#a tractor loaded with love

[7698]

[staydandy]

Love Tractor (2023) - 트랙터는 사랑을 싣고 - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : Seon Yul leaves the city and moves to the countryside to experience life knowing nothing about farming, and Ye Chan appears before him. As Seon Yul learns to adapt to rural living and engage in farming activities, he becomes increasingly attracted to Ye Chan's sincerity and enthusiasm. Together, the two embark on a chaotic and romantic countryside journey of healing and love. (MDL) AKA : Tractor Full of Love | A Tractor Loaded with Love

Whumpee : Seon Yul played by Do Won (left) • Suh Ye Chan played by Yoon Do Jin (right)

Country : 🇰🇷 South Korea Genres : Comedy, Romance, BL / Boys Love

Notes : This is a Full Whump List • Adapted from the webtoon "Love Tractor" (트랙터는 사랑을 싣고) written by Hmm Yong Yong (흠념뇸) and illustrated by AngryMonster (앵몬) • Ye Chan has such golden retriever energy 😆

Episodes on List : 4 Total Episodes : 8

*Spoilers below*

03 : Seon Yul rolls down a hill protecting a kid, arm cut & bleeding, & ankle sprained … ear ringing, head pain, head bleeding, passes out

04 : … continued from previous ep. ... Wakes in hospital, arm in a cast … Suh Ye Chan is drunk

05 : [flashback] Drunk, throws up … [different flashback] Seon Yul is slapped

08 : [present] Found passed out, overworked

More Whump Lists for this show: simply-whump

[madamebaggio]

Primeiro vídeo no Tik Tok!

Pras dorameiras fãs de BL 😉

[kimberly-spirits13]

Growing Up in the Justice League HC

Purely self indulgence cause I've been on this and idk why so bear with me here

I can just easily romanticize growing up in the Justice League too easily and it would be a problem

you're brought in at as a baby to be trained by Diana

Apollo brings you to her and tells her that you are an ancient being that regenerates as a new person when you die and this is the form that you have taken. As you get older, you will remember the skills and memories of your past lives but you will have to be raised with someone who can handle you

Diana just loves babies so she had no problem with that

I'd say the league has been established for some time during this point and everyone knows each other's identities in the core group

You grew up in Paris and New York being raised as a mama's child

Bruce is the closest you get to a dad and he does his best

SPOILS YOU ROTTEN

all the Barbies and Legos and whatever toys you'd want as a child

They know that you've been trained as an assassin, wizard, queen, knight, sorceress, scientist, all of these other things that can be traumatic so they just want you to have a great, decent childhood

when you start remember things they begin training you to be a hero

It's like PE and recess all in one since they're really just trying to figure out what you can do

Clark treats you like a fragile piece of glass up until you're a teen cause teenagers confuse him and he just cannot not see you as an innocent beep boppin child sometimes

Barry keeps up with the culture and knows all the songs from your favorite childhood movies and tv shows that you grew up watching on the massive computer in the watch tower when you were up there

will dance to any Barbie song since he knows them all by heart

Hal makes fun of you two but secretly enjoys the movies and is very emotionally invested in Princess and the Pauper and Diamond Castle

Diana and Bruce make sure that you have a great education and training

They are the mature parents of the group and want to make sure you're a functioning member of society

you've got a bag full of grandparents in the Kents, Allans, Princes, Alfred and they all love you to death

Alfred teaches you to make the best tea and gardening, Ma Kent teaches you to quilt and make bread, Pa Kent teaches you how to drive a tractor and farm, Hippolyta teaches you about the Greek gods and ancient cultures and how to ride horses, the Allans would have loads of board games to play and love having you over

Once Young Justice or Teen Titans comes around you don't join since you're officially a Justice League member and get along better with the adults since you were raised by them

That doesn't mean that you don't like or hang out with the kids, it's just that you have better inside jokes with Hal and Barry

When Superboy comes around and the League disappears, you were the only one not taken by the portal since you were helping out some civilians

You knew that Clark wasn't dead and you knew the League was somewhere

What kept you afloat was humor and Kon attached to that since he just needed someone that wasn't insane in his life

you probably won't develop romantic feelings for each other but it's more of a camaraderie since you were both raised in a really unorthodox way

when the league finally comes back, you say it's the happiest day of your life and rant to them that you were the only one who knew they weren't gone but no one understood it

Hal and Barry are known for having a thing for chicken tenders and make sure to instill an addiction in you for chicken tenders

Arthur (Aquaman) really really really likes them too but he doesn't realize it until he comes to the League

Clark would be the one to take you out for ice cream randomly or if you're having a bad day

the mother hen therapist type

You're America's favorite Justice Leaguer and often go viral for in uniform interactions with the League

Dancing with Flash at a Presidential ceremony because the music is too beep boopin good and you can't help but bop around a little bit

Media also loves you as a civilian and it's been suspected that you are the love child between Diana and Bruce since I mean- that would make the most sense

it's a running joke in the league

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

PLAYING DANGEROUS ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩ lana del rey — playing dangerous ♩

pairing: detective!johnb x reader.

cw: mentions of a murder, reader is a murderer, mentions of the law, slight age gap, abuse of power, sexual content.

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day two.

nothing ever happens in this town.

nothing worth talking about anyway. only god knows why john b was stationed out here. what kind of detective work was there to do out in the sticks you might ask? jack all, that’s what. nothing but the occasional stolen tractor, and one time — oh, one time, somebody vandalised the town statue outside the city hall, leaving john b to figure out who did it. now that one was real exciting, he knows he’s not meant to — but he secretly loved the smart criminals. made his job just that bit more exciting. the vandal took out the security cameras facing the monument, and also had questionable motive for the graffiti. took john b the whole of two days to figure out who did it, and they didn’t even get an arrest. just a hefty fine. the criminals round here were boring as ever.

until you.

a murder, in his small town. it rocked everyone, as you can imagine. everyone knew everyone round here, which made things all that more interesting. a young man’s house had been burnt down, with him inside of it. john b had to commend you, you’d sent him out with a bang, not even bothering with a boring method of murder, more paperwork sure but god was it worth it. a real case, hell — he cracks this one and they might even move him up to the city. get him on some real jobs.

now not only were you apparently this young man’s scorned ex lover, the kid apparently being some kind of serial cheater — but john b had asked around, and apparently you hadn’t been careful enough to cover your tracks when purchasing large amounts of gasoline. to him, it was pretty obvious who’d done it— but there was procedures he had to take. things aren’t always as they seem, and john b couldn’t afford to jump the gun and ruin his chances at a promotion.

knock, knock, knock.

it’s late, he’s aware. 9PM isn’t the most appropriate time to show up at a perps door, but hell — with this case came a buttfuck load of paperwork that he hadn’t been doing before and it had taken up all his time. now it was time for some real action, his stomach stirs in excitement. shit, his cock almost hardens.

he starts observing you before you’ve even greet him. the sound of socked feet on wood. do you sound hesitant? frightened? confident and unknowing? is there an air of acceptance to your walk, knowing you commit the heinous crime? he pretends not to notice the jostling of curtains in the window at the front of the house as you undoubtedly take a peak. he figured that was fair, as it was so late — rocking comfortably back and forth on his feet with his hands behind his back.

you take another minute to answer, so he frowns, letting out a little whistle and going to knock again. “uh, are you—”

you swing open the door, big stepford smile on your face. here we go.

“officer?”

“detective.” the brunette flashes his badge, tight and polite smile as he peers into your hallway. “i’m sorry to drop by so late ma’am is this… this a good time?” he’s awkward, young in nature and not so much in stature, the lines in his forehead and around his eyes already telling you he’s a bit older. as you observe him right back, he clears his throat and fixes his tie.

“of course, detective.” you correct with a smile, a knowing one — like you were sharing a joke between friends. he’s unsettled by your energy.

“‘don’t mind if i come inside then do ya? kinda… chilly tonight.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets, pivoting his body round to glance at the blowing trees. your expression settles like you’d been waiting for him to ask, and you widen the door gap — exposing all of you. you stand in the littlest night gown, white silk against your skin and john b feels like letting out a comical gulp. he didn’t think you’d be beautiful. where do beautiful girls get off murdering people? beautiful girls could have whatever they want.

“my, i’m a little shy standing here in my nightgown.” you converse as he passes you, acknowledging that you did infact catch him looking. he says nothing, just smiles and huffs out an awkward chuckle from his nose as he respectfully dusts his boots off on your welcome mat before strolling inside. the house was dark, lit only by candles and you follow him to the living room.

“tea? coffee?” you offer and he lowers himself into an arm chair, patting the quilted arms a few times with his large flat hands. he wants to scoff, knowing better than to take a drink from a probable murderer.

“wh— oh no no, this uh. this shouldn’t take long.” he watches you just as carefully as you watch him, and you make the conscious decision not to sit. you stay standing infront of him, skin glowing in the low light. you were wearing so close to nothing it was distracting to a pent up, perpetually single man like john b. he feels like loosening his tie.

“very well then, detective. what seems to be the issue?”

“do you know anything about a fire, ma’am?” he sounds hesitant, eyes wide but only in the way where he’s stiff with observation, not wanting to miss a second of a tell you might give. there’s a pause of hesitation before you nod, crossing your arms over yourself. unfortunately the only note taken there was that the action pressed your tits together.

“yes. very tragic.”

“yeah, no for sure… not many fires in this town right? got down to a record break last year. only three fires and they were pretty small.” he converses, relaxing a little into the seat. you stay on your feet.

“was bound to happen at some point i suppose. men have a habit of being reckless, leaving things switched on and so on. probably fell asleep with a candle burning.” you sway, eyes flickering to your own candles like you were imagining the same fate for yourself.

“for sure, for sure…” john b nods slowly, taking a moment to look down at his lap as he thinks. where he looks back up, you’re staring.

“he was a uh, boyfriend of yours — if my intel is correct?”

“ex. ex boyfriend.” you correct, jaw tightened just a smidgen like you couldn’t help yourself. john b stares you down, infact he could swear his lips quirk upward just a tiny bit. he’d so got you.

he settles a little more, resting his elbow on the arm of the seat so he could prop up his chin, staring at you with a knowing look.

“mind telling me where you were on sunday evening?” shit.

he watches the shift of emotion on your face, the way it falls ever so slightly before immediately lifting again, like you had full faith on yourself. you smile, huffing out a breathy little giggle as you tilt your head to the side like a confused puppy.

as you speak, you slowly begin to slip the strap of your nightgown down the smooth skin of your shoulder. “gosh, i barely remember. i spend so much time here… all lonely… was probably… keeping myself company, if you catch my meaning, officer.”

“detective.” he rasps, eyes following the strap like the weakling he is. he clears his throat.

“apologies, detective.” you correct, before pulling down the other strap. “you mind if i slip into something a little more comfortable before we continue with this?” you shoot him the innocent doe eyes. he raised his eyebrows, and you drop the nightgown to your feet anyway, naked as the day you were born. “much better.”

john b chuckles, tilting his head to the side as he looks up at you. “this what we’re doing now?” he deadpans with that warm friendly smile that drew you closer.

you giggle, and this time it’s actually authentic, stepping closer until you brave straddling his lap. he winces like you’d placed hot iron on him.

“is it working?” you try your luck, and he’s distracted by the fat of your hips, his coarser hands sliding up them to grab at the meat of them, watching the way your folds part around his growing bulge through his black work pants.

“ugh, i don’t know.” he groans quietly. he knew there was another version of him somewhere, behind glass, watching this all go down. he’d pound on the glass, telling himself to stop, that he was throwing away everything all for some pussy — but the truth was, he was lonely too. this life didn’t leave much room for… socialising.

knowing you were close to breaking him, you roll your hips, letting out an exaggerated whimper as you watch his hands slide up to your tits. “m’sure i can change your mind somehow detective. you really don’t wanna put those tight handcuffs on me, i’m only a fragile girl.”

“fuuuucking shit.” he groans in despair, and you feel his hardness wedged up beneath you.

it’s not even five minutes later and you’ve got him inside of you, his pants around his ankles — a true testament to the way you’d caught him out, used his loneliness against him and it didn’t even take any convincing, he cracked pretty much immediately. shit, he loved his job — but maybe he didn’t wanna go big city cop after all.

your hips went from rolling to aggressive bouncing, your teeth grit, primal and forceful like you couldn’t help yourself. the sweet little mewls you let out after each bounce didn’t match the sheer force at which you were milking him. over the harsh plap plap plap sound — you lean forward to his ear.

“why you lettin’ me get away with it detective? s’it cos you like me? do you like me?” god you were insane, but the neediness in your voice filled a hole he’d craved. he’d always wanted one of those girlfriends, the type that cares too much, wanna know his every move. he knew it was wrong, hell — you’d killed someone. but something about it was getting him off just as much as it was you.

despite being older than you by quite a bit, his eyes held this puppy like quality to them, a youthful gaze he stares up at you with. “because you’re pretty. really pretty, and uh — you’re young.” wow, he was messed up. he’s not even sure why he said the last part, everything was just so twisted.

he was aware of how much he was screwing himself. but hey, john b had always been a sucker for doe eyes and pretty tits, so who could blame the man?

[vivwritesfics]

Idk if you got this already but,

Rooster with a western rider gf (this is my first time doing this sorry if this is bad)

-🐎(also if no one has taken horse can i)

YES OFC YOU CAN BE HORSE OMG I LOVE THIS (i'm an english rider and my western rider knowledge is little to none lol)

The rest of the Dagger Squad didn't know all that much Rooster's girl. They knew she was slightly younger, knew he saw her as often as she could.

She had never been to The Hard Deck, had never met any of the other naval aviators. It was always Bradley driving his Bronco to see her.

He sat in The Hard Deck, had one single beer with his friends, with Pheonix, Hangman, Bob and the rest of them. "When are you going?" Asked Jake, pointing the pool cue towards him as Bradley walked away.

He grinned and pushed his sunglasses over his eyes. "I'm going to see my girl," he said and walked out of The Hard Deck.

The other aviators watched him go. Only Nat smiled. Only Nat believed him. The rest of them didn't voice it as they went back to their game of pool, but they didn't think Rooster's girl was real. If she was, surely they would have met her.

They didn't know just how busy she was.

But Bradley knew. As he drove down the driveway, past the fields of horses, he knew just how busy she was.

He parked the car outside of the barn and climbed out. Bradley's first stop was always the barn. He walked in, walking over to Chief. The chestnut horse stood with his head over the stable door, whinnying when he saw Bradley.

"Hey, Chief," he muttered, stroking the white stripe down his face. "Where is your mom?"

Chief searched through his pocket. He nosed Bradley's jeans before chewing on his Hawaiian shirt. But Bradley quickly pulled himself from Chiefs mouth without too much damage to the shirt.

It was at that moment when she walked into the barn, a sandy coloured horse behind her. "Hey!" She called as she walked the horse into a stable and shut the door behind her. She hung the rope over the door and ran through the barn, jumping into Bradley's arms.

He held her easily, his hands under her ass. She pulled her hat from her head and kissed him. "Miss you, Roos," she whispered against his lips.

"I missed you too," he said and put her down. As soon as she was on the floor, she took her hat and placed it on Bradley's head. It was one of his favourite things about coming to her farm.

"Are you ready for dinner?" He asked, taking her hand and slowly walking her out of the barn.

She bit her lip, her expression almost guilty. "I will be, Bradley. I just gotta bring in Circe and Linda in from the top fields, throw hay into the back fields, and get changed."

"Anything I can help with?" Bradley asked. He always did ask. A rather large part of him loved working on her farm, loved helping where he could. He wasn't born to be a cowboy, but a cowgirl's husband.

She fished a set of keys from her pocket. "Wanna drive the tractor?"

She knew that was Bradley's favourite part. They loaded the tractor trailer with bales of hay and Bradley set off with her in the passenger seat.

Bradley knew exactly where to go. He'd driven the trails around the fields enough times. He took the tractor to the first of the back fields and stopped.

He jumped out of the tractor and immediately grabbed the bale of hay before she could. "Bradley," she groaned and he put the bale back down. Just so that he could take off his Hawaiian shirt, flex his muscles as he threw the bale into the field.

Immediately, the horses came running. She climbed into the field and cut the twine away from the hay, putting it into the pocket.

They did this for two more fields before Bradley drove her up to the top field. She climbed out of the tractor and walked over to his side. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. "Should I meet you at the barn, Cowboy?" She asked as she flicked the brim of the hat, tipping it up slightly.

"You got it, Cowgirl," he said and kissed her, his moustache brushing her top lip. She loved it more than anything. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, wearing the Hawaiian shirt, the feel of his moustache, she loved it.

When she climbed into the field, Bradley drove off. He drove around the fields while she grabbed a hold of the two horses she needed to bring in. "Come on, ladies," she said as she walked them to the gates, taking them to the barn.

Bradley waited at the barn, just as she had asked him to. He leaned against the tractor, the keys in his hand as she walked past with Linda and Circe.

Even while she had the horses, she stopped and kissed him. "Almost done," she promised, taking the hat from his head and placing it back on her own.

Bradley watched her go, watched her walk into the barn and walked Linda and Circe into their stables. She gave them their prepared feed and walked back over to Bradley.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning against him, he slipped the keys into her pocket and held her hips. "Almost ready to go," she said, grinning up at him.

Bradley frowned down at her. "But you look gorgeous already," he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. "C'mon, let me take you out for dinner."

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Large, reasonably priced 1972 mid-century modern in Kokomo, Indiana. 4bds, 5ba, and it's original with loads of character. In this home, you have no choice but to embrace the funky, especially if you blow all your money on the mortgage. $299,900. There's a lot for the money here.

Double doors open to a stone wall w/a door and an open area to the right. Note the colorful brick pattern in the floor. Sort of looks like birds wearing bras.

If you should choose to go to the right, you will enter this gigantic living room (living/dining combo? Great room?). The carpeting is clean and in great condition.

Details of the fireplace with an asymmetrical design.

And, off to the side, enter the kitchen. Another large room with a double decker island. This home has been very well cared for and preserved.

Definitely an eat-in kitchen. Not only is the island large enough to sit at, but you can see the dinette space at the far end.

Back to the main hall, we go left to the other side of the house.

I don't know what this is. That window throws me off. Is it a dining room w/a kitchen service window? Must be.

These rooms sure are big. This must be the principal bedroom with huge closets and a terrace.

Plus, it has a walk-in cedar closet.

This original bath has a cool orange sink.

Yeah, that's got to be the dining room. Although I don't understand the layout. Note the original door bell chimes.

Here's another large room. It has built-in shelves.

This one has a built-in shelf, too. Looks like there may be an intercom on the wall next to the door.

This bath has a nice pink laminate counter and floral sinks. Everything is so perfect. Not a stain in sight.

Another cedar closet.

Gigantic ground floor level has a ballroom sized rec room.

Plus, a full sized kitchen with original appliances. Love the blue laminate and blue glass cabinet doors.

This is so cool- a big indoor pool with 2 slides and a diving board.

Oh, look, they left a pool table, cues and balls. Nice.

Will you select door #1, #2, or #3?

Utility room- that looks like a central vac unit on the right.

Huge garage with cabinets. Did they leave that John Deere tractor? No wonder this home has a pending sale, it's cool as hell.

.97 acre lot and it has a river on the property.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime,

As I’m sure you’re aware, there are universes where the Ark and the Nemesis are Transformers themselves. Has there ever been a case of… forbidden love between the two ships?

Dear Ship Shipper,

In Maximal legend, it is said that long ago, their ancestors created an immense Ark, to carry their people to safe haven on an alien world. Their hated enemies, whose descendants would one day become the Predacons, gave chase in their own vessel, forged to be her equal, her Nemesis.

For her robot mode, they gave this Nemesis vicious talons, capable of raking through layers of hull plating, to expose the crew to the cold night. They molded her with a sleek and arrowlike profile, to be near-invisible in pursuit. They loaded her with artillery, until her every deck bristled with cannons and torpedoes, a single broadside enough to atomize any warship. And they installed a powerful tractor beam, which locked the Ark in a death grip as their warriors boarded, fighting their way to the bridge to send the vessel on a collision course with the planet below. But when this task was done, and they returned to their own ship, they found that this tractor beam would not release its hold.

For all their wicked designs, they made a single miscalculation: as to power her engines, the energy source they chose was none other than the Heart of Cybertron. From this unique and enigmatic artifact, there came the concept of a self. In giving the ship life, they had given her feeling. But was her refusal to deactivate the tractor beam borne of hatred for her creators, for all their cruelty, a desire to see them burnt up and buried? Or was it an act of love, for her counterpart, whom upon meeting, she felt she could not bear to live without?

That is the quandary the Maximals are left with: to call into question the fundamental nature of the foe, and what truly lies in their Heart. Even with my unique ability to step into history, and see the ships as they fall, as they crash, as they lie dormant, as they reawaken, and as they take to the stars once more... I have no especial insight I can offer as to how these beings, greater than any one of us, truly felt about each other.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 1 - Sharp pain of greif

master list

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I ca

Synopsis: An old farm set on a couple hundred acres of land, surrounded by forest and wildlands. Lucy Maclean is now the new owner of her childhood home, much to her family’s dismay and anger. The land doesn’t feel the same without her Granddaddy around, the woods seem darker and much more vast. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s alone in the middle of nowhere for the first time in her life. Her great uncle Harris has stepped up to help her learn the ropes of the business, which is bigger than Lucy ever imagined. 

Her neighbor Cooper Howard, is happy to meet a new face in the area. Bonding over their shared grief and strife to make ends meet as the world is changing. Their worlds are shaken when Lucy’s home is vandalized, and secrets that were supposed to be buried forever begin to emerge from the woods.  Horror, mystery, and drama all rolled into one. There is something in the woods.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Eventually: Older Man/Younger Woman, Horror themes, long form fic,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Grandpa Tim passed yesterday, as much as Lucy wanted to say it was peaceful, it wasn’t. The man had always been tough as nails, but cancer was tougher. Though Lucy had fought hard to keep him comfortable, there was only so much the Doctors could do. His hand gripping hers as he gasped for breath, feeling his heart rate speed up as his body tried to fight it. But he had signed a DNR, there was no going back. So Lucy sat there with tears in her eyes as she watched the man who had raised her slip away. One of the nurses hugged her and told her she was brave. Brave for letting him go, for letting him finally be at peace. Lucy stayed as they loaded him up onto a stretcher to be taken to the funeral home. Remembering the disappointment on his face when they told him he wouldn’t be a viable organ donor. The cancer had spread too fast and too far for anything to be usedable. It was a final sting, knowing that his body wouldn’t even be able to help others. 

-----

The funeral was big, with everyone within ten counties coming over to say farewell to their favorite farmer. Tim had lived here his whole life and was born on the property where he raised his kids and grandbabies. His wife, Lucy’s Grandma, Shirley was buried in the same plot he would be now. Shirley had died six years ago after undergoing a complicated heart surgery. Now they could be back together again. It was one thing Tim had talked about the most as he neared his final days, how excited he was to see Shirley again. He often pondered if he would wake up in heaven and if she would look as pretty as the day she met him. Or maybe she looked as beautiful as the day she passed. 

Tears flowed all around, Tim was as big as life. He was always the first to help. Wildfire? He'd be there with his tanker trailer, pump, and hoses. Cow with a calf stuck?  He knew how to move the calf just right to get them out. Farmer got hurt? He was there with his tractor to make sure the work still got done. The school needs sponsorship? He'd be the first to give his dollar. He was a salt of the earth man. Tim was from this earth. As he was raised down into his grave, Lucy pulled out a mason jar of dark black earth. He had told her exactly where to go to get it. A little bit from the garden that Shirley had loved, a little bit from around where his favorite animals were buried, and a little from the first piece of land he had ever worked into a field. He wanted to make sure that a piece of the land he loved would be buried with him. 

Lucy could barely hold back the sob as she opened the jar and carefully sprinkled it on top of his grave. Others joined in, some had flowers, and others had their own dirt. A bundle of dried wheat, some oats, canola oil, and a pair of cow ear tags. As the items dropped the feeling of finality swept over Lucy. He was really gone. The man who had supported her through everything over the last twenty-five years was now in a box. Surrounded by the things and people he loved. On his right the love of his life Shirley, and on the left the two sons he had to bury before him. One was Lucy’s Dad, his headstone is where she went, placing another small jar of dirt beside it. Tears ran down her cheeks as she said how much she missed him, and that he needed to give Grandpa a big hug for her. 

—-

“I am not sure why there is even a discussion happening.” Shrilled Henry, the last-born son of Tim MacLean. He was a fidgety bird-like man who had been all too happy to get off the shit-hole farm. His words. 

“I am the only son, so clearly it should go to me,” Henry pipped, examining his perfect nail beds.

“Why would you think Dad would want you to have the farm? You haven't been here since Mom died.” Katie scolded. A favorite daughter, but still a middle child. She was a petite woman who had married a chicken farmer down south, she wasn't frequent to the farm but she always had made sure to phone once a week.

“Katie, you don't got much to say,” Theresa quipped, she was the eldest of six kids. She was three times divorced and spent most of her time in Europe. “You got your own farm and your own land.”

“Never said I wanted the land, Theresa,” Katie bit back at her older sister. “Just figured it should go to someone who could use it.”

“Who says I wouldn't use it?” Henry joined in, “I know plenty of people who would be happy to help.”

“Oh yeah, I am sure your closet of boy toys could be persuaded to help.” Theresa sneered, making Martha, Henry's wife, gasp.

“How dare you!” Martha gasps clutching at her purse.

“Don't you start, Theresa!” Henry added, grabbing his wife's hands and glaring at Theresa.

A roar began in the small waiting room. People arguing and yelling, and a magazine went flying. Lucy tried to tuck herself away from the madness. She was the only Grandkid there and the ‘adults’ were losing it.

“Alright.” A big man in overalls and a brown shirt stood up. Great uncle Harris MacLean, Tim's second youngest brother. The man was imposing and loud, and easily commanded the room. Making sure everyone settled back in their chairs without more damage. 

“What would your father think of all of you? Damn shame. Fighting over what isn't even yours.”  Harris came over and put a comforting hand on Lucy’s shoulder. 

“None of you were here when your Dad got sick. Didn’t hold his hand when he passed. When he asked for your Mama. But y'all sure show up looking for another handout.” Harris sat down beside Lucy. “Pretty sure the will has all the answers.”

The couples and their lawyers murmured between themselves.  Eyes glaring at each other from across the room, the coffee table scatters different papers.

“You doing alright Lucy?” Harris asked, glaring at his relatives, his voice low enough that only she could hear him. 

Lucy shrugged, “Was hoping it would be smoother.” Hoping was one thing, it was another to have this many MacLean's in one room.

“Thought your Mom would have come down.” Harris let out a huff, watching all his shifty relatives closely. 

“She's busy in Mexico with her latest fling.” Lucy sighs shifting uncomfortably in her seat, why were waiting room chairs always so uncomfortable? 

“Of course she is. Oh, Rosealy, you were never much for settling down.” Harris sighed, big hands rubbing against his dirty jeans. Margie would be pissed to know he showed up at the lawyers in stained clothes.

A striking man walked into the room, he was wearing a pinstripe grey suit that matched his silver hair. He was all long legs and a lean figure, the suit made him look imposing. Looking at the room taking in the rag-tag bunch and disheveled coffee table.  

“I am guessing you all are the Maclean family?” He says, a faint hint of British accent tinging his voice. 

“Yes that would be us,” Henry chirped, his eyes wandering over the man. 

The man let out a sigh, “Well I suppose if you are all here, we will read the will. I'm positive we do not have any other space-” He glanced around, “For everyone.” 

Lucy stood up and handed the man a folded envelope. The man opened it and read it through before reading it out loud. 

“Here is the Last Will and Testament of Tim Louise MacLean, of Rosewood, I make this will being in sound mind and body.” The man continued, going through the document quickly. “I leave an account to each of my five grandchildren held in trust till they turn eighteen. To my last daughter Lucy Rose MacLean, I leave all my property, and worldly possessions, as well as give her exclusive access to my accounts. To the rest of my children, I ask that you remember that you never had a want in this world. From schooling to houses, and though I love you into entirety. Lucy was my first grandchild, and my last child to raise, the one who loved the farm more than me or Shirley ever could. She will be the one to make any decision regarding the property and finances. “ 

Lucy’s mouth had fallen open as the room had erupted in an outcry. Her heart pounded in her chest at the realization that Grandpa had left everything to her. She watched as Tim’s kids stood and demanded that the will be read again. That their lawyers would have to read it, Henry going so far as to say he would contest it in court. 

“If everyone would please be quiet,” The man in the suit hollered, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. The room fell silent as they all turned to look at him. “I understand this can be hard news for everyone. But this will was originally formed a decade ago, it has been updated yearly. Including 6 months before Mr. MacLean’s diagnosis. I can assure you that he was of sound mind, it was notarized and signed by three separate witnesses.” 

Henry was sitting with his arms crossed, Theresa looked close to tears, Katie was bright red, and Great Uncle Harris just looked amused. 

“You are all within your legal rights to try and take this to court. But, I can assure you no judge in the area would not dismiss this case outright.” He made sure to look at each of them in the eye.

“As for Ms. Lucy MacLean. I have a large amount of paperwork to go over with you. As well as an appointment with the bank.” His green eyes locked on to Lucy’s.

“May I bring my Uncle Harris with me?” Lucy asked, her hands tight fists in her lap.

“Yes, of course, love.” The lawyer said, before turning on his heel and walking down a hallway.

----

It took three weeks to finalize everything, Henry had gone to the court, and he had tried several times, unsuccessfully to get the will reexamined. At the same time, Lucy was engulfed by phone calls, emails, and more. Most of these were tenants of Tim wanting to sort leasing arrangements, others were about moving cattle to new grazing homes. Lucy was never more grateful for her Uncle Harris, he had known most of these men and women. Was able to handle the negotiations and fill Lucy in on what she needed to do regarding cattle, seeding, planting, and more. There was also opening up the house again. When Tim had gone into hospice,  Lucy, Margie, and Harris had taken time to go through things. Tim had not had many worldly possessions, a fire had taken most of that less than five years before. But things like a new mattress, power hooked up, gas running, and the wood stove inspected all needed to be done. 

Lucy sat in the middle of a mostly empty house. She had decided at the last minute to leave her job as an x-ray tech and move to the farm. It wasn’t ideal, but she also had come into a fair sum of money. Her Grandpa had been a smart man and a frugal one too. He had kept most of his and Shirley’s money tucked away in investment accounts that had built a neat little sum of cash. Shirley had always wanted to travel once they had retired, so she had also stashed money away as well. It hurt Lucy’s heart knowing that they had never gotten to do that. 

But now it was in her hands, sort of kinda, she had leaned heavily on her Uncle Harris. He was so incredibly kind and made sure she never felt stupid about the millions of questions she asked. The first year they were leasing almost everything, the hundred head of cows Grandpa still had would be taken care of by Cooper, a neighbor down the way. Lucy had given herself two years to get herself sorted and get more acquainted with the workings of the farm. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t known how to do things, she could run a tractor, cut down trees, med fences; she knew how to preg check cows and what to look for when tilling a lot. But the business end of things was a whole different ball game and she was diving headlong into it.

The trailer was doublewide, the living room had a couch and lazy boy, and the kitchen had a table with 4 chairs. The walls were mostly bare except where Lucy had put her artwork. She had also moved a handful of bookshelves in and her desk. It was surprisingly roomy and beat her eighties-era apartment she had lived in for the last five years. She had slid the desk and table together spreading out all the different pieces of paperwork, along with a large map of where all Grandpa’s property was. Her property, she corrected herself. It was hers now, somehow. Where she lived she was surrounded by almost 200 acres of forested land backed onto parkland. Besides the garden beds, barn, and shop it was wild land. It was one thing that Grandpa had asked to stay the same. That the land around the property be left untouched by man or machine, she planned to keep it that way. Even when several large logging companies had called knocking, for Lucy her grandfather's words meant everything.

A knock on the front door woke her from her musing. She also needed to go get a couple of dogs, not just for company; but also so she knew if someone was coming down the long drive. She walked over to the front door, steeling herself to be met with another person wanting to buy or hunt on the land. Opening it she was surprised to see a man standing there in a cowboy hat, fitted jeans, and button-up shirt. Scruffy face with a day’s worth of stubble, bright hazel eyes, and a blinding smile.

“Good afternoon,” The man said with a nod, “I’ve come over to introduce myself -’

“If you’re looking for hunting, logging, buying, grazing, or leasing, I am not interested,” Lucy said curtly, she really didn’t have a lot of time to dally. 

“Oh no,” The man said, holding up a large hand, “I am the neighbor down the road with your Granddad’s cows. And a friend of your Uncle Harris’. He said that you’d moved in just down from me, so figured it was only neighborly to come say hello.”

Lucy’s shoulders sagged a bit, she had gotten so used to people wanting something from her she had forgotten that most folks out here were friendly.

“I am so sorry,” Lucy sighed, “It’s been a tough month. Been a lot of folks wanting a piece of what’s not theirs.”

The man nodded, “I can only imagine. Not many people have morals these days. If there is a buck to be made they’ll take it. My name’s Cooper.” 

He extended a hand, and Lucy took it and gave him a firm handshake. “Lucy, I am Tim’s Granddaughter.”

“Pleasure to meet yah,” Cooper said with the same grin. “Tim was a good man and talked very highly of his last daughter. You meant the world to him.”

Lucy gave a half-hearted smile, it still felt so wrong that her Grandpa was gone. “Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee?”

“Oh, I will take a raincheck on that. Gotta go check on our newest heifers, see who all needs taggin’ and whatnot.” He said a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Want to come?”

Lucy looked back at the table full of papers, “I am gonna have to pass today,” She could see some disappointment flicker across his features. “But let me give you my number,”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he dug into his jeans for his phone, the two of you exchanging numbers. 

“Just in case, umm, you need help with the cows” Lucy felt a bit flustered, “Never know.”

The man smiled and tipped his hat to her, “I will see you around Lucy.”

part 2

** If you enjoyed the fic let me know!

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

** Yes this is fic number 3 please don't yell at me. I've had this one sitting for a while. Will mostly likely be updating this one once/twice a week along with all the others.. I DON'T NEED SLEEP. Sleep is for the dead.

[emjiroki]

i would love to hear what country kirishima thoughts you’re having if ya wanted to share with lil ol me 🥰

YES I WILL SHARE ALL THOUGHTS WITH YOU AND YOUR LOVELY BRAIN this got soooo long omfg I could write a fic about him I might be going crazy insane

PSA: I'm literally married to a country boy who used to raise and ride horses and build fences and all that good stuff so I'm speaking from a place of loving a real country gentleman 🤭❤️

Country Kirishima! Who you meet at the Tractor supply while picking up top soil for your flower beds. He's grabbing feed for his chickens and notices you struggling to get the large bags off the high shelf. All 6'4" of him in his worn cowboy boots strides over and politely asks if you need any help before grabbing the bags easily and putting them in your cart

Country Kirishima! Who's all sun bronzed skin and smiles as he asks you what your plans are for your flower garden, giving suggests on which mulch and fertilizer to use, and the native flowers in the area that bees love. Who helps you out by loading the bags into your trunk for you with "It's no problem, who'd pass up the opportunity to help a pretty lady" when you thank him.

Country Kirishima! Who you run into again at the farmers market a few days later, smiling so big when you come up to say hi while he's buying honey. You both get into a conversation at first about how your garden is coming along and then it morphs into just talking about your lives. What he does for a living, what kinds of animals he has, him showing you funny pictures and videos of his six chickens who he calls "his ladies", the asshole goat he deals with but loves. After an hour of you two walking around the market and then finally heading to your cars you feel like you've known him your whole life.

Country Kirishima! Who as soon as you turn your car on after you bid your goodbyes is racing back to tap on your window, leaning down with a thick arm against the edge of your door to ask with red cheeks that almost match his hair if you might want to go out with him that night. Grinning so wide while you write your number on his honey receipt cause he left his phone in his truck across the lot. Sending you off with kiss to your knuckles and a "pick you up at five sweet cheeks".

Country Kirishima! Who's at your door at five on the dot, a heavy knock on your door and wild flowers gripped nervously in his hand, a soft "mama always said pretty ladies deserve pretty flowers". Who had raced home to wash his old truck and make sure there wasn't a stitch of dirt or dust anywhere after the market (he wouldn't tell you that though and also his stomach had been in nervous knots all day)

Country Kirishima! Takes you to the "best burger joint this side of the river" to quote his excitement and then to his buddy Denki's bar for beer and dancing. He's spinning you on the dance floor until your seeing double and buying beers until your face is flushed. Being the ever respectful gentleman even as you get a bit more bold, linking your arms around his neck and swaying just a bit closer to his toned body. "Easy there little lady" he murmurs in a rough tone just barely concealing the lusty feelings burning through his veins and only heightening yours, "let's get you home yeah?".

Country Kirishima! Who only had two beers and takes you home with a giant moonlit smile, helps you step from his truck and walks you to the front door, telling you he had the best time and that he wants to see you again. Tomorrow if you'd let him. You nod eagerly (maybe too eagerly once you think about it alone later) and tell him to come back for breakfast and fresh squeezed orange juice, even suggesting slyly that he stays the night with you. He just chuckles and shakes his head, "that wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me sweetheart, but I'll be back with the sunrise" tilts your head up with a calloused hand and asks if he can kiss you.

Country Kirishima! Who tastes like beer and sunshine and something that makes your heart flutter against your ribs. Oh no, you might be in love with him.

[oh-to-be-a-murderer]

Hi there!! Thsi is Nana's "accidental murder and don't know what to do" classes! Today is the second class! Here I show you different ways of hiding the body or making sure the person you killed isn't found!

🌻Method 4🌻:

Accidental death

This one works specifically if you have suffocated the person or the body doesn't have any bodily damages. No poison won't work, the tips of your fingers go blue and rigor mortise starts very early. Usually suffocation or scaring someone to death works in this case. You have to place the body in a tight space like under a tractor or somewhere even tighter. Preferably with a small exit. Make sure to add a dollar bill in there to show their I tension of getting in. And don't forget to stick a body part out.

💝Method 5💝:

Knife wounds

After you have killed the subject, make sure to add a bunch of knife wounds to their chest and stomach. Then around their waist and then drop them in the deepest lake you can think of. By stabbing them you are puncturing their stomach and lungs so that they have no more air in it and hence the body won't float. Then make sure to drop the knife into the same river and a bunch of other murder weapons, like ropes, plastic polythene or anything else smeared in blood, could be anyone's blood! The more confusing you amke it the better! Also try and add tore clothes of other people inside to confuse them into thinking its a serial killer that drops the body's in the same river/pond.

🍍Method 6🍍:

Confuse

To do this your body will need to be in a billion places and seperate a bag of blood. You'll have to own a car! First off you'll have to cut the head enough so that the body isn't identifyable! Then separate the body parts, like chest, arms, legs and head into seven or eight different sections. Then load them up in your car and go for a ride very far away from your ideal hosue. Bury each sectioned bag, not together but each piece should at least be 50 miles from each other. Take all day if needed, take more then one day if needed but do it. The last piece must be buried the furthest from your body and grab a bag of blood from our previous statement and pour a bunch of it where you buried the last piece. So that it seems like the murder was conducted from there and not from where you were and they'll be stuck searching for clues there while you're living the rest of life in peace over here.

All of these are either taken from serial killer confessions or true crime videos! Stay tuned for more collected stories!🤗🤗

@we-love-redwing @official-buckybarnes @serenastark-official @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @loganschuchuzinho @themercwiththem0uth

[7698]

[fabbyf1]

i wish you’d write a lestappen teammates fic. ik there are loads but i just love ur writing and ik u only do canon compliant fics so that’s what i thought of. but either way i love all ur lestappen fics and would eat up any and allll ❤️❤️

ahhhhhh bestie, i've had a wip titled "charles to red bull" in my drafts for months. it's an exes to enemies to teammates to friends to lovers fic. it's been put on the back burner while i work on other things, but i do plan to go back to it one day.

here's a snippet from the wip:

“I don’t understand,” Max said, tugging at his sweaty hair. “How did you get him out of his Ferrari contract? Aren’t those signed in blood or something?” he asked, his voice getting whinier and weaker as he spoke. 

“It wasn’t easy, and there were a lot of clauses to meet, but--” 

“Christian,” Max said, no longer whiny and weak. He was angry again. “I will not be teammates with Charles Leclerc.” 

“Yes, you will. It’s already done,” Christian said sternly. His tone returned lighthearted and amused as he added, “You know, he took this much better than you are.” 

“Of course he did!” Max scoffed, throwing his hand up in the air. “Ferrari is a dumpster fire! It’s a bunch of clowns running around in red, trying to win races with tractors! Why wouldn’t he be excited to come to Red Bull?!” he yelled, still pacing back and forth as he got angrier. “He’s also getting a competent teammate for the first time, like, ever!” 

Christian snorted and said, “I’ll let Sebastian know you said that.” 

Fuck!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi Nalyra 💚

As a person who never read the books I have a question nagging at my mind that doesn’t allow me to sleep at night. Maybe this is stupid but i’m gonna ask anyway.

So, Lestat has a rockstar arc, right? How does it work with immortality? As a prominent media figure x being Lestat I can’t imagine anyone forgetting him or not noticing that he does not age. Is it ever explained in the books? I’m truly confused about how it’s gonna work.

I was already a bit skeptical about Daniel being a book writer and being on TV. But LESTAT as a ROCKSTAR? This little tiny thing is eating my brain and I can’t find a solid enough answer or discussions anywhere.

Am i the only person thinking about that? Is there something I don’t know or don’t get?

PS also, the thing about Lestat talking telepathically to Louis about the tractor man for me really confused. He’s not supposed to be able to do that, right? Did Louis imagine it? What was Daniel implying with this particular question?

Sorry for the load of questions 😅 I’d love to hear your thoughts, thank you 💚

Hey!

All good!

So first off: No, Lestat could not talk to Louis directly after turning, that confused a lot of book readers back then^^, and it is our clue that Louis‘ tale has been edited/messed with. “Where does the bullshit start?“ … indeed. It means that Louis‘ tale can not be taken for the truth. S1 and S2 up to Dubai is not (all of) the truth.

And per the rockstar career… it is something like a one hit wonder. A “mediocre star“, there and gone.

Lestat actually tells them he is a vampire. He makes that part of his stage persona, and that is exactly why no-one believes him. A stage persona, an act, hyped just as much and soon as he is forgotten after Akasha kidnaps him bc the mortal world… thinks it an act. :)

At least that is how it is in the book.

I think in the show it will be similar. Or would you actually believe someone on TV claiming to be a vampire?^^

I think it’s very possible he will be dismissed as a performer just the same way.

[palfriendpatine66]

My headcanon: Obi-Wan loves to wear his mandalorian armor, it makes him feel safe... Anakin finds it hot..

Nonnie. Anakin isn’t the only one to find this hot…

[send a nsfw prompt or headcanon and I’ll answer with a 5 sentence ficlet)

Obi-Wan loosens his pauldrons as he staggers into their shared tent and uncharacteristically lets them fall to the hard ground as they will, the tent flap swirling the thick smell of smoke and plasma around them as it flutters closed.

Anakin can’t tear his eyes away from the sight, drawn toward Obi-Wan’s weary, armored form as though pulled by a tractor beam. “Let me help you,” he murmurs and reaches out to still the bloody knuckles that move to the fastenings of the loaded utility belt.

“I’m more than capable of undressing myself, thank you,” Obi-Wan grumbles as his belt slips to the ground with a solid thunk and Anakin’s long, graceful fingers work their way to his codpiece and toss it aside.

Of course the High General was capable, just as he had been capable on the battlefield as the sun beat down on his gleaming armor, flashing as he hew down droids and returning volley after volley of blaster fire, never flagging. Anakin had had to file away the sight, saving it for a time when the explosions stopped and the battle had been won and he could truly appreciate just how capable Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had looked in his red Mandalorian armor.

“I know,” Anakin sank to his knees and pulled Obi-Wan’s cock from his blacks, just beginning to thicken in response to Anakin’s touch. His mouth watered at the sight, anticipating the heady feeling of Obi-Wan’s arousal growing and filling his mouth until he could no longer take it all and his tears and spit and drool spilled down to soil beskar shin guards. “But where’s the fun in that?”

[tawus]

Hi Tawus!Some new information about Gojo's lifestyle and childhood has been revealed by Gege in the Gojo Satoru Booklet, and the translations of all that have been circulating online. Do you have any hcs about Infidelity Gojo based on this newly available information?

Honestly thank you for bringing news like this to my attention! ❤️ I'm living under a rock, literally. Wouldn't have heard anything of it if not for your asks. Some headcanons based on my favourite answers by Gege:

Gege admirably admitted that he made all his characters right-handed for the sake of his own accuracy, but Gojo is left-handed, let’s be real. He’s giving left-handed so hard. Yuuta is a leftie also. Megumi is right-handed tho. (I’m right-handed also).

Gojo famously loves sweets bc he needs those calories. He burns tons of them, so he eats very loaded meals and remains lean. It’s something his partner has to adapt to when going out with him.

Gojo does like dogs more and he’d be a great dog owner. But he radically refuses to get one because he knows logically that his dog will die before him. That means mourning yet another death of a loved one. Gojo is smarter than that.

I loved these two answers so much. What makes Gojo so special is indeed his personality. Genetically he’s been provided by everything - what makes or breaks him is his innate character.

Gojo got that Duolingo Super subscription. Has tons of followers and follows no one. Got about all of the language courses available on his profile, except for maybe Klingon and High Valyrian, and blowing up the XP counts on them all… He’s a freak.

I can see this being the case. He may like the feeling of being drunk but it messes with his techniques - both his cursed techniques and his RCT. So at some point he must’ve had to make a choice and he did: his techniques needed to be honed at all times and not dulled by alcohol.

But at the same time, goes to show the lengths he went to for his wife, since he drank alcohol each time he met her as Toru, despite it dulling his senses…

He does have a drivers licence but he simply hasn’t renewed it, due to the lack of the need to drive, as Gege says. His licence randomly includes a permit to drive a tractor also...