#there is a dog called hay-bail

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Chasing The Calm

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> A moment of peace for you and Tyler in between the chases.

Disclaimer: Mostly a fluffy short, tornado wrangler family, dog adoption, relaxing on the porch vibes, etc.

You’d both had a long day. 

You’d been storm chasing with Tyler for almost five years. It had started out as a favour – you had a break off work for a few weeks in the summer and he needed a data reader. So, after some persuading, you agreed. 

And you’d been chasing ever since. 

The day’s chasing started at five in the morning. Lily had set an alert on her phone which meant any tornados worth chasing for footage would be sent directly to her phone. Even if that meant getting your asses into gear to drive into the middle of an unused field. 

Finally, around three p.m, Tyler had called a break for everyone. Boone was starting to lose energy and the others were ready for food and an early night. And since strolling back into your shared home, you and Tyler had been laying on the porch swing watching the sun slowly set across the acres of land. 

Not too long after Tyler had helped you up before slotting you in between his legs, the Wrangler rescue came and slotted herself in the small gap left by yours and Tyler’s legs as you lay on him. 

Every now and again you could hear Dexter making tea in the kitchen. The kettle whistled for a few seconds before he pulled it from the stove. 

Tyler’s heartbeat was steady in his chest as he lightly drew his fingers up and down your back, his eyes looking across the fields at the golden hue that had been cast across the wheat. 

Compared to the humidity and winds you’d all been experiencing since five a.m, the soft breeze that blew through the porch and across both of you was a kind welcome. 

From the other end of the porch swing, Hay-Bail shifted her position before sighing as she lay back down. 

You’d found Hay-Bail almost two years ago. 

A tornado had ripped through a small town, but not before hitting one of the local farms. Its wind had sent plenty of hay bails flying through the air, one landing by Tyler’s truck. You’d all spent close to two hours helping out where you could before leaving and getting cleaned up yourselves. 

Only, as you stood by Tyler, you heard a small whimper. At first, you thought your ears had tricked you. But once Dexter and Lily had pulled away in their cars, along with Dani, Javi, Kate and Boone, you heard it again. 

“Ty, wait.”

Tyler watched you as you slowly crouched towards the hay bail and for a moment he wondered what you were doing. Then he heard it himself. 

Hurrying forward, you’d looked all around it. From under Tyler’s truck to the stay piles on the ground. But nothing. Till you looked inside the bail of hay. 

With straw scratched away, a puppy no older than two months emerged. Covered in hay, the poor thing wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“Hey, hey, come here. Oh, Ty, she’s shaking like a leaf.”

Holding her carefully in your arms, Tyler checked her over. She wasn’t bleeding, but she was shaking. “She must have hid when the tornado came.”

“Tyler, her heart’s racing.”

Holding her carefully against your chest, you petted and soothed her head. 

“There should be an emergency vet a town over. Come on.”

And so you were off. Three and a half hours later, the puppy had been checked out at the vet. You’d helped calm her, but she was calmest against Tyler. Namely, whilst she was trying to climb into one of his shirt pockets. 

The vet had also informed both you and Tyler that the farmer she belonged to said to keep her. He’d been trying to sell his puppies for months and she was the last one. He didn’t even know she’d gotten out of her pen until the vet called. 

If you and Tyler didn’t take her home, she would have been abandoned. And neither of you could have that. Plus, she seemed rather taken with Tyler. 

From that day on, Hay-Bail became a certified member of the Tornado Wrangler family. You’d been meaning to give her an actual name but until you found one, she was just known as Hay-Bail and it stuck. But it suited her. To this day, if she was ever missing, she was in the shed playing in the hay. 

As your eyes took in the landscape around you, you smiled in contentment. 

You loved your job, you loved that you got to go out almost every day and chase. That almost every day, you lived in the moment and got to capture memories to last a lifetime. 

But you also loved moments like this. 

Laying with Tyler, and Hay-Bail, just listening to the sounds of the house and the surrounding fields. All the while, the sun slowly started to make its descent so the moon could rise up into its place. 

It was in moments like this you were glad you accepted Tyler’s offer to join him for the summer all those years ago. 

You and Tyler had met in college on the same course. You’d never really been close, but you’d done plenty of late night study sessions in the library together, testing each other on the facts in order to be prepared for the next pop quiz your professor decided to throw at you. 

After college, you’d both taken widely different routes, though you still kept in touch. Every now and again, Tyler would send you a storm article or if he was in town, you’d meet up for coffee. 

And whilst Tyler had found fame and success in Tornado chasing, you’d become a community college science teacher. You had enjoyed it for a while, but being in the field, chasing tornadoes, collecting the data, teaching others about the weather as well as the science behind it…that was your calling. 

But, just as you got settled into your new career and life with the Tornado Wranglers, another change was made eighteen months later when you and Tyler started dating. 

It took you both a while to figure it out considering you’d been friends for a long time and you’d be working together for the foreseeable future. But after a long talk from Dexter and a quick anecdote from Boone, Tyler and yourself had come to a conclusion. 

Whatever was going to happen, would happen. But it would be better together than apart. 

From his chest, you looked up at him and he immediately looked back, the same soft smile on his face. 

Leaning up, you kissed him and he kissed back lightly as his hand came to the back of your head. 

Neither of you had to say anything, because it was all said in the kiss. 

You lay back down as Tyler’s fingers started to brush through your hair. However, just as you both started to doze off, an alert came through on your phone. 

Reaching into your back pocket, Tyler pulled your phone out for you and handed it to you. 

Gently taking it from him, you pressed the power button and you read the alert. 

“There’s a storm North-East of us; numbers are looking good. Looks like it’s gonna be heading…” You flipped your phone. “West. Not much there other than wind turbines and overgrown pasture.”

Tyler smiled as he watched you and when you looked back at him, neither of you had to say anything. You’d be chasing it. 

“Hey! Guys! I think I’ve got one!” Lily yelled from somewhere inside the house. 

Kneeling up, Tyler sat up underneath you before you both jumped onto your feet and slipped your shoes back on. Hay-Bail was already up and following Tyler into the barn to collect Kate and Javi. 

Within minutes, everyone was in a vehicle and were driving North-East and into another tornado. 

[obsessive-valentine]

hi i really love ur work can we have more yandere farmer content?

Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

What if darling found out about the farms dark secret, your kidnapper is much more cruel than you thought. TW Murder, Man-Eating Dogs, Throwing Up, very bad attempt at comfort (in-fact I wouldn’t call it an attempt at all -more like manipulation)

He was up on one of the pastures again, like every afternoon, pushing a wheelbarrow -spreading hay for the animals. It amazed you that he pushed the bails around with seemingly little effort. Once the barrow was blocking the shed door that was filled with grain for the animals you wanted to feed.

So you went to push it out the way but because it had already been filled with a particularly large bail you almost broke your back trying. It was one of the few times he’d genuinely laughed. You turned to the sound of his amused laugh in shock and saw him jogging to you to move the wheelbarrow for you then letting out a final chuckle opening the shed door for you “sorry love, that was inconsiderate of me”

You know it still takes a lot of effort for him by the way he sweats and grunts and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow at night, but he makes it seem like a small feat. You turned back to the not so small calf you were keeping company, his mother grazing close by but comfortable with your presence so as the calf who you were there for when he was born a few months ago.

You stroked his nose admiring the adorable creature and cooing at him, you knew you would only have a few more months with him before he was sold. There was no use for him on the farm as you’d been told “as much as I like the fella he’d only drain supplies for no gain” -so when he is old enough he’d be sold to another farmer for breeding purposes or meat.

Today was tranquil, but just thinking that seemed to have jinxed you. There are always a dog or two around, each having jobs on the farm. So it wasn’t out of the ordinary when one of the larger livestock dogs ran past you headed for the tree line in the distance but when it started barking frantically and holding its ground like it was trying to scare off something, you were afraid a wild animal had stalked to close.

Whatever was out there wasn’t leaving and the mother cow seemed increasingly distressed by the commotion. You looked over to the pasture he was working on last, to see him tense up and look over to the fuss. You looked back at the distant tree line and saw a figure emerging slowly trying to manuver around the dog growling and barking warningly.

As soon as the farmer noticed that it wasn’t a wild animal causing the commotion, he dropped the barrow and ran down the field before hoping the fence, he grabbed your wrist and so harshly pulled you behind him you thought your shoulder popped out of its socket.

“The hell you doing here!?” He hollered over to the person in the distance “Can’t you read the signs?!” .......................

“recall your dog, this is the only way through” the intruder finally spoke with a demand, the way his hand tightened around your arm you knew that only made him angrier. But he did just that anyways.

With a sharp whistle the guard dog backed up but still lowly growling “You ain’t coming through turn back around and find a different route” he wasn’t shouting anymore but his voice was eerily dark. “You’ve got to be kidding me, just let me through man” the plea sounded yet again demanding which didn’t bode well for him.

He turned to you not turning his back to the intruder but enough to mumble “Go inside, don’t get nosey just wait for me to get back” he then let go of your wrist and watched you cautiously walk off. A sense of impending doom loomed over the farm but you followed his orders anyways and closed the door behind you.

...

As soon as the door closed you heard the barking start back up just now much more, the rest of the farm dogs must have made their way over. You became increasingly afraid he wasn’t going to handle this dispute well because you failed to hear him try recall the dogs, all you could hear was the trespasser trying to reason with him.

Until you didn’t hear any talking anymore but instead illegible shouting and struggle, the dogs now sounding more like rabid animals than protectors. You felt weak and your legs shook as you walked into one of the front rooms to peak out the window. ‘Don’t get nosey’ the warning almost made you turn around but curiosity won.

And when you pulled back the curtain just enough to see across the yard, you were sickened. Bile raced up your throat and couldn’t bring yourself to scream or cry but rather just stand there in shock as you saw the dogs in the distance rip at flesh of the now dead trespasser. You were glad you couldn’t see it clearly because your sure you would have fainted.

Broken from your trance when you saw the farmer leave the dogs to it and begin walking towards the house, to you. You ran to the toilet and threw up whatever you had, and then dry heaved further when you heard him enter the house.

You flinched hard when a cold hand rested on your neck slowly and roughly massaging it as you gagged, coughed and sobbed over the toilet “what did I tell you about being nosey?” His voice condescending and irritated, but not angry like you’d expected it to be. You began to sob out an apology still on the floor hunched over the toilet, afraid he was going to punish you in some way, again.

But he interrupted you before you could get out a full sentence “Shut it- you’ve already scared yourself sick” he sighed you heard him shuffle behind you as he sat on the bathroom floor with you “come here” his blunt exasperated tone hadn’t left but his hand now gentle attempted to guided you into his arms.

The closeness to the murderer set you off in a deeper panic, instincts telling you to run if you didn’t want to end up like that trespasser. But when you hands flew out to keep some distance between you both, he grabbed your face with one hand “You don’t want to be in the shed do you? I believe you’ve punished yourself enough, don’t make me regret not punishing you further”. You shook you head desperately and dropped you hands utterly powerless against him.

“That’s what I thought, last warning” his hands became gentle once again, one on the back of your head and the other on your back you sobbed onto his shoulder. But wanting nothing more than to kick, scream and bite, but you heeded his warning.

He ungracefully washed your face by cupping cold water in his hand and wiping it over your face, patting it dry with a near by towel “Had you listened to me we could have avoided all this” he lectured “I’m going to put you to bed early, I’ll clean everything up and from now on you’ll let me handle these ...problems, without causing trouble”

He scooped you up and took you to the bed, he drew the curtains closed to block the sun light and pulled the covers over you “let’s hope you learned your lesson” He grumbled before closing the door.

No matter how much you settled back in, years after this incident, nausea would overcome you for a few moments whenever he tells you to not be ‘nosey’. A dread you can’t explain.

[nerdvsquarterback]

a Brody and Theo mini fic👀👀👀 #needthat #wanthat

HAHAHAHA SAY LESS i did not know that theo was argentinian before i started writing this minific (hooray for character development). that being said, i totally used google translate to generate the spanish in this minific, so please excuse any errors. i included translations at the end!

🏈🔥 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 🔥🐂  

Ridgeline parties were legendary.

Not in a wow, what a classy event kinda way. More like in a these dumbasses are gonna set something on fire before midnight kinda way. Makes sense ‘cos most students here are idiots with too much money.

Think about it. You get a campus full of rich kids, scholarship athletes, and trust-fund babies, throw in a shitload of tequila, and what do you get?

Fuckin’ craziness.

There was always a fight. Always. Two finance bros throwing punches over a beer pong game, some drunk asshole trying to fight the fridge, some jock getting too cocky and needing to be humbled.

Something always got broken. A window. A TV. An expensive ass table that was never meant to be danced on but was always the first victim of the night. And there was always someone blackout drunk before 11PM—if we rolled up as a pack, you could count on it to be Kyle. 

And the best part?

Nobody gave a fuck.

Some rich kid’s daddy would pay to replace whatever got destroyed. The football team had boosters willing to bail people out. If the cops got called, someone’s lawyer uncle would make it disappear.

Means zero consequences, even dumber decisions, and the kind of parties that made people famous on campus. If you did something stupid enough, people would be talking about it for damn near months.

And tonight was already looking even worse than usual. Loud. Too many bodies. Too much tequila. Too many drunk idiots bumping into each other like it was some kind of goddamn mosh pit.

I was sweaty, tired, and already two beers deep, following Zach through the mess, just tryin’ to get to the goddamn kitchen. Big dogs gotta eat and all that. Except it all went wrong.

One minute, I was shoving some dude waving a beer pong paddle around like a weapon outta my way, then next thing I knew, I felt something crash into my chest, and—

Cold. Wet. Sticky.

I froze. Looked down. Saw red liquid soaking into my hoodie, dripping down my sweatpants, trailing down my fucking thigh. Christ. I looked like I’d pissed myself.

Fucking hell.

“What the fuck—” I snapped, voice already edged with pissed-off aggression, ready to light into some drunk frat bro about how this was my favorite goddamn team hoodie and he was damn well gonna pay for it. Except the frat bro started speaking a lot louder than me, with a lot more aggression. And… gibberish?

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!" The guy threw his hands up, glaring like I was the problem. "¿Tienes mierda en los ojos o qué? ¡Mira por dónde caminas, gran idiota!"

"Excuse me?" I barked, blinking down at him, still processing the fact that the dude who just spilled his drink on me was the one who was madder than a wet hen.

And what the hell was he sayin’? What language was that? French? German? I had no fuckin’ clue. But he was yelling at me. Me. As if I wasn’t a six foot six alpha weighing almost three hundred pounds who flattened people for a living.

He didn’t stop. He kept going, fast as hell and loud. Thank the Lord I hadn’t had any liquor, ‘cos I would’ve gotten dizzy from how fast his hands were moving. Fuckin’ blur. 

“¡Dios mío, qué desastre! ¿Eres estúpido o qué? ¡Mira lo que hiciste, grandullón! Además de eso, estás ahí parado como un idiota. No hay manera de que seas real.”

I just stood there, dumbfounded, squinting at him. I didn’t understand a goddamn word he was spewin’. Then I stopped trying to listen and actually looked at the guy. Got the shock of my life, too—he wasn’t a frat bro.

Nah. He was the farthest thing from it. 

He was tiny. Omega. I knew instantly ‘cos he had a scent patch on his neck and he sure as hell wasn’t an alpha. And even though he was wearing a scent patch, I swore I could smell him. He smelled rich. Real rich. 

And he looked— Goddamn, he was beautiful. 

I’m talkin’ dark hair, messy but perfect, like he meant for it to fall over his forehead like that. Tan skin, gold under the shitty party lights, sharp fucking cheekbones that coulda cut glass. Dark-eyed like a doe and pink-lipped, wearing smudged eyeliner and gloss.

And his outfit, now that I was seeing it, was gonna put me into a stroke. The more I stared at it, the more I could literally feel my brain stop working. A nothing shirt, netted and oversized, hanging off his tiny frame like a ratty blanket. I could see straight to his skin. His stomach. His nipples.

They were as pink as his mouth.

He wore jeans that looked like he’d painted them on, tight and black and ripped at the thighs. His waist was small as fuck. Hell, every bit of him was small. Tiny. The kinda tiny I wondered if I could touch without breaking.

Jesus Christ, he was pretty. Real pretty. And if I knew vibes—which I did—he was the trouble kinda pretty.

And I was standing there, drenched in some fruity-smelling shit, in a sweatshirt and joggers like some kind of fuckin’ scrub. I couldn’t even be mad anymore. I should’ve been—‘cos who the fuck spills their drink on you and starts cussing you out—but instead, my dumbass brain decided to hyperfocus on the guy’s mouth.

I didn’t know what he was sayin’ but I liked how wet that glossy stuff made his lips looked. And so did my dick. A lot. I almost thanked God for my sweatpants, except I realized they were soaked and if I got any harder, everyone was going to get their eye poked out.

Then the guy stopped mid-rant.

And we just—

Locked eyes.

His lips were still parted, like he had more to say. His chest was rising, fast, breathless from all the yelling. I didn’t feel Zach beside me anymore, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. The whole party disappeared.

It was just tequila in the air, drink dripping down my chest, my entire outfit ruined, and this tiny, furious, fuckin’ beautiful omega staring up at me.

He slowly dragged his dark gaze down my front, like he was assessing the damage. He absolutely saw my hard dick. And if the way his lips parted and eyes narrowed meant what I thought it did… he approved.

It was confirmed when he lifted those slitty doe eyes back to mine. And fucking smirked.

Smirked.

I swear to God, I was fuckin’ fried after that. My entire body locked up, every single alpha instinct in my blood losing its goddamn mind. He was looking at me like he wanted to drop to his knees and choke on me.

So I did the only thing that made sense. I ripped my shirt off.

⸻ 🍷 🎭 𝑻𝒆𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊 🎭 🍷 ⸻  

Let’s be clear: a party is never just a party.

A party is networking. Strategy. Power. The more people you know, the more valuable you are, and the more people owe you favors, the stronger your influence. You never know who you’ll need down the road—a professor’s son, an athlete with school-wide pull, a legacy kid whose family has donated enough to make problems disappear.

These parties? They’re the real social battlegrounds of Ridgeline.

And me? I play to win.

Which is why I was currently standing in front of the hugest man I’d ever seen in my entire life and assessing my next move. After spilling my drink on him and calling him an unreal, disaster of a huge idiot. 

My drink was still dripping down his chest, staining his stupid sweatshirt, but he didn’t look mad anymore. No, he was looking at me like I was a goddamn problem.

And I was. I had just become a huge fucking problem. For him. Not that he knew that… yet.

The second I’d really looked at him, really taken him in—the wide, muscled frame, the cut jawline, the heavy alpha presence, the way his big hands flexed at his sides like he was trying not to touch me—I made a decision.

I was going to ride this man like a goddamn polo pony.

His scent was all over me now. Faint, but there—something thick, deep, warm, like grass and sweat and spice. Even through the scent patch, I could feel the static in the air, the tension crackling between us, my body reacting before my brain could stop it.

And then I looked down and saw it.

Dios mio.

My gaze dragged down shamelessly, lingering right where it shouldn’t, where the half-soaked sweatpants he wore weren’t doing a damn thing to hide what he was working with. 

It was big. Huge. Obscene. The kind of thick, heavy bulge that had no business existing in polite society. It was so obvious, too—hard as fuck, pressed against the soft fabric, straining, pulsing.

I felt my lips part on instinct, my thighs clenching as heat pooled low in my gut. My body wanted. My brain started playing filth on a loop. I wanted that—all of it. I wanted to drop to my knees right here, in the middle of this goddamn party, and find out exactly how much of him I could take before I choked.

I wanted to watch his cock stretch me open, thick and hot, wanted to feel his hands gripping me, his teeth dragging down my throat, his voice low and guttural in my ear.

He looked like he could break me in half.

And I wanted him to.

When I finally looked back up at him, his eyes were locked onto mine, dark, blown, and wrecked as hell. Clocking me clocking him. I knew that look.

He wanted the exact same things I wanted. He was not subtle about it. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breath heavy, nostrils flaring. Every single muscle he had quivered, like a stallion about to buck.

So I swallowed, slow and deliberate. Gave him a little smirk. Ran my tongue over my bottom lip, just to see if he’d track the movement. 

He did.

Got you, big guy. My tongue was loading itself with something sly when he suddenly reached for the back of his hoodie, gripped the fabric in two fists, and yanked it up and over his head in one fluid motion. Whatever I’d been about to say died instantly at the pure mass in front of me.

I had seen big men before, of course. Had been surrounded by alphas my whole life. But this one?

If the hoodie he’d worn hadn’t stated “RIDGELINE WOLFPACK” in bold letters, I would’ve known he was an athlete just by his body. All cut muscle, broad and thick and glistening under the shitty party lights, chest heaving, veins popping in his forearms.

Magnífico. I felt every last one of my hormones activate. I had to actually press my lips together to stop the sound that almost escaped.

I fully expected him to grab me. Haul me up against him. Trot out some cheesy pickup line related to me “owing him” something. I’d given him the perfect opening, after all. But he didn’t.

He extended a fucking hand.

"Brody Wilson," he said, voice rough as hell, jaw clenched like his own name was an afterthought to whatever the hell he was thinking.

I almost laughed. How formal.

Too formal, considering we had just eyefucked each other to hell and back, I was one second away from climbing him like a jungle gym, and this man was introducing himself like we were at a corporate networking event.

I let my gaze drag down to his outstretched palm, then back up to his face, raising a brow like I was considering it. Then I ignored his hand completely, instead turning to the nearest bar table and plucking up two tequila shots.

I held one out to him, tilting my head, letting my lashes drop just a little, smirk curving lazy, indulgent, hungry.

"Here, Brody Wilson."

I watched his eyes flicker, something sharp and dangerous flashing behind them.

Then, to my absolute delight, instead of reaching for the shot I was offering, he grabbed both. Tipped his chin up. Without breaking eye contact, without hesitating for even a single second, he slammed them back.

One. Then the other. Downed them like they were fucking water. Like he was proving a point.

And oh, I liked that. Stupid American alpha jock with an ego and giant dick?

Target acquired, my brain purred. Time to play.  TRANSLATIONS

"¡Maldito hijo de puta! ¿Tienes mierda en los ojos o qué? ¡Mira por dónde caminas, gran idiota!" = "You fucking son of a bitch! Do you have shit in your eyes or what? Watch where you're walking, you big idiot!" “¡Dios mío, qué desastre! ¿Eres estúpido o qué? ¡Mira lo que hiciste, grandullón! Además de eso, estás ahí parado como un idiota. No hay manera de que seas real.” = “My God, what a disaster! Are you stupid or what? Look what you did, big guy! On top of that, you're standing there like an idiot. There’s no way you’re real.”

[vaguely-existing-as-a-person]

Appeal for help:

A mare I once took care of, which was the sweetest horse as long as you spent time with her, has been bred. She has doubtful genetics, the stud used has even worse genetics.

The people that currently own them own a notorious horse-butchering operation (for dog food). It’s all barely legal, the horses get stalled in with pigs, the stable is ill-ventilated and perpetually kept dark.

They have a tiny pasture to share with 30+ other horses (it is continually added to the herd as fattened up horses get taken to the butcher’s block). For forage they get, at best, cow silage, at worst incredibly moldy hay. And no vets get called there, since the old head of the whole operation does not want any strangers on the property.

Most people I have spoken to about this just tell me to call the authorities, but in Austria there is no way to help the horses in this way. As long as they get fed (even with moldy hay), they have shelter (a mud paddock that is just knee-deep mud all year with a few pillars and a tarp over it for shade), water and a stable (to share with pigs) they don’t consider it a matter of urgency.

I would buy the mare and foal from them, just to get them out, but I have my wonderful heart horse to take care of first and foremost. Not to mention that I am only in my twenties and therefore do not have the best income.

I’ll add a picture of the mare and of the foal (born on the 18th of August 2023) in the comments, together with a comparison of the mare from back when I was working with her versus now.

I know this is unconventional, but I’ll be trying my best to get them out of there. However, I will need help, so my friend and I set up a GoFundMe for Sally and her foal, to both post their bail and deal with the extensive vet and farrier care they will both need.

https://gofund.me/b82599c0

Any help is appreciated, whether through donations or sharing this post.

TL;DR:

A sweet little mare is in need of rescuing from a horse-butcher / puppy mill but for horses. It’s in Austria, and flies under the radar of the law, and there is no legit horse rescue here.

[sterekmpreg]

I whole heartedly believe that Dutch got jealous of Arthur’s dog, Copper, whenever Arthur would pay more attention to his dog than his boyfriend. I also full heartedly believe Copper and Dutch were best friends and would judge everyone around camp together under a shady tree while Arthur did his chores. Or just happily being judgmental besties when together.

Okay, but like; hear me out:

Dutch trying to read his current book under a shady spot with the dog sat happily next to him.

Copper barks at Hosea whose mixing herbs and Dutch glances up at his older friend before shaking his head and turning to look at copper whose looking at him for approval.

“He’s barley putting his elbows into it. He gonna be doing that all day,” Dutch would say before getting a lick from Copper and going back to his book. A minute would pass and Susan would pass by to go string up the laundry and Copper would once again bark.

Dutch looks up again but this time in the direction of the clothes line, where Grimshaw is picking up a shirt she dropped on the ground before tossing it out on the line and straightening it. “She’s just washed it and gone and soiled it already... and she has the audacity to wonder why our clothes are always filthy!” Dutch huffs before scratching Copper behind the ears.

Or Copper harassing Pearson for treats and Dutch calling over to give the dog a treat because he’s earned it gor, “scaring the Pinkertons away”.

Now it’s Arthur, struggling to carrying the hay bail across the camp to their horses. He stops just a little ways from where Dutch is sat reading with Copper and smiles at them. Copper takes off and grabs one of the ropes banding the hay together and begins dragging it towards the horses. “Lift with yours legs, Copper! Your teeth can only do so much, you good boy!” Dutch calls out happily to the dog as he wags his tail.

Or just Dutch gossiping about camp life to Copper, whose sat on his cot, and Copper just happily smiling and wagging his tail at Dutches words. Whenever Arthur enters the tent and catches this exchange Dutch would stand quickly, Copper following him and jumping down from the cot. “We’ve been made, boy! You go! I’ll hold him off!” Dutch would tell him while Copper fled the tent to go find Pearson’s wagon and run away to sit next to Hosea (bc Hosea wouldn’t let Pearson take his treats away) with some stole meat. Dutch would wrap his arms around Arthur and squeeze him, “Copper says you’re wrong, by the way,” Dutch says about their most recent argument. Arthur rolls his eyes and fakes a laugh.

“Yeah, we’ll Copper told me you’re a drama king!” Arthur retorts and Dutch makes a small gasp. “He would never! How dare you! I’m gonna tell him what you said!” Dutch mocks before kissing Arthur’s forehead and wrapping his arm back around Arthur’s shoulder before the two went to join the rest of the gang by the fire.

[celsidebottom]

Some of my favorite lines from RQGG today (minus the bits where they read things in character because there are already so many)

“The banana forests of Scandinavia”

“Baby Empty.  YEET”

“#DropTheChild”

“Alexander Jail Newall”

“Tell me of the ghost rotor”

“We still got to use the ruler and that’s valuable in and of itself”

“The secret is the fourth dimension”

“The subgame of removing the bodies”

“Oh look!  Jonny’s named someone Michael!”

“When I give you guys power… boy do you go ham”

“HE’S A BAD COW”

“Sean Bean is an ancient being”

“Helen’s being filthy!!!”

“What’s a lead in line for Sean Bean?  Oh, bastard.”

“The cow has replaced everything”

“It’s really simple: Sean Bean is older than time itself.  He’s also fifteen people.  You are one fifteenth of Sean Bean. “

“Spies are inherently sexy”

“Convene the beans!”  “Bean con!”  “By all means, convene the beans!”  “The scene of beans has been seen”

“All aboard the tea trolley”

“Let’s round up some children”

“On stream, we’re family friendly so no families are dead”

“Three strong, northern, craggy dads”

“Immersed amongst the present spikes”

“I’ve got lots of money under my clothes”

“If there’s one thing I like more than money, it’s naked poor people”

“Come with me into the sexatorium”

“Our sexatoriums are drastically underfunded”

“The coolant pigs”

“My cat believes I am so incompetent that he brought me a marinated pork loin with a bit of cheese on top”

“I’m ready to Santa… the proper way”

“There are Macedonian… cosplayers…”  “Not in Sheffield!”

“For the sake of time, I’m just going to say you failed”

“Visit the north!  We’ve got above average schools!  Do you like cities?  We’ve got a few!”

“Imagine a three piece hazmat suit”

“It’s neck o’clock! Ding ding ding!  Everybody get some neck!”

“I love standing on dogs! Boo me some more!”

“Are you guys up for some mounting?”

“He starts and possibly never ends”

“Too much mounting. Not good for the health.”

“We got some Canadians here? Has Michael Buble come out of hibernation yet?”

“I would wash you like a mummy cat”

“I’ve taken up an extreme sport, say, sky punching”

“We do not speak of the bolo tie.  It is America’s greatest shame”

“I would make you a delicious deodorant pie and kill two birds with one stone.  And maybe you!”

“That I want to lick your armpit during sex is a bad thing?”

“I like stabbing people. Who would you stab, and why?”

“Cars Movie 5: Weird Sex Car”

“No third party lubricant for this guy!”

“You can’t get a good crumb on a child”

“That cacophony is the screams of our fans”  “Aww, that’s so personal!”

“I never took any anatomy classes.  I hear that was good call”

“CORN SMUT”

“Interwstong”

“What’s the difference between most people and dragons?  They don’t fireball themselves”

“Bryn looks like a cross between seventeen corgis and a whole ass dragon” vs “Bryn looks like a cross between a welsh cake and a tomato”

“My family is like Tim: just tremendous” vs “My family is like Tim: Insufferable and omnipresent”

“That cow looks scared of something.”  “It’s probably the knives”

“‘I’m Tim Meredith, I’m a high brow comic!’”

“I like my sex like I like my hummus: with peppers!”

“I came up here in good faith!”  “That was your first mistake.”

“You have to be Boris Johnson forever.”  “That’s the worst fate ever!”

“Zolf can swear! Struck by fucking lightning!”

“If I’m not directly talking I’m not interested”

“He’s a prospector with glorious thighs.  She’s an actual snake.  Haunches and the Snake.  Coming to CBS this fall to be immediately cancelled.”

“Haunches is a good character, you shouldn’t have given him to me.”  “You gave me a beer, it’s fine.”

“Fuck!  Piss!  Shit! They’re all on the table!  Oh no”

“Regular bits Tim”

“You keep your beautiful, chiseled face out of what we have”

“Where the fuck is the pickle?”

“You’re a half pint of horse shit.  You know that?  I take it back.  Full pint.”

“It’s a game about playing cards and trying not to make an erotic atmosphere, Tim.”

“You draw one and then you play?”  “You draw one and then you play.”

“It wasn’t a joke I just like the tiny island”

“It’s pickles all the way down”

“Lovecraft can take it, he’s dead.  Good.”

“I need the wet”

“When’s the last time you pitched a bail of hay, you fraud?”

“I think the last vaguely country thing I did… was carry a load of dead birds”

“Jane Prentiss?  Super good character.”  “I gave those worms a home!”  “And I have the world something to do!”

“This game is a thicc boi”

“This game is a chonky, chonky boi”

“I explained that I work with a podcasting company and she walked away very quickly, so, waitress at Nando’s, thank you for that”

“[A relationship is] not a competition, it’s a fight to the death”

“These are the traits I don’t want Alex to have”  “Insomnia went in the pile, that’s interesting”

“You’re a young ish man”  “That was a very big ‘ish’ and a very quiet ‘young’”

“Marriage is a lot like poker”

“‘I’m over my head in deadlines.’  And then I have a PTSD flashback to my actual life.”

“Aren’t relationships just sexy networking?”

“You ask a man if you can hold his baubles once…”

“Mike is now crowd surfing naked… Unfortunately, the cameras can only pan so wide… I think that’s his hand waving…”

“I’m not used to having emotions, I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Those wholesome bastards are gone now!”

“Asking for a friend.”  “You don’t have friends, Tim”

“I’m going to shuffle slow just to piss off Mike.  It’s just because I’m drunk… I am not abusing the alcohol!  We are in a consensual relationship!”

“A safe play by a safe man.”  “Saucy”

“Deal me in, motherhuggers”

“He knows how to play! That’s cheating!”

“What are we playing?”  “Doesn’t matter.”

“I got dukes coming out the butt!”

“Got dummy thicc stacks”  “Forgive me for being anti-meme but I’m going to take from your stacks… they’re thicc with one c.”

“I don’t trust you.”  “Why do you keep casting me as people who kill people?”  “Because I don’t trust you! What about this doesn’t check out?”

“I’m going to coup Alex because I don’t like having a job”

“Other gods, deities, and belief systems are available.”

[the-lady-of-stars]

3am

Borhap!Roger x Reader

Requested by:  @rogersgirlfriend & @benders-diamond-earring

Prompts #4 and #5 - “Why are you in my room at 3am?” & “If anyone finds us it’s your fault”

A/N: I decided to combine these two prompts- hope you don't mind! 

Summary: Reader and Roger are dating, but none of the other boys know that yet. When staying at Rockfield Farm, they have separate bedrooms so as not to make things suspicious, but Rog can't seem to stay away.

You were in a deep sleep from helping the boys at Rockfield Farm Studio all day. So deep, in fact, that neither a knock at your door or a voice calling your name woke you. What did wake you, however, was feeling yourself being shaken and prodded at. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” 

You groaned, prying your eyes open from the clutch of sleep and seeing the figure of Roger crouched down beside your bed. 

“WhaddyawantRog...” you groaned and he laughed. 

“I can’t sleep!” he whisper shouted. 

|”And you thought that because you can’t sleep, no one else is allowed to sleep either?” you briefly caught Roger rolling his eyes in the moonlight. 

“What time is it anyway?”

Roger glanced over at the clock, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“3am...” he murmured.

“Rog- why are you in my room at 3am?”

“Because I can’t sleep!”

“And what exactly can I do to make you go back to sleep?”

“Go for a walk with me?” he pleaded, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering his lashes at you. Damn him and his beautiful blue eyes. 

“Fine- but you’re giving me your hoodie. It’s freezing.”

Roger smiled at you gratefully and pulled off his hoodie, handing it to you. You dragged yourself out of bed, taking his hand when he held it out for you to hold. He then led you downstairs and, after you pulled on your trainers, out to the courtyard of the farm. He took you over to a stack of hay bails, which you both climbed to sit on top of. The stars shone brightly above you both, and you  basked in the silence. Roger sighed peacefully, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Roggie, you know we can't cuddle out here if you want us to stay a secret, my love.”

“No one will see us, love. It’s 3am. We’re the only ones insane enough to be awake at this time!” he winked at you. 

“I’ll have you know that I was perfectly asleep before you came in and poked me, thank you very much,” you giggled, nudging him playfully. In response to this he scooped you up, laying you down underneath him and starting to tickle you everywhere. 

“Roger- ah!” you yelped, laughing uncontrollably. He beamed down at you, only proceeding to tickle you harder. 

“I’m not gonna stop until you give me a kiss, babe! It’s the rules, y’ know?” he chuckled. 

“Fine- fine! But if anyone finds us it’s your fault!”

And with that you reached up, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to kiss you. He stopped tickling you, propping himself up on his elbows as he hovered over you, body practically on top of yours as he kissed you. Your lips moved together perfectly, Roger deepening the kiss and sighing against your mouth. The kisses continued until the point where both of you were panting desperately, but not even daring to pull away from your lover’s lips. 

But as quickly as the moment had started, it was over. The sound of shuttered- windows flying open interrupted you, both you and Roger practically flying apart. 

“Took the two of you bloody long enough!” Freddie shouted from his bedroom window, grin showing clearly in the moonlight. 

Roger groaned, rolling his eyes and facepalming, which in return made Fred laugh loudly. 

“Next time you two want to creep around at three in the morning I recommend you stay a bit quieter! Now go make out somewhere else other than a haystack you filthy lovebirds!” and with that, he slammed his window closed again and went back to bed. 

Roger was still groaning, his hand covering his eyes. You laughed, turning to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Well I suppose there’s no use in hiding our relationship any more, Roggie. He’ll have told everyone by the morning.”

You delicately pulled his hands away from his eyes, making him look into yours.

“Mm I s’pose you're right, love. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd already gone and woken John and Bri to tell ‘em,” he smiled. 

“I’m quite happy he knows, to be honest. I don't like having to hold myself back around you when they’re there,” you whispered. 

“Me too, baby. I can show you off to everyone now!”

You both laughed joyfully, meeting each other for another kiss. 

Maybe people knowing about your relationship wouldn't be too bad at all.

[cuadernodeliteratura]

«New York, mujeres de día», Edwidge Danticat.

Hoy, caminando calle abajo, veo a mi madre. Pasea con andar alegre, abriéndose camino hacia la señal de NO CRUZAR, por entre los taxis amarillos que giran cuarenta y cinco grados en la esquina de Madison con la calle Cincuenta y Siete. Nunca la he visto en un barrio de este tipo, curioseando en Chanel y Tiffany's, y mirando absorta las joyas que brillan en el escaparate de Bulgari. Mi madre nunca compra fuera de Brooklyn. Nunca ha visto la agencia de publicidad en la que yo trabajo. Le da miedo coger el metro y encontrarse con esos jóvenes militantes negros que discursean por la calle e insultan a las mujeres negras que se alisan el pelo. Aun así, aquí está mi madre, que se quedó en casa en albornoz, con páginas de periódico enrolladas como rulos en el pelo cuando yo me marché esta mañana. Mi madre, que me acusa de múltiples ofensas mientras salgo de casa con prisas.

¿No piensas levantarte y ceder a una señora anciana como yo tu asiento en el metro? Tal como están las cosas, seguro que no le cedes el asiento ni a una mujer embarazada.

Mi madre, que casi siempre tiene razón en eso. A veces me levanto y cedo mi asiento. Otras veces, no. Depende de cuán embarazada esté la mujer, y de si está o no con su novio o marido, y de si él está sentado o no. Mientras mi madre está parada enfrente de Carnegie Hall, un taxista le grita a otro: —¿Dónde crees que estás? ¿En una pista de baile? Mi madre espera pacientemente a que acabe esa discusión para cruzar la calle.

En Haití, cuando te atropella un coche, el conductor baja y te patea por haberle manchado de sangre el parachoques.

Mi madre, que ríe al decir esto y muestra un gran hueco en la boca donde había las tres muelas que le quitó el dentista la semana pasada. Mi madre, que a los cincuenta y nueve dice que las dentaduras postizas están bien.

Puedes quitártelas cuando te molestan. Me gustan. Me gustan de verdad.

Pero ¿debes notar una especie de vacío cuando papá te besa, no?

Oh, no. Ya no me besa de esa forma.

Mi madre, que mira el sorteo de la lotería cada noche en el canal 11, aunque nunca en su vida ha comprado un número.

Con una tercera parte de ese dinero me bastaría. Acabaríamos de pagar la hipoteca y tu padre podría dejar de conducir ese taxi por todo Brooklyn.

Sigo a mi madre como hipnotizada por las muchas posibilidades que su paseo ofrece. A pesar de llevar un vestido de flores, se pierde con facilidad en un mar de vestidos grises o a rayas, de tacones altos y elegantes minifaldas, de zapatillas Reebok corriendo de edificio a edificio. Mi madre, que no saldrá a comer con nadie.

Si quieren comer conmigo, que vengan a mi casa, aunque no les dé más que agua hervida.

Mi madre, que habla sola mientras despluma los pollos.

Grasa, ya sabes, y colesterol. La grasa y el colesterol mataron a tu tía Hermine.

Mi madre, que hace una mermelada con piel de uvas secas en la que pone trozos de corteza de canela que a mí siempre me parecen cucarachas. Mi madre, a la que siempre compro en su aniversario cosas para la casa. Una buena olla para cocer el arroz, una licuadora. Sigo las orquídeas rojas de su vestido y el gran bolso de piel falsa que lleva colgado del hombro. Cuando me doy cuenta del vertiginoso ritmo de mi persecución, me apoyo en un muro para descansar. Mi madre sigue andando, como si fuera la propietaria de la acera sobre la que pisa. Mientras se encamina hacia el Hotel Plaza, la bicicleta de un mensajero le pasa tan cerca que quiero saltar y salvarla, pero ella se para en seco, y la bicicleta la esquiva y continúa su marcha. Mi madre se para en un puesto de hot-dogs y pide algo. El vendedor le da una lata de refresco y ella la mete en el bolso. Se para ante otro puesto, de vestidos de playa a siete dólares. Puedo ver que está mirando uno de estampados africanos, mientras intenta recordar mi talla. Por favor, mamá, pienso, no lo compres. Sería otra de tantas cosas que enterraría en el garaje o daría a beneficencia.

¿Por qué tenemos que darlo a beneficencia, cuando hay tanta gente en Haití que necesita ropa? Lo guardaremos para nuestros parientes de allí.

Durante veinte años hemos estado guardando todo tipo de cosas para los parientes de Haití. Y yo necesito un espacio en el garaje para una bicicleta estática.

Eres tan guapa que podrías ser azafata. Sólo a los perros les gustan los huesos.

Se para en otro puesto de hot-dogs y se compra un frankfurt, que va comiendo mientras camina. No sabía que mi madre comiera frankfurts. Tal como tiene la presión, no debería comer nada que contenga sodio. Debe tener cuidado con su corazón, esta mujer del día.

No puedo tragarme la sal. Pesa más que cien bolsas de vergüenza.

Cada vez camina más lentamente, y ahora estoy demasiado cerca. Si se girara me vería. Dejo que se adentre en el parque antes de empezar a seguirla de nuevo. Mi madre se dirige hacia el parterre de arena del centro del parque. Allí, una mujer está esperando con un niño. Lleva unas mallas y unos pantalones cortos de ciclista, y sostiene unas pequeñas pesas en las manos. Se despide del niño besándole y se lo deja a mi madre. Después se marcha precipitadamente, corriendo por el camino de cemento del parque. El niño que se ha quedado con mi madre tiene el pelo rubio y crespo. Su mano se desliza familiarmente en la de ella, como si la conociera de hace tiempo. Cuando levanta la cabeza para mirarla, es como si mirara al cielo. Mi madre le da al niño el refresco que ha comprado en el puesto de la esquina. La cara del chico se ilumina cuando ve que mamá pone en él una pajita. Parece ser una conspiración entre los dos. Mi madre y el niño se sientan y miran a los otros niños jugar en el parterre de arena. Él saca un cómic de su mochila, en la que está dibujado el Big Bird. Mi madre mira de reojo el tebeo. Ella, que aprendió a leer sola con los libros que sus hermanos llevaban a casa de la escuela, cuando era una niña pequeña en Haití. Mi madre, que ha perdido a seis de sus siete hermanas en Ville Rose y que nunca ha tenido suficiente valor para volver allí a sus funerales.

Tendré muchas tumbas que besar cuando vuelva. Muchas tumbas que besar.

Cuando el niño se termina el refresco, mi madre tira la lata. Yo espero y miro desde un rincón, hasta que vuelve la mujer de las mallas y los pantalones cortos de ciclista, sudada y resollando, una hora más tarde. Mi madre le devuelve al niño y se adentra paseando en el parque. Doy media vuelta y empiezo a andar para salir de allí antes de que mi madre me vea. Hace tiempo que mi hora libre para comer ha terminado y tengo que volver rápidamente al trabajo. Camino a través de una multitud de corredores y me dirijo a un autobús de Sweden Tours. Me quedo detrás del autobús y miro a mi madre en el parque. Está en un corro, hablando con otras mujeres que sacan a pasear, por la tarde, a los hijos de otra gente. Parece como si estuvieran en una reunión de la Asociación de Padres del Tercer Mundo. Rápidamente me meto en un taxi para ir a la oficina. ¿Me hubiera saludado mamá si me hubiera visto ella a mí antes que yo a ella? Mientras el taxi acelera para salir del parque, se me ocurre que tal vez un día siga a una mujer calle abajo por error, confundiéndola con mamá, cuando en realidad es la madre de alguna otra persona.

Las mujeres del día aparecen cuando nadie lo espera.

Esta noche, en el metro, me levantaré y le cederé mi asiento a una mujer embarazada o de la edad de mamá. Mi madre, que se llena la boca de alfileres e hincha las mejillas como si fuera Dizzy Gillespie mientras cose otra muñeca de trapo a la que pondrá mi nombre, Suzette.

Siempre me quedarán estas pequeñas Suzzetes en caso de que tú no tengas hijos, lo que cada vez parece más probable.

Mi madre, que me tuvo cuando tenía treinta y tres años —l'áge du Christ—, a la edad en que Cristo murió en la cruz.

Es un bendición, créeme, aunque los médicos americanos digan que corres el riesgo de tener un niño retrasado.

Mi madre, que me cose cuellos de encaje en las camisetas del equipo de softball de la empresa cuando me hace la colada.

¿Qué pasa? ¿Es que no puedes parecer una señora cuando juegas a softball.

Mi madre, que nunca asistió a ninguna reunión de la Asociación de Padres cuando yo iba a la escuela.

De todos modos, te ha ido bien. ¿Qué iban a decirme? No quiero que tengas que avergonzarte de las mujeres del día. La vergüenza pesa más que cien bolsas de sal.

Autor: Edwidge Danticat

[weretrailer]

An Introduction

The man sat on the hood of his truck watching the sunset.  He was not a small man, nearly six and a half feet tall and three hundred pounds.  His body was built to hurl logs or bails of hay.  His long black hair was tied of in a messy pony tail, pulling the hair away from his hard and vicious looking face.  His skin was too dark to just be tanned, but to light to be other wise.

“Wolf,” came a tinny voice through the speakers of the truck.  “Wolf, are you there?”  The voice was feminine and annoyed.

The man grunted and hopped off the hood of the truck and grabbed the handset.  “Wolf here, you sound like you are in need of beer Usagi,” he said, his gruff voice trying to convey some humor.

“You have no idea, Freddie.  I have a guy here, mauled pretty bad.”

“Alive?”

“For now.  I need you to sniff about the scene.”

“Have you called for medical help?  Parameds or at least Izadia?”

“Not yet.  Not sure if he’s going to make it long enough for that.  I need your nose though.  I even picked up some of your favorite dog biscuits,” her annoyed edge softened with the joke.  She gave the address.

“I’ll be right there.  Though I doubt it was another werewolf.”

“Another?  Nah, Wolf, we both know that you are a were-trashcan.”

Freddie smiled as he turned the trucks engine over.

[dismyblog]

i find myself really really relating to my collie these last few days

like, i've never been a high energy being like her but i used to be able to take long walks and explore wherever i was living at the time till i knew it well

yeah i needed to stop and rest but as long as i didn't do anything more strenuous then walking i wouldn't over do it and send myself into a fatigue crash and i could keep myself active

i hate "going places" but i love walking places. walking around whatever city or countryside i'm living in or wandering the countryside. i would always win scavenger hunts cause i always knew the space i space i was living in better then most

there where lots of times someone has to come get me cause i had just wandered too far to get back before dark

flour always wanted to join me on walks, even if the other dogs didn't want to get of the couch that day she was waiting for me to put the leash on so she could go

but then walking started to hurt too much and now it takes every step i have in me just getting around my house

on a good day i can be the one to take the house dogs down the long driveway to check the mail but there's a lot of times i just have to let my someone else do it

and flour was there not understanding why our walks got slower, and then shorter, and then stopped

she was miserable and i thought i was going to have to give her up to someone who could keep up with her before we moved out to the ranch

here it didn't matter that i couldn't keep up anymore cause she had a whole pasture to run and a pond to swim in. it has high fencing and donkeys to herd so she has a job and she's safe to do it even at night and she never had to be stuck inside and with the space we were able to take in a few more high energy playmates for her

now she hates being in the house for more then a quick visit, she loves sleeping in the barn and it doesn't matter if there's a cat5 hurricane or a big freeze outside or if she just had surgery, if she's stuck inside she crying to be let out

but now the collie tax has come to call and the vet say she has hip dysplasia and now she's inside with a special bed and a prescription for pain meds

and it's just so unfair. she was so happy spending her days running through the pasture. she was so happy just climbing on top of a bail of hay when she wanted to sleep or finding somewhere to sprawl in the sun

i was really in some strong denial when we noticed she was limping, i knew it was a risk for collies but i was really hopping it was just some roughhousing gone wrong or something else mundane

but when the vet gave us the diagnosis i immediately wanted to start crying cause i really didn't want what happened to me to happen to her

our older dog is content to be in the house spending most of her time sleeping and she's happy with just tagging along with whoever's walking down the long driveway to get the mail or wandering the front yard

our chihuahua is content staying in the house where the hawks can't get her and she's entertained by hunting mice and bugs with the cats or killing frogs and garden snakes in the front yard

and maybe i'm over reacting and flour will adjust to being inside but part of me feels like she's just gonna end up like me, feeling trapped in the house and missing when she had the freedom from pain to just go outside and go

[thecatcalledhope]

Lucky

I worked all summer, doing odd jobs and walking door to door like a 1950’s salesman; doing lawn work, dog walking, fixing fences, and anything people thought a 16-year-old was capable of doing. Some thought I could do more than others, so I found myself bailing hay and operating tractors on some days. Well, summer came and went, and so did the work. I saved up half of the money for this truck I’d been eyeing at this lot in town. My dad and I had an agreement; I come up with half and he’d pitch in the other half for this truck. A brand-new Chevy Colorado, muted blue, two door. All I could think about was cruising that truck down to the lake just outside of town, my girl riding passenger, and meeting our crew on a Friday night.

 I walk in the lot with my dad and go through the mountain of paperwork, which seemed pointless to me when we’re paying cash, but whatever. The salesman must have sensed my excitement because he seemed to look satisfied dragging out the process. He smirked as he handed me the keys, clearly this was fun for him. I don’t care though, I grasp the keys, give the guy a quick firm handshake and walk squarely to my truck. My truck; its finally my truck. The next few hours I’ll never forget, I hope. I took two rights and a left onto highway 3, a left on Willow and 1.5 miles down the gravel road. I park and call Laura from my cell. “Hey girl, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about getting a ride anymore…. come on out, I got a surprise for us.” Laura and I had been together for the last 8 months. She had the most beautiful dirty blonde hair. Her rose pink lips combined with her southern smile made her damn near impossible to resist.

 For the next couple years, an 8-foot-wide path was forged by a set of 18-inch tires between my place and hers and to the lake. Saturdays and Sundays I spent that time fixing up my truck. The boys would all hang out, occasionally help, but really just came for the dish on how far I’d gone with Laura and who of her friends were available and the plan for next weekend to finally kiss one. We got into a fair amount of trouble but nothing too criminal, at least not enough that it brought attention to our chaos.

 11th grade, 12th grade, graduation, then college; it all brought the same stuff every weekend. My truck, which eventually started getting called Lucky by the crew; and in more ways than one was well deserved. Lucky seemed to have a way to be fast enough to get out of view, quiet enough to sneak home at 3am, and strong enough to bring a smile across any lady that got in.

 Taking care of lucky got harder every year. The problems compounded and soon I was considering trading him in. Could never bring myself to it though. Replace the gaskets for $500? Cool. New transmission for $3000? Ouch, but ok. Replace all the electrical for $800? No problem. Trade him in for a brand-new no issues vehicle? Not a chance. I once asked a guy who seemed too nosy for his own good, how do you put those memories in the new truck? How do I explain to Lucky, that you’re too old to matter and everything that’s happened and all that you’ve got us through is now worthless? He stared at me momentarily like I was on drugs or a wimp, one of the two or both, and just walked away.

 I carried on. Weekends in and out hanging with the boys. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of loneliness grow inside though. We were both getting older, me and Lucky. What was the end going to be, what was going to make it all worth it?

  I’ll fast forward and spoil it. I ended up getting married to the love of my life; not Laura like I had sworn at 16, but a brunette; Marissa, or Mary as I found she liked to hear, after running into her regularly at the local pub. She is the most perfect woman I’d ever known and ever will and the most amazing mother. We had one baby, Jonas. He’s 15 now, 16 tomorrow morning. And I have the perfect gift. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, 11 o’clock at night, and a tear trickle down. My keys to Lucky lay in my open palm. He’s gotten me so far, and I know he can go much farther without me. He can keep adventuring and securing his earned name with Jonas. Jonas has earned his place behind this wheel, fixing him up, changing his oil and gracing him with a good shine wax. I place the keys softly in a small box with a bow. My lips tremble one last time at the sadness of saying goodbye. But a joyful smile quickly replaces that, knowing Lucky will be there for my boy.

[siamesefeverrdreams]

1-47

you probably thought i wouldn’t do this but you guessed wrong!! took me a bit but thank you for asking. hope i’m not boring :^)1.Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend?i would love to have someone to cuddle with but i know i don’t really need that right now, i have things about myself i need to work on first before i even consider going into a relationship with someone.

2.When did your last hug take place?on wednesday with the cutest lil man bailey (dogs count!!)

3.Are you a jealous person?i wouldn’t consider myself one but we all get jealous sometimes!

4.Are you tired right now?not really

5.Do you chew on your straws?no

6.Have you ever been called a tease?yah

7.Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?yes unfortunately. insomnia sucks ass

8.Do you cry easily?i’m a pisces! whatdya think??

9.What should you be doing right now?probably like updating my resume and applying for jobs but….. huh

10.Are you a heavy sleeper?depends if ive taken my melatonin/am intoxicated or not

11.Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months?yeah bitch 

12.Are you mad at someone right now?sorta

13.Do you believe in love?yes x1000000

14.What makes you laugh no matter what?silly voices & noises hh

15.Who was the last person you talked to?verbally: my dadtechnologically: michelle my hoe

16.Do you get butterflies around the person you like?i don’t have a crush atm!!

17.Will you get married?i honestly do not know. i don’t really wish to marry, but i wouldn’t object to it if my future partner wanted to get married.

18.When was the last time you smiled?like 10 mins ago at myself bc i’m hilarious

19.Does anyone like you?i think so??? idk my anons have been…. telling.

20.Do you secretly like someone?nope

21.Who was the first person you talked to today?kurtrude

22.Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?my spirit guide L-O-L

23.What are you NOT looking forward to?the niall horan concert dsjsghlkk i wanna bail but my friend will be mad. (can’t believe i bought a ticket hhhh)

24.What ARE you looking forward to?moving to canada. idk when it’ll happen but it’s gonna happen sometime and that’s something to look forward to!

25.Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you they loved you, and meant it?yes i died

26.Suppose you see your ex kissing another person what would you do?say good for him!! probably make jokes and tease him lol we’re good

27.Do you plan on moving out within the next year?yes!! but we’ll see how it goes it’d take a lot of miracles!!

28.Are you a forgiving person?yah, unfortunately. i am too forgiving! recently i’ve been better at keeping my guard up. lessons have been learned

29.How many TRUE friends do you have?i would say like, 4.

30.Do you fall for people easily?yeah. friendship wise as well

31.Have you ever fallen for your ex’s best friend?ew no lol no offence to him.

32.What’s the last thing you put in your mouth?a cookie

33.Who was the last person you drove with?my dad n (soontobe)stepmum

34.How late did you stay up last night and why?midnight, was listening to tunes dude

35.If you could move somewhere else, would you?canada!!!!

36.Who was the last person you took a picture of?bailey, the dog i dogsit! he counts!

37.Can you live a day without TV?yeah

38.When was the last time you were extremely disappointed?3 days ago

39.Three names you go by…hayley, hays, rad. the last two are very exclusive tho

40.Are you currently in a relationship?negative

41.What is your all-time favorite romance movie?im not a big romance movie person! but like shape of water is a romance right? that fish movie moved the hell out of me

42.Do you believe that everyone has a soul-mate?not in the traditional sense no

43.What’s your current problem?anxiety!!!!

44.Have you ever had your heart broken?too many times

45.Your thoughts of long distance relationships?they’re really hard and involve a lot of trust!!! it’s completely possible though! 

46.How many kids do you want to have?..h̲̹̹̹̼̱̋̈́̊̄̚ḩ̷̛͍͕̼̃̔̎̍́̇̕͟h͙͍̠̭̺͕̺̞̏̌̈́̔̎͢͠͝ỳ̴̘̻͇̠̼̹̲̗͓̇͊̒̄̓͊̽̕j̵̗̩̪̼̺͙̍̈̂̇̿̅͗̈́̑̽ͅh̶̨̧̘̱͉̱̱̎̌̊͌̎̈͗̒͢͠͡j̧̨̛̲̣̺̩̈́̊́̑͛͗f̢̛͉̻̠͐͆͢͡͞h̸̗̳̗̜̜̍̽͛̇̇́͝j̛͚̩͇̦͉̇͆̄͛͌̅͝͠͠ḟ͈͍̰͖͚͂͑͌̽͐͛͠ͅģ̷̖͔͕̳̺̹̩̊̊̍́̕͠g̛͕̘̙͕̀͋͑̅̿͐͟h̳͍̺̺̩̝͋̃͐̀̈́͋̌d̛̘̙̳͔̯̒̉̀̊͑̈f̵̢̡͓̮̥̱͚͎͔̉͒̏̋̿̋̕͜ḍ̴̨̛̞͕̘̓̂̍͊̄̔̄̓́s̴̩̤͚͉̝̙̀̃̇͌̋̈́̄͋̚͢͟f̶̲̖̘͈͍̽̑͌̒̊͂͡ͅr̶͔̺̩̬͙̱̟̐̀͋̒͘͘͝h̡̨̙̬̯̼̞̙̳̓̎̑̓̕͞y̶̨̨̖̤̟͋̊̓̆̊̕j̯̺̞͔̖̺͇͋̒̓͂̅̽̕͠͝..

47.Have you ever found it hard to tell someone you like them?yeah bitch i’m shy

[north-texas-madhatter]

An old country boy... Sitting with my dad in the back yard at the edge of Tandy Hills overlooking downtown Fort Worth you would never know that you were in the presence of such greatness. He looks as old as time, Parkinson’s causes his hands to shake as he points to a family of raccoons just at the forests edge. My mom asks if anyone would like some tea and my dad cracks some corny joke that he has grown famous amongst friends and family for. I know he is hurting but for a man who could dig a ditch in 110 degree heat on his ranch he keeps a stiff upper lip but not one so stiff as not to smile at his own jokes.

He grew up in Springtown, Texas. A small dusty blue-collar town in the Bible Belt. The son of a Southern Baptist piano teacher (a kind but tough to the point frontier type woman) and a soft spoken father who worked for Swift / Armor Company. He was born in a room in a rock house sitting on a creek just outside of town and learned what tough was while working in the cold of winter and the stifling heat of summer. He bailed hay and saved up for college with a broader horizon in mind beyond what his small town life had to offer.

One of the earliest memories I have of my dad was a visit to his work for the Fort Worth Water Department. I stood there watching the bubbles percolate up through the basins of sand as he explained how water purification worked. I wasn’t all that interested, but his white lab coat looked neat and clean. The room was huge with high ceilings and I still remember the smell of chlorine being added to the water to make it safe for consumption by the general public. The building still stands today with beautiful archways and broken glass glittering in the sunlight just off the viaduct bridge off North Main Street.

On our way home we stopped at the Public Market building where I played outside. He soon emerged carrying a huge plastic cylinder that he had purchased from Cadillac Plastics. “What’s that dad?” I would ask. “We are going to do an experiment”, he replied. At that time the water was taken from a lake, sent into settling tanks, run through sand and lime and chlorine added so that you could drink it but my dad had an idea. One day he had been sitting eating a sandwich on a dock when a smelly, oily boat tied up next to him. He thought it was terrible that even with the filtering they did they still could not get all of the oil out of the water. So he took the cylinder and filled it with all the elements of the process already in place and ran a few gallons of water with a teaspoon of oil added. After doing this multiple times he could find some oil still present in the water that we would be drinking. But then he added activated charcoal to the process.

Performing the same test the oil was no longer present. I don’t have all the formulas or specifications of the process, but I can tell you that I do remember the look of joy on my dad’s face as he told me what he had accomplished. Now, this was not a new idea, the ancient Egyptian’s all the way up to Bear Grylls have used this process but for some reason water treatment plants at his time were not deploying this time tested solution for water purification. Afterward the process would be used worldwide.

After working for the Water Department my dad went on to get a job for General Dynamics in Fort Worth. He had two good friends in life. A Chinese fellow name Billy and an odd but very sweet man named Don. Billy, he met in college and is the reason he was able to pass his math classes. Billy would encourage my dad to study hard, often alternating between sitting and standing for hours cramming for tests. My dad would become lifelong friends with Billy and his wife, who later moved to New York City. My dad would attribute much of his early success to Billy and his study skills. Then later he would meet Don, another person who would be an influence. Don was a genius. Possibly one of the deadliest designers at the time.

He was tall, skinny to the point of being gaunt and paranoid for good reason. It was on a camping trip with my dad and Don in Colorado that I would find that he had three guns on him at all times. Scared of bears I asked how we would defend ourselves? That is when he delivered a .357 from a shoulder holster beneath his jacket and two more guns from pockets. It isn’t that he particularly liked guns or even had an interest in them. Not the smaller ones anyway. But when people say, the Russians might be after me, he really meant it. He was a weapons designer. He designed missiles, rockets and one particularly nasty device that would launch over the top of enemy troops and send small projectiles cutting them to ribbons. My father said that Don worked in a “special area” of General Dynamics where a sentry stood at the door and anyone found trying to enter without the proper clearance could be shot on the spot. With a frame like Ichabod Crane he would wave his hands around wildly if my father’s jokes were too long. But despite the many who may have met their demise at the devices created by Don he was a considerate and quiet man who loved dogs and would give the shirt off his back for friends (or a .357 for bear protection)

In a lab sitting across from the windswept runway of Carswell Airforce Base my dad could see planes landing and taking off again. The roar of war planes were constantly performing for the possibility of attack with their audience, a row of ominous behemoths, whose only purpose was to bring death and destruction on an epic scale, B-52 Stratofortress’s (Nuclear Armed). Rows of them ready to take off on a moment’s notice with a one-way ticket to Russia to deliver the ultimate gift, certain doom. To see these planes, take off all at once, meant possibly the end of the world.

It was a necessary evil, a deterrent, a status quo – a sword constantly at the ready.

Now, my dad hands me a picture, it is yellowed on the edges, black and white. He is standing with another man in front of dials and in another loading a large oven looking device. “Here I am putting carbon into an adhesive and compressing it for the skin of military planes” I sat there with surprise! “So this was the early stages of stealth technologies?” – “Possibly” he said with a sly smile.

The picture showed him, young slim and handsome in his black framed glasses surrounded by all kinds of technology we might see in an old Frankenstein movie. He carefully rises from the swing. The family of raccoons now eating from cat bowls scurry back to the forest at the bottom of the yard. He goes inside and shuffles through a mess of files laid out ready to tell a story to whomever might happen by. Emerging from the house he hands me a piece of what looks like charcoal with some material bonded to it. “I could have gotten in a little trouble but I forgot this was in my drawer until years later” Seems, that in many cases absent mindedness goes along with being genius and my dad fit the absentminded scientist to a tee.

It was rough and obviously aged but what I held in my hand was a piece of history. It allowed US warplanes to slip into enemy territory undetected by radar and destroy enemy SAM (Surface to Air Missile) sites. This saved countless numbers of military lives and air wars to be over in a matter of hours rather than months. It was a material that absorbed radar and along with the profile of the plane and placement of engines made it almost invisible to the enemy. That is until it was in sight, followed shortly by a bomb that incinerated the observer and the missile battery targeted by the specter pilot.

My dad’s talents were not spent all on the doom and gloom of warfare. He also worked on the first rocket to the moon. And would be thanked by one of the Astronauts personally for his and the countless number of other scientists who worked on the Saturn V Rocket. The rocket that propelled them away from Earth to the Big Cheese in the sky. A rocket that had its predecessors as test rockets, some that would blow up into ribbons raining back to the ground for my dad and his team to collect and figure out why.

After the Vietnam War contracts for war planes would slowly disappear. Layoffs were on everyone’s mind but my dad seeing the writing on the wall got a teaching certificate and finally after surviving two layoffs was handed his slip. He had saved the company thousands and thousands of dollars, saved an untold number of American’s lives, helped put men on the moon and won two General Dynamic’s Presidents awards. But nothing could save him from the letters of R-I-F (Reduction in Force) the dreaded layoff. And with a wife and young son to support he went home to his family.

That Christmas was dismal. We were worried what to do as my dad looked for a job. We drove through the city to see the Christmas lights to try and cheer ourselves up. That is when we noticed a man sleeping on a park bench in downtown Fort Worth. It was bitter cold and all he had was newspaper, we were not sure if he was even alive. We pulled the car over and my dad went to the trunk where he had an old blanket for emergency should we ever break down on the side of the road. Back then Winters were cold and blue northers could bring a warm t-shirt and shorts kind of day to a blustery snow filled sky in a matter of hours. Handing my mom the blanket they together placed it over the man but he made no movement.

When we got home my mother was concerned and called the police to let them know there was a man who we thought may be deceased. We all kinda sat there on the big burnt orange sofa that was so much the fashion of the late seventies. That is when we decided that instead of buying each other presents for Christmas we would pool our money and buy blankets for the homeless. It was the most memorable Christmas I had until the present ones spent with our own children. We handed the blankets out across downtown. My father soon after landed a job as a middle school teacher at Irma Marsh Middle School.

I never forgot that Christmas and how grateful people were that had far less than us. I would later be hiking through Tandy Hills Park and stumble upon a homeless camp. There was no one to be seen but from the items left behind it appeared that a woman had lived in the dug out hovel. There was a Bible, pictures of two children and a makeshift stove. It was close to the Holidays and a tree nearby reminded me of a Christmas Tree we saw while driving around handing out blankets. I returned a few days later with toilet paper, first aid items, canned food and Christmas Tree ornaments. The location of the Hovel was just down the hill from a stray Mimosa Tree that stood lonely on a hill next to the highway.

As Christmas approached my mom and I piled into her big blue Lincoln and drove downtown to do some shopping. As we approached the hill where the Mimosa tree stood I could see something reflect as it caught the sunlight. It was decorated with Christmas Ornaments! The same ones that I had left at the hovel. I would later learn that the woman who had lived in the woods picked herself up, got a job at the local homeless shelter and returned annually to decorate the tree. After her passing, friends and people from the community began decorating the tree in her honor and it was aptly named The Homeless Christmas Tree. It inspired a beautiful children’s book that my wife and I now read to our children every Christmas season. The tree is now slowly disappearing, and I have always wanted to create a sculpture to put in its place. Maybe something to add to those many retirement projects that I have planned.

It is now getting late and the mosquitoes are biting. I look at my parents and they look back, it is still a warm Summer evening but a cool breeze can be felt blowing through the trees. The cacophony of cicadas chirping out their symphony is almost deafening and it is time to leave one family to return to another. I know they won’t be here forever but my parents have made a lot of lemonade from the lemons handed to them over the years and it has prepared me for the challenging times I have had in life. Times that if just seen in a different perspective can bring great things to be achieved during uncertainty. Because in the end we would never know true greatness without great struggle. Or how a poor country boy can reach for and finally grasp the stars – my dad.

[darling-cannibal]

H e c c

I got tagged by @the-miraculous-pryoproy

Rules: Tag 10 followers or blogs you want to know better.

Name & Nicknames: Bean, Buddha, Bails, Basil. I am also occassionally called Bale of Hay

Star sign: Leo!!!!

Height: 4'11

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff, and Ilvemony I'm Pukwudgie

Dream trip(s): either to Japan, France, Iceland, or Finland.

Average hours of sleep: 4. I'm so. Tired.

When I made my blog: I made it a few years ago at an RTX convention...? I wanna say 2 or 3 years ago

Cat or dog person: Cats! Even though I'm allergic to both. Dogs are really loud and I'm prone to headaches.

Tagging: @sirpercivalthedumbass @one-dead-god @where-is-the-pilot @monochromaticdishsponge @thorfid @lonely-mothman @ghost-in-spaaace @anxiouslilgay @daxcat5 and anyone else

[inside919]

This just on... http://inside919.com/news/raleigh-womans-photo-of-dogs-chained-up-in-snow-puts-focus-on-harsher-penalties/

Raleigh woman’s photo of dogs chained up in snow puts focus on harsher penalties

RALEIGH, N.C. (WNCN) — A Raleigh woman is pushing for penalties for those who leave their pets outside after a Facebook post went viral of dogs chained up outside in the snow.

Tiger and Torch were chained up outside during Wednesday night’s snowstorm.

“I made a post and it went viral about the two dogs that were outside,” said Amanda Miller who runs Bail for Tails Rescue.

Harnett County law requires pet owners to provide animals with food water and appropriate shelter and insulation if they leave them outside.

Miller runs a local animal rescue and through donations from the public, she was able to bring the owners supplies to keep their dogs warm.

“There’s a lack of knowledge about animals,” said Miller. “Some people do think ‘OK, they have a fur coat, its OK to be outside’.”

“Not the case,” Miller added. “Some dogs do freeze because they don’t have the proper coat. After everything happened we got together we got donations, proper dog houses, the cedar wood chips, it holds in the heat, even with the straw it holds in the heat, use wheat, straw — it holds the heat better.”

A petition circulating around the Internet is calling on North Carolina lawmakers to pass stricter laws to protect animals from being chained up or left outside in extremely cold or hot weather. The petition has more than 100,000 signatures.

“Legally I think all animals should have to be brought inside at night,” Miller said. “I don’t think they should be left out.”

Miller believes the current laws in North Carolina need to be improved.

“If a dog is left outside in freezing cold temperatures anything below 30 degrees, get fined the first time,” said Miller. “If they don’t bring their dog in next case, take the dog, press animal cruelty charges. The laws need to be pushed — we really need to change the laws here. Something more strict has to be done.”

The dog’s owners say they’re grateful for the knowledge and the help of the community.

“In the future, this will make us aware of our dogs and anybody else’s dogs that we see to say ‘hey it’s gonna be cold bring your dogs in or make sure you have the hay and the wood chips’,” said Patricia Belk.

“We thank everyone that commented and came out to help us better understand the risks that we could’ve not known about what could’ve happened to our dogs, which we’re glad it didn’t happen to our dogs,” said Christopher Belk.

Miller says in the past two days she’s received more than 30 calls about dogs being left outside in freezing temperatures and she is working on collecting more supplies to help them.

CBS North Carolina did reach out to Harnett County Animal Control, but so far have not heard back.

WHAT OTHERS ARE CLICKING ON

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RALEIGH WOMAN CHARGED WITH EMBEZZLING FROM NC TREASURER’S DEPARTMENT

9-YEAR-OLD VIRGINIA GIRL KILLED IN SLEDDING ACCIDENT

RENTER WANTS NC APARTMENT COMPLEX TO PAY HIGH POWER BILL AFTER 1 WEEK WITHOUT HEAT

SNOW TOTALS FOR CENTRAL NC STORM

[whipashwhipash]

Farmers Daughter

Jughead Jones drove up in his white beat up truck to the Cooper Family Farm. He saw that they were in need of workers. He parked his truck on the dirt road, hopping out of the front seat. His famous beanie was perched on top of his raven locks, sweat starting to form at the nape of his neck. He took his flannel off of his shoulders and wrapped it around his hips, the hot weather finally getting to him.

He walked through the white picket fence into the farm area, walking up to the house. As soon as his knuckles hit the door, a tall man with dirty blonde hair came out, arms crossed over his t-shirt and overalls covered chest.

“Hello?” The man said, looking down at the lanky boy.

“OH, Hi. I’m Jughead Jones and I saw that you are in need of a worker.” Jughead said, sticking his hand out for the large man to shake.

“I’m Hal Cooper. I own this farm. To work here you need a truck, you can’t be scared and you have to be willing to work until the sun goes down.” He said, ignoring the hand that was near his stomach.

“Well Hal, I’m your man! I can start right now.” Jughead said, turning to look back at his beat up truck.

“Ok good. The fence needs fixing, the peaches need to be picked and the cows need to be brought around.” He said, nodding his head before turning and starting his was back into the house.

Jughead made his way to his truck, getting the tools from the shed. After he finished all of his other chores, he went back to the house to get more things to do, as the day was far from over. He was told that he needed to feed the pigs and move the hay bails.

He moved over towards the barn, the smell of horses and manure filling his nostrils. He grabbed the feed from the bucket inside of the red barn, throwing it towards the hog pens. He quickly finished and walked out of the old wood barn, closing the door with a thud.

The suns heat was getting to him and he started to feel faint, so he dropped the bail of hay he was carrying, walking through the forest to the creek that was on the side of the farm. He stripped off his tank top, flannel and beanie, leaving him in his shorts.

He jumped into the cool water, enjoying every moment of coolness comparing to the sweltering heat that he tended to work in. He laid his head back into the water, running his hands through the wet hair that was flowing in the creek. After about five minutes he realized that he needed to get back to work or else he would of gotten fired before his first day even ended.

He hopped out of the creek, letting the cold droplets of water run down his toned chest and arms. He shook his hair out like a dog, running his ringers through it again to push it out of his face. Picking up his clothes, he wrapped his red flannel around his waist, leaving his tank top off. He tugged on his sneakers before rushing through the forest back to the farm.

He walked up to the barn, already sweating because of the sun. He started moving the bails again, cursing under his breath about the weather and the job, starting to think about quitting. If this job didn’t pay enough he was going to be out of there in a flash. The work was too hard, and the sun was too hot.

He turned around after dropping off one of the last hay bails, eyes coming in contact with the most beautiful creature coming out of a sleek blue truck.

Her eyes were a piercing blue-green, long tan legs wrapped up in tight denim overalls. She had a green crop top surrounding her chest, and her golden locks were up in a messy bun, pieces of her hair falling in front of her face, framing it. Her white converse were scuffed up, and her eyelashes were heavy over her eyes.

He felt his face get red and he started to sweat even more when she whipped her head around and her galaxies that she called eyes met his. She waved at the other raven haired girl who was walking towards the house and made her way over to him. He acted like he was preoccupied, starting to pick up his second last hay bail, moving it to the other side of the barn.

“Hey,” he heard from behind her, a voice soft as silk.

He turned around and saw the blonde beauty about two meters behind her. “Oh hey." Jughead said, pretending to be uninterested.

“I’m Betty Cooper. And you are?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jughead quickly turned around and smiled at the shy little blonde. “Jughead Jones. I just started to work here.” He said, pulling his hat out of his back pocket and slapping it on his head.

“Well welcome. I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other.” Betty said, turning around to start walking back to the house. “And by the way, I like your hat.” She said, and he could notice that before she continued walking, she took a glance at his naked chest. Man, did he love his job.

Their first kiss was at the creek, on a especially hot day about a week later. He had gone swimming to cool down like he usually did, and she went on a hike with the raven haired girl. She heard some splashing and saw a pair of sneakers. Leaving her friend, she went to investigate.

“Jughead Jones. Well I’ll be darned! Why aren’t you working?” Betty said from the ground.

He shook his head out and started to walk out of the blue creek, letting the water fall down his skin.

“Too hot to work.” was all Jughead said while grabbing the towel that he tended to leave by the creek for especially hot days like today.

She giggled and started to walk forward, taking an rather long look at his bare chest, watching the water droplets race down his abs. She didn't answer, knowing what she wanted to do. She walked closer to him, closer then they have ever been before. She twirled one of his curls through her callused fingers, smiling at his confused face.

Before he could say anything, she pressed her soft strawberry flavoured lips to his chapped ones. He took in every taste of her, placing his hands on both sides of her cheeks, holding her. He could feel her soft hands on his chest, and her smiling through the kiss. They broke apart for breath, leaning their foreheads together.

As the working days got shorter, their talks got longer, their kisses got sweeter, and their feelings got stronger. Every time that he could slip away from work and she could slip away from her family and friends, they would drive down to the creek in his truck and get all tangled up.

After on of their all-nighters at the creek, Jughead had to go back to work, the smell of her peaches and creams perfume still lingering on his shirt. He was on the old green tractor, but his mind was anywhere but. All he could think about was her. Her hair, her jokes, her smile. He was thinking about her last name too, and how he thought it was time for a change.

It was the next spring when they finally tied the knot. Mr and Mrs Jones. She wore the most beautiful white dress, her normal tied up blonde hair was cascading down her shoulders in perfect loose curls. She looked like the princess of his dreams.

Jughead still continued to work at the farm, hauling hay, feeding pigs and fixing fences. Like the first time he was woking there, the sun was beating down on his neck he just wanted to go into the house where there was amazingly cool air conditioning. But, he had to settle on the next best things. The creek.

He jumped into the creek, cherishing the feeling of the cold water on his bare skin. He spent more then enough time just floating around, enjoying the sounds of birds and trees in the wind. But there was also another sound there, one he was not used too while he was in the creek.

“Having fun?” Betty said from the shore, placing the cup down and pulling off her flip flops. She sat down at the edge, dipping her toes into the cool water, grabbing the cup that she placed down earlier.

He swam up to where she was sitting, pulling himself up onto the shore so he was sitting next to her. He grabbed the cup of cool iced tea from her hands, taking a sip with a grateful smile at the end of it.

“Thanks Bets" he said, as she placed her head on his wet shoulder.

Every time that he was working, she was on his mind. When he was painting the barn, moving hay bails, feeding smelly pigs. She was always there in his head. Even when he thinks it couldn’t get any hotter, he comes home to his wife, the farmers daughter.

Hey, I haven’t written in a while so I hope you enjoy! This story was based off of the song Farmers Daughter by Rodney Atkins, so go listen to that as well!