#storm 🌻

[visions--of--collisions]

for @spidereticas who requested 400 words of something I have fragments of: here is .. more than 400 words of an inspired-by/follow-up to I Get So Hungry (When You Say You Love Me) by AbiCats16, in which an experimental trial at Spider Society goes poorly for Hobie (and for Miles, in turn)

EXCERPT: untitled vampire!hobie sequel fic • hobie/miles, drama, romance, angst, friendship, established relationship; rated: m

“Ope,” said LYLA, somewhere close to Hobie’s ear. “Incoming!”

Peter crossed the cell to get the door, and Miguel dismissed the last of the medical team with a sigh. Miles’ anxious voice carried over the noise of their departure; Hobie rolled his shoulders and climbed to his feet.

“You’re cleared to go,” Miguel informed him, pointedly not looking up from his readings as Miles led the charge across the room with Margo and Peter in tow. “Your system’s clean, but I’m going to ask that you take the next twenty-four hours to rest. Margo here’s agreed to cover your patrols for the evening; Pavitr will take over when she’s done.”

“Just call me Renfield, I guess,” Margo drawled. She watched with raised eyebrows as Miles reached up to grab Hobie’s face, turning it this way and that like he was looking for physical proof that the serum’s effects had faded.

Like he wasn’t the one with the scars to prove its viability.

“Let’s not,” Miguel grunted. Hobie snorted. Margo hadn’t been privy to the trials until she’d shown up for her morning shift and Peter’d convinced him to rope her in, according to the texts Miles had sent from Medbay. Miguel hadn’t been happy about it then, and he wasn’t now, it seemed like, regardless of how much sense the choice made. He dismissed the projected screens with a curt motion. “There were no previous reports of any side effects, but if anything feels off, ping LYLA and come back to HQ. That applies to you both,” he added, with a meaningful look Miles’ way.

Miles made an affirmative noise, though his focus remained on Hobie. “You look wiped, man,” he observed. He thumbed across the hollow under Hobie’s left eye.

“M’alright,” he mumbled. He caught Miles’ wrist and managed a smile. “Better for seeing you in one piece.” There was an adhesive bandage matching Miles’ skintone just visible under the cowl neck of the sweatshirt Medbay must have supplied him with. The tall boots and the slate-coloured trousers had to be theirs too then, because getting him into anything that tight that wasn’t his Suit was usually a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of occurrence.

Miles chuffed. “‘In one piece?’ Are you kidding, I slept through the whole thing. I dunno what they gave me, but that stuff was potent.”

“This man was fully snoring and drooling when I walked in there,” Margo agreed. “Sheets fucked up, pillows on the damn floor. Giving the whole ward a free show! Pete really had my ass worried for nothing.” She folded her arms, tucking a neatly-folded bundle that looked awfully like Miles’ Suit into the crook of her elbow. “I thought I was gonna be hauling both your corpses through a portal, the way this dude was talking.”

“In my defence, you kinda blipped out of there before I could elaborate,” Peter pointed out. Hobie noticed he was still just in his Suit, for once; his memory of the night was all over the place, practically blank in some spots and almost excruciatingly vivid in others. MJ’s dressing gown had vanished in one of the latter - really, in the clearest stretch - after Jess and Miguel had burst in to rescue Miles before things went any further south.

Didn’t really take an educated guess to work out what had happened to it.

“Well, you know, you tell a girl one of her friend’s in a cell dosed up on Nosferatu juice and the other’s bleeding out in Medbay, it really lights a fire under her!”

Miles’ pulse was strong and steady under his thumb. Hobie didn’t remember feeling for it. He loosened his grip and let Miles slip free.

Miles grabbed his forearm before he could step back. “You good to get outta here?” he asked.

The hopeful tilt to his smile made Hobie’s answer easier than it probably should’ve been. “Yeah, mate.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” he couldn’t help but ask. There was none of the feverish sheen or the washed-out look of his skin that had shocked Hobie into letting Miles go after their last ill-fated conversation, even though he was looking for it. His hair might have suffered a bit of shrinkage while he spent the night in a hospital bed, but it was negligible. 

The shirt was thick and its sleeves fell past Miles’ knuckles. He couldn’t make out any telltale bump where the gauze might be taped over an IV site. Hobie decided he’d ask when they had a second alone.

Assuming Miles was feeling up to that any time soon. Who could blame him if he wasn’t? “I have been ready, Hobes,” Miles informed him. He was smiling, his eyes creased at the corners in the way that meant Miles was laughing at him.

The knot in his stomach unravelled a bit. “Alright, shit. Don’t hang about on my account.”

Miles reached up just in time to intercept the folded bundle of his suit before it hit him in the head. “I am also ready to leave, if we’re all done here with this Twilight bullshit,” Margo chirped.

“Great. Thanks. How do you even know what that is?” Miles groused. He tucked himself against Hobie’s side, looping an arm around his lower back like he was ready to do the walking for him if need be. Hobie waited until Miles met his eye to drape his arm around his shoulders with exaggerated enthusiasm, pecking his temple when he glanced away sheepishly.

“Are you kidding, Pavitr lives for those movies! He’s got Collector’s Editions. Gayatri hates them and it’s like he doesn’t even care.” She oof-ed a bit as Hobie hooked his free arm around her avatar’s shoulders, but tucked her hand in between his and Miles’ sides readily enough.

“Huh. You know, that scans, actually,” Peter opined.

“Hmm. Espere un momento,” Miguel interjected, behind them. “You can go from here. LYLA, open access for Peter, por favor.”

“Y’got it!”

Peter rubbed his hands together. “Okay, where to, guys? Straight to ‘138 or should I drop you someplace else?”

Miles shook his head when Hobie glanced at him; Margo rolled her eyes and called up her mask. “Nah, mine’s good. I can give you the coordinates.”

Peter tapped at his Watch’s interface. “Go for it.”

Hobie rattled off the location of the first towpath bridge that came to mind; he hadn’t moored anywhere near there, but they could swing the rest of the way, and he had a better shot at finding Roxie the further afield they were. A minute later, the portal opened up a hole in the adjacent wall of the cell. Miles stuffed his Suit into his waistband, underneath the shirt.

“Okay, you guys, have a good one. Call us if you need anything! Me and Jess and Miguel are all burning the midnight oil this week, so don’t worry about catching us at a weird hour. Reach out whenever. Try and get some rest in the meantime, and make sure you eat, Hobie!”

The three of them waited in front of the portal, staring. “ … Anything else?” Margo prompted him.

“Remember what we talked about,” Miguel said, before he could answer. He was squinting at something LYLA was showing him, half-turned away. Just in case anyone was audacious enough to hope for context clues or a clarification, Hobie supposed.

He didn’t need any, but it was the principal of the thing.

“ … Cool. Alright.” Even with her headgear donned, Margo managed to give Hobie a disbelieving look. “Catch you later.”

She nudged Hobie forward; on his other side, Miles’ hand closed around the arm that hugged him close, and they walked through the dimensional door.

*

The portal dropped them into the half-light under a bridge in Islington. Experience had quickly taught Hobie to note the coordinates that pointed away from nearby bodies of water (it hadn’t been a learning curve so much as one or two deeply unpleasant and inconvenient swandives directly into the Thames) so instead they fetched up against a wall covered in faded graffiti and posters and some piss, which was still better than the alternative.

Between the three of them, it was Miles and Hobie who managed to cling to enough of their wits to stick out a leg before they all face-planted into the bricks. Margo let out a surprised breath where Hobie had twisted her back by the shoulders, on reflex.

The ruddy cast on the walls dimmed and died as the portal closed up behind them. In the gloom it left behind, they collected themselves and took stock. Hobie lifted his right arm high enough to check his watch without letting go of Miles. It had been after ten in the morning when the last tests declared him free of any traces or symptoms; his HQ watch had already dutifully ticked over to local time. 17:02, the glowing orange face read.

“Huh. Well this feels pretty on-brand.” Margo’s gear shone lilac when Hobie turned; her silhouette was stark against the fog spilling into the far end of the tunnel.

“What do you mean?” Miles asked. He reached up and squeezed Hobie’s hand, waiting for him to take his arm back before he turned to consider the other end of the tunnel, which looked much the same.

“I dunno, the London fog, this Dracula nonsense. You know?” Margo put her hands on her hips, frowning as she glanced about. Her lenses multiplied. “Where’s the good ship Demeter at?”

“Not here.” Hobie stretched a bit and checked his web-shooters. “We’ll swing over. Haven’t seen Roxie in a bit; I wanna find out where she’s got to.”

“‘Find her?’ In that?” Margo said, doubtfully. Her peripheral lenses changed colour as she tabbed through different visual modes, casting soft rainbow reflections off the surface of the water. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Miles watching the rippling colours as he clipped on his web shooters and dug out his mask. Hobie adjusted his guitar strap. “S’fine, I know her usual spots. Let’s cut.”

Miles’ and Margo’s footsteps were bare whispers following the echo of his boots as Hobie lead them out onto the towpath. In the open, the mist hung thicker in his lungs than it did in the air; Hobie tugged his mask on and told them to stay close, just in case. 

The approaching rumble of a lorry made him straighten up, and the other two turned to follow his gaze. Briefly, as its headlights cut through the haze, Hobie’s eyes caught on the sliver of skin between the slouchy neck of Miles’ jumper and his mask, where the bandage underneath strained against the torsion of his neck. Then Miles turned to him, the lenses of his mask refractive and questioning. Hobie nodded and threw out a web after the truck, letting its momentum haul him off the ground.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[the-phantom-author]

The twins taking turns trying to sneak up on Hasan and startling him while he is streaming because they saw their mom do it once (maybe even on accident) and thought it was hilarious. Baby girl is of course immediately there to ‘comfort’ her dad, he does the same for her when she is scared after all.

- 🌻

p.s. you’re right the brain rot is so real. might make a whole new tumblr to write all these Hasan-centric thoughts down.

The twins love how jumpy Hasan is, they always have. Even when they were babies, everytime they popped around a corner Hasan wasn't expecting them to in their little baby walkers, Hasan would jump back and scream, and both of the twins would start laughing.

So when they are like five, actual people who possess the ability to think, they start making plans on how to scare him. From the simple sneaking up on him while he's streaming, to putting themselves in places they shouldn't be and waiting for him to find them.

Baby girl Piker, is just as jumpy as Hasan is, if not more given that she is just a child. Anytime she hears Hasan yelling/screaming in the way he does when he gets scared, she immediately runs to him and hugs her. She has her hands around his neck, trying to rub his back, kiss his forehead, and saying "Okay. Okay now". In the same way he does when he's comforting her.

Do it make the blog, we love having Hasan blogs. Only if you're comfy with it tho.

[silent-sentinels]

🌻 tagging out, tagging in 🌐

[casablankstare]

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒔 • 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆. 𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆. - 𝐉𝐦𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

[kandidandi]

ngl i feel ur sun and moon would love studio ghibli movies. All the colors and music, it's just neat. (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

- 🌻

THEY REALLY WOULD!!!!

i reckon their favourites would be kiki’s delivery service and arrietty

[mastoi123]

✨ **Rise and Shine Beautiful Souls!** ✨

[endearmint]

There's a chance of thunderstorms this evening. The weather just doesn't seamlessly transition between seasons like it used to...

[drafty-castle]

I’ve said before but I moved from southern USA where urban sprawl has eaten everything to northern Maine where everything is vibrant Green or sparkling White depending on the season. No billboards. Minimal urban sprawl. A “large city” is the equivalent to a medium-small town in Georgia/Tennessee.

Beautiful.

Is it for everyone? No. There’s little to no entertainment that you can’t make yourself, everything closes at eight or ten (including Walmart and McDonald’s), and unless you live downtown in a city or town with local access to necessities the need for a car is dire because the nearest anything might be fifty to a hundred miles away.

But the people are kind. Not nice in the Southern sense. There’s little chitchat between strangers or automatic smiles and politeness. But there is a deep seated culture of kindness and community support. Not necessarily in the financial sense (though there are a significant amount of aid programs that just don’t exist in the south available here), but in the “stranger-helping-a-stranger” sense. I think it’s due to generations of people knowing it could be their car (and before that, horse and buggy) on the side of the road during a snow storm needing help and so people automatically go out of their way to help others in kind. No questions, no expectations, sometimes not even an introduction! Just, “Hey! You stuck? Want me to hitch up your car with my winch? [gets car out of snow ditch] All right, see around. [drives off]” (True story)

It’s a complete culture shock compared to living in the parts of the South I come from, where people are polite to your face but more likely to turn their eyes away from anyone needing help or blame misfortune on God’s judgement or just watch in glee and gossip but not help. I’ll take standoffish but genuinely kind over polite but selfish any day.

Places can be beautiful and I enjoy looking at that beauty. But people can make someplace so much more than just pretty to look at. Having both in one location is sick a blessing.

[metamorphesque]

my translations of Armenian Poetry 🌻

Vahan Teryan

"I love your guilty dusky eyes...", Vahan Teryan

"Two Phantoms", Vahan Teryan

"I shall come to you ...", Vahan Teryan

"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan

"Sweeter Than Living", Vahan Teryan

"In the empty words", Vahan Teryan

"From the fields of Shirak", Vahan Teryan

"My greetings, torment ...", Vahan Teryan

"My Peaceful Evening", Vahan Teryan

"Place Your Stamp ...", Vahan Teryan

"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan

Paruyr Sevak

"Unexpected Storm", Paruyr Sevak

"One of Us", Paruyr Sevak

"Close your eyes", Paruyr Sevak

"I love to love...", Paruyr Sevak

"To Go Mad", Paruyr Sevak

"Your Name", Paruyr Sevak

"You don't love anew ...", Paruyr Sevak

"People are not alike...", Paruyr Sevak

"To Live...", Paruyr Sevak

"Love", Paruyr Sevak

Hovhannes Tumanyan

"In slumber's grasp...", Hovhannes Tumanyan

Eghishe Charenc

"Sister, it might be ...", Eghishe Charenc

"All of these flames ...", Eghishe Charenc

Hovhannes Grigoryan

"Songs of Farewell", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"Armenia", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"I'm no longer looking for you", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"An evening with aged maidens", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"Perhaps, it's spring ...", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"Don't you ever die", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"A letter that will never reach you", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"To sit like this...", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"On a New Line", Hovhannes Grigoryan

"Last Word", Hovhannes Grigoryan

Henrik Edoyan

"I did not do what was written ...", Henrik Edoyan

"I remember many of them...", Henrik Edoyan

"A biography that might as well have been mine", Henrik Edoyan

Slavik Chiloyan

"IT'S A MOVIE, IT'LL PASS", Slavik Chiloyan

"RONDO", Slavik Chiloyan

"There is one creator and one creation. Everything else is a testament to that", Slavik Chiloyan

Husik Ara

"Love", Husik Ara

"You are not here", Husik Ara

"You are the light of the world", Husik Ara

"I love you", Husik Ara

"and Love said...", Husik Ara

Razmik Davoyan

"I shut my eyes ...", Razmik Davoyan

"My Eyes", Razmik Davoyan

Vardan Hakobyan

"Love One Another", Vardan Hakobyan

Mher Arshakyan

"Impossible", Mher Arshakyan

(updated on 22/7/2024)

[imyourbratzdoll]

oh… I’m begging you… just begging to please send this in as a request… I’m horny and now I wanna make it come to life😭🥺//

I knew you would like it 🤭

Can i request this fic?

"Okay so the reader wakes up cause there's a storm outside and she's scared of thunders, she goes downstairs and Steve and Bucky are watching a match while drinking their beers.

They start cuddling her a bit to let her fall asleep again but she's too scared so they think of a way to relax her

They bring her in her bedroom again and after pit her in the middle, they start sucking and licking her nipples while they play with her puffy clit and her wet hole

She's so relaxed after that she doesn't realize that they are using her to let some dtress out themself while she sleeps"

Of course they'll praise her a lot, cause she's their little obedient dumb baby🥹

-🌻

hey baby, I hope you like this.

connected to this fic - lavender dream

summary - you are scared of thunder and quickly find comfort in your stepfather and step-uncle's arms.

warning - smut, stepcest, fingering, nipple play, somnophilia, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

You whimper when the sound of thunder can be heard from outside your window, cuddling your knees close to you as you cry. You were supposed to be sleeping, but the sound had woken you, and you could no longer get back to sleep, too scared. You quickly stumble out of your bed and outside your room, going downstairs and toward the loungeroom, where you can hear your stepfather and Bucky watching the game. You squeal when another rough sound of thunder rumbles through the house, quickening your pace. You hug your stuffed bunny close to your chest as you stand in the room's entryway, staring at the relaxed men with tears in your eyes. 

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Steve quickly diverts his attention to you, patting his thigh. “C’here, baby.” You stumble over to him, quickly jumping onto his lap and burying your face into his chest, squealing as you hear the thunder again, and that’s when Steve understands, and he rubs his hand up and down your back. “Oh, baby. Are you scared of the thunder?” You nod, clinging to him. “There’s nothing to be scared about, baby.” He looks over at his best friend. “Isn’t that right, Buck?” 

Bucky scoots closer, resting his hand on your lower back. “It’s true, doll.” He strokes your hair out of your face. “We’re here, doll. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep?” 

They pull you close, rubbing your body and whispering soothing words. You whine, wiggling against them. “Don’ wanna! Too scary.” 

Steve sighs slightly. “Okay, baby. Buck, can you…” He nods toward the tv, and Bucky nods back, pausing it as Steve stands with your legs wrapped around him and begins to walk out of the room and up the stairs. Bucky follows closely behind. “We’re going to relax you, baby. Make sure you won't be scared of the thunder anymore.” Steve and Bucky enter your room, and he places you down in the middle of your bed. Both men crawl on either side of you. “Close your eyes, baby. Bucky and I are here.” 

You whimper, “Okay, daddy…” You close your eyes and relax into your pillow, feeling goosebumps erupting on your body as they slide your nightie up, placing kisses along your flesh before making their way to your hardened nipples. You softly whine as they flick their tongues against them before gently wrapping their lips around them and sucking. You feel their hands moving between your legs and sigh and moan as they connect to your dripping hole. Bucky plays with your puffy clit while Steve pushes a finger into your sopping hole, curling them, growing hard as a soft whimper escapes your lips. 

You feel a fuzzy feeling take over you, listening to them as you are pulled deep into slumberland. 

“Such a good girl, baby.” 

“Doing so good for us, doll.” 

“Fuck you feel good, always a good little obedient dumb baby for us.”

They use you, playing with your puffy cunt, licking and sucking every part of you. Their hands are all over your body, focusing on you and ignoring their throbbing members. You are pulled into a deep sleep, finally relaxing against the bed as your juices flow out of you and cover your stepfather and step-uncle. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bittertoxicity]

🌈🌤️Just a couple of plushies chatting up a storm about apples or somethin 🌻🍎

[yellowwithalisp]

Hobie being a simp for his badass/motherly girlfriend who he calls his wife

( CAN DO!! - yellow 💛🌻)

( no proof read.)

• oh boy- this man 100% sports ANYTHING YOU DO. Hey if you need a gum partner. Call him.

• If someone was flirting with you, he probably would do anything about it. But if someone was pushing it. He would just sit back and watch you twist the guys arm before storming off past him.

❝love this women so much.❞ 😍

• He knows you can handle things on your own. But if you ever so need his help, he'll swing in to make sure your ok.

• Had videos saved of you being a badass. And then goes to the next to see you volunteering at a animal shelter surrounded by puppy's.

• Uh, Miles is your kid now. You may not be a spider but Hobie brings you to hq time to time. You meet his drummer gwen and the Miles. And then you "adopted" him. Hobie watches with a smirk as you give Miles a bag of his favorite candy before he swings off and turns to him.

"... What?"

❝Heh, and you say you don' won' kids.❞

"I don't! what is with you!"

❝You sayin' tha' when we both already have a kid basically.❞ Points to Miles swing off.

"Hobie!!" 💢

• He keeps you away from spider business back in your world... BUT AT HQ, EVERYONE KNOWS YOUR HIS WIFE. He'll steal Miguel's tech right in front of him and simply goes.

❝I'm makin' somethin' for my wife.❞

• You have your own watch in case of emergency. Matching watches with Hobie ayo-

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌻Thinking About You ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

My Dearest Dream Person,

I think, the signs are all around me. When I weave dreams of my ideals, surely I must be thinking of you. I’ll recognise you when our eyes meet for the first time. I’m sure I can do that. After all, I have dreamt of you for the longest time.

I know I will love the way I feel, the way I am, when I’m in your presence. I’m certain that I will know then that this is true love…

with all of my heart,

Your Destined One♥︎

PLAYLIST: so this is love playlist by Sea Pearl

MOVIE: Sleeping Beauty (1955)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

For my Pink Clouds, there is a little incident with Pile 3, which is like, super random? But I was told it was important LMAO So I’ve included a mini behind-the-story for it as a sweet extra message🥰If you’re already subscribed, don't miss the full post on Patreon~🌷

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – I will hold and heal you, and always be there to protect you♥︎

VIBE: So This Is Love from Cinderella

my daydreams leading to you – Knight of Pentacles Rx

At the time you’re finding this PAC, your Destined Person is in a state of wanting to hurry and meet you XD They have this strong desire to be with you and hold you close. I think their Higher Self is making it clear to them that you exist somewhere in this Universe and that makes them daydream a looootttt about being in a relationship. Problem is, they don’t really know what you look like or how to find you… so… they could be trying to find a glimpse of you in so many different types of people! LMAO

For the most part, I don’t think this means your Destined Person is all and about dating all kinds of people just to find you—that would be kinda trash, right? But to a large extent, they daydream to no end. They could be seeing people, yes, finding them attractive or interesting, and being curious about them, only to realise there’s quite nothing there… These people don’t feel… right… or complete. Like there’s always something… wrong… or missing.

This could drive them crazy at some point. Wondering why their wants and ideals are so damn complicated! So unrealistic! But the truth is, they could never be satisfied with any of those different types of people because each of them hold only ever a piece of the puzzle that would make a whole picture of YOU~🧩It is your Destined Person’s task to figure this out themselves and finally get a clearer picture of what kind of Love they do truly deserve in this world (it is YOU~!)💕

let’s go on a date! – 5 of Swords

If you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, I feel like you’ve had a few storms in the past involving human connections in general. In simple terms, a lot of people have been so MEAN to you! It could be your own “family”, fake friends, toxic partners, whatever, really. A lot of people have caused a great deal of psychological pain onto you. And I have a strong feeling your Destined Person knows about this. I’m sure they know about this from the aethers, one way or another. After all, it’s not like their Higher Self isn’t in communication with your Higher Self? Huehue

That said, even before you meet in the physical, your Destined Person already has this vibe about them… of wanting to protect you from harm. I feel like they have this unsettling feeling deep inside of them, a feeling they can’t quite put a finger on, that they want to protect somebody. They want to be a hero to you. When you’re finally together, I still see this image of them wanting to punch anybody who would pose a danger to you XD

I’m seeing this comical image of them punching the air to demonstrate how they’re going to keep you from any, ANY, kind of harm. They’re funny like that. Humour is their love language hahah They’re not afraid of making a fool of themselves if that makes you laugh. Your Destined Person is going to be so devoted to protecting and comforting you♥︎

i want you around – Queen of Pentacles

Aaand…there’s a high chance that your Destined Person is a rich boi/gal. Not only do they have this nurturing quality to them, but they also have the means to provide for you. Even if they’re not that rich (yet) when you meet, the key thing is that they have this desire to work hard to provide for you. Make your dreams come true more easily. Make your life together easy. They don’t want you ever again to experience pain or hardship.

Truly, this is a daddy/mommy vibe~ It doesn’t matter if your Destined Person is younger or smaller than you, they will take it upon themselves to be the daddy/mommy in the relationship😂If you’re the one who’s older or bigger than them, you will find this stupidly endearing HAHAHAH

Your Destined Person is sensual, reliable, emotionally dependable, very honest and hardworking, on top of being funny. They have all of these lovely qualities that they can’t wait to pour unto you. They’re currently in this weird space where they really, really want to be someone’s boyfriend/girlfriend… GOSH, I HOPE YOU MEET SOON, DAMMIT!✨🍀🩰

DAYDREAMS🔻💚

words to describe you – Priestess of Patience

what’s in my heart for you – Priestess of Enchantment

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Pile 2 – You’ve shone a light of hope on my dark and dreary world

VIBE: Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty

my daydreams leading to you – 9 of Swords Rx

Right off the bat, your Destined Person has gone through some hellish experiences in this world. They’ve not had an easy life, and that’s caused them to view reality as immensely bleak. Before the idea of you came into their conscious mind, they’d probably had it so rough they couldn’t let themselves dream big or dream beauteous things. You know how people settle for less because they’re afraid of getting disappointed, again and again, by reality… by people?

On a different note, this could also mean that your Destined Person has endured much trauma in this life. People who have endured trauma could tend to have nightmares, even night terrors, right? We’re talking bad memories, PTSD, even CPTSD, so… this isn’t exactly an easy energy to navigate. Due to their traumas, they could also have developed harmful habits or strange coping mechanisms needed for survival. Within their psyche, there simply was so much chaos and pain.

One day, God came to your Destined Person and awakened a dream of YOU in them~ This miraculously gave them so much comfort and brought a sense of gladness for the first time in their dark and dreary world. When your Destined Person learnt of the aetheric connection you share, that you exist somewhere in this world and that you are waiting to meet and fall in love with them, they felt genuine softness for the first time in a long, long while…

That there is still something down the lane, there’s someone dearly beloved, that’s still worth living for~♥︎

let’s go on a date! – IV The Emperor Rx

From that moment onwards, your Destined Person went on to transform themselves. To make them stronger and more dazzling so they could become a perfect match for you. If this Pile is your main pile, I’m sure you’re a super dope person! I mean dope as in super awesome. I just know it that you’re a wonderful individual who has a big heart, and that a lot of people find you capable and inspirational. One way or another, this of you was conveyed to your Destined Person by the Universe~!

You are strong and kind and your Destined Person already knows this of you. In many ways, I feel almost like your Destined Person feels like they might not have that much to offer you… You’re so, so much, much more than they ever have been. Perhaps you’re richer, more successful, more famous, and all that, so…

Your Destined Person is currently just working on themselves. Making something out of themselves. They don’t really know yet what they could ever give you aside from their genuine heart. But they’re not going to be satisfied with just that. They’re not a loser, you know. They’re only beginning to let themselves be what they’re supposed to be—there’s still a lot they’re discovering about their strengths and natural talents! When they’ve figured this out of themselves, they’ll know just exactly what precious something they could offer you as a token of their Love~

i want you around – 8 of Cups Rx

Of all the Piles, I feel like your Destined Person is quite literally currently in a phase of self-discovery. They’re deep in the trenches of their own trauma healing and self-transformation that they can’t afford to focus too much on your energy. So this could mean you don’t always get clear aetheric messages from them. Plus, it feels like your Destined Person can’t or don’t even want to convey too many messages about what they think or feel about you because they know words would simply fail them.

The reason why? They’re afraid their words would become empty promises. They don’t even know themselves yet at this point. They’re not their best version of themselves yet. What tangible ideas or things could they possibly offer you? So, that’s kinda the vibe they’re operating with at this point in their Life. And if you should know anything, it is that your Destined Person has not had the luxury of being helped, supported, or coddled much by those they relied on. So there’s this vibe of them being afraid that they themselves can’t be relied upon. And that’s so sad because I think your Destined Person has such a genuine heart…

But worry not! At the end of the day, your Destined Person is literally just being taught by the Universe how to love themselves, prioritise their own needs and wants, and express themselves more honestly. They’ll get there😊They’ve just had a very lonesome and miserable life for the most part. One thing they do want you to know though, is that they’re thankful you exist at all in this Universe. You’ve given them so much hope and calmed down the storms in their world♥︎

DAYDREAMS🔻💛

words to describe you – Priestess of Prosperity

what’s in my heart for you – Priestess of Inspiration

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Pile 3 – I offer you now… Heaven on Earth! My Love!

VIBE: When You Wish Upon a Star from Pinocchio

my daydreams leading to you – 3 of Pentacles Rx

Even just looking at the pic you’ve chosen, it feels like you and your Destined Person really do wish to offer something precious to one another~ It’s almost like a prayer, I feel. That you hold such precious thoughts of one another and wish for the most wonderful things to happen to each other. But even more than just hoping, wishing and praying, the two of you are intent on making the world a better place so the other could rest more easily.

This isn’t just your Destined Person’s thoughts; I feel that even you have always held it in your heart that you wish to become a better person for the one most worthy of your Love. That person destined for you also carries it in their heart to work on themselves and transmute a ton of generational trauma as well as curses. If this is your main pile, I hope you know that you’re a powerful Soul who’s been tasked with the transmutation of Mankind’s negative inclinations.

You and your Destined Person are Divines Feminine and Masculine. You each embody the essence of the Divine in your own unique expression of Feminine and Masculine. Since you were a child, you were already a sage; you knew it within the heart of your hearts that changing the world begins with changing yourself. That’s why you will notice later on that both you and your Destined Person will appear to be such distant creatures from the rest of your families each—because you will have transcended above the ordinariness of the lineage you were born into LOL

let’s go on a date! – X The Wheel of Fortune

All of the above said, of all the Piles, yours is the most certain to meet very soon. I feel like, in the aethers, you are already one and united, and so, you’re just waiting for the temperatures of Planet Earth to get right so she could welcome your Divine Union. You and your Destined Person are such high-vibrational creatures that when you come into contact forests would shake and mountains would shudder XD I’m thinking of the chaos caused by Ponyo when she was trying to get to Sosuke LMAO PERFECT illustration!

You don’t want to end the world. So, this world has had to ready itself in order to witness your Divine Union with your Divine Counterpart. I’m sure when you’re together you’re going to become famous; whatever the scale of your community may be. You’re going to be seen by those around you as the charity-couple or inventor-couple or some shit. You and your Destined Person are going to be working together. And there will be something magical about what you do together—even if that thing is just a small business of a cosy café! For example.

Or it could be something what would be similar to the stories of the invention of bandaids and the surgical gloves. It’s just something lovely like that. There is healing in whatever you do which is needed by Mankind right at this passage of time. I just know it that your matrimony is going to be so full of meaning, of love and joy, or service to Mankind, and most importantly, so full of magical moments that make everything you’ve been through so worthwhile.

i want you around – King of Cups

The King of Cups—the King of love songs and poetry. He is kind, sensitive, patient and caring, compassionate and understanding. And immediately, a quote comes to mind with this aenergy:

‘The right person will make you fall in love with yourself, too.’

Your Destined Person resembles you so much. They possess so many qualities that you like that remind you that you have them, too. Looking at your Destined Person, you are reminded of how good and kind and capable you yourself are. The deeper your feelings get for them, the more in love you feel towards yourself, too. Life, finally makes sense.

You’ll find, ever so unexpectedly, that you don’t need so many distractions anymore. You need only this one person and everything else is a blur. You couldn’t care less anymore about people or things that feel so little in meaning. Not interested anymore. Ain’t got time for any of that now. You want only the one and true thing: a union—a Life—with your Destined Person.

Ever so naturally you will understand that the way to manifest this Love is through your own personal transformation. And so in that sense, your life’s focus becomes only one: YOURSELF. And you realise this—you become motivated to purify your world—through receiving the awakening call of your Destined Person’s identity.

DAYDREAMS🔻💗

words to describe you – Priestess of Magick

what’s in my heart for you – Priestess of Divination

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[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it. 

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more. 

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.” 

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.” 

“You need some time to think about it?” 

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?” 

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad. 

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals. 

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.” 

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that. 

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”   

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard. 

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink. 

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.” 

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.” 

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly. 

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better. 

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?” 

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.  

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?” 

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?” 

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later. 

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary. 

“Easier said than done, believe me.” 

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.” 

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”  

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying. 

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside. 

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.” 

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale. 

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?” 

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly. 

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high. 

“But none of them are you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit. 

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.” 

“Including you?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?” 

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?” 

“My gut.” 

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.” 

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road. 

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him. 

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak. 

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s. 

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw. 

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!” 

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for. 

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home. 

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.  

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old. 

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.   

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok. 

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night. 

You did good today, sticking to your guns. 

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early. 

You’ve got somewhere to be.  

As it turns out, Tex  was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots. 

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands. 

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much. 

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath. 

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need. 

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?” 

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats. 

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back. 

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.” 

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing. 

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides. 

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?” 

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself. 

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things. 

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?” 

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.” 

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.” 

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.” 

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand. 

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.” 

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”  

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit. 

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses. 

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.” 

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?” 

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.  

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.” 

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?” 

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.” 

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.” 

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.” 

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.” 

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar. 

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest. 

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea. 

“Want to split a funnel cake?” 

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin. 

“Yeah.” 

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you. 

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late. 

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.” 

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off. 

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way. 

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first. 

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside. 

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?” 

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease. 

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?” 

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest. 

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.” 

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.” 

 He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.” 

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress. 

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore. 

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares. 

“Haunted house?” 

“No way.”

“Swings?” 

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?” 

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.” 

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.  

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds. 

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here. 

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all. 

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see. 

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”  

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.” 

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.” 

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.” 

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him. 

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.” 

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him. 

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes. 

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.” 

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away. 

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter. 

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side. 

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile. 

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half. 

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.  

“Sure it is, sweetheart.” 

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer. 

“Tex?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours. 

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you. 

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it. 

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone. 

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust. 

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.” 

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date. 

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?” 

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy. 

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”    

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!” 

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” 

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter. 

“I’m ok.” 

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head. 

“Tex…” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.” 

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead. 

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.” 

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?” 

“I guess…I can’t stop you.” 

“Would you want to though?” 

Therein lay the million dollar question. 

“Maybe not?” 

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.” 

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo. 

“Tex…” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month. 

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him. 

[cherryvampiro]

🌈🌦️☔ 'Cause after the storm's When the flowers bloom 🌻🌷🌼

Couldn't resist combing my favorite artist w/my favorite boys!! I have to admit, I tried to redraw/make art for Kali's After the Storm video when it was first released (but I chickened out). I'm happy I didn't give up this time!!!

Oh!! Here's the full background for the first drawing (took me like a week to draw 😤💦):

[spidervee]

in which jake is your roommate and ruins all your dates. accidentally. accidentally, right?🌻 18+ only!

Jake Seresin isn’t an ideal roommate. He sings in the shower at 5 a.m., he can’t load a dishwasher to save his life—seriously, who puts mugs on the bottom—and he has a habit of walking around shirtless that is beginning to interfere with your love life.

Of course, he’s got a lot of good qualities. He’s a surprisingly good cook, with a recipe for chicken and dumplings you’re pretty sure is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. He’s also got that Navy-mandated tidiness, so the apartment you share is always vacuumed and dusted. And he has a habit of walking around shirtless, which, as appealing as it is for your eyes, is…

Yepp. Starting to mess with your love life.

Because guys see Jake making a smoothie in the kitchen or getting back from a run or literally doing anything and decide they have to have some stupid pissing contest with your roommate, who remains, you think, entirely oblivious to how threatened he makes the men you bring home. Because why would he see them as a threat, right? He’s so far out of your league that your dates have nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin could pull any girl he ever wanted so why would he want you?

You’re almost grateful he’s deployed—despite your usual worry for his safety—when you bring a new guy home from the bar. No Jake means no weird energy and maybe a chance to actually let a relationship get off its feet.

Until he comes out of the bathroom and you’re smiling at your phone because Jake sent you a text, a photo of the two of you at the beach from last year. One of those iPhone memories that apparently made him think of you.

This came up on my phone yesterday. Miss you, sweetheart. Don’t burn the place down. Oh and I’m safe in case you couldn’t tell.

Your date isn’t thrilled to see the photo, even though he asks to. Tells you it looks like you’re a couple—as if—and that Jake seems really comfortable touching you—he’s just a touchy person.

The night ends with some mediocre sex and, despite his words to the otherwise, your date never calls you back.

You try not to blame Jake, but it’s hard not to see him as the root of all your woes in love. And if you’re not mad at him, you’ll have to analyze why he’s accidentally ruining every date you’re on and maybe you’ll have to admit that it’s because none of these guys actually measure up to Jake.

You’d have to have the startling realization that you are hopelessly in love with your roommate.

So when Jake comes back a few weeks later maybe you’re cold. Maybe you’re quiet. Maybe you’re keeping to yourself and maybe you tell him to fuck off when he keeps asking what he did wrong.

You move to storm out of the apartment and it’s all very dramatic, but Jake stops you with a hand grasped firmly around your wrist. It’s not rough, but determined, and he pulls you gently closer to him, his green eyes burning with confusion under furrowed brows.

“What was that?” His skin is sun-kissed and he can’t tell you where he was deployed but you know it was somewhere warm from the way the few freckles that dot his nose are more prominent than usual.

“Fuck. Off.”

Jake blinks, undeterred. And then he stares at you, gaze so focused you feel like you’re a target in one of his stupid training exercises. You want to shy away, but when his other hand comes up to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized we’re gathering in your eyes it all comes out. All your weird and messy feelings that will certainly ruin everything and make it so you need to find another place to live.

But when you’re done talking, Jake just frowns. He pulls you impossibly closer and rests his chin atop your head. “I’m sorry, sweets,” he mutters, “But I’m glad I scared those guys off.” He doesn’t add that he was totally doing it on purpose as often as he could—things are still too fragile for that. One day he’ll tell you. And on that day, he’ll receive a face full of chocolate cake as punishment.

But for today, he just lets you sniffle in his arms, holds you close as you put a wet spot down the front of his t-shirt. “They’re not good enough for you,” he continues, “I just helped them realize that sooner rather than later.”

“Jake,” you complain, “You can’t keep doing that. I need…I want to find someone.”

His frown deepens and he places his hands on your waist, tapping your hips lightly to warn you that he’s going to pick you up. Carrying you into your bedroom, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll stop, if you give this guy I know a shot.”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s Navy,” Jake continues, “And he’s got a killer body.”

“Definitely listening,” you laugh, but try to ignore the pang of hurt that is Jake setting you up with one of his friends.

Jake rolls his eyes and takes a spot beside you on your bed. “He’s a great pilot, some say the best. And he’s a gentleman, Texas-raised so he knows his way around a kitchen.”

Oh. Oh.

“Jake…”

He holds up a hand, not willing to be interrupted. “And he’s shit at loading the dishwasher, sweets, but I know he’d be willing to learn.”