#children of the corn 5

[fanofspooky]

Scream Queen - Alexis Arquette

Requested by @oldmanpuppyplay

[esqueletosgays]

CHILDREN OF THE CORN V: FIELDS OF TERROR (1998)

Director: Ethan Wiley Cinematography: David Lewis

[argocitycosplay]

Children of the Corn 666

Children of the corn 666 is actually one I’d been anticipating, mostly because it features the return of the actor who played Isaac in the first film. The return of an old villain always generates buzz and excitement. The problem is, it’s also usually a desperate move to salvage a failing franchise. Seriously, think back over different franchises and tell me when this has ever worked? It’s not…

[starknesskenobi]

Stephen King when someone asks him why his wife almost left him

[radioisntdead]

You know what goes REALLY GOOD WITH CORNBREAD? Broccoli cheese soup.

[movies-tv-more]

Walmart Exclusive Steelbooks for March 5, 2024

[brains4ne]

two gays and there goth little gay son

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: What Type of Halloween Candy They'd Be

Happy Halloween! Last year, Cosmere characters dressed up. This year, I'm going to compare them to candy. Who knows what will happen next year?

Anyway, here's what type of candy I think each of them would be!

1. Szeth: Jawbreaker

Yes, this is a joke about his bald head.

2. Elend: Nerds

Yes, this is a joke about how Elend is a big nerd.

3. Siri: Skittles

They are a rainbow, just like Siri's hair!

4. Shallan: Three Musketeers

One candy. Three musketeers. Shallan.

5. Ham: Tootsie Pop

The tagline "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop" is a quasi-philosophical question that we as kids really felt was important. Ham loves debating shit. My wife says no one will remember this slogan because it's from the 90s but I was a kid then and I'm doing it.

6. Vin: Warhead

It's a weapon of mass destruction in candy form.

7. Kaladin: Kit Kat

A candy made to be broken in half. The tag line (from the 90s again probably shut up) is "Give me a break." But no one gives Kaladin a break. He just gets...broken.

8. Wayne: 100 Grand

First slogan: "Tastes so good it's almost illegal!" Second slogan: "That's rich!" Wayne: likes to steal, like recreationally, but not like in an illegal-illegal way. Then he gets Super Rich. Look, it makes sense in my head.

9. Steris: Homemade caramel apples

Steris doesn't do anything halfway. The caramel is homemade too.

10. Lift: Sour Patch Kids

I think Lift would be a candy with "kid" in the name. You know, because she's never going to grow up.

11. Renarin: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

The slogan I know is "There's no wrong way to eat a Reese's." And Renarin is a guy who likes to go his own way.

12. Leshwi: M&Ms

Hard outer shell (=crab lady) + delicious cholate interior (=Leshwi is sweet) and then there's slogan about how it m-melts in your m-mouth not in your hand.... Ha ha did it get hot in here or is it just me?

13. Dalinar: Twix

It's a candy that is a BONDED pair. I tried.

14. Adolin: Lindor Truffle

I felt that Adolin should be chocolate: solid, dependable, comforting. But, like, a fancy chocolate. Rich. Higher quality. That sort of thing.

15. Raoden: Snickers

Slogan (current, for once!): "You're not you when you're hungry." And, you know, as a person with the Shaod and an all-consuming hunger...

16. Moash: Candy Corn

People who hate candy corn: "Candy corn is the WORST thing to have EVER happened in the UNIVERSE and anybody who likes it is PROBABLY SICK AND TWISTED."

People who like candy corn: "It sucks! I love it so much."

(I like candy corn.)

17. Kelsier: Everlasting Gobstopper

My original joke: Because it survives forever!

My current joke: Holy shit I really thought this was a real candy but apparently it is a fictional candy from Willy Wonka that was later made into a real candy? Only the fictional candy really did last forever but of course the real candy doesn't; it's just a story.

That's somehow even more Kelsier.

18. Nale: Floss

There's always the one house that hands out floss, to remind the children that life is not about fun candy, it's about Responsibility. That's Nale.

[sh1-n0bu]

✿ 𝙞 𝙖𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙣 ✿

characters: boothill x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, angst/no comfort, spoilers to his character story, reader death, canon typical violence, blood, death, injury description, slavery mention, reader is a galaxy ranger, reader also has burn scars, some mechanical and medical things might be incorrect

notes: i have been spoiling yall too much with the constant fluff and smut. so here throws this fic into your face. divider from @/cafekitsune. a deep thanks to @theblades for helping me find a way to kill reader off😇

word count: 6.2k words

bright sunlight, gentle breeze ruffling through his bi-colored hair and the soft laughter of children. he loved the days spent at the farm, playing hide and seek with his siblings in the corn field, looking after the animals at the farm and taking some out for a walk. if him and his siblings could be sneaky enough, they will be able to snatch a few of graey’s handmade cookies through the kitchen window before dinner time. if not, they’ll get caught red handed, yet be let off the hook with a few soft pinches to their cheeks and one cookie for each since graey was just that soft.

sometimes, him and nick would ride their horses, wilding through the forests and endless fields to lead their cattle to better water and brilliant clouds. nick would sing loudly and proudly — he always does — and soon, he would join in with his young, soft voice pitching out the same song. nick would laugh boisterously, ruffling his hair and knocking off of his hat in the process. he would whine about it, saying things such as his hat getting dirty and being scolded by graey. nick would just laugh and shrug it off with a “sorry kiddo”.

he loved this place. he loved the corn fields he runs through with his siblings, he loved the loud voice of graey yelling out, scolding the kids as they run off laughing like a bunch of menaces, the oldest holding the box of cookies graey keeps on the highest shelf away from them, he loved the guns that nick would pull out from his old box of tools, teaching him how to properly aim and how to shoot the empty cans placed in the distance. and the excited yell of the other kids when he finally manages to knock one down, making him feel giddy as nick congratulated him on his first shot. after he fully mastered the old handgun of nick and shot down all 5 cans in a row, he was rewarded with nick’s old cowboy sheriff medal. the golden, 5 pointed star was old and looked rusty but to little ol’ him, it was the biggest and most treasured gift he ever got.

little ‘loaded gun’ never separated from that medal. he wore it his jacket ever since nick pinned it there for him, proudly showing it off to his siblings and talking about how he will take after nick and graey’s profession in the future. how he promises to nick and graey that he will make them proud, how he will live up to their expectations and become an even better cowboy.

“you sure will, little partner” nick would always laugh and pat his head, re-adjusting the medal. graey would sigh and roll his eyes at nick’s actions before reminding him that he doesn’t have to choose that life if he doesn’t want to. young ‘loaded gun’ would pout, whining that he wants to.

“but i want to be a cowboy! i want to be like you and nick, taking down bad guys, bringing justice and firing big guns!” he would yell, shooting his arms up in the air and jumping around.

“uh-huh. talk about firing big guns after you lose that lisp of yours” graey would chime in, always quick to reprimand him for his missing tooth and lisp as his hands affectionately smoothen out his messy hair, groaning in defeat as the mess of black and white refuse to be tamed.

“but i already lost it! i’m a big boy now!”

“hey graey! am i a big boy capable of firing big guns now?” were the first words he said as he brought back his first successful bounty. the smell of gunpowder and ash clung heavy to his jacket but he didn’t care. the smaller kids ran up to his sides, asking for upsies while his siblings who had already grown up and decided to stay at the farm pat his back and ruffle his hair with affectionate teasing quips.

he did it. he held his promise and followed in the footsteps of graey and nick, the old rusty gun and the sheriff medal being a motivational tool for him to reach his goal. now, all grown up and a master trickshot amongst the cowboys of aeragan-epharshel, ‘loaded gun’ was ready to aim and fire at anyone who dares to harm the innocents. although it had been years since the last time he saw his parents and siblings, everything about them and the old red barn stayed the same. though, the corn field looked a little bit bigger than he remembered.

‘loaded gun’ had done a lot in his life since becoming a cowboy. from fighting bandits in the dusty fields, chasing thieves at the dangerous cliffsides to having a gun fight against rival gangs. there were many times he had narrowly escaped death, breathed nothing but the metallic scent of blood, death and bullets and he still prevailed. although he had lost friends along this deadly road, he had also gained many.

that night, ‘loaded gun’ sat across his parents, seated amongst his siblings as he recalled tales of his adventures. the warmth of his younger siblings’ hugs, the teasing quips of the elders’ back pats and the proud looks nick and graey gave him — he was sure of it; this place was where he was the most happiest.

so when he found a little figure, wrapped in a measly ragtag of a fabric, crying out and lonely, he knew he had to step in and take in the little one. it’s what was right and what graey and nick would have done. a small bundle, not even a month old was left to fend for herself. ‘loaded gun’ carefully cradled the baby close to his chest, trying his best to soothe her cries as much as he could.

“graey! nick! i need some help here!” and ‘loaded gun’ had become a father.

ever since becoming a father, ‘loaded gun’ has experienced everything that parenthood had to offer. sleepless nights of the baby wailing at an ungodly hour, searching for his comfort and warmth. having to change the baby’s diapers and bathe her. checking the temperature of the milk in the bottle before feeding time — everything parenthood brought him, he took it all in strides and jolly laughs.

sometimes, he would put the baby in a small bucket and take her out on the farm with himself. the little baby would laugh and clap her tiny hand together, big bright eyes unknowing of what was happening as ‘loaded gun’ fails to tame a wild stallion, proceeding to get his ass thrown off of the horse’s back. seeing his little girl so happy, how could he ever stop making a fool of himself? he even went far as to carve out a mini guitar for her after seeing her fascination with his old, weathered one.

“from now on, yer name will be clementine. can’t have my little girl going around without a name, right?” he asks, bringing up the white haired girl into his arms and raising her into the air. clementine only giggles, blabbering some stuff as she laughs at the feeling of being in the air. seeing the baby’s innocent wide eyes staring down at him, head haloed by the high sun, ‘loaded gun’s grey ones soften as a teary smile forms on his face. the scars on his hands remind him of his profession and dangers of being a cowboy, but in his heart, he swore that he will keep his little girl safe and to be the best father he can be.

“my little clementine…”

gone... it was all gone.

the corn fields where he used to run through with his siblings when they were young, the old red farm that was in the middle of being repainted, the comfortable warm yet dingy house that him and his family used to live in — it was all gone. the scent of sulfur and burnt bodies hung in the air, ash raining from high above like it was some sort of a rain, turning his already dirtied and burnt clothes into black. there was no sign of nick, graey, his siblings nor the panicked farm animals.

little clementine... where was she? aeons, you can do anything you want to him but please spare his little girl, please by some blind miracle, let little clem be alive. he won't care what he has to do or which burning log he has to push away with his bare hands, just let him hear the sound of his little girl's cries to let him know that she's still alive and he'll do it. he'll do anything to save his little girl.

running through the scorched earth, 'loaded gun' calls out for his family. nick, graey, his siblings and even by their childhood nicknames. clementine, where was clementine, where was his baby girl? his little girl, where—

small red scarf and a burnt mini guitar. that was all he had managed to dig out from the burning farm house of his home. that was all he had left of his little girl, the red scarf that was the same copy of his own and the hand carved guitar with its strings plucked due to the heat of the bomb. those two things were the only things he brought with himself as he travels through the vast galaxies, searching a certain doctor who had made themselves into a cyborg successfully.

on the kingdom of bandits, talia, did he found the doctor. heart heavy, eyes full of vengeance and burnt hands holding onto the strap of his bag that had his little girl's memoirs. the doctor tried to persuade him into thinking over his decisions again, to woo him into staying as a human and not to lose said humanity. but 'loaded gun' was steadfast in his decision. if he wanted to stay as a human, he would have already thrown his body into the fires that engulfed his home.

with a deep sigh and slight reluctance, the doctor fulfilled his wishes. blue colored blood being pumped into his new metal body, no longer warm, scarred flesh but rather a clean plated metal being wired into place. at least his head was kept intact. after everything was over and he regained consciousness, he simply thanks the doctor and leaves his payment on the operation table full of his former human blood mixed with his new cyborg blue ones. he didn't wanted to look at the walls or the floor — it was covered in filthy purple liquids.

"before you leave, will you at least tell me your name?"

"... it's boothill now"

"well, good luck with your hunt mr.boothill"

it has been... how long now? boothill doesn't know. since his 'rebirth' as boothill, he has spent so much time traveling from one world to the other, destroying one ipc ship to the next. it has been a bit too long in his opinion, as the destruction of his home planet has stopped being brought up as the latest hot topic at every bar or saloon he visits. or maybe they never talked about it to begin with. the ipc had friends and slaves everywhere, at every branch or organization or world, boothill wouldn't be surprised if they had ended up covering their filthy work by masking it as an another 'horrific accident that befell a poor world before we could save them' type of thing. the ipc were amazing at their manipulation after all.

"those ipc folk sure have been having some hard time since your sudden emergence huh, cowboy?" a voice rings out to his left, a body covered in a bright red coat sitting down beside him at the bar. gesturing to the bartender, he watches from the corner of his eyes as you order a glass of earl grey and marmalade cooler with extra ice. boothill doesn't know this stranger draped in red was nor did he care. but judging by the way you easily knew of him as the latest troublemaker against the ipc, you have probably heard of the bounty on his head or you just travel the galaxies a lot. or it could be both at the same time.

turning his head just a little bit more towards the side, he looks you up and down, trying to see if there are anything that makes you stand out in any form of way. anything to hint at what or who you were.

old, faded, long, red coat left open at the front, smart by the way you have easily deduced he was a cowboy by just his accessories and clothing alone and ordering anon-alcoholic drink despite having set foot inside a bar and took a seat beside him. he can't see any weapons on your body at the moment and your red coat was covering most of your body too. he'll just have to go in blindly then.

"done checking me out, cowboy?"

by the time he had finished assessing you and had looked up to see your face, you were already staring at him with a nonchalant smirk on your face. for some odd reason, boothill could feel his cheeks heat up and wires zap inside his metal body. there was just something about the way that you easily teased him and wasn't ashamed to hold an eye contact with his target shaped pupils that got him feeling weirdly self conscious. had he forgotten to shine the metal plates of his body today? was his revolver still in place, shiny and strong? what about his bullets? his hat? his hair? oh what if he smelled? can cyborg bodies have any odor to begin with—?

"come on now, don't look away from me. i was talking to you" he could hear you coo out, your hand coming up to turn his chin so you could look at his face. the warmth of your hand touching the only leftover human part of his, the laidback confidence you had in your own self, it all got boothill letting out a steam from his ears like a cartoon character as he quickly turns away from you, his hand pulling down his hat to save whatever tiny drops of image he had.

what a shame, turning into a flustered mess like a high school girl talking to her crush by just the smallest amount of flirting he received. where was his class? his sarcastic remarks? the sassy quips and bites he gives to those who touched him? his tongue felt heavy, cheeks felt like they were on fire and he could just hear the gears inside his body shifting and turning at an uncomfortably fast pace that made him feel like he was overheating. or maybe he truly was overheating. darn, he should visit the doctor again to get some certain things removed.

"a-ahem, didn't yer' parents teach you it's not okay to flirt with strangers at a bar?" curse him for stuttering over his words, he was supposed to appear cool not like a teenager boy dammit! and the way your lips curled upwards even more at the tripping of his words wasn't helping. well he'll be damned, you have a smile that cowboys would kill each other for.

"i'm [name], a galaxy ranger. and you are, dear cowboy?"

idiot cowboys like him would kill each other for.

"name's boothill, sugar"

it has been exactly 2 years and 4 months since boothill first met you and was introduced to a faction called the galaxy rangers. apparently, galaxy rangers are a voluntarily formed group that follows the teachings of lan, the hunt and carries out acts of service, upholding peace and justice. some galaxy rangers are a bit ruthless in the ways they deal with the injustice that happens at some worlds or galaxies, some are a bit more diplomatic, some travel in groups of friends and colleagues while some travel alone.

you were once the latter one; a galaxy ranger that travelled the cosmos alone, a bright red shooting star that shine and never fade till the break of day, bringing hope and destruction at once. were; because it has been precisely 2 years and 4 months since boothill has started to travel alongside you. he had decided to become a galaxy ranger, the voluntary group's ideals appealing to his own sense of vengeance and justice that he wishes to bring to a certain group.

"boothill, it's time to wake up" you call out, having always been the early morning bird out of the two of you. walking towards the bedside of the asleep cowboy, you poke at his eyebrows and nose, pushing his lips into random emotes, snorting at the slight hint of drool on his lips. despite having an all metal body, the cyborg was still very human at heart. you've seen the way he helps the elderly cross the roads, entertaining the kids of your stop of the day by teaching them how to properly hold a gun or to shoot one, how he pets a stray dog or a cat, how he sits down at the bar with you after a successful mission, a guitar in hand as he starts to sing in an unfamiliar language. how he looked sad as he regularly cleans the sheriff medal on his jacket, how he stares at a certain picture that he keeps in his jacket pocket.

or even the ways he calls out to a little girl with white hair, addressing her as "clementine", before apologizing and patting the girl on the head to say "be careful, kid". you've seen it all, or what you like to think of as all of boothill.

"fuck meeee, it's still early dawn sugar" the cowboy groans out, voice groggy due to his voice bank having been on resting mode and just restarted. reaching an arm out, he manages to grab a hold of the back of your shirt before you could escape, pulling you down onto his bed as you let out a shriek. grunting at your flailing limbs and attempts to escape his clutch, he only tightens them, climbing on top of you with a cheshire grin on his face.

"that's what ya' get for trynna wake up a cowboy, sugar. ya' get put in time-out" boothill grins at the red of your cheeks from laughing too much, a surprising flare of cuteness aggression coming over him as he leans over your face to gnaw at your cheeks with his shark-like teeth.

"on-nom nom nom nom nom, i'm gonna eat up yer' mochi cheeks, sugar!" the cyborg says, making an overdramatic munching noises as he gnaws the sharp edges of his teeth over the soft fat of your cheek. you could only laugh, throwing your legs back and forth as you try to escape his hold.

"boothill! you're a whole damn 700 kilogram of pure metal alone, get off of me!" you shriek out when the mischievous cowboy starts to gnaw on the skin of your neck and chin, akin to a baby kitten throwing a temper tantrum. as if to spite you, he only rolls his body over yours more, squishing you flat down onto the bed with a menacing laugh.

it was usual to start the day like this between you and boothill. he was not a morning person, you were and usually you would have to end up paying for being the early bird as he squishes your body flush against his own metal one. sometimes you two would end up just falling back asleep, with you being held hostage in boothill's grasp and boothill comfortably squeezing his face into your body. sometimes, you two would end up like this, just laughing and having a harmless prank time together. other times, you two end up with a bunch of ruined pillows, the feathers dancing in the air as you try to get at least a hit on him. but somehow, boothill was always better than you when it came to pillow fights.

"now what happened 'ere, sugar?" you could hear boothill ask, finally managing to get a deep breath in as he finally lifts away some of the weight he had on you. a cold, hard metal tenderly ghosts over where your neck and shoulder met, over the old burn scar you had. oh right, you forgot of that little fella there.

"ah, that. it's just some old burn wound from one of my earlier days as a galaxy ranger. there's nothing to worry about, don't worry" you hum, bringing a hand up to run through his mess of a bi-colored hair. his hair was always a mess no matter the circumstances, it was honestly a wonder how he doesn't have urges to cut his hair short. not like you were complaining, the long hair suited him perfectly and you wouldn't want him to change his looks.

as you lay there on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking over where to go next or what route you two should take during this next new mission of yours, boothill was busy remembering an old memory. an old memory that he wished to forget so vehemently.

red and orange — that was all he could smell all around him. the burnt down farm that was in the middle process of being renovated, the burnt carcasses — it wouldn't be right to call them carcasses, there was nothing much left remaining to even properly call them as that — the corn fields burning down. sulfur and death — that was all 'loaded gun' could smell as he dug into his burning home. the heat that scorched his face or licked away at the skin of his hand didn't bother him. all he wanted to do was to find his daughter, his little girl, his little clementine. please, let her be alive by some miracl—

"boothill?" your voice echoed in his head, snapping him back from the dreaded memory lane he accidentally made a trip down towards. looking up at your face, he could see the furrowing of [c] brows over your [c] eyes as they stared at him with so much concern, affection, wonder and care. he takes in the details of your face as his breath gets stolen, seeing the way the [c] locks circled around your head as you reflected the perfect image of what he thinks aeons looks like. by the mighty aeons, you were gorgeous. and how his breath is found once again as you run a hand through his hair, blunt nails lightly scratching at his scalp. you stole his breath away as easily as breathing it back into him.

leaning close into you, he felt the way your breaths mingled with his own, how if he were to try and reach out, he could feel your body heat against his only remaining body like an anchor, like a long awaited lover returning home. there was warmth in your eyes that was missing in his cold, metal body. humane marks that was reflected onto his own vibranium plates that tried to imitate human flesh. there was humanity in you that boothill feared he lacked in himself.

"[name]... i want to taste your lips" boothill breathed out before he could even catch whether he was imagining his words or was outright saying it. and he did get what he politely asked for, your split lips connecting with his own intact ones. he tasted life that he was sure that he had lost on your lips, a memory of something old and tender that had been burned away in the fires that scorched his home and your body. he felt something move and beat rhythmically within the confines of his gears and wires, convinced that he had somehow, by some way regained his heart. regained his human body. regained his humanity.

you breathed life into him and he found himself asking for one more when your lips left his own, and one more, and one more. and one more.

"boothill, when was the last time that you went to the doctor to have your body checked over?" you say, turning your attention away from sharpening your sword to his body. even from such distance, you could see some screws getting a bit looser, some little wires or the ends of wires peeking out from behind the plates of his body. from what you could remember, the last time your partner had told you of going to the doctor to have himself checked over was... perhaps a year ago.

as galaxy rangers, you two now constantly get into fights and battles. especially with the ipc as the corporation has added you to their list of wanted figures besides boothill's growing dead or alive bounty. in an order to be ready for any ambush or unplanned fights that may take place, you and your partner must be ready for any sort of fight that may come your way. which also means making a trip to the kingdom of bandits and thieves, talia, a bit often to see the doctor.

something that boothill insists doesn't have to be done after every fight or to have you follow him. the cyborg insists that it's for your own safety but you know that he just doesn't want you to see him being taken apart and put back together again like... like he has lost his own sense of self. despite his flair and bright smiles, you always knew that boothill had a deep sense of problem with his body. you know, since you were always the one to collect his breaking consciousness into your awaiting warm arms to place him back together again. peace by loving peace, you were akin to a warm candlelight that soothed his worries and shooed away any fears that might dig its claws into his wires.

"uhhh... dunno sugar. maybe a year? or even over a year ago..." the cowboy replies, looking up from his own weapon that he was cleaning. seeing your eyes narrow at him and shoulders become stiff, boothill quickly places down his revolver, waving his hands as a form of self defense from your already approaching lecture.

"h-hey hey hey! but don't worry, i'm genuinely doing fine, sugar! if anything, it should be nagging you for not resting and properly taking care of that shoulder wound!" the cyborg was quick to defend himself, instead pointing a finger towards your direction. more specifically, your shoulder.

"it's just a small cut, boothill! i've already gotten it cleaned and wrapped in bandages" you raised your arms in a surrendering motion, now taking on the side to defend yourself from his words.

just as boothill was about to retort back with something smart-mouthed, you two suddenly fall silent as the familiar sound of the heels of an eerily familiar corporation uniform resounds in the hallway boards of the inn. those footsteps and the light click! clack! of their weapons told you two everything you needed to know. silently, boothill puts on his hat, reloading his revolver at a terrifyingly fast pace. meanwhile, you shrug on your signature red coat, newly sharpened and cleaned blade ready to slice through the ipc's weapons.

waiting patiently behind the doors of your inn room, you two wait with bated breaths until a very quick clicking of the door opening is heard. before the door could even creak open on its old hinges, boothill has already taken the first shot. without needing for words to talk about tactics or which side to take, you rush out, the sharp edge of your blade cutting through the ipc's every weapons. behind you the sound of gunshots and bodies hitting the floor follows.

it was simple, really. you disarm the ipc and boothill takes care of the rest. surrounded at all sides? you will always take the east side while boothill takes care of the ones on the west. and if there's a ew weapon or a surprise in your way, boothill will just blast it high into the sky with his arm canon and you can make the rest of them into thin noodles at record time. a deadly duo you two were, gutsy as you stood against the ipc in its whole with no fear, only excitement at what new weapon you'll come across or who could get more hits in. perhaps that's precisely why the ipc decided to send battalion after battalion after you two this time. perhaps it was the bounties on your head that caused the inn owner to betray your trust and rat you two out.

either way, nothing could exactly stop in your way. weapons cut, guns exploded due to bullets meeting inside the hole, armories torn apart and ipc managers blasted. there was nothing that could stand against a hurricane of two galaxy rangers. a red coat flashing past the ipc, a grey shine that took down a panicking soldier standing kilometers away. but there was a little problem. boothill's loose wires had connected with the wrong ones, causing him to stay in his lock 'n loaded state. target shaped pupils now bright red with the grey of his irises now bright red that perceived all those with a weapon as an enemy.

after the final ipc manager fell apart in a heap of metal and wires, you heard the sound of a gunshot still being fired towards the west. was boothill ambushed? was he okay? rushing over to where the sound is the loudest at, you couldn't help but gawk at the state of the corpses and remains of some of the robots. the large gaping holes were not normal, if anything it looked more like a canon bullet with how the entry holes were bigger and the exit holes were smaller. why was boothill using his arm canon at every chance he got? what was happening?

"boothi-!" a bang rings out just as you make it to where the gunshot was the loudest, bullet wizzing past your ear, nipping at the shell of it. the wound left ringing in your ear as you hold up a hand to cover the injured ear, looking on in fear as the red iris and white pupils of your partner looks straight back at you. you could see your own reflection in his eyes and boothill didn't look happy to see you.

eyes that used to stare at you with fondness and sea of affection now stared dead into your own pupils as if you were an enemy. a threat.

"whatcha' lookin' at, scum? come on, let's see ya' dance" this was not your boothill, this wasn't your beloved, this wasn't the same sweetheart whose eyes turn into heart shapes every time your own gaze meets his. this was not boothill.

dodging a bullet by a mere graze, you duck behind an overturned table. shit, think [name], how do you get him out of that state? you briefly remember him telling you that he briefly goes into lock 'n loaded state when he has a stand-off duel. but what more? he was locked in that state of his, ready to kill anyone that comes close. do you have to duel with him to make him snap out of it? but you don't know how to shoot a gun.

but... what if it doesn't have to be a gun duel?

"hey!" you call out, sliding on the floor to hide behind another chair that was flipped over when the canon bullet of boothill shoots through your old coverage with no mercy. "how about a duel, cowboy? you think you can be a faster draw than me?" you can hear his gun click, knowing that now he needs at least a few seconds to reload. maybe 5 seconds at best, boothill was fast in his reloading. you hear a soft scoff as you hear his gun open, the soft clanks of his bullet entering the cylinder resounding in the empty room. one, two, three -- all six bullets in and the soft clink of the hammer of his revolver releasing indicated that boothill was ready for a draw.

"hah, what do you think, sweet cheeks? think you can keep up with me?" you can just hear the taunting in his voice, goading you to make the first move. deep breath in and out, your hand holding the sheath of your sword, ready to draw. silence takes over the room as you speedrun any plans or ideas to catch him off guard. any idea to make him snap out of it. you can be the faster draw but that won't promise you a win if your life is going to be lost.

a steady hand is what you need. just a steady hand to knock some sense back into boohtill... a steady hand to knock some sense.

"come on, fucker. what's taking ya'—" the table he thought you were hiding behind is abruptly flipped over towards boothill, taking him by a sliver of surprise before he aims and pulls the trigger. once, twice and the table was split into half. a chair was next, a single explosive bullet causing the woods to splinter and cover your form as you dash through the room, straight at him.

"'atta you fuckhead! packing some guts, i see!" boothill laughs, aiming straight at your head and pulling the trigger. the bullet doesn't hit, you managed to draw your sword in time to cut it in half. a grin matching the sense of a maniac high spread across boothill's face at the clinking of the two bullet pieces hitting the floor. all you had on mind was to get near him at this moment, nothing else. another bullet is fired, getting cut apart in the middle before his revolver joins, being split apart by your expert swordsmanship.

close enough, you can do it, you can snap him back into his senses.

the sound of broken revolver and dulled blade hitting the floor is disregarded the moment you lean in close to him, hand raised, fist reared back, ready to knock some sense into him. at the same time, boothill's left arm raises towards your abdomen. time seemed to slow and all you had in mind was to deliver a sharp knuckle sandwich.

BANG! CRACK!

your sharp punch landed straight across his face, making his hat drop to the ground. if this was any other bar fight, you would have laughed in his face as you witness his red iris turn grey again, paired with the signature marksman symbol pupils. you did it, your plan worked and boothill was back. when you wanted to point at his face and scold his ears off, all you managed was a weak wheeze. strange...

the world spun around you, the horrified face of boothill catching your attention alongside the sharp pain at your side. you didn't even knew that you fell to the ground as boothill cradles you up into his arms, holding you like how he always does as his metallic fingers gently hold your cheek. his mouth was moving, bi-colored hair falling like a curtain over you two as if to keep this moment hidden from the prying eyes of the corpses in the room.

what was he saying? there was a permanent ringing in your ears and you couldn't be more annoyed about the timing of something more than now. you wanted to listen to his voice, the gentle rasp as he apologized for now listening to you, the hidden tenderness as he calls you an idiot for getting too close to him. breathing became harder for you, black dots appearing in your vision, hindering you from seeing the way boothill was desperately holding you tight against his body. you must have hit your head pretty heard when you fell.

"... i told you... to have yourself checked o.. ver..." you barely manage to say, your voice dying in your throat as you try to talk to him. shaking hand comes up to cradle his cheek, trying to wipe away the tears that streaming from his grey eyes. why was your hand bloodied? it left stains on your dear boothill's cheeks and he will surely complain about it as he tries to wipe it away with his own metallic ones like a cat. you felt cold from the inside, you couldn't move your legs and even holding up your hand felt like a chore.

perhaps a nice rest will help you relax and gain your strength back. and when you wake up again, you will be back in the inn's room, your favorite cowboy by your side, clinging to you like a lifeline as he snores open-mouthed, wiping his drool all over your shirt. when you wake up again, your favorite cowboy won't be covered in blood. when you wake up again, there won't be this annoying sharp sting at your side that felt like your whole intestines were spilling out.

"sugar...? sugar, no, don't close your eyes! [name] wake up!" boothill yells, shaking your bloodied body as he tries to make you regain consciousness. you can hit him all you like, put pink ribbons in his hair, steal his hat, scold him for all you want, just please don't close your eyes. please don't fall asleep. please, don't leave him alone.

"... i'll get lost again if you leave me..." there was no pulse. your body was cold already. and the cyborg wished he could cry again. at least one last time.

[anon-402]

All 'Dia de Los Muertos' references in today's QSMP event

I’ve seen it in Xitter but not yet in Tumblr, so I’m gonna go and translate each Egg’s book with the references to the deities that are mention within.

(English is not my first language. Sorry for any typo or grammar mistake).

For Tilin:

Tilin, my girl, I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy the life it was expected for you, but don’t be afraid you will be with mom at Chichihualcuauhco[1] where I will take care of you. I won’t let anything hurt my helpless girl until you have the opportunity to be reborn again, you didn’t deserve to join the Gods in the underworld. - Tezcatlipoca[2]

For Bobby:

My little Bobby, you have proven to own dignity and courage to fight for what is right, As a result of this, I��ve invited you to my kingdom  Tonatiuhichan[3], where at my side, you and other warriors will sing about their deeds and will dance until midnight, so you can enjoy forever the sunset that you adore so much. - Tonaituh[4]

For Juana:

Juana, it’s an honor for me and my wife Mictecachihuatl[5] to have you join us in the Mictlan[6]. Even though your dead was an accident, you may enjoy the journey that is our kingdom. You treated nature with respect in your life, so our dogs are excited to meet you at last. You will join us in the infinity of the universe forever. - Mictlantecuhtli [7]

For Trump:

Oh Trump, I’m sorry that my currents took you to this destiny, but to compensate I will invite you to Tlalocan[8], where you may join us in our celebration without end, and you may eat all the corn, amaranth, pumpkin, tomato and chile you want. In my kingdom, I promise you there’s no suffering and you will never be alone. - Tlaloc [9]

Now for all the little references:

[1] Chichihualcuauhco:

Afterlife in which children who died young or in childbirth are sent and fed from the “wet-nurse tree” (You can’t see it in the photo, but there was a tree in Tilin’s altar). Souls here wait for their next opportunity to be reborn.

[2] Tezcatlipoca:

He’s one of the four creator gods of the universe. I’m not an expert on Aztec mythology and I wasn’t really into Tilin’s lore, so I’m kinda uncertain as to why he was the one to write to them or how are they connected.

[3] Tonatiuhichan:

One of the afterlife paradises, where the soul of warries who died in battle go. It was believed that warriors could go back to their homes (land of the living) as hummingbirds. (Fun fact: Woman who died at childbirth would be given the same rank as the warriors who died in battle and would be sent to a similar place called Cihuatlampa!)  

[4] Tonatiuh:

God of the sun (who runs Tonatiuhichan), who most believed was the creator of the Flor of Cempasúchil.

[5] Mictecachihuatl:

Lady of the Dead, Mictlantecuhtli’s consort. She guards the bones of the dead. (Fun Fact: In Oaxaca, is known as Matlacihua, and is said to punish womanizing and drunken men who walk late at night. Kinda funny considering Mariana and Slime’s interactions lmao.)

[6] Mictlan:

The underworld. Most people who die travel to Mictlan. To travel to the kingdom, you have to go through nine levels, which kinda needs dogs to carry the dead across the river. Same reason as to why Juana is sent dogs. (Fun fact: Depending in the color of the dog, they would act different. Yellow ones would just carry the soul, white ones would refuse cause they just washed themselves, and black dogs would refuse cause they just swum the river.)

[7] Mictlantecuhtli:

Lord of the Dead, king of Mictlan. There’s nothing much to say about him; he just simply tried to maintain order in the kingdom and was kinda of an asshole to other gods. There’s a whole myth about other Gods wanting to repopulate Earth, and him going ‘Nuh uh’ until Quetzalcóatl gets tired of him and steals the human bones from Mictlan lol.

[8] Tlalocan:

The afterlife of the Nectar. Better known as the water paradise, where those who died through drowning (or anything associated with rain for that matter) go. I read somewhere that there’s a theory of Trump dying because he drown in his own tears, so that’s why he was invited by Tlaloc.

[9] Tlaloc:

The God of rain, associated as the giver of life. The flower Tagetes Lucida are kind of like the Cempasúchil, and are his symbol.

[irisintheafterglow]

hii iris!! being one of my fav writers, i was wondering if it would be okay to please request you write something halloween related between Satoru and reader while they're in a lowkey relationship and instructors at jujutsu tech? maybe he drags reader and the students on some night of shenanigans? up to u, i just love how u write and i feel you'd kill this hehe

thank u so much! have an awesome day!

life's no fun without a good scare

summary: you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff and crack and crack and fluff, established relationship, swearing (a lot of it, you'll see why lol), mentions of eating, angst if you squint, co-parenting megumi AND his friends!!

note: AAAA hi!! thank you so much for the love omg :')) i hope you like this, i definitely enjoyed writing it even though i did get a tad carried away lol. GOD this was so fun to write, thank you for suggesting it

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3 thank you for your support!!

“I’m going to eat so much candy, I’ll throw up.”

“What’re those tubs over there?”

“They’re for waterboarding Itadori,” Megumi deadpans without hesitation, clearly misrepresenting the apple bobbing game just ahead. You state his name warningly, like he was six years old again, and he mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath. “Maybe we switch out the victim for our esteemed teacher, instead.” You cover a snort with an unsuccessful cough. Even though you’d practically raised him, his jabs at Satoru never lost their humor. 

“Your suggestion will be taken into careful consideration,” you say, “though it will become more of a possibility if he continues to run on Satoru-time.” Nobara hums in agreement, kicking a stray piece of hay with her toe while you continue to progress through the general admission line to the pumpkin patch. Your fashionably-late boyfriend had sent you a very cryptic text at noon, instructing you to “pack up the kids and take them to the following address.” When you replied with a chain of question marks, he sent an infuriatingly unserious GIF that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What time did he tell you?”

“5:00.” You check your phone preemptively, already anticipating the followup question. 

“And what time is it now?”

“5:20,” you sigh, sliding your card across the shelf of the ticket booth and receiving four orange wristbands in return. After slipping them onto the wrists of your three unofficial children, Itadori and Nobara immediately disappear into the crowd; Megumi, however, stays plastered to your shoulder and makes his distaste for the bustling festival known. You scan nearby groups of people for a tall idiot with white hair with no luck. If Satoru still showed up, he would have to pay for admission himself. “Let’s grab a table and find me a bottle of soju–”

“Barely twenty minutes and you’re already drinking? Since when did Shoko replace my lovely partner?” Satoru’s sing-song voice calls out from behind you, like he’d been standing with you the entire time. Despite your attempts to remain irritated at him, you can’t resist when he turns you around, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Hi, gorgeous. What took you so long?”

“I assumed you were running late, like you always do,” you argue futilely, the world melting away when you catch his eyes over the rims of his sunglasses. “Is this not too overwhelming for you? Having so many energy signatures in one place?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you with a confident wave of his hand. “After all, I have your energy to ground me.” Your legs start to feel a bit gelatinous when you hear a very obvious throat clearing itself and suddenly remember that Megumi is still standing there. “Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my dear student?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my questionable teacher?” You burst out laughing and your boyfriend’s jaw drops in indignance, gearing up to say something just as childish. On instinct, you cover his mouth with your hand, recoiling in disgust when his tongue darts out to lick your palm. “Gross. I’m gonna find my friends.” 

“Don’t do anything dumb!” The boy waves his hand dismissively and you roll your eyes. In a different universe where he actually was the child of you and Satoru, he had his father’s sass gene. 

“He’s used to this by now, isn’t he?” Satoru chuckles and it reverberates against your body, making your head spin in lovesick circles.

“I’d imagine so, seeing as we did raise him like this,” you answer, letting him start to guide you toward whatever stand interests him first, his arm draped over your shoulders. “Do you think Yuuji and Nobara have figured it out?”

“If Megs hasn’t told them, then definitely not,” he states with utmost certainty, looking over one of the games with all the concentration of a hunting tiger. In the middle of the stall was a large pool of water, and swirling around in it were small, colorful bowls in the shape of blooming flowers. The goal, you guessed, was to land a small ball in a certain color and get a corresponding prize from the lineup hanging overhead. It was truly an enticing array of stuffed animals, too, from wolves and monkeys to dinosaurs and little princess dolls. “Which one do you want?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” 

“Choose a prize and I’ll get it for you, guaranteed.” 

“Guaranteed? You do know these are designed to scam you, right?”

“And I am designed to do whatever you want, so take your pick.” After a moment of consideration, you point to a stuffie of a black cat wearing a pumpkin costume. “Cute choice.”

“It reminds me of Megs.” He laughs and pulls his arm back, stretching his neck from side to side and handing a few dollars to the game attendant. It was all for show and completely unnecessary, and he knew that; he also knew that his over-the-top shenanigans always made you laugh after a stressful week. Whether you knew it or not, he’d noticed you were increasingly overwhelmed by all the work from the previous days, specifically regarding training his students while he was off on an assignment. Along with completing your own missions, you were supervising the three first years and guiding them through boring paperwork, which he knew made you feel like shit. It’s why he suggested you go to the festival in the first place, to get your mind off of work and spend time with you. And, he’d be damned if he didn’t get you that fuzzy little cat on his first try. 

“Watch the master at work, sweetheart,” is the last thing he says before carefully tossing the first of three balls toward the only purple bowl in the pool. He’s the tiniest bit off, though, and he curses under his breath as it ricochets against the edge and into the water. “That was a practice shot.”

“Sure, baby, sure,” you giggle, stifling your amusement into a fist. His tongue peeks out the side of his mouth in absentminded focus and you’re sure he’s found the perfect arc when the voice of one of his students cheers from behind you. 

“You’ve got this!” Despite their well wishes, Yuuji and Nobara accidentally timed their cheers at the precise moment his fingers let go of the ball, messing up his aim even worse than the first time. They deflate in embarrassment and Megumi’s face turns red from trying not to laugh. The usual deadly aura radiating off of him increases tenfold and it makes you shiver despite the warm autumn air. “T-Third time’s the charm, sir!”

“Fucking hell, why do I even bother–”

“Satoru, that’s cheating,” you whisper, sensing him imbuing the tiniest amount of Cursed Energy into the last ball to easily manipulate its trajectory. “I can just buy the thing online; you don’t need to be doing all of this.”

“I can buy you anything online, but I also want to prove that I’m better than everyone else,” he mutters much too seriously than the situation required. “Plus, once I win that damn cat, it’ll have a nice story to go behind it.” 

“Your ego truly knows no bounds.”

“You know you love it.”

A minute later, you’re walking away from the game with the fuzzy cat in your arms and Satoru’s arrogant smirk by your side. The rest of the night is spent watching him drag his students into various inflatable obstacle courses and tumbling down the slide after they push him over the edge. In spite of all the excitement, you have to drag them to a picnic table to sit and eat; even then, the three students challenge their teacher to a funnel cake eating contest. To no one’s surprise, Yuuji wins by a landslide. 

Satoru pays for everything, of course. When someone wanders over to a game booth, he pays for their game every single time and continues to pay until they win a prize. By the end of the night, all five of you have at least one prize in your possession and Satoru’s bank account is barely affected. 

Before the fair closes, you propose a game of hide and seek in the gigantic corn maze. You and the three students would get a five minute head start, and then Satoru would enter and race to find you before you reached the other side. The first years’ eyes shine with excitement when you tell them they can use techniques as long as they don’t make a mess. You consider throwing a veil over the entire thing, just to make sure Megumi’s dogs don’t start any rumors of hellhounds in the area. 

“If the kids can use theirs, then you’re not allowed to use your technique,” Satoru concludes and you make a noise of indignation while you gameplan by the entrance of the maze. “Don’t start with me; that’s totally fair!”

“I don’t understand how that’s fair in any way,” you argue up at his ridiculously confident smirk. You wanted to slap him and make out with him at the same time, none of which would have been appropriate in present company. 

“You make portals, sweetheart. If we’re making the maze a no-fly zone and I run into one of your doorways, I’m gonna be in there for the rest of time.”

“I’ll just make simple doors!” 

“The last time you said that, I was stuck on a mountain for three hours,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, completely forgetting the three pairs of eyes watching this entire conversation. Sweetheart? Since when did he call anyone sweetheart? Nobara and Yuuji knew that you both were friends from high school, but the bickering seemed suspiciously akin to that of an old married couple. They glance at their spiky haired friend for confirmation of their theories, but he avoids their gaze and continues munching on pumpkin spice popcorn. “Alright, five minutes on the clock. Don’t let me catch you,” he smiles wickedly and you all but shove the three students into the maze. 

In a blink, Megumi summons his dogs and sends them to look for the exit. As you sprint down straightaways, Nobara intermittently sticks a few nails into the walls, essentially creating security sensors that will trigger if Satoru passes by it. It also helps establish what paths you’ve already explored and where you need to go next. In what feels like seconds, five minutes is gone and your heart drops as you see a black veil descend over the maze. The atmosphere of the maze feels electric, like wind before a storm, and you nervously laugh and urge the students to move faster. 

“So, are we ever going to talk about you and Gojo?” 

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” You shoot back in amusement and Nobara shrugs, sending another nail into the corn with a strike of her hammer. “I don’t think this is the proper place to have this conversation!”

“So, are you two actually dating? Megumi won’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar when we ask if he knows something!”

“I think the latter shooting ominous strikes of lightning into the air is a more pressing issue!”

“Lightning strikes which, I’ll add, are increasingly getting closer!” Yuuji’s voice rises to a panicked yelp and you curse in disbelief as your group slams into another dead end, giggling from sheer fear and swatting the students to find another way. All the while, blasts of pure Cursed Energy fly upward like fireworks, illuminating the field in terrifying shades of blue and red. “Any status on the nails?”

“He just passed the third one closest to us,” Nobara reports, face slowly losing color as the most powerful sorcerer in the world hunts you down. “You can’t send Nue to stall him?”

“You think a bird is going to stop Gojo Satoru?” 

“Well, your damn dogs haven’t come back yet and we’re running out of options–” The back-and-forth is cut short by a faint howl coming from the back right corner of the maze, just a few hundred yards away. One of the dogs appears from the floor, hooking a sharp right turn that has you four stumbling to catch up to it. The howls continue, as do the strikes of lightning, while you follow the dog to what you assume is the exit. “The nails haven’t picked up his energy signature in a while,” Nobara informs you in slight relief while the howling grows closer with every step. Yuuji’s mouth breaks into a victorious grin, but you and Megumi aren’t convinced. 

“Does that mean we lost him? Or did he get lost?” 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you mutter low enough for only Megumi to hear and he nods in agreement. “I don’t feel him anywhere.” 

“That cracking behind us is just the corn, right?” Yuuji’s voice becomes uncertain and the static in the air only becomes more palpable. You’re so close to the exit and you can tell he’s getting nearer, but something in your gut tells you that you can beat him. But, Nobara’s realization makes your blood run cold. 

“Wait, I don’t sense any of my nails anymore–” 

“Found you.”

Your throats rip a collectively brutal screech as Satoru’s voice seems to come from directly behind you, and you glance backward to only see a pair of knife-sharp blue eyes staring through the black corridor of the maze. Colorful curses of fear babble from the mouths of the students and you slam your feet even harder into the ground as you sprint for the exit. The bright lights of the pumpkin sign were in sight; you just had to make it a little farther. 

“Elephant, elephant, elephant!” Yuuji’s suggestion comes out as incoherent yelps and he tries to fire off black flashes to no avail. Megumi looks at him like he’d grown four new limbs. 

“What?!”

“Summon the fucking elephant, Fushiguro!” A nail rockets away behind you only to be immediately sent back, embedding itself in the husk by your feet. 

“I hate to break it to you, but the elephant isn’t going to do anything when–”

“When I’m already right behind you,” he whispers directly into your ear and you scream as his footsteps line up with yours and his arms snake under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weighed no more than a cotton ball. He disappears with you into darkness, firing off a single precise attack that cuts the lights of the entire exit so that the path is pitch black. Somehow, you end up outside of the maze while the three students continue to panic inside and he gently sets you on your feet. His menacing aura disappears in a blink and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, his arms holding you close by your waist. “I found you,” he says with a smile. 

“You did. I know you always do, eventually.”

“Mhmm. Did you have fun?”

“Honestly, that was the most terrifying experience of my entire existence,” you laugh, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him even closer. He chuckles warmly, ironically just as quiet as the fearful bickering of your students in the maze. You barely feel any sweat on his forehead against your shoulder and you can’t even imagine how messy you looked after running for your life. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

“You’ve never looked prettier,” he murmurs, pulling away briefly to press a kiss to your cheek. “We should probably go grab the kids.” You hum absentmindedly, vaguely making out the voices of Megumi and Yuuji trying to figure out which way to go. 

“Stay here a little longer. Let them think you’ve taken me away to your scary vampire lair, or something.”

“As you wish, sweetheart. I'll be your scary vampire anytime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[shiftythrifting]

some.... eclectic finds from a goodwill in OR

1. there were more of these letter stocking hangers but someone had taken the opportunity to make them spell EEP (hats off to them for making it spell 'eep' instead of the more puerile 'pee')

2. very cute corn teapot i would have bought had it not been very small (probably could fit 1 normal cup or 2 tiny cups' worth of tea)

3. the most sopping wet pathetically sad piggy bank i ever did see

4. children's bed sheets with an indiscernible Creature

5. frame that was donated with the protective backing still on the glass but also had a really good picture of someone's cat inside

6. authentic novelty shrek the third glass that i was going to buy to jumpscare our houseguests with until my roommate informed me these are the ones with dangerous amounts of lead in them

7. denture bunks: put your teeth to bed!

[reigningqueenofwords]

Sure, Babe

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word count: 1,173

Read on AO3

Bucky moved to lean on the kitchen doorframe. He watched you move around with ease. You were barefoot, wearing one of your favorite dresses, and an apron he had bought you years before. You’d mended that apron so many times since, and refused to ever replace it. Sure, you had others, but that one meant the most. Your hair was up in (what you called) a messy bun, however he thought it was beautiful on you. He could see your favorite earrings dangling slightly from your ears. They were nothing fancy, some fake pearl earrings you’d bought online, but they made you feel beautiful. He didn’t need to see your face to know your makeup was minimal- mascara and some lipstick or lipgloss. Even now, 6 months pregnant, you did your little morning routine before the kids got up.

“Mommy!” He smiled as you turned to your youngest, Hannah, come running in the backdoor. 

“Yes, baby?” You smiled over at the 5 year old. Your smile turned to amusement. “You were playing in the mud, weren’t you?” You giggled. 

She nodded, eyes wide. She was covered in mud. “Nessa helped, too!” Nessa was your 7 year old. “She made me a mud crown.” She giggled, and her nose crinkled as she did. “Hi, daddy!” She beamed at him. She was missing one of her front teeth, making that grin extra adorable. 

You turned to him and smiled. Wiping your hands on a dishtowel, you went to kiss his cheek. “Care to clean up our children while I serve dinner? Just hose them down and wrap them in a towel. They can have a bath after.” You rubbed his chest. 

“Is Andy messy, too?” He asked about your oldest. He was 10, and it was touch and go with him playing with the girls. Some days he loved playing with his sisters. Other days he wanted nothing to do with him. 

“He has a book report coming up, so he’s up in his room reading.” You told him. “He promised them he’d play Go Fish with them later, though.” 

He chuckled, giving you a quick peck. “Alright, out back, munchkin.” He motioned for Hannah to head back out. “I’ll be right out, let me grab you two towels.” Life was never dull with them, that’s for sure. He chuckled as she ran back outside yelling for Nessa. “How’s our littlest one treating mommy today?” He asked, rubbing your bump. 

You smiled, looking down at where his hand was. “She’s good.” You put your hand on his. “Hoping she looks like her daddy, just like her siblings.” You loved that all three of your kids looked just like Bucky. There were little features that they got from you, but they got his dark hair, and his blue eyes. 

“I hope she is as beautiful as her momma.” He kissed your cheek before going to get those towels to hose off the girls. 

Watching him go, you bit your lip. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have him, even though he constantly told you how he was the lucky one. 

Not long after, Bucky came in, a girl on each arm. “Hi, mommy!” Nessa giggled, pushing some hair out of her face. “Dinner smells yummy!” She gushed as she wiggled down to go see what was for dinner. 

“Thank you, Nessa.” You kept your eyes on what you were serving. “We’re having baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn. And if you eat most of your dinner, I made brownies for dessert.” 

She gasped, excited. “The ones with the peanut butter?!” She asked, hopeful. 

You giggled at her excitement. “Peanut butter chunks .” You told her, getting her even more excited. Her favorite food ever was peanut butter. 

“Alright, let’s let momma finish plating dinner.” Bucky chuckled, coming over lifting her by the arm pits. She laughed as he carried her over to one of the chairs and put her down. 

Andy and Hannah had already climbed into their chairs, almost always loving your cooking. They weren’t a fan of carrots, spinach, or broccoli. You needed to sneak those things in, but they seemed to be okay with sweet corn and sweet peas. Oddly enough, they did like veggie lasagna, which contained all the veggies they didn’t like. 

Soon enough, you were all sitting around, ready to eat. “Baby, why do we all have more than you?” Bucky furrowed his brows. 

“It’s the end of the pay period, so groceries are a bit tight. You get the most because you work hard, the kids get a bit more because they’re growing and they need it.” You felt there was nothing wrong with that. “I have enough, and I’ll munch on what they don’t eat.” You assured him. 

“No, you should take some more of mine. You’re growing a human.” He got up to put some of his food on your plate. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You will park your handsome butt in that chair and eat. I’m eating enough, I promise. You do manual labor, and you need that food.” Your tone was loving, but let it be known that you would not back down. “It’s just a couple nights of this, and then we go grocery shopping. I’m fine, the baby is fine .” You assured him, taking a bite of his chicken. 

The kids were happily eating, not paying much attention to the pair of you. Bucky slowly sat back down. “But you’re getting the bigger brownie.” He pointed his fork at you. 

Smiling, you nodded. “Sure, babe.” You agreed, knowing that you’d give him part of it because you weren’t a huge fan of brownies. 

After dinner, Bucky told you to relax while he got the girls a bath. Most nights they did bathe separately, but tonight they got the joy of a bubble bath together. Andy put on a movie to watch while you started on the dishes from dinner. 

“Babe.” He sighed, hands on his hips as he saw you wiping down the kitchen. “That doesn’t look like relaxing.” He raised an eyebrow at you. 

You smiled at him, shrugging. “I was going to read while Andy watched a movie, but I wanted to knock this out. This way I have more time to relax with you.” You admitted. 

That softened him. “I’m off tomorrow. You will relax. I will do all the cooking and housework.” He went over to pull you to his chest. Your arms went around his neck. “And I’ll see if Ma will take the kids this Friday so we can have a date night. It’s been a few months.” 

“I don’t think we’ll top the last one, as I’m pretty sure that’s where I got pregnant with our little one.” You giggled. “Not that I am complaining one bit. I love being pregnant, and I love watching you with our kids.” You fell in love with him more every day. 

He kissed you softly, looking forward to the rest of his life with you.

[argocitycosplay]

Children of the Corn 666

Children of the corn 666 is actually one I’d been anticipating, mostly because it features the return of the actor who played Isaac in the first film. The return of an old villain always generates buzz and excitement. The problem is, it’s also usually a desperate move to salvage a failing franchise. Seriously, think back over different franchises and tell me when this has ever worked? It’s not…

[kitnjon]

do you have any jonsa highschool/teen fic recommendations??

Yes! That's one of my fav Jonsa modern AUs genre. There are of course many more fics in Jonsa tags. But sharing some of my favs here -

Ephemeral by @justadram

After the game, in Jon's car, he makes the most of the time he has left with Sansa.

2. Freaks and Geeks by @justadram

Jon invited Sansa to the bleachers after school and there’s only one reason couples come to hang out here.

3. just a silly phase by taylocrow

It started because it was fun. Quiet sophomore Sansa tutors football star senior Jon and it leads to more than studying. Much more.

4. Inevitable by @greenhikingboots

Right as Jon's on the brink of falling for Sansa, she complicates matters by asking for his help with a scheme. Take her to prom? Act like he wants to be more than friends? Watch as her scummy ex-boyfriend's ego implodes? Sounds great. He just hopes he can keep his real feelings, the ones he's still trying to make sense of, hidden throughout the process.

5. Pumpkin eater by @kingsansa

“This is like that one movie.” Sansa’s arms are wrapped around herself. “The Stephen King one. With the cornfields and the clowns.”

“Those are two different movies.” says Jon.

For the first time since they entered the maze, she looks at him. “What?”

“The one with the cornfields is the Children of the Corn.” His breath is a visible puff of steam. “The one with the clowns is IT. But it’s just one clown.”

Sansa scowls.

“I forgot I was talking to the horror connoisseur.”

“I feel like that’s something everyone knows, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Guess I’m not like everyone, then.”

“No.” He turns to look at her, and something about the way he does it makes her stomach flip. “You’re not.”

6. The Leader of the Pack by @kittykatknits

The year is 1958.

It's the first day of school and Sansa Stark has just met Jon Snow, a greaser from the wrong side of the tracks. Sansa knows he's the exact sort of boy she's always been warned about, but it doesn't matter, because she's already falling for the leader of the pack.

7. lounge act by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sure, he deals to rich kids all the time. Bored suburbanites with too much time on their hands and too much money, looking for a little bit of excitement. They're Jon's bread and butter.

But there is something off-putting about it being her.

Sansa Stark.

8. Spirit! by @cellsshapedlikestars

When the first spirit box shows up, Jon is convinced it was put in the wrong locker.

Yes, he's on the football team. Yes, it's the first game of the season. But Jon has never received a spirit box before – none of the cheerleaders had ever dared to make him one, he knows they were all terrified of Ygritte. But he and Ygritte are broken up now and it's the start of the season and there's a spirit box in his locker.

It isn't the wrong locker, though – no, there's his name in glittery puffy paint on the top, along with stars and hearts and a little doodle of their team mascot, a direwolf. There's his jersey number. And in the center of it all, a lipstick print. A kiss.

9. and it stoned me by @kit-kat21

“Thank you,” Sansa Stark gave him the smallest smile. “And I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend, gave his own small smile. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’ve been wanting to leave for a while so you’ve given me the perfect excuse.”

[radioisntdead]

Accidentally stumbled onto the dark side of Tumblr again, DEAR GRACE SOME FOLKS NEED INTENSE THERAPY, or need to stop doing drugs, maybe both, my eyes, my poor, poor eyes, I need a holy water and bleach combo

Also I should watch gravity falls again