#Long Gone Like a Turkey Through the Corn

[kdo-three]

Lightnin' Hopkins - Long Gone Like a Turkey Through the Corn (1959) Traditional / Samuel John "Lightnin'" Hopkins from: "Country Blues" (LP)

Country Blues | Acoustic Blues | Traditional | Texas Blues

JukeHostUK (left click = play) (320kbps)

Personnel: Lightnin' Hopkins: Vocals / Guitar

Produced by Mack McCormick

Recorded: in Houston, Texas USA on February 16 & 26, 1959

Album Released: 1959 Tradition Records

CD Reissue: 1996 Tradition Records

♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪

U.S. Thanksgiving Day, 2023

[hurtspideyparker]

An Unexpected Irondad Christmas 🎄

Peter was having a very boring Christmas.

May was working a 12 hour shift, all his friends were busy with their families, and the streets were too quiet to patrol.

It seems even criminals have a conscious.

While the presents under the tree were strictly off limits, May did let him open his stocking on his own. Therefore his special Christmas breakfast included a hot chocolate bomb and microwavable bacon, his lunch a festive green and red gummy bear salad, and dinner... he was honestly a bit sick of sweets, so box mac and cheese it was.

Peter is browsing channels for a good Christmas special while the water boils when a knock booms through the apartment.

Peter frowns, remote hanging limply in his hand while he tries to recall if he's expecting someone. Sometimes Ms. Hacket from down the hall gets lonely and comes for tea.

The knock sounds again, more impatiently, and Peter sets the remote down to answer the door.

He opens it a crack and then freezes.

"Mr. Stark?"

He's in a nice coat, long and black with a collar and three buttons. His hair is fluffed up with specks of white, and his dark sunglasses have droplets of water from the melted snow.

"Hey kid. Merry Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Or... whatever. Happy holidays."

Peter opens the door more fully now. He can see that Mr. Stark is holding something, several plastic bags stuffed heavily.

"Merry Christmas to you too. Um, I didn't get you a gift or anything, was I supposed to?"

Tony looks down at the bags in his hands like he forgot they existed.

"Oh. No, definitely not. This is a funny story actually. Y'know, I have this big Christmas dinner at the tower every year, beautifully catered food, all my friends around a big table, Pepper makes this delicious coffee cake for dessert. We drink, stuff our faces, the more drunk of us sing stupid holiday songs. It was really nice actually, considering most of us don't have families to do that stuff with."

He looks wistful, eyes not in the present.

"That... sounds really nice Mr. Stark," Peter says when Tony spends too much time lost in thought.

"Yeah. Well, the band broke up this year, all my friends are gone, or hate me, or both. Pepper's in Florida with her parents, who also hate me, especially because of all the on-again-off-again stuff, so I definitely wasn't welcome there. Rhodey can't travel with his injuries. And I—" he breaks off into a laugh, hysterical and whining, "forgot to cancel the catering order!"

Peter stares at him with wide eyes. The man only falls further into laughter, but the glisten in his eyes is anything but joyful.

Eventually he calms, straightening up and showing off the bags in his hands, "I have so much food, really nice, expensive, well done food for a big family of super humans and spies, and I'm completely alone! I even offered Happy a Christmas bonus to stay and eat turkey but apparently he actually has family—"

"You bribed Happy?"

"Christmas. Bonus."

He holds out the bags to Peter, "anyways. You're a growing boy, your aunt seems hardworking. You guys deserve nice food so. Here. You take it."

Peter's hands hesitate to reach out but Tony simply dumps the bags into his twitching palms anyways, the boy nearly dropping them from the unexpected handoff.

"It's untouched. There's turkey, ham, ribs, three types of potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, extra gravy for Nata—uh, feta bites, balsamic glazed carrots, peas, corn, stuffing, fresh baked rolls... you get the idea. Just didn't want the food to go to waste and I know your aunt can't cook to save her life so. Actually, where is she? Should probably be an adult and say hello."

Peter stares in amazement and intimidation at the bags in his hands. He can now see they're full of food containers, dozens of them.

"She's not home. Holiday pay is pretty good so she's at work."

Tony takes his sunglasses off, blinking at the kid.

"Oh. So you're alone? That's depressing."

Peter has to bite his tongue so he doesn't point out the older man's much lonelier, much more depressing predicament.

"Yep. I don't mind that much, I'll see her later tonight and open presents. I've just been watching movies. And thank you so much for all this food Mr. Stark, you didn't have to think of me."

"It's no problem, really."

They both stand there for a moment. Tony looks around as if the chips in the door frame are paintings at Le Louvre, and Peter stares at the man with his awkward posture and red marked hands from carrying all the heavy food.

"Did—did you want to come in?"

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes," Tony answers without delay, shoving past Peter into his home.

Continue reading on AO3 ☃️

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #263

Today's letter is really late, I know. But I'm not dead, I promise you! It's just that, I was only home for a little while after I got outta work, and then J and I went to various other places, and I only just got back home a little while ago, and I only just now had a second to breathe, and it's already almost 1am.

…Holy cannoli, but today was long. Good, but long. I am feeling pretty zombied.

…So I guess I'll start at the beginning! I went to work! And I promised yesterday that I'd try to get some yummy photos for you! And it worked out better than expected; I thought that I would simply by bagging and labeling breads all day, but at around the second half of my shift, Mi asked me to fill some muffin tins full of corn muffin batter! Apparently, the way I do the muffins is very precise and effective. I got a couple pictures - one sort of blurry picture of them in the oven, and two more of them after they were baked:

...I thought these turned out really nicely. But they were not cooled off enough by the time my shift was over. And they still weren't cooled off enough even after I got a few grocery odds and ends for my house; I was a little sad about it, but what can one do?

I popped home for a brief time after that. On the way in, I saw this great big huge turkey vulture chilling out with some kind of turkey vulture snack in the middle of the intersection leading to my house. Or I think it was a turkey vulture? It had a bald, featherless head, but it was black instead of red. Whatever it was, it was such a beautiful bird.

I wanted to take a picture of it for you, but just as I was about to get my camera out, some other people showed up in the intersection in the road perpendicular to me, and the number of cars I guess must have spooked it, because it carried its snack in its talons and flew away, low to the ground.

I saw roughly where it landed, and so I hurried the rest of the way home, brought the groceries to M and J's attention, and went back out with my camera to where it landed, in order to try to capture its image. Unfortunately, I think it must have sensed my footsteps, because before I could even see it, it took off again with its prize, and rounded the corner around some trees, and, though I tried to follow it, I couldn't see where it had gone off too.

...It was such a majestic, beautiful bird, though. I wish you could have seen it.

J and I went to Eggcellent shortly after that; the owners are taking a break to go on vacation for a couple of weeks, so their shop will be closed for a little while. We figured the thing to do is go see them beforehand.

I discovered that the very first handicraft I had made for them somehow got a big huge crack down the side. It's only visible when it's angled just right, but nonetheless, the mineral oil is leaking out of it, so I'm going to have to try to figure out what I'm going to do with it. I'm not sure it can be fixed; it might be best to simply make them another one.

We went immediately to my friend A's house after that. I used to work at the same company with him, a long time ago. He has two husbands, Jn and C, and they are lovely people, too. The three of them together seem to have a very healthy and beautiful dynamic, and I feel privileged to be able to witness it.

It was about a 45 minute drive to get to them. It was raining, and I thought it was pretty, so I took pictures:

...Along the way, J and I made a wrong turn, and he got distracted by some random variety shop, so we went in. I found a book that seemed auspicious to me, for reasons that would require too much context for it to be explained to you in a way that you could understand. But I got it. I got the book. It's full of photographs. Maybe in the coming days, I'll go through it with you, page by page, one at a time. I think you might like it.

When we finally got to A, Jn, and C's spot, Jn was very excited to play a game of Settlers of Catan. It's a very well-known game amongst board game enthusiasts in my country. It looks kind of like this:

...I didn't think to take pictures of the board after we were done with the game. For reasons that I don't really wanna get into quite at this moment (but maybe I'll explain some other time...), I tend to find board games very... anxiety-inducing. I have a lot of experience with people being very unkind to me in tabletop game settings - be it board games, tabletop RPGs like Call of Cthulhu, or card games like Magic the Gathering. When I play games like those, I actually have to spend a decent chunk of energy trying to keep my thoughts and emotions in check so that I don't accidentally end up perceiving contempt being directed at me where there is none.

Making sure I remain mindful throughout a lengthy gaming session gets fairly taxing after the first half hour or so. But J, A, Jn, and C are very safe people, so there's nothing actually for me to worry about. Still, I gotta be compassionate towards the memories my body carries. When it starts to get really weird, I'll bring my focus to the present by singing a little song.

And it helps that I have my own goals outside of "winning". Really, I just wanted to connect all my cute little houses with a length of road, and turn all my cute little houses into cute little cities, and try to help the others build their stuff when I can. I'm not really interested in winning, because I don't need to win in order to feel good about what I'm doing. And besides, I usually like it better when someone else can feel good about winning, anyhow.

We went home very late. And it was mega super foggy on the way back. I tried to take a picture, but my camera doesn't really do it justice:

...It was delightfully spooky outside!!! I tend to think that foggy weather is kind of peaceful and mysterious at the same time.

Hey, Sephiroth? Do you like foggy weather? I think it's nice, especially in the morning. It reminds me of quiet, sleepy things. A foggy morning is good for drinking hot tea and taking morning naps under mound of blankets while cuddled up with a friend on top of a pile of pillows.

...I hope someday you get to try something like that with someone you care about.

At some point, the stars became relatively clear, and I discovered that J's camera, unlike mine, can capture them, albeit clumsily. So I tried to get some good pictures. Though, in the meantime, J decided to use my phone to get pictures of me taking pictures for you, haha...

...Here are some of the ones that I got with J's phone. They're not the bestest, I know. But maybe you'll like 'em anyways...

...I've wanted to capture the stars of my planet for you for a long time now. It feels so good to finally have access to a camera that can do it, even if it doesn't do it perfectly.

...Hey, Sephiroth...? Do you think... maybe someday... you could tell me about your planet's stars, sometime? Would you make it out of your situation safely so that maybe someday you can go take pictures of them and show them to us...?

...

...It's going on 2am now. I had better go to sleep. I wanted to try getting concord grapes tomorrow. And I wanted to check out some store that M and J and I had passed on the way to getting ice cream the other day; it was called The Cross-Eyed Owl. It's got owls in the name; you know I gotta check it out!

I love you. And I hope that it's clear within every word I write, every picture I take, every silly little story I share, and every song I show you. You matter. You're important. You're lovable and worthy as-is. And you're not alone - no matter what your brain tries to tell you when it's being mean to you.

I'll write again tomorrow. Be safe out there so that you can come back to us soon, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[itwasmoonglow]

Lightnin' Hopkins, Long gone like a turkey through the corn

[odk-2]

Lightnin' Hopkins - Long Gone Like a Turkey Through the Corn (1959) Traditional / Samuel John "Lightnin'" Hopkins from: "Country Blues" (LP)

Country Blues | Acoustic Blues | Traditional | Texas Blues

JukehostUK (left click = play) (320kbps)

Personnel: Lightnin' Hopkins: Vocals / Acoustic Guitar

Recorded by Mack McCormick Produced by Mack McCormick

Recorded: in Houston, Texas USA on February 16 & 26, 1959

Released: in 1959

Tradition Records

US Thanksgiving

[snuh]

Lightnin’ Hopkins: Long Gone Like A Turkey Through The Corn

[sunflowergirl522]

Pumpkin Patch

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request for @poppunkdork

Warnings: Language maybe

Word count: 1519

Masterlist

You’re nearly bursting with joy as Bucky pulls into the gravel parking lot of the pumpkin patch. You’re dressed in an extra large sweater you found at a goodwill and black leggings while Bucky has on jeans and a dark blue Henley, perfect fall weather clothes. You’ve been looking forward to this day for so long Bucky had promised you before his most recent mission that when he got back he’d take you out to do whatever you wanted. You’ve had the pumpkin patch picked out since he left.

“C’mon Bucky baby, hurry up.” You’re looking out the window and bouncing in your seat with excitement.

“Babydoll, I’m going as fast as I’m able to, there is a speed limit y’know.” Bucky doesn’t even really crack a smile but you can tell that the annoyance in his voice is just to tease you. You’re jumping out of the car while he’s still trying to park and he’s calling after you to try to get you to stop. Bucky slams his door shut before making his way over to where you stand at the entrance. “You can’t go jumping out of moving vehicles Y/n.”

“Please, you were barely moving.” You let out a small laugh and beam at him as you take his metal hand in both of your own. The smell of apple cider draws your attention to your grumbling stomach. You had been too excited this morning to eat breakfast, it had slipped your mind. You just look for the cause of the smell as the two of you enter. “Now c’mon, I wanna do the corn maze after getting our cider and donuts. And then after we can do the pumpkin catapult and the axe throwing where you get to show off. ” You pull him towards the food stand while you talk and continue to ramble as the two of you wait in line. “And then we could shift through rocks or we could do the hayride, I’m fine with either one. And we have to get pumpkins before we leave so we can carve them when we get home. I have the best idea for what I’m gonna carve this year!” A small smile finds its way onto Bucky’s face at how adorable he finds your excitement but it quickly disappears when it’s your turn to order. The girl at the counter asks Bucky what he wants and he nudges you to get your attention instead of answering himself.

“Babydoll, what do you want?”

“Huh? Oh! Can we get two cinnamon sugar donuts and two apple ciders?” Your smile is contagious and the girl smiles back at you before reaching into the case and pulling out the donuts and handing them to you. Bucky pays before you have the chance to even argue with him and then the two of you step to the side while she gets your apple ciders. You hand Bucky his donut so you’ll have a free hand for your drink and once you have it you start marching away. “To the corn maze!” 

“I think we might be lost y/n.” The two of you have been making your way through the maze for almost an hour. You’re lucky Bucky thought to grab a map because you had just gone in full force without anything to help you find your way through.

“That’s part of the fun baby! You gotta get lost before finding a landmark and finding your way out. Y'know, one time when I came with my family I got lost and somehow was separated from them and didn’t have a map so I ended up just going through the corn. They found me sitting on a hay bale eating a turkey leg with stray corn leaves in my hair.” You laugh at the memory before continuing on. “They were so worried and were looking at me all over and telling me not to walk away from them like that again and I just looked at them and said that they were too slow and I was hungry. I think I was like ten.”

“Yeah that sounds like you.” While he speaks Bucky spots a bridge that’s a landmark on the map. “C’mon we gotta go this way.”

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” You giggle at your own joke as you point to the arched bridge he’s leading you to. Bucky chuckles himself causing you to smile at him, you don’t often get to hear him do any form of laughter because he’s a grumpy old man so you relish in whenever you can cause some.

The bridge is designed to go over some of the corn so you can see the design of the maze from the top of the arch. Looking out you can see that it’s designed to be a jackolantern. The entrance is on the left side and the exit, which is closer to you two, is on the right, they’re both designed to be vines that surround the pumpkin. 

“Oh, this is the perfect place for a picture!” you get your phone out and pull Bucky to your side to get him in the shot. The first picture he’s not even looking at the camera, just at you. You make a comment about how he needs to look at the phone and position yourself in front of him to prevent it from happening again. “Can’t you smile just once in a picture? Please, for me.” You ask him after seeing his regular stoic face in the second picture.

“Fine, just for you babydoll.” He then wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into his chest and smiles at the phone after kissing the top of your head, which you’re glad you caught a picture of. His smile stuns you for a quick second before you beam into the camera. 

“You should smile more often, yours is pretty.” You’re smiling at the picture of the two of you while you speak. “Now let’s get out of here so you can show me if you’re as good at throwing axes as you are with knives.”

You walk away from a stunned Bucky still looking at the pictures on your phone. It takes Bucky a minute to shake out of his thoughts. His smile was pretty? He can’t think of a time that someone had complimented his smile, and after being The Winter Soldier for so long and having to be stoic he admittedly hasn’t smiled anywhere close to as much as he did before he fell from the train. You seemed to enjoy it though so he’ll have to remember to let you see it more often.

Bucky hit every target on the mark at the axe throwing area. It didn’t really shock you but you still cheered everytime he hit the target, the boys working were shocked and it was kinda funny to see them with their mouths hanging open each time there was a thunk of the axe lodging itself into the wood. When it was your turn to throw the axes you missed the first one and Bucky came up behind you to correct your form before you threw the second. You watch as it flies through the air before landing on the target. You squeal and jump up and down excited about hitting it before launching yourself into Bucky's arms and thanking him for helping.

“You’re welcome, now go ahead and do it again, you’ve got another axe. Let’s see if you can do it by yourself this time.” You just nod at him in response, a big smile on your face, and get back into the position Bucky had put you in before. The third axe bounces off of the target but your fourth one landed just outside of the middle of the target. 

“I did it! And all by myself too!” 

“That’s my girl!” Bucky spreads his arms open and you jump right into them. “What do you wanna do now, love, the hayride or the shifting through rocks thing you mentioned?” He starts to steer you away from the area with his arm still draped around your shoulder.

“Do we have time to do both before looking for our pumpkins and leaving. Don’t forget we told Sam we’d get dinner with him and his girlfriend.” At this Bucky groans and stops walking before turning you towards him.

“Do we have to go to that? Let’s just stay here all day and tell Sam we lost track of time, or go home and order in Chinese.” He places his forehead on yours and offers you a small smile.

“Hm, as good as that sounds, we’re going to dinner. Now let’s go do the hayride,which I know you’ll enjoy, and find our pumpkins so we can go home and watch a movie before we leave again.” You lean your head up to peck his lips and smile at him before pulling away and leading him towards the line for the hayride. “C’mon we get to shoot zombies on the ride.” 

Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen​ @koressecretidentity​ @stevieintheimpala​ @unmagically​ @peachytea01​ @the-chocoholic-writer​ @perksofbeingatrex​ @99-cats​ @rachmmb​ @quokkatrash​ @vanillamaa​ @strawb3rrydr3ss​ @that-sarcastic-writer​ @spideyycents​ @mackycat11​ @crystalsoul2​ @rosiemotion​ @dissectiontime​ @lmf​ @jacelynenursalim​ @aiyanalevina​ @mooncaffeine​ @fanofallthefics​ @jewelsrocks99​ @lharrietg​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon​ @girl-obsessed-with-things​ @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes​ @collywobbl​ @majo240820​ @alina02​ @toothhurtyam​  @gaya-is-weird-af​

Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv​ @pogueslandia​ @obsessedwithbuckybarnes​ @rorysreallyrandom​ @sxtansqueen​ @myalupinblack​ @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales​ @kakakatey​ @sugarbutterbailey​ @1-800-ch3rry​ @amelia-song-pond​ @leyannrae​ @ficsnrec​ @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ 

Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena​ @ninuffi​ @i-love-superhero​ @kolakube9​ @lexy9716​ @hehehehannahthings​ 

[scoutdoesstuff]

and we're back in august again! this little ficlet was supposed to go out with the band on august 30th but uhhh september 23rd is roughly the same, i guess?

this one is the final installment of the new hampshire case fic, but not the last we'll see of this one. i plan on smooshing it all together and making it into a proper fic one day (with an actual ending, i swear, consider this the commerical break before the finale).

today's flavor is nyx and i leaned into the version of her we saw in the hades game.

The outside of John Tracy’s mother in law’s home might’ve been a pure white bread colonia, but the inside does very little to hide the fact that a powerful witch lives here. Books old enough to be called tomes with a straight face dot the several shelves scattered through the living space. Spell components, including dried plants, oracle bones, animal pelts, colorful powders and opaque tinctures, were crammed onto available tables and spare areas of shelving. The runic warding on the inside of the house was so intense even Sam, Dean, and Shi could feel it like static electricity across their skin.

John seemed nonplussed by the sheer amount of magical crap crammed into his mother in law’s house. It made sense, given that he was a seer and a powerful one at that, but it still didn’t feel any of the hunters with warm fuzzies. Soarise seemed equally unhappy to be stepping into a witch’s hut with this much juice. Castiel didn’t seem to have much of an opinion in either direction, though once he made up his mind he was definitely going to make it known.

Once inside, the kids dropped their backpacks and kicked off their shoes with long practiced familiarity as they sprinted towards what appeared to be the kitchen. The witch was scary as hell sure, but it was nice to see that she was still a good grandma.

John waited until the kids were out of sight, and hopefully too distracted by food to eavesdrop, before rounding on his mother in law once more.

“Nyx, what the actual fuck is going on?”

Nyx gives a rattling sigh. “It’s complicated, John.”

“You sent my children —“

“I did not send your children on a quest to find an angel,” Nyx interrupted, settling herself on a setee with great affair. She gestured for the rest of them to sit. Castiel lingered by a window. Soarise leaned agains the wall closest to the front door. Corned, Sam, Dean, and Shi sat across from Nyx. John loomed over like it was going to do a damn bit to indicate a woman with that much raw power.

He was pissed, though, so you could kind of understand the impulse.

“I was convening with Demeter and the children overhead yesterday. I attempted to talk them down but —“ Nyx broke off, fiddling with one of the many draped fabrics around her body.

“They’re their mother’s children,” John finished, sighing as he finally sat down on an ottoman to the right of Nyx.

“Thank you for not killing them,” John says to Castiel. Castiel blinks.

“I’m not in the habit of murdering children,” Castiel says, defensive.

“The Bible says differently,” John says, eyeing Castiel with something like confusion. Castiel winces and says nothing more.

“This is riveting, don’t get me wrong, but does someone want to clue us in about why we were trussed up like turkeys and shoved into a basement?” Dean asks, eyes going back and forth between Nyx and John.

John looks at Nyx. Nyx sighs again. Her voice is a bit like music, Sam thinks, it rises and falls and has a bit of a shimmer to it as she talks. It something she was born with or is it something that happens to your voice after you use it for as much magic as she clearly has?

“Some of our coven has gone a bit … archaic in their practices as of late,” Nyx says, after a prolonged pause.

“Meaning?” Dean prompts, eyebrows raised and making a go on gesture with his hands.

“Meaning three dullahans have gone missing in the past month or so from this town specifically,” Shi finishes for her. “Well, we thought it was three and then the third missing one rolled into our hotel room,” Shi corrects himself, nodding towards Soarise.

“Where you going to tell us this at any point in the near future?” Sam asks, craning his neck to look at Shi from where he’s smushed against the squashy arm rest of Nyx’s main couch.

“I was getting there and then —“ Shi breaks off gesturing at Soarise.

“The dullahan showed up without a head,” Sam and Dean finish for him at the same time.

Christ, what a week.

“So you’re read up then,” Nyx says, watching Shi with a sudden ferocity.

“Chancellor Avasaralla sends her regards,” Shi says, with weight. Sam and Dean glance at each other. Are they seriously trapped between fighting covens again.

“Fuck,” Nyx says, bitten off between her teeth. She moves towards one of the many apothecary cabinets shoved into the corners of her living area. She opens one of the drawers to reveal a hole that is much, much deeper than the drawer looks and appears to contain a small nebula, blues and purples melding together in a kaleidoscope. She buries her hand inside of it for a moment and pulls out a thick journal before snapping the drawer shut again.

She tosses the journal to Shi. “See if you can make heads or tails of it. I won’t betray one of my own to an outsider but I won’t stop you from cleaning up the mess.”

“Because you can’t? Or won’t?” Shi asks, thumbing through the journal. Sam and Dean glance over his shoulder as he skims it.

“Is that written in Gothic?” Dean asks Sam over Shi’s head, baffled.

“Yeah,” Sam says, equally confused. “How old of a coven is this?”

“It’s a cipher,” Nyx says, terse now that she knows her territory has been encroached upon. “We haven’t been able to break it yet, but I believe that book belongs to whoever is doing … whatever the hell is going on in this town currently.”

“Thank you, Chancellor Herod,” Shi says, voice genuinely grateful. He snaps the book shut and stands into a bow. “We appreciate your time and won’t bother you any further.”

Sam and Dean awkwardly stand with him. The group shuffles towards the door. John follows them and shoves a business card into Dean’s hand.

“Call me at this number when you get a chance. There’s more you need to know.”

“Thanks,” Dean says, glancing at the card. It has a phone number and an emblem of an eagle wreathed in a storm. Flashy, but cryptic.

Emma and Dorian wave to the adults as they trail out of the house with varying levels of enthusiasm. Then, they’re left blinking in the afternoon sun.

“I need a cup of coffee,” Dean says. “And we need to figure out what the fuck is up with this town.”

[misslilli]

Thank you to the lovelies who are still here ❤️

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 22 - B Is For Basketball

[ DS ]

October has faded into November, pumpkin-spiced latte has been replaced by peppermint mocha and plans for Thanksgiving break have been secured, my mom beside herself with joy that Bill Jr. will be returning from his assignment overseas just in time for the holidays.

At school, we’ve made paper turkeys for our window decorations in school, and slowly, I’m beginning to get into the holiday spirit myself. I stay late on this Friday afternoon to put the finishing touches on the turkeys, cutting out paper candy corn and taping everything to the insides of the windows that line our classroom. ‘Looks pretty good, the kids finally got the hang of cutting paper along the lines neatly.’

I exchange my heels for my gym sneakers after a long day, grab my book bag and head out, locking the door behind me. The eery calm of an empty school building soothes me and I turn out the lights of our hallway. When I look out into the school yard, I notice that someone has left on the lights in our gym and I roll my eyes. That someone might have been me forgetting after my lesson today, so I cross the yard quickly to turn them off before I head home.

When I enter the gym, though, I freeze at the top of the bleachers. The floor is empty safe for one Fox Mulder, dribbling a basketball and shooting hoops. I know I should just turn around and leave him to it, but I just can’t help watching, slack-jawed, as the muscles of his back ripple under that tight t-shirt. It’s not often that I get to watch him without getting caught, so I allow myself to stare for just a little bit longer, heart hammering in my chest.

I only realize that my hands have gone limp when my keys hit the floor with a deafening crash and I almost jump out of my skin. ‘Run! Move! Now!’ My legs are not cooperating, damn them, and I see to my horror that he whips around and spots me standing on top of the bleacher’s stairs.

“Jesus, Scully! You trying to kill me?” ‘Those damn forearms of yours are what’s killing me…’

His surprised expression morphs into a smile. “Skinner said it’s okay if I used the gym for practice in the winter. What are you still doing here?”

“Uh... I was hanging turkeys … and I noticed the light on … and I thought that I had left them on after my lesson … and yeah…” ‘Stop rambling, you idiot!’

Now he’s grinning even wider and I can tell he’s going to tease me mercilessly. In my head, I start a list of ‘10 things I hate about you.’

“Didn’t know you hang your own turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, Scully, that’s pretty badass of you!” ‘I want to smack that smirk off your pretty face right now, how’s that for badass?’

I roll my eyes at him and he has the audacity to look incredibly pleased with himself. “Have you ever shot a three-pointer, Scully?” ‘What now?’ I take a moment to contemplate what to say next.

“No. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m only a few inches taller than a yardstick, so I guess I have found more necessary things to do with my time than fail at basketball.”

He jerks his head holding up the basketball. “Get over here, Scully.” The tone in his voice makes my skin tingle.

I’m almost 100 percent sure he thinks I won’t do it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of backing out now, so instead of shooting him down, I walk down the stairs slowly until I’m standing in front of him. I have to tip my head pretty far back to give him a blank look and the eyebrow and smack the basketball out of his hand, sending it bouncing on the floor a few times. Now it’s my turn to smirk at his surprised expression.

Laughing, he goes to pick up the ball and I think of other things I’d like to smack as I get a good look at his backside when he bends down. “Alright sassy lady, you stand here and I’ll try to get around you to the hoop. You need to block me and take the ball from me, okay?”

We move into position and he dribbles the ball a few times. “Okay. Just don’t body-check me!” ‘Oh yes please, body-check me. Tackle me. Wrestle me down to the ground.’

“Body-checking’s for hockey, Scully, so don’t worry!” He moves suddenly, to pass on my right side and I follow, trying to get the ball out from under his hand but he turns and twirls around me and in three long strides, he’s jumping up to the hoop, sinking the ball into it with a satisfying swoosh. Color me impressed.

“You want to try?”

“There was some talk about shooting three-pointers, I think I’ll stick to that for now. Where do I start, here?”

“No, that’s the free throw line. Back there’s the three-point line. Now don’t be nervous, I know for a fact that you can take a shot. Or three…” He looks so pleased with himself at the hint, but it only makes me flash back to Halloween night. Steve. Easy lay.

Shaking the thought from my head, I take the ball he offers to me and bounce it a few times.

‘Oy that’s pretty far away from the hoop, crap. Too late to back out now, Dana.’

I move to stand at the indicated line, holding the ball between my hands and concentrating hard on the hoop, I throw it. The ball sails forward in a pathetically low arc, missing the hoop for miles. If he laughs now, I swear to God, I’ll hang his ass from the backboard.

Thankfully for him, though, he bites back the teasing and instead, moves around me to stand against my back. The hairs at the back of my neck stand up at his proximity. “Come on, I’ll show you.” Reaching his arms around me, his front pressed against my back, he holds the ball in front of my face. ‘He’s too close, damn it! Houston, I have a problem!’

He nudges my foot outward and forward a little with his and I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Legs shoulder width apart.” Next, he takes my wrist, raising my arm to 90 degrees and places my hand underneath the ball. “Spread your fingers and rest the ball on your palm. Only touch it with your fingertips.” I swallow hard around a lump in my throat, nodding. ‘Mayday, mayday!’

My left hand is placed on the side of the ball. “Don’t grip the ball with your left hand. Now you need to bend your knees and jump.” I start to hyperventilate when it dawns on me where exactly my ass will be pressed against when I bend my knees. But his hands leave mine as he steps back and the loss of warmth on my back makes me shiver.

I jump and make my shot and while it’s infinitesimally better than my first shot, I still miss. I groan in frustration, I hate being bad at something.

“I’m just too short, damn it!” ‘If I start to cry now, I’ll hang myself from that backboard.’ Now I’m not only agitated and nervous, now I’m frustrated on top of it all.

He gets the ball back and hands it to me, a thoughtful look on his face and I wonder what he’s up to now. “Hmm… okay, let’s try something else.”

I almost jump out of my skin when his hands grab my waist just below my ribs. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, Scully, I’m giving you height.” I’m feel lightheaded. “Okay, on three you jump and make your shot. 1, 2, 3!” I follow his orders and he lifts me over his head as I shoot for the hoop, my heart going a mile a minute, a faint ringing in my ears.

This is all so perfect and romantic and sexy all at the same time.

No, wait.

It’s too perfect, too romantic, too sexy, too close, too much. too soon. too many unknowns. too scary.

When he lowers me down his front slowly, I stumble forward as I regain some footing under my feet, whipping around and breathing hard. I don’t even hear the swoosh of my money shot.

Only managing to choke out a strangled “I gotta go!” before ripping up the stairs, through the doorway, into the chilly November night.

Leaning my head back against the teacher’s bathroom door, my mind flashes back to the night on Halloween, bits of conversation reverberating in my head. “Not relationship material. Hot teacher. Catholic girl. Golden Retriever. Easy lay.”

I go back in history to all the times I’ve found myself curled into a ball on the floor of my bathroom, my living room, my kitchen, in my bed. Crying so hard that no sounds left my mouth, all the pain in my chest making it hard to breathe.

I knock my head backwards into the door once, frustrated.

I’m just too broken. Damaged goods.

I wait for what feels like hours but is probably just a few minutes before turning off the lights and heading home.

----------

[ FM ]

‘Shit. You overstepped. You made her feel uncomfortable. Unsafe.’ I want to slap my stupid-ass self as I watch the doors close after her. ‘It seemed like she was having fun, what happened? Should I go after her? Does she want me to?’ After a long while I put the basketball where it belongs, turn off the lights and leave the gym in search for her. I have no idea where to look and if she even wants to be found, but the thought of me causing her pain sends me running through the dark school anyway. I stop to listen for sounds several times, but everything’s deadly quiet. I can’t find her.

Shit.

[americangodstalk]

As I am digging around to try to later write more about how the Native Indian figures and mythological entities are treated in American Gods, I just want to share these important extracts:

Shadow said, “Are you a god as well?”

Whiskey Jack shook his head. “I’m a culture hero,” he said. “We do the same shit gods do, we just screw up more and nobody worships us. They tell stories about us, but they tell the ones that make us look bad along with the ones where we came out fairly okay.”

“I see,” said Shadow. And he did see, more or less.

“Look,” said Whiskey Jack. “This is not a good country for gods. My people figured that out early on. There are creator spirits who found the earth or made it or shit it out, but you think about it: who’s going to worship Coyote? He made love to Porcupine Woman and got his dick shot through with more needles than a pincushion. He’d argue with rocks and the rocks would win.

“So, yeah, my people figured that maybe there’s something at the back of it all, a creator, a great spirit, and so we say thank you to it, because it’s always good to say thank you. But we never built churches. We didn’t need to. The land was the church. The land was the religion. The land was older and wiser than the people who walked on it. It gave us salmon and corn and buffalo and passenger pigeons. It gave us wild rice and walleye. It gave us melon and squash and turkey. And we were the children of the land, just like the porcupine and the skunk and the blue jay.”

He finished his second beer and gestured toward the river at the bottom of the waterfall. “You follow that river for a way, you’ll get to the lakes where the wild rice grows. In wild rice time, you go out in your canoe with a friend, and you knock the wild rice into your canoe, and cook it, and store it, and it will keep you for a long time. Different places grow different foods. Go far enough south there are orange trees, lemon trees, and those squashy green guys, look like pears—”

“Avocados.”

“Avocados,” agreed Whiskey Jack. “That’s them. They don’t grow up this way. This is wild rice cftuntry. Moose country. What I’m trying to say is that America is like that. It’s not good growing country for gods. They don’t grow well here. They’re like avocados trying to grow in wild rice country.”

[...]

They walked back to Whiskey Jack’s shack. He opened the door. Shadow hesitated. “I wish I could stay here with you,” he said. “This seems like a good place.”

“There are a lot of good places,” said Whiskey Jack. “That’s kind of the point. Listen, gods die when they are forgotten. People too. But the land’s still here. The good places, and the bad. The land isn’t going anywhere. And neither am I.”

[...]

He did not believe that he had fallen asleep, but he was standing on a vast plain, and there was a man there with the head and shoulders of a buffalo, and a woman with the head of an enormous condor, and there was Whiskey Jack standing between them, looking at him sadly, shaking his head.

Whiskey Jack turned and walked slowly away from Shadow. The buffalo man walked away beside him. The thunderbird woman also walked, and then she ducked and kicked and she was gliding out into the skies.

Shadow felt a sense of loss. He wanted to call to them, to plead with them to come back, not to give up on him, but everything was becoming formless and without shape: they were gone, and the plains were fading, and everything became void.

[naturalbornworldshakers]

“I’m long gone like the turkey through the corn...” Lightnin’ Hopkins by Robert Crumb, NYC, 1974 (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFK9haKltPy/?igshid=10e54slwskfz3

[snuh]

Lightnin’ Hopkins: Long Gone Like A Turkey Through The Corn

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Dreaming is Free || Solo

Hold on to hope if you got it Don’t let it go for nobody They say that dreaming is free But I wouldn’t care what it cost me

For hours, the only sound that filled her apartment was the quiet sound of her carving away at a jewelry box she was working on. The design on it was pretty ornate though as much didn’t make it enough of a distraction. It was Athena’s first day back at class and Ariana found herself with a day off home alone. Slipping back into the slump she’d found herself in only a few weeks prior had been all too easy to do. Even when she turned on that Bob’s Burgers show Grace introduced her to, there was a certain sort of stillness to the apartment that made Ariana feel as if she might crawl out of her own skin if biology allowed for it.

She hadn’t realized she’d sat her woodworking tools down and began pacing the apartment. The allure of the collection of fuzzy blankets on her couch wasn’t lost on her, but she couldn’t sit in these feelings. The full moon was quickly approaching and she had no idea if she’d successfully be able to get out of this promise. The added energy wasn’t helping with the constant buzzing of nerves inside her. She swore every beat of her heart felt like it was booming and reverberating in her ears. 

After what felt like hours pacing around her living room in circles, her eyes finally fell to a box on her shelf she knew she should be avoiding. She’d hardly been able to stop thinking about it since the first time she pulled it out. While she played a few games here and there, she hadn’t pulled it out since Athena arrived. But she wasn’t here right now and she didn’t have to be strong for anybody. She looked to Luna curled up on her bed and swallowed back the feeling of guilt that arose in her. The little common sense she did have told her she should have burned that game the moment she felt it tap into her dreams, but seeing Celeste again, even if it was just her own imagination, brought a sense of warmth she couldn’t quite deny. 

She took the game back to the couch and held it in her hands for a moment. She looked down at the virtual reality goggles wistfully and knew she needed this today. With the dread that was pulling at her insides the more she thought of Lydia’s promise, she needed the sense of comfort and safety Celeste had always been able to provide. With a deep breath, she slipped it on over her head and let the soothing music of the opening credits draw her in. The scenes that made up the opening were always different, yet somehow the same. Vast forests. Open fields of wildflowers. The sound of laughter floating through the air. They all pulled her into this fake reality she wished she could make real.

Ariana found herself in the same cabin she always did, but this time, the smell of cinnamon, cloves, and thyme filled the air. She stood beside Celeste in their kitchen preparing what looked like a Thanksgiving meal. The oven was going and they had been mashing sweet and regular potatoes respectively. She could see cranberries next  to them as well and it left her a bit confused. It had always been just them, so they’d never done a whole big thing. Somehow it felt right as she heard Celeste quietly humming some ABBA song that she barely recognized. A timer had gone off and Celeste directed, “We have to get the green bean and corn casseroles in the oven if we want them to be ready with the turkey.”

Ariana nodded diligently and grabbed both pans from the fridge before sliding them into the oven with the turkey. “How long are they both going in for?” 

“Both are 55 minutes. Add the crispy onions to the green beans and cheese to the corn and put them in for another ten minutes.” 

“Word,” she said as she went back to her task of mashing potatoes. It dawned on her there were no desserts in sight. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to have pie or something?” 

Celeste scoffed playfully and said, “I have that covered. Kaden is bringing a pecan pie. Your friend Athena insisted on baking as well so she’s bringing a pumpkin pie. Your friend Sammy should be here soon with a nice serving platter he made for the occasion.” 

She looked behind her at the table and realized how many people it was set for. It was a great contrast to their tradition of roasting a freshly caught bird of an open flame. This big sort of gathering was something she’d always wanted though she’d always be thankful for those quiet holiday nights over a campfire. 

Celeste’s face lit up as she said, “Oh! I do need you to whip up some fresh whipped cream for said pies. We should probably pre-load the coffee maker, too. People will need coffee to prevent them all from slipping into a food coma.” 

She laughed in response. “I don’t think any amount of coffee will prevent that.”  

Ariana had been close to teasing Celeste for her continued humming as they continued cooking when she heard a knock on the door. “I got it!” She raced to the door and smelled the familiar earthy scent of clay. She smiled widely as she opened the door and gestured for him to come inside. “Welcome to our humble abode,” Ariana said proudly. 

Sammy seemed in awe as he looked around the cabin. “Wow,” he said in a tone that was all too familiar to her, “You built this? Is there anything you can’t do?” 

Ariana’s face turned serious as she deadpanned, “Algebra.” 

They both laughed and before they knew it, others were arriving as well. Ace had helped them with the final touches of setting the dining table and serving area they had set up. All of her and Celeste’s friends had been piling into the home they’d built themselves just like they always talked about. The chatter in the air made her feel warm and she found she was grinning from ear to ear the whole time. 

Miraculously, all of their friends seemed to be getting along and it almost seemed better than Ariana could have dreamed of, but it was just that. A small dream that would never come to fruition and she was reminded as much when the closing credits rolled before her eyes. “No,” she croaked weakly. Rewind it. Her mind begged for as much, but the machine whirled on just a few brief seconds longer before it powered off and left her with a hollow feeling she didn’t quite know what to do with. Her fists clenched up after she ripped it off her head. She thought of smashing or throwing it, but found herself hesitating at the last second. Even if it was only just an illusion, it was the only way she could see everyone she loved again. 

She let out a tentative sigh and put it gently back in the box. Every muscle in her body felt more fatigued than before, but she placed it back on the shelf before curling up on the couch. Sleep came easy though it was dreamless now and born from a level of physical exhaustion that didn’t quite match the how much energy she’d expended. There wasn’t much questioning as she sank further and further into her sleep not even noticing the random sounds of things falling around the apartment.

[doing-all-write]

three things

After moving in together, Reader and Ben host their first Friendsgiving together and have to come up with three things they’re grateful for. 

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Mentions of sex and shenanigans so cute they’ll rot your teeth

This is a continuation of lighthouse ! 

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it today! Here’s a little something that @itsabenthing​ helped give me inspo to bring to life and I gotta say, I love these two idiots and their dumb relationship more than most things in my life. I hope you all love it!!

💖💖💖As always, likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome 💖💖💖

"Cranberries?" 

"Regular and the nasty canned shit." 

"Ignoring that hearsay...corn bread?"

Rustling was heard as her eyes scanned the list she held in her hand. Mentally ticking things off when suddenly the corner of a box of cornbread appeared in her peripheries as Ben painstakingly edged it closer into her line of sight. 

"The lady wants cornbread and THEREFORE, cornbread she shall have." 

Fighting a smile, she pursed her lips as Ben proudly withdrew it from her line of sight and placed it back into their grocery cart. 

They had been living together for a few months now and had quickly settled into a routine. Most days she'd kick the door open, heels thumping against the closet floor as she toed them off. The smell of whatever Ben was cooking, wafted down the hall to meet her nose. Flipping through the mail she picked up on her way in, she'd pad down the hallway, humming whatever song she had been listening to in her car before coming inside. 

Popping herself up on the counter she would word vomit about her day as Ben stirred, chopped and let her taste test what he was making. Making encouraging noises and occasionally interjecting at opportune times. ("No, Karen does need to calm down. I mean, it's an Instagram post, it's not the end of the world. I barely use mine and I'm doing just fine." "Yeah, but we're not all hot, blonde Hollywood stars." "You think I'm hot?" "Smoking, just like whatever is cooking in the oven." "SHIT.") 

They'd end the day with whatever show they had been watching together on Netflix (Recently it was Riverdale. She loved it because she read the comics growing up. Ben loved it because it was so over the top. And he had a soft spot for Bughead.), then get ready for bed together and fall asleep in each others arms. 

It was so disgustingly domestic and simple, half the time she found herself looking at Ben and asking him, "Is this it? Like, this is all we do? We hang out?"

Chuckling, he'd pull her closer, "It sure is, love."

She'd sigh contentedly, and nuzzle closer to him, happy with how quickly their lives had merged together. 

Not every day was so peaceful. There was the one time she left their back window open and a bat had flown into the apartment. There was 30 minutes of chaos as Ben bellowed at her for leaving the window open and she locked herself in the bedroom threatening to divorce him if he didn't get rid of the bat NOW despite his protests that they weren't even married. 

Or the day when they had sat down and hashed out which chores they hated (she: cooking, cleaning bathrooms and dusting. Ben: sweeping, doing dishes and taking out the trash. The payoff though was that whenever she took out the trash she'd gleefully tell Ben to step into the trash can as well. Only after he locked her out of their bedroom had she stopped) and would take over to prevent the other from having to do it. 

Some nights she'd be out with friends, or at a late work event or need to run some errands only to come home to Ben air drumming along to a Queen album he had popped on the record player. 

Other days she would be left to her own devices and would wake up in the tub, the bath bomb she had used a distant memory, with Ben standing over her, telling her how she can't fall asleep in the tub while he's gone because what if she drowns? 

They were most thankful for each other when they had had long, difficult days. Trudging home from a work day full of bullshit meetings, last minute deadlines and unhelpful co-workers, with only one call to Ben to have a brief meltdown, she'd open the door to find him wearing nothing but an apron with her favorite dinner on the table.

(Frozen Chinese food from their local grocery store and "is that...White Claw...in our wine glasses?" "It sure is, love. We're real classy bitches now.") 

When Ben was gone filming for long periods of time, she would FaceTime him as she cooked, or did laundry, or other normal things around the house just so he could feel like he was part of her day to day routine.

(The first time they had done that he'd remarked, "It's like a baby cam."

She scoffed, "Well, yeah. Kind of. I mean, I am baby."

"You're my baby."

"Shut the fuck up Hardy, you can't be that cute when you're that far away from me.") 

When he finally would get home, disentangling himself from the Lyft, body screaming for rest after having been put through the wringer with training and long days and nights of filming, the only thing that'd keep him upright was her. She would barrel out of their apartment to meet him in the landing. He'd barely have time to drop his bags as she flung herself into his arms, peppering each others faces with kisses as he promised over and over again he would take her with him next time he left so they never had to be apart for so long.

They'd even had a couple of parties together. A low-key house-warming when Ben moved in and a Halloween party. She had dressed up as Sabrina from The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and had talked Ben into being her Harvey. Though he got to wear what he normally did, he complained the whole time. She was sympathetic but right before they opened the door to let their friends in, she had stuck devil horns on his head that he didn't have time to rip off.

(After everyone had left, he had made her wear those as he fucked her senseless. She hated to admit it but it was incredibly hot.) 

The Halloween party was such a hit, their friends had talked them into hosting Friendsgving as well. Hence, the run to the grocery store where she had printed out the Excel spreadsheet clutched in her hand to help keep track of what was needed for each dish. 

Ben had taken one look at the spreadsheet, took her hands in his, and in the most loving way possible, explained that this seemed like a bit much for a party and he was worried that, day of, she'd be so stressed, he'd have to talk her down from stuffing her head in the oven alongside the turkey. 

Now, she felt something move across the nape of her neck, she flinched, looking around only to be met with Ben's wide eyes staring at her, feigning ignorance as he paused mid-inhale, getting ready to blow on her neck a second time. 

The smile he shot her made her knees weak and she rolled her eyes, muttering about what a pain in the ass he was as she pushed the cart farther away from him.

His hands came down beside hers on the rail as his lips pressed into her hair, "Get in"

"What? Get in where?"

"Where do you think? Get in the cart, I'll push you around." 

She scoffed, "Ben, we're adults. We're hosting a dinner party we bought the $5 bottles of red wine instead of the $3 ones. There is no way in hell I'm going to let you-"

"C'mon, love. The old you would have done it." 

Before Ben had even said the last word, she was hauling herself up into the cart, pushing food out of the way and tucking her legs underneath herself, mumbling all the while about how unfair it was that that always worked on her. 

Ben chuckled as he waited for her to get settled, once she nodded at him, he started walking down the aisles, leaning his forearms on the rail, giving her an up close view to the sinews and muscles flexing as he meandered down the aisles. 

"You keep staring like that, people are gonna ask you to keep it in your pants." 

"How can I? I mean, Christ Benny, your forearms are enough to make me cum right now."

He made a retching noise, "Please, for the love of god do not cum all over the potatoes. They're right in your lap, we have to feed those to people-" 

A laugh came ringing out of her mouth like a bell, "These mashed potatoes seem extra creamy, whatever did you do to them?" she affected a high pitched voice and waggled her eyebrows. 

"That's it, we're done. I'm leaving you in this cart." He threw up his hands, walking backwards as her eyes grew wide, 

"Ben, please do not leave me here alone in this cart like a big dumb baby. Please. It was a joke." 

Ben came back with a sigh, "You do look like a baby. Like when you wear your romper to work."

That comment was met with an accusing finger, "HEY. That romper is professional and stylish and also gives a whole new meaning to being naked and afraid in bathrooms." 

"I understand wearing it to work but I just don't get why you would wear that out. Waiting for you to come out of the bathroom at the bar," he sighed, "felt like I was standing there for an hour."

"It was like 10 minutes tops. Grow up."

He rolled his eyes and shoved the cart away from him, quickly bringing it right back, causing her to screech and grasp the sides with white knuckles. 

"Jones!"

He chuckled as he swung them around to the next aisle, "I've got you, love. Now, what do we need down this aisle?"

Her head swung side to side as she examined the goods. She pointed to a package of spices, that Ben grabbed and tried to shoot into the cart, missing by a mile. She eventually circled her arms so he could try and shoot every new food item they picked up into the makeshift basket. (She drew the line at the eggs.) As they roamed the aisles, she slowly became more and more buried until food reached up to her shoulders. 

As Ben debated between getting regular sized versus mini marshmallows for the sweet potato casserole, she asked, "What are the three things you're grateful for today?"

They had started this soon after Ben had moved in. He'd wake up in the morning to find her writing in a notebook, after observing her doing this for a couple weeks, he got the courage to ask her what she was writing about. She explained that every day, she wrote down three things she was grateful for. Didn't matter how big or small it was. Just three things that she was grateful to have in her life. 

He teased her mercilessly about how he had better be on that list every damn day but when they were laying in bed that night, she asked him and it became a habit. Crawling into bed together, they would exchange what three things they were most grateful for in that day. 

Furrowing his brow as he shot the mini marshmallows, he threw his hands in the air when he made it in and announced, "I'm grateful I made that shot."

After checking out, in which Ben insisted that she stay in the cart while he did so, causing the cashier to give them strange looks but ultimately giving her a sticker that they usually only reserved for children, which Ben gleefully stuck to her forehead, he rolled her out to her car where she popped the trunk. 

Loading the bags in, Ben clambered in to her front seat, pushing the chair all the way back. 

"It's like living with a midget."

"You are BARELY 5' 10" my man, do not be speaking ill of my height right now." 

Driving back it was quiet except for the soft sounds of Bruce Springsteen playing over the speakers. Reaching over, Ben grabbed the hand that had been resting on her thigh. She glanced over, smiling, as she looked at her boyfriend, felt his thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of her hand.

She whispered, "I'm grateful for us."

~~~

Friendsgiving had been a massive success. Before, the apartment had been a madhouse. The kitchen looked like the end of a Great British Bake Off episode, complete with Ben doing his best Paul Hollywood impression ("You keep that shit up Jones and I will give you food poisoning on purpose.") 

But the food had turned out well (Ben silently gave her a thumbs up when 15 minutes had passed after everyone was done eating and no one had thrown up), everyone left with a plate of leftovers and promises to get together soon and now the apartment felt strangely still. The only hint that it had been filled with people was the pile of dishes in the sink. 

They fell into an easy rhythm, her washing, he drying. The jazz they had queued up for dinner still playing, adding an air of domesticity to the whole affair. The pine candle she had lit after they had eaten, signaling to everyone the holiday season had truly started, sputtered as it gave off its last few whiffs then burnt out. 

As she placed the last plates back into the cabinet, Ben refilled their wine glasses, leaving them on the counter as he disappeared into the bedroom. 

Turning around she was met with Ben in his favorite hoodie, the collar sinking down to reveal his collarbone, meaning he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath it and gray sweatpants, which she cocked an eyebrow at. 

"You told me about the memes, I'm just trying to satisfy all your fantasies." he joked as he held out a second pair of sweatpants to her. She giggled as she shimmed out of her tights right there in the kitchen, pulling the sweatpants on underneath her dress. Ben swatted at her butt as she walked past him to grab a shirt from the bedroom. Once she ambled out, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she was greeted by Ben, laid out on their couch, wine glasses on the table in front of him and the largest rectangular box she had ever seen in her life. 

Ben notoriously had weird taste in art and the skepticism must have shown on her face because Ben rolled his eyes, "It's not art. Don't worry. I learned my lesson when you ripped me a new one telling me that Andy Warhol isn't a real artist."

"Well you only have to make that mistake once with me." she conceded as she crept towards the box. "Is this, for me?"

Ben nodded, shifting, rubbing his hands down his thighs, then through his hair, a classic sign he was nervous. 

Smiling, she knelt down in front of it, running her nails down the edges she ripped the tape off. 

"Ya know, I have a pocket knife. It's easier." 

"Yeah but these bad boys are like built in pocket knives."

"Okay Wolverine."

Flipping him off, she opened the top of the box. Ben watched bemusedly as she struggled to wrestle the object out. Letting her struggle for only a few seconds before he got up and grabbed on to the end of the box she pulled her gift out.

Almost dropping it she gasped, "Ben, what the hell is this? What did you do?" He laughed as he smugly took a sip of wine, "Take off that bubble wrap and find out, love."

Staring at him, she ripped open the bubble wrap. First exposing the dark mahogany frame, then the white border, then..."Oh my god. Ben. Sweetheart. Is this...?"

He just tipped his head, making a get on with it gesture as, hands trembling, she ripped off the rest of the bubble wrap. 

Exposing the puzzle they had done together the day she had asked him to move in with her, matted and framed. 

Bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, she felt how wet her cheeks were. She sank back on her heels, laying the frame down in front of her as she leaned over it. Ben was by her side in a second, arms around her, pressing kisses into her hair. 

She couldn't believe it. Her heart felt like it was going to break from how much love she felt for Ben in that moment, "This is the best piece of art you've ever gotten."

"Nah, I'd say you were the best piece of art I've ever gotten."

"Oh god." She wailed as a fresh wave of tears came flooding out of her, making him laugh as his own eyes got watery, tightening his grip on her. 

Once the tears had stopped, she lifted her head, sniffling to look at the puzzle again. She squinted her eyes, "Ben."

"Yes?"

"Is...is there a piece missing from this?" 

He chuckled as he fished in his pocket for a second box, "There is. But for good reason."

Hands shaking like a leaf, she pried the box open only to reveal the piece of the puzzle she had stepped on the morning after she asked him to move in, winking up at her on a gold chain. She dropped it immediately as she threw herself into Ben's arms, tackling him to the ground. 

For several moments it was just the sound of her crying, him telling her to stop crying because it was making him cry, them kissing each other and exchanging promises of love and exclamations about how amazing the other was. 

After collecting herself and wiping her eyes, she held out her wrist, "Well? Put it on me you idiot."

He laughed, wiping his own eyes with his hoodie sleeve, fingers shaking as he clasped the bracelet onto her wrist. 

They stared down at it until Ben kissed the palm of her hand and brought it up to his face. 

Staring at each other, lost in the other's eyes, Ben said, "You know how at dinner you had everyone say three things they were grateful for?" She nodded, feeling a new batch of tears making their debut, "Obviously I said you but, love, you are always the top three things I'm most grateful for everyday. Every day I look at you and find something else about you that I'm grateful for. And I hope I get to keep doing that for however long you can stand to be around me." She giggled through her tears, nodding vigorously as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.  

She felt him take a steadying breath in as he squeezed her tighter into his embrace, "You're always what I'm most grateful for. And I will never stop being grateful for having you in my life. I love you so much it makes my heart ache sometimes."

Nodding furiously, voice wavery and thick from her tears, she said, "Everyday when I write my list, you always make the number one spot. No matter if you had yelled at me about letting a bat into our apartment the night before," He squeezed her tighter, laughing through his own tears, "This is just about the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, so, yeah, Jones. You made me the happiest girl alive when you agreed to be my boyfriend and every day since then. I look at you every day and wonder how in the world I got so lucky but grateful that you're in my life. You're the love of my life."

Beaming, he pulled back only to place a deep kiss on her lips. Clutching his shoulders, they held each other there for a few long seconds, finally breaking apart to breath each other in.

Breaking the silence, she asked the age old question, "Where are we going to hang this?" 

"I was thinking over our bed." 

"Perfect. Just perfect."

That night, as they fell asleep, they had murmured what three things they were each grateful for. It came as no surprise to either of them that their three things they were most grateful for were each other. 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.5

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.4 - ch.6

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie was folding laundry on the porch to enjoy the nice weather. Soft, fluffy, warm towels made the farmhand feel proud of her work (the towels were kinda scratchy and stiff when she first came a month ago). Her eyes averted from her folding up ahead to her boss, who was chopping woods on an old tree stump.

His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned to help his sweaty body cool down. A golden chain just barely grazed his thick chest hair, showcased by the created V. His stance was strong and his arms tightened his muscles as he swung the axe down on a sorry piece of wood. Occasionally he had to bend over to place a new log on the tree stump, giving Jackie a very pleasant view through his jeans. After a few minutes of Stan’s show and of Jackie not getting anything done, her hands frozen on a towel in her lap, Stan stopped his work and turned away from the sun as he wiped his forehead dry of sparkling sweat; Jackie barely looked away in time and if it wasn’t for Stan’s eyesight adjusting to the lack of sunshine, he might have caught his admirer.

Fiddleford came out with a glass of sweet tea in his hand and breathed in the wonderful late-afternoon air. He noticed at once that something was slightly out of the ordinary, and one look at Jackie’s glossy eyes and Stan’s half-exposed body as he picked up the lumber told the Tennessian everything he needed to know. The second Stan entered the house to put the logs where they belonged, Fiddleford gently elbowed Jackie as he stood next to her rocking chair. “Well, kettle my corn, somebody’s in love.”

Jackie rolled her eyes and smiled smugly up at her friend. “Yeah, right. Stan’s just a cool guy. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tucked into her bed with one arm draped over her chest, and her eyes wide with energy. She could feel a rock being plunged into her stomach as it dawned on her that Fiddleford might have been right. “Uh, oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan was whittling a small piece of wood in his hands as he sat on the porch, rocking in his chair. The sounds of laughter made him glance up from his work and he smiled to see Jackie and Tate playing. It was a basic game of tag, but they were both laughing joyfully and Tate was grinning like it was the best day of his life. For a few minutes Jackie purposely went slow, but then she sped up, caught Tate in her arms, and plopped down on the ground to tickle his ribs. Tate squirmed and squealed as Jackie laughed alongside him, hers less force than the boy’s.

Stan smiled and watched them from the corner of his eye as he whistled a tiny tree; Tate seemed to enjoy the toy train he had made for him, so he was secretly working on tracks and trees and houses and people so the kid could build a village for the train to ride around. It was something entertaining for Stan to do in his free time and he knew it would make a good birthday gift or a present for the holidays. As he worked and watched Jackie play with Tate, his thoughts reverted back to his feelings for the farm-woman.

Was it wrong for him to be crazy for his employee? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. With Jackie, it was just so easy, but that didn’t mean it was predictable; Jackie was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Stan valued in a person. Not only was she a hard worker, but she was really smart, creative, the best cook he had ever met, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on her, so why should he? For the time, Stan was content that a woman as amazing as her would never have a crush on him, not in a million years, so with any luck his little crush on her will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of May Stan and Ford told Fiddleford and Jackie about a hoedown that took place at the end of May to mark the beginning of summer. It was hosted in a huge barn and everyone pitched in to help with the food and there was music and dancing and everyone had a great time; word on the street was that it even beat the Northwests’ annual fancy shindig. So the weak of the party Jackie was excused from work on the farm so she could spend more time in the kitchen, meaning Ford and Fiddleford had to pitch in and save their investigations on the unicorns for another time.

It wasn’t a fancy party, but people usually dressed up a little bit, almost like going to church. Ford went for his blue t-shirt with green flannel and clean jeans and he polished his black shoes that clicked on wood beautifully. Fiddleford went for a more casual army-green floral shirt, a favorite from back at Backupsmore, and he put Tate in a red short-sleeved button-up. Stan opted for clean jeans and a light-merlot button-up, but Jackie was perfectly happy to wear a plain white dress that went down to her knees and came with noodle straps. She decorated the outfits with black heels to match her curly hair, which she somehow managed to control without losing its breath-taking fullness.

Stan found himself staring for a creepy amount of time, but she was too busy trying to get her food together to notice. The Diablo was packed full with food so Stan and Jackie drove in that car while Ford, Fiddleford, and Tate rode in the newly repaired blue truck. The large barn sat a few yards from a huge lake and at the top of a hill, a smaller barn filled with hay to the side and a white fence establishing the boundaries of the property. Already the barn was busting with music and laughter and vehicles and even two horses stood outside the party. Stan and Ford helped Jackie with the food while Fiddleford held Tate’s hand and had his banjo over his shoulder, and they entered.

The newcomers awed at the hustle and bustle. On a stage a bass, an acoustic guitar, a cello, a harmonica, and some spoons were being played by some townsfolk. Many more were dancing in the wide open space care-free. Kids Tate’s age were holding hands and swinging, Toby Determined was doing a lonely tap-dance, that dweeb Durland was spinning a lady too fast and making her cross-eyed, and Ma and Pa from Dusk 2 Dawn were holding each other as they danced. Most people were doing a big group dance together, but some were over at the long tables filled with good food. 

Susan was stirring hot apple cider and spooning mugs full for people, Manly Dave had brought his family recipe of Cages Full of Meat, and there were platters and bowls filled with delicious ham, turkey, cobblers and pies of every berry and fruit that existed, green beans, collared greens, salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fried okra, smoked ribs, smoked pork, boiled peanuts, jugs full of moonshine, and barrels full of taffy and candy. Jackie happily added her Lemon Meringue pie, grilled chicken, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, yeast rolls with cinnamon butter, cranberry sauce, spinach dip and crackers, and a huge pot filled with jambalaya made with Cajun sausage, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and rice. All that food could feed three New York Cities, let alone little Gravity Falls, but with all the dancing and activity going on the food was happily accepted and the night was off to a wonderful start.

Jackie happily chatted with Susan at the long tables while the men dispersed. Fiddleford was invited to play with the others on stage, Ford began to play chess with some of the old men in the back of the barn, and Stan happily took Tate out on the dancefloor and let him stand on his boots to lead.

The sun was soon gone but the night was lit up by not only the huge light fixtures in the barn, but the strings of lights on the walls, and rustic exposed lightbulbs at the door, and the little lights on the grass to highlight the walkway from the party to the rides home. Fireflies buzzed around as well; a few kids left the loud party to play among the bugs and let the flickering lights crawl into their outstretched hands.

As the moon got higher and higher into the sky, the part continued to be very enjoyable. While Tate was busy making quick friends with Tyler Cutebiker, Stan dragged his twin out on the dancefloor and made him dance. Fiddleford took a break from playing his banjo and somehow ended up dancing with Susan. Jackie happily danced alone by the tables and enjoyed the blissful music. As much fun as the party was, her energy was running out and she could do with some quiet. She decided to go outside and watch the kids play.

Out in the cool late-spring air Jackie breathed peacefully as she watched the children run around, but soon she wanted to be alone and explore her new surroundings. That smaller barn was a ways away, so she slipped into the shadows and ventured towards it. Jackie quietly slid the door open and smiled to find a single lantern hanging on the wall and the barn filled to the brim with blocks of hay. It smelled clean here and it was quiet and lovely, so Jackie made her way to a wall and sat on two blocks of hay, taking off her heels to rub her sore feet. No blisters, thank goodness, but standing and dancing for so long will make your feet ache.

In the silence and with nothing better to do, Jackie resumed her thought about Stan. Was it wrong for her to fall for her employer? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. Stan was just so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around, but that didn’t mean he was predictable; Stan was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Jackie valued in a person. Not only was he a hard worker, but he was clever, considerate, a true-blue family man, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on Stanley Pines, so why should she? But Jackie could swallow that a man as amazing as him would never have a crush on her, not in a million years, so with any luck her little crush on him will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

The door opened slowly, still managing to make Jackie jump a little, but she smiled and relaxed at seeing Stan at the entrance.

He had been having a lot of fun at the party, but he had planned on dragging Jackie out to dance, having noticed that no one had danced with her (she must have danced with at least of one of handsome guys here and Stan just didn’t see it, there’s no way a girl that pretty had resorted to wall-hugging all night) and he planned to fix that, but he soon noticed that Jackie was nowhere to be found. Checking to make sure she didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion, Stan exited the big barn and watched the kids for a minute before guessing she was in the smaller barn away from the crowds and noise. He smiled when he saw he was correct and leaned against the doorway. “Hey, whatcha doin’ over here?”

Jackie shrugged casually. “Just needed some alone time.”

Stan nodded and drastically changed his plans to give her what she needed. He let his arm fall from the doorway and said, “Gotcha, okay, I’ll see you…”

“No,” Jackie said too quickly and felt herself go red with embarrassment. “I-I mean, I can be alone with you.” She quickly explained and then swallowed nervously. That didn’t make any sense, she wasn’t making any sense! But the way this guy made her feel didn’t make sense, either.

Stan saw her nervousness and smiled at it; the best dating advice Ma had ever given him was to never a date someone who wasn’t nervous around you; if they’re nervous that means they like you. He made a mental note to not put up too much of a brave front and then he entered the barn and closed the door behind him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Jackie smiled, not as nervous now, and watched as Stan plopped himself down on the hay-coated floor, resting an arm next to where Jackie sat. He popped his neck and yawned, comfortable and relaxed, one leg bent up and the other laying flat. He turned his head to look up at Jackie, resting his square jaw on his knuckles, and asked, “So whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Jackie leaned forward so her elbows her on her knees and one hand was just under her chin. “I was thinking how this has got to be one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.”

Stan snorted. “Really? Guess it ain’t so bad. I’ve never missed a single one. Great graduation celebration or a ‘welcome home’ event for college students. One year Ford n’ I snuck out n’ went over to the lake to swim, but Shermie caught us n’ tried to pull us out, but we dragged him in n’ we all got in trouble for it.” He chuckled.

Jackie giggled along with him and commented, “I’ve actually never been to a lake. I’ve visited a beach, but not a lake yet.”

“We’ll fix that.” Stan said. “The beach, though, huh? Always wanted to see one. Where else’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” Jackie said. “I was a bit of a traveler before stopping here. Never been outside the country.”

“What was your favorite place?”

“New Orleans.” Jackie answered quickly. “They had the most delicious beignets and seafood and the jazz was beautiful, and the ocean was so beautiful. I really liked southern California, too, the beach was amazing and I made a lot of Hispanic friends there.”

“Any reason why you left?” Stan asked; with such good friends and great places, the farmer couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t she stay.

“Too busy and loud.” Jackie said. “I love the occasional crowds, but I wanted some place quieter and easier to find work, so that’s why I came up here.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Stan said earnestly, in such a deep, meaningful tone that it made Jackie’s face hot again and she looked away as she gently shook her head.

“You give me too much credit, Stan…”

“No, Jackie, I mean it.” Stan swallowed nervously, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he went on with his eyes on the beautiful girl above him. “I’m not just butterin’ you up, I think you’re real pretty, n’ I mean it when I say you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to our place. Even without your killer cookin’ n’ extra help, I’m just really happy you’re around. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I’ll think of somethin’.” He had carefully worded his compliment so Jackie could take it as a friend making a friend feel good if that was all she wanted, but he had meant it as so much more and wanted it to be so much more, so it was all up to Jackie now.

She noticed the nervous look in his soft brown eyes and smiled. Was there a possibility, a teeny tiny possibility, that he liked her the same way she liked him. She could be dead wrong, she could lose everything she had worked for the last few weeks and everything she had grown to love. Goodbye, Dot. Goodbye, Tate. Goodbye Pines farm filled with some of the best people she had ever met. But she took a gamble, tried to ease her nerves as discreetly as possible, and she said quietly, “You could kiss me.”

Stan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his brown eyes sparkled adorably. Jackie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, her heart relaxing and her nerves settling as she realized how much he wanted to kiss her. His grin was the last thing she saw before he stretched up and she leaned down and they met for a soft kiss.

The amount of sparks that flew only through lips touching was unbelievable. As a strong hand cupped Jackie’s cheek and a smaller hand landed on the back of Stan’s head, the kiss deepened and it only got better. Holy Moses, it was far better than anything Jackie could have imagined in her head, all those night daydreaming about this moment, and more, and it was better and full of more bliss than she thought it would be. She was putty at Stan’s touch, and as another arm wrapped around her waist and the kiss included it’s fair share of tongue, Jackie slid down from her little seat until she was sitting on the ground beside Stan.

Warm chuckles of pure joy leaked from their lips and for a while it was nothing more than hugs and kisses, but it was everything. Stan was blown away that such a beautiful woman wanted to hold him and kiss him, of all people, and he knew better than to question a good thing. His heart was roaring like a lion in his chest, his face was warm despite the goosebumps on his arms, and while he was beyond grateful for just a kiss he wondered if he was lucky enough for more.

They separated for air and Jackie rested her head on the cushion of Stan’s arm, his free hand on her knee. Stan’s cheeks and ears were rosy pink, his five o-clock shadow unable to hide how the girl in his arms made him feel. Jackie smiled at him, unable to believe she was so lucky, and put a hand over his heart to enjoy his heartbeat, but then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt a little to let his chest hair be showcased by a proud V. At the same time, Stan’s hand slowly went down her bent leg, closer and closer to her hip, pushing her white dress up. With a gleam in their eyes and one sure smirk, they both knew what they wanted.

(If you want smut, CLICK HERE! If you’re not comfortable with that, then keep reading.)

~~~~~~~~~~

There were still some stragglers at the party, mostly drunk men singing their hearts out, but Ford and Fiddleford were ready to go. Tate was asleep so Fiddleford gently tucked him in his car seat as Ford looked around for Jackie and Stan. It wasn’t a big deal to leave without them, they had brought two cars, but still. Curiosity had grasped his mind and he generally wondered where they were. Fiddleford cleared his throat and suggested, “Maybe we should go ahead home, Fordsie.”

“I suppose so,” Ford said casually and nodded in agreement. “But if they get arrested for trespassing, I’m not… SWEET LORD!” Ford put a six-fingered hand over his mouth to stop his screaming, but his other hand was pointing at the couple who had hoped they could emerge from the shadows undetected, but that clearly wasn’t going to work out.

They were covered in hay. Both Jackie’s long black hair and Stan’s brown mullet were frizzled and out of control, like someone had shaken their hair wildly. Or grabbed it tightly. Jackie’s white dress was missing, but she held Stan’s button up around herself tightly to preserve what little dignity she had left. Stan, shirtless, had a dopey grin on his face with hazy eyes, like he was sleepwalking. While Stan was oblivious to his twin’s scream, Jackie’s face was scarlet with embarrassment and she rubbed the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth.

Poor Ford was a mumbling mess. “B-B-B-But… you… you two… you… and you…”

Fiddleford patted his shoulder and instructed gently, “Stanford, get in the truck.”

“B-B-B-B-But…”

“I know, I know, just get in. Leave ‘em be.” Fiddleford guided his best friend into the car and even closed the door for him. While Ford buried his head in his hands to try to collect himself, Fiddleford gave the happy couple a thumbs up before entering his vehicle and heading home.

Jackie wanted to disappear and never reappear.

Stan, however, was far too busy repeating a single thought in his head to even register what was going on in front of him. “I’m gonna marry her.”