and partners with resellers and retailers to grow their reach. While they welcome in-store visitors, most of their sales happen online. NLM offers big discounts for bulk purchases, and loyal viewers of their live streams can win prizes. The company, led by 23-year-old CEO Lenie Quinto, started with seven employees and has plans to expand by opening more branches in the future.

Blend and Bloem Blend and Bloem, a fruit and vegetable store, opened in February 2024 and employs six staff members on rotating shifts. The store offers fresh local and imported fruits, fruit shakes, and healthy snacks, with discounts for Persons with Disabilities (PWD) and students. Their target customers are fruit lovers and health-conscious people. While they face delivery challenges, especially between their downtown and Macasandig locations, their goal is to sell out all the products each day. The business started online and expanded to physical stores in August 2024, with branches in Ororama, Buena Oro Macasandig, SM Downtown, and SM Uptown.

Anster Autoworks Anster Autoworks, founded in 2019, is a car repair shop with 12 staff members, including part-timers. Their main customers are business owners who use cars for work, and most of their inquiries come through Facebook. They specialize in transforming surplus vehicles from Japan and offer various services like car conversions, electrical repairs, air conditioning work, and repainting. They also sell both unfinished and fully repaired car units. To keep customers happy, they send photo and video updates, especially for clients from far away. Anster Autoworks operates on a monthly budget of ₱100,000, which covers materials, electricity, and salaries, and they plan to expand by working on more cars and opening additional branches.

KARRFASSST Car Accessories KARRFASSST Car Accessories, run by Rey Samson, has been in business for nearly 30 years. The company specializes in selling and installing car accessories. They offer discounts to long-time customers and sometimes provide free services when multiple repairs are needed. A common issue they face is customers waiting until major problems arise to get their vehicles fixed, but the business remains committed to helping clients with their car maintenance needs. KARRFASSST manages monthly expenses of around ₱40,000, which cover operational costs, and aims to continue supporting customers with reliable service.

[week5to6]

Week 5 to 6 Blog "I was not present in this interview''

KARRFASSST Car Accessories

Karrfassst Car Accessories, owned by Rey Samson, has been serving the Cagayan de Oro community for nearly 30 years, specializing in car accessories and offering installation services. With a dedicated team, including Marwin, an installer technician, the company prides itself on its customer loyalty program, offering discounts and free services to repeat clients. Their main challenge is customers neglecting car maintenance until major issues arise. Despite this, they maintain affordable services with monthly expenses reaching around ₱40,000. Their focus remains on providing high-quality accessories and exceptional service.

Next Level Millennial (NLM)

Founded in 2020, Next Level Millennial (NLM) focuses on selling household items and furniture primarily through social media platforms like Facebook and TikTok. They conduct live selling, collaborate with resellers, and offer walk-in shopping. Discounts and giveaways are key strategies to boost customer engagement. CEO Lenie Quinto, who started as an online seller, values team input to drive growth, with plans for future expansion. Starting with seven staff members, the business continues to thrive under her and manager Lenielyn’s leadership.

Anster Autoworks

Anster Autoworks, founded in 2019, employs 12 staff members and serves primarily business owners who rely on cars for work. Specializing in Surplus Japan Transformer Assembly, they offer services such as unit conversions, electrical repairs, car air conditioning, and repainting. Customers are kept informed with regular updates through photos and videos. With a monthly budget of ₱100,000, their main expenses are materials, electricity, and salaries. Future plans include expanding their shop, handling more cars, and opening additional branches.

BLEND AND BLOEM

Blend and Bloem is a fruit and vegetable store, launched in February 2024 and operates with 6 employees, depending on shifts. They offer negotiable discounts for Persons with Disabilities (PWD) and students, targeting fruit lovers and anyone craving fresh produce. The store has physical locations in Ororama, Buena Oro Macasandig, SM Downtown and SM Uptown. Their product offerings include local and imported fruits, fruit shakes, and healthy fruit snacks. However, they face challenges with limited supplies due to delivery logistics, as the owner manages deliveries from downtown to Ororama and the main store in Macasandig. Their main goal is to sell all products displayed daily. Blend and Bloem started as an online store before expanding to physical locations in August 2024.

Steve's Barbeque

Steve's Barbeque, operated by Dulce J. Asoy, is a renowned dining establishment located inside The Warehouse on Corrales Avenue in Cagayan de Oro City. Specializing in famous chicken barbecues, iconic sisig, and other delightful dishes, it opened its doors as the third branch of the restaurant on January 6, 2020. The original Steve's Barbeque was established in 1977 in Cogon owned by Casilda Ibanes Carson and has since expanded with multiple locations across the city. The restaurant targets local diners and barbecue enthusiasts, reaching new customers through social media promotions and word-of-mouth.

[fastrepaircaree]

Understanding Golden Corral Prices Today: A Comprehensive Guide

Golden Corral has long been known as a go-to destination for an all-you-can-eat buffet experience. Whether you’re dining with family, friends, or even by yourself, Golden Corral offers a wide range of dishes to suit everyone’s taste. One of the most common questions diners have before visiting is, “What are the Golden Corral prices today?” In this article, we’ll explore what factors affect the buffet pricing, the general dining experience, and why Golden Corral remains a favorite choice for many.

The Appeal of Golden Corral

Golden Corral is well known for its diverse menu that includes options like steaks, seafood, fried chicken, salads, and various sides. The buffet setup allows guests to choose from a wide selection of foods, catering to different dietary preferences. Whether you prefer meat-heavy meals, vegetarian options, or lighter dishes, you’ll always find something to enjoy.

What makes Golden Corral stand out is its commitment to freshness and variety. New dishes are frequently introduced, and they ensure that their buffet items are replenished regularly to maintain the quality of food. This variety and consistency make Golden Corral a reliable option for any occasion.

Factors That Affect Golden Corral Prices Today

One of the primary factors that influence Golden Corral prices today is the location. The prices may vary slightly depending on the city or state where the restaurant is located. Urban areas or places with higher living costs might have slightly higher prices compared to more rural locations.

Another factor is the time of day you choose to dine. Lunch prices tend to be lower than dinner prices. The difference comes from the fact that dinner often includes premium items like steaks or seafood, which may not be available during lunch hours. It’s worth noting that the price for children’s meals is generally lower, making it an affordable option for families.

In addition to these factors, special occasions or holidays might bring slight increases in the buffet prices. During these times, Golden Corral often includes festive or seasonal dishes, enhancing the dining experience. However, the value you receive for the price remains consistent, as the buffet always offers a wide variety of high-quality dishes.

Golden Corral Buffet: A Value for Money Experience

Golden Corral prices today reflect the value diners receive for an all-you-can-eat experience. For one set price, guests can enjoy as many trips to the buffet as they like. This makes it an affordable option, especially for larger groups or families. Given the variety of foods available, from hearty main courses to delightful desserts, the cost is justified.

Many patrons appreciate the opportunity to try new dishes without the commitment of ordering a full meal. Whether you want to sample a little bit of everything or stick to your favorites, Golden Corral’s buffet format allows for endless customization. Additionally, the beverage selection is vast, and many locations offer unlimited refills as part of the meal price.

Special Promotions and Discounts

Golden Corral is known for offering various promotions and discounts. These can include special deals for seniors, military personnel, or large groups. Checking in with your local Golden Corral to see if they have any ongoing promotions can help you make the most of your dining experience.

Golden Corral prices today may also be affected by regional promotions, so it’s worth keeping an eye out for deals specific to your location. Loyalty programs or special offers for repeat customers are another way to save on future visits, further adding to the value of the Golden Corral experience.

Why Golden Corral Remains a Favorite Choice

Golden Corral has maintained its position as a beloved buffet restaurant due to its wide range of offerings and consistently good value. Whether it’s for a casual family outing, a group gathering, or a special occasion, Golden Corral provides a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere where everyone can enjoy a satisfying meal.

One of the reasons Golden Corral prices today continue to be reasonable is the restaurant’s ability to cater to a wide audience. From budget-conscious diners to those seeking variety, Golden Corral strikes a balance between affordability and quality. The diverse menu ensures that guests always have something new and exciting to look forward to, no matter how many times they’ve visited.

Conclusion

When considering the Golden Corral prices today, it’s clear that the restaurant offers excellent value for money. With its wide selection of foods, affordable pricing, and welcoming atmosphere, Golden Corral continues to be a popular choice for many. While prices may vary slightly depending on location and time of day, the overall experience remains one that is hard to beat. Whether you’re visiting for lunch or dinner, Golden Corral is sure to provide a satisfying and enjoyable dining experience for everyone.

[astromediaz]

Discover the Delight of Golden Corral Near Me

When it comes to a dining experience that offers variety, quality, and value, few places can compare to Golden Corral. Known for its extensive buffet and inviting atmosphere, Golden Corral is a favorite destination for families, friends, and anyone looking to enjoy a hearty meal. Whether you're a longtime fan or a first-time visitor, exploring a "Golden Corral near me" is an adventure in culinary delight.

A Culinary Wonderland

Golden Corral has built its reputation on providing a wide array of food choices to satisfy every palate. From savory meats and fresh vegetables to delectable desserts, the buffet caters to all tastes and dietary preferences. The beauty of a buffet-style restaurant is the freedom to mix and match dishes, allowing diners to create their perfect meal.

Breakfast Bliss: If you're starting your day at Golden Corral, you'll find a breakfast buffet that includes everything from classic scrambled eggs and bacon to pancakes, waffles, and omelets made to order. The breakfast spread is designed to give you the energy you need to tackle your day.

Lunch and Dinner Delights: For lunch and dinner, the selection expands to include a variety of entrees, sides, and salads. Popular options often include roasted and fried chicken, pot roast, meatloaf, and an assortment of seafood. Vegetarians are not left out, with a range of salads, steamed vegetables, and other plant-based options.

Dessert Dreams: No visit to Golden Corral is complete without a trip to the dessert station. From chocolate fountain-dipped strawberries to cakes, pies, and cookies, the dessert bar is a sweet lover's paradise. Soft-serve ice cream with all the toppings is a perennial favorite, especially among younger diners.

Affordable Dining for All

One of the standout features of Golden Corral is its commitment to providing high-quality food at an affordable price. The buffet model allows diners to enjoy a variety of dishes without breaking the bank. This makes it an ideal choice for families, large groups, and anyone looking for a cost-effective dining option.

A Family-Friendly Atmosphere

Golden Corral is designed with families in mind. The spacious dining area can accommodate large groups, making it a popular choice for family gatherings and celebrations. The casual, welcoming environment ensures that diners of all ages feel comfortable and at home.

Kid-Friendly Choices: Children are often the most discerning diners, and Golden Corral goes the extra mile to cater to their tastes. Kid-friendly options like pizza, macaroni and cheese, and chicken tenders are always available, ensuring that even the pickiest eaters will find something they love.

Special Occasions: Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or just a family night out, Golden Corral is equipped to handle special occasions. Many locations offer private dining areas that can be reserved for parties, making it easy to celebrate with loved ones.

Commitment to Quality and Safety

In today's world, diners are more conscious than ever about food safety and quality. Golden Corral has implemented rigorous safety protocols to ensure that all food is prepared and served under strict hygiene standards. This commitment to quality extends to sourcing ingredients, with many locations emphasizing fresh, locally-sourced produce and meats.

Convenient Locations

With numerous locations across the country, finding a "Golden Corral near me" is easy. Whether you're at home, on the road, or traveling for business or pleasure, there's likely a Golden Corral nearby. Many locations also offer online ordering and curbside pickup, providing convenient options for those who prefer to enjoy their meal at home.

Customer Service Excellence

Golden Corral prides itself on delivering excellent customer service. From the moment you walk in the door, the friendly staff is dedicated to making your dining experience enjoyable. Whether you need assistance with dietary restrictions, have questions about the menu, or simply want a recommendation, the team is always ready to help.

Community Involvement

Golden Corral is more than just a restaurant; it's a part of the community. Many locations are involved in local events and charitable activities, contributing to the neighborhoods they serve. This community focus helps to build strong connections with customers and reinforces Golden Corral's reputation as a family-friendly, community-oriented establishment.

Conclusion

Exploring a "Golden Corral near me" offers a delightful journey through a world of flavors. With its extensive buffet, affordable prices, and welcoming atmosphere, Golden Corral is the perfect destination for any meal. Whether you're a regular patron or a first-time visitor, the experience is sure to be memorable and satisfying. So, gather your family and friends, and head to Golden Corral for a dining experience that truly has something for everyone.

[corndoggod]

May Day

Earlier this week I had one of those “goddamn I love this city” days. It was May Day and I was in the office for the first time since Dad passed. It was good to see some familiar faces and a reminder that work can be more than just toiling in front of a screen; there’s people and unlimited seltzer and cheez-its too. 

Commuting into Manhattan feels at once powerful and subversive. Powerful because its the city and we work on the unlucky 13th floor with an expansive view of lower Manhattan and a shotgun view of the glassy superscrapers in Hudson Yards. Subversive because I commute on bike, racing up Washington down to the Navy Yard and over the Manhattan bridge onto Broome all the way to Soho and then up the service elevator via an anonymous doorway on Spring. Flying and sweating beats coffee any day. 

When I clocked off, I saw the Palestine protestors marching up 6th Ave. I made plans to meet C at Foley Square for a protest and pedaled toward the tip of Manhattan even though this passing crowd had to be it. Sure enough Foley Square was just about empty. There were a couple of city clerks zombieing around and a few NYPD holding their belts fast. More interesting was the caracass of the media circus surrounding Trump’s criminal trial. Crowd control gates lined the streets around the imperial Manhattan courthouse, with its wide imposing columns standing erect to uphold the law. At the foot of the steps, still more gates corralled field correspondents and their camera crews with the names of major networks taped in neon on the ground in a child’s chicken scratch. They reminded me of livestock organized for slaughter. 

Power was so concentrated in this moment I could almost taste History, and here I was gliding through it like a duck with no compass. 

I checked my phone and C had already texted me: “They’re headed toward your office. Follow @peoplesforumnyc for updates on their location.” So I wheeled back around knowing exactly where I’d go, ignoring traffic cops and weaving through impatient cars sleeping on their horns (Ah, the symphony of a disrupted city). I beelined to a little magazine shop on Spring where I bought a tallboy and watched the procession still parading up 6th. I told C it must be at least a thousand deep and to get off at West 4th and then cracked open my Wave Chaser to head that way myself. The aluminum can was sleeved in a royal purple that matched the colorway of my aluminum bike, which made me feel extra slick as I wormed my way through standstill steel on a street parallel to the protest, sipping at my beer, lapping up the sun and smiling through the tight, loud, angry passageways. 

I caught up with the head of the protest at Washington Square Park. Up front was a legion of Hasids followed by students, workers and hundreds of New Yorkers in all their beauty out to decry the bloodshed overseas and the extraordinary step of university administrators calling in NYPD to break up campus protests at Columbia and CUNY’s City College-New York further north. Israel had bombed all the universities in Gaza and now New York’s universities were raw nerves. After riot police were called onto campus with what looked like military-grade equipment, I anticipated an escalation tonight at NYU, where the last encampment remained standing. 

I remained on the fringe until C got there, preferring observing to chanting. I chatted with a fellow biker and took long pulls from my paper bag, trying to flush it all down before C arrived. “Find me by the dump truck,” I told her and moments later there she was. “You taste like beer,” she said. 

She’d spent the last three nights away in Jersey visiting family and then working in Princeton where she had a job limewashing the house of some CHIP VP. She insisted we must visit Princeton and I was all for it. I loved college campuses, especially rich ones slathered in Ivy, brick and corduroys and I could go hunting for John McPhee, a demigod in my monkey mind. If I could, I’d straddle media and the wild, with one foot in Midtown and the other on Mt. McKinley. But as it were I’m just as likely to flatline somewhere in the Heartland.

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Golden Corral Menu Prices

Introduction:

Golden Corral, a household name synonymous with buffet-style dining, has been delighting taste buds for decades. From its humble beginnings in 1973 to its current status as a popular American restaurant chain, Golden Corral has built a reputation for offering a diverse and satisfying dining experience. In this blog post, we'll take a closer look at the Golden Corral menu, exploring the array of culinary delights that await eager diners.

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The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet:

At the heart of the Golden Corral experience is its legendary all-you-can-eat buffet. The expansive spread caters to a wide range of palates, ensuring that everyone, from the pickiest eaters to the most adventurous food enthusiasts, finds something to relish. The buffet features a variety of stations, each dedicated to a specific cuisine or culinary theme.

Homestyle Favorites: One of the standout sections of the buffet is the Homestyle Favorites station. Here, diners can indulge in classic comfort foods like mashed potatoes, gravy, meatloaf, and fried chicken. The emphasis on homestyle cooking adds a nostalgic touch that resonates with patrons seeking a taste of familiar, hearty dishes.

Grill Masters' Corner: The sizzle and aroma of the Grill Masters' Corner beckon meat lovers. From perfectly grilled steaks to succulent burgers and hotdogs, this section showcases the culinary expertise of Golden Corral's grill masters. The quality and variety of meats available make this corner a carnivore's paradise.

Fresh Salad Bar: For those looking for lighter fare, the Fresh Salad Bar offers an impressive selection of crisp, colorful vegetables, fresh greens, and an array of dressings. This section caters to health-conscious diners, providing a refreshing balance to the heartier options available throughout the buffet.

International Flavors: Golden Corral's commitment to culinary diversity is evident in its International Flavors section. From Mexican-inspired tacos to Italian pasta dishes, this corner transports diners around the world with its global array of flavors. It's a celebration of cultural diversity through the universal language of food.

Sweet Endings: No meal is complete without a sweet ending, and Golden Corral's dessert station does not disappoint. An assortment of cakes, pies, cookies, and soft-serve ice cream awaits those with a sweet tooth. The dessert section is a tempting finale to a dining experience that promises satisfaction from start to finish.

Innovation and Seasonal Offerings:

Golden Corral doesn't rest on its laurels. The menu is periodically updated to reflect seasonal ingredients and trends in the culinary world. This commitment to innovation ensures that each visit to Golden Corral is a unique experience. Seasonal offerings, whether inspired by summer barbecues or festive holiday feasts, keep the menu dynamic and exciting.

Conclusion:

The Golden Corral menu is a testament to the brand's dedication to providing a diverse and enjoyable dining experience for all. Whether you're craving homestyle favorites, international flavors, or a decadent dessert, Golden Corral's all-you-can-eat buffet has something to satisfy every palate. As a culinary destination that continues to evolve and innovate, Golden Corral remains a beloved choice for those seeking a delightful and indulgent dining adventure.