#unfortunately most farmers I know around here are like that

[llulabeee]

Sometimes I forget that my old coworkers are raging conservatives, but then I see shit like them trashing on the students protesting the war and I’m brought right back to

[evilminji]

Waaaaait a fuckin second >.>

You know the Agricorps? Where Obi-Wan almost went?

Where generations of JEDI YOUNGLINGS who "aged out" may have gone, along with the OTHER Corps? Such as the Explorer corps? Who are probably off in Force knows where, poking at rocks, going "hmmmm, yes, it appears..... I am HELLA fuckin lost."???

THEY? Are not "jedi" as far as most people think of them.

JEDI are the whooshy swooshy dudes with the lightsabers, right? The KNIGHTS! Fancy robes and live in the temple.

J'onn, who is a farmer, that got assigned by... somebody? SOMEBODY after it all went to SHIT around here? Yeah, J'ONN isn't a JEDI! What the fuck are you talking about? He grows space yams.

Buuuuut you're wrong! Ain't'cha? J'onn sure fuckin IS a Jedi. He went to Jedi school. Grew up in the temple. Probably looks up one day, in the middle of the fields, as the force tells him "take the fucking jedi logo off your overalls NOW" and?

Whooop! Naked J'onn! Oh dear, lost his overalls in the compost heap. Unfortunate.

Time to gather the kids he's technically not allowed to have but no one ever checks on them so screw the rules! Honey! We gotta leave! Yeah, all of us!

Cause like???

Look me in the eyes. Look me in the FUCKING EYES. (o.o) (as I stare creepily into your soooul~) and tell me Papadapaline would even fuckin REMEMBER the Corps.

Sure, eventually, he might. If he finds the crumbled note he threw somewhere. But they're not "important" right? Not like the KNIGHTS. The WARRIORS, in his eyes.

Because? He is a SITH.

And the Sith value POWER.

Not education. Not agriculture. Exploration or hyperlane maintenance.

And HEALING? Medicine? Psssshhhhh. Only in so far as they can twist it! What use is the Corps to him? They are NOBODIES.

Buuuut? Funny thing about nobodies? They tend to be the most dangerous sort of all. The tiny spark. The well placed word. That one form filled JUST were you hoped it would not be. The Force LOVES nobodies. They are the butterflies that blow galaxies apart. Bend and reshape destinies. Steal somebody's stapler.

They are not Jedi, they are Corpsmen.

Order 66 wouldn't effect THEM.

@spidori @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @mayfay

[junicult]

synopsis ; the aftermath of going days without seeing your boyfriend.

contains ; suggestive. mostly fluff tho (shocking). gn!reader, but fem in mind. established relationship — dating. drabble. reader is very desperate lol. i need harvey. this might be literate to me only. sorta proofread, i’ll look over it later.

note ; forgive me…….again……………….again.

you’re not surprised you even had the dream in the first place. it’s been nearly a week since you’ve last had sex. and it’s been days since you’ve seen him.

no wonder your subconscious is wanton. you’re more sexually-frustrated than you’ve been since you were single. unfortunately, you’ve never been able to finish due to a sex dream, so that only adds to the indelicacy of the way you handle your plants today.

to put it simply; you’re a bitch today. cursing random things that get in your way, walking around town barely throwing items at the applicants and leaving with no other word.

you’ll feel guilt later. you just can’t get this one thing out of your mind.

you detour, (is it even a detour if you knew you’d find your way here at some point in the day?) bursting into clinic as if you own the place. the air conditioning blows the pulled pieces of your ponytail, cooling your sticky skin.

the discrepancy of storming in hardly goes noticed by the woman behind the counter, nose deep in a book like usual while she waits for appointments or someone to shop. she’s used to you coming in like this, more or less.

“hey maru.” you bore, hardly sparing her a glance.

“hey farmer.” she doesn’t even have to look up, she already knows who you’re here for.

you push past the swing doors to where you know your boyfriend sits, examining files you have zero interest in (not that he’d even let you peek.) your steps are harsh, leaving a trail of dirt or something you have no care in at the moment but most-likely will later. you might even offer to mop if it’s too bad.

you push open the door to find just what you were expecting; you’re achingly handsome boyfriend with his neat brown hair, paired with his lab-coat and stethoscope as always. he’s hunched at the desk, deep “in the zone” as he would say, until your disruption has him swinging around to face the door.

only to visibly relax when he sees it’s you, and in turn pulls a smile on his previously scrunched face.

“oh! what a pleasant surprise, i was just thinking about yo—“

“you need to fuck me tonight.” you state, before the door was even shut and loud enough maru could’ve heard—a possibility that has him wincing. “y’know, if you’d like. that’d be great.”

god, seeing him only makes it worse. you want to kiss him, all over if you could. you want to grab his collar, pull him up from this tiny, squeaky office chair and press him against the wall, feel his hands, his lips, anything you can grasp—

“what?” he hesitates. his eyes pinch with concern you disregard as you step closer.

“harvey,” you whine, “i just needed to see you. oh my god, i don’t like going days without seeing you.”

he’s stunned, but his heart swoons before his brain even registers what you’re saying. though his lips seem to think before he does, accepting your own like a magnet when you press into him.

he never minds a quick peck when he’s in the office or in uniform. and he’s never been one to turn down your affections, but at this moment you’re kissing him like you only do at home. you’re stealing his breath, fingers feathering through the back of his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in the way you always do before eventually lowering to your knees and going on with what makes him the most relaxed.

you know what you’re doing, he knows you know what you’re doing. and he also knows you’re well aware of time and place, and unfortunately for you—this will never be the place.

“what’s gotten into you?” he suspires, the action causing you to pull away with a sigh.

you have to force your gaze away from his crooked glasses and puffy lips. “i had a dream about you last night. now i’m pissed off.”

“because of me?”

“because we haven’t had sex in like, a week.” you groan, breathlessly, “i miss you.”

you could almost feel embarrassed. almost, if you didn’t already know you were stroking his ego; a task you love to do mostly because it never makes him cocky it just makes him more confident. and you love him the most when he’s feeling good about himself.

he stays mostly silent for a moment, basking in this declaration of love (lust) from you. he blinks with puppy dog eyes—you’ve always loved how much larger they get under his thick lenses.

“…all because you had a dream about me?”

you sulk, giving him a short glower. “not all because. we haven’t even seen each other since monday.”

“i know, i’m well aware. i’ve missed you too,” he nods and offers a small smile. “want to tell me what your dream was about?”

you frown, absentmindedly circling your thumb on his polyester shoulder.

“it was dirty.” you murmur.

he lets out a huff of air through his nose, already assuming as much. the confirmation feels nice however, and he purses his lips as his cheeks grow crimson.

it’s flattering knowing you think about him the same he does to you. or maybe, it easies the guilt when he wakes up the next morning.

“you were doing things…that you’re really good at…that i really miss,” you drop your butt and cup your knees like a spoiled child, subtly whining as if neglected. you almost feel like it too, which you know isn’t purposeful. he’d spend every waking moment with you if he didn’t have his own obligations.

you look up at him with a pout, almost defeated. “please come over. i’ll make you dinner.”

“honey,” he laughs, acquainted with a warm flush across his cheeks that he wears handsomely, “you never have to bribe me to see you. although i’ll gladly accept if you’re offering. what time will you be finished with work?”

“what time will you be finished?”

“probably around 5:30 today. i can come by afterwards, if you’ll be done?”

you grin, shooting back up. “i will be. i’ll make you the best dinner ever. you’ll never want to go two and a half days without seeing me ever again in your life.”

“i never wanted to to begin with!”

[strawburry01]

Life in Technicolor

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: After the two of you were stuck on opposite sides of the space time continuum for 30 years- how do you go back to normal?

A bunch of little blurbs because people ate that up last time and it's fun-er to write rn :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

Part 3

Part 4

Meeting Mabel and Dipper was truly one of the best things that you'd ever experienced. You loved helping Mabel with her endless crafts and hearing all her boy problems (which was a shocking amount and also of shocking severity). You also loved helping Dipper with his research of Gravity Falls under Stan's nose of course. He'd kept your room of video tapes under lock, so when you finally convinced him to open it ("it is MY stuff Stan"), Dipper was on Cloud 9 going through all of your recordings. Most of them were trashed unfortunately after years of dust and sitting, but a few of them actually ran back and played, which excited you both.

One morning you went to the Gravity Falls farmers market only to feel the intense scrutiny of everyone's eyes on you until Susan, still the waitress at the pancake place questioned where you had been for the past couple decades. "Um, vacation?" you had sheepishly answered. It seemed to somehow work.

Mabel, Dipper, and Soos took it upon themselves to catch Ford and you up on all the worldwide events you'd missed. Ford was distraught over Princess Diana's death.

While Ford was often stuck in the basement working on his devices and journals, you liked to stay in the gift shop and help at the register, working on writing down all your time over the past years between customer checking out. Wendy thought you were pretty cool for doing it.

You caught Soos once trying to Sharpie on a similar heart under his own eye once. You slowly closed the door despite not breaking eye contact with him. Neither of you ever brought it up.

Ford and you went stargazing most nights on top of the shack. Stan did do a pretty good job installing a dubious, but stable-ish, balcony.

Stan and you were a little awkward at first, as he didn't know if you'd share his brother's attitude towards him or not. You couldn't handle it anymore and ended up buying him a 6 pack of shitty beer and driving the golf cart in donuts outside in the parking lot until you were both doubled over.

Ford and you held another wedding ceremony. A more proper one this time. Dipper was the ring bearer, with Mabel being the flower girl. She unfortunately picked some of a carnivorous variety that started biting their ankles soon after exchanging "I do's".

Mabel took you and Ford out to try and update your wardrobes since everything was stuck in the 80's. Ford blushed every time you stepped out of the dressing room.

Stan tripped you (accidentally) into the Bottomless Pit and Ford nearly killed him on the spot.

You got dragged into supervising the girls on their quest to get unicorn hair and nearly threw out your back while throwing punches at those bratty horses.

Being old in this world was the hardest thing, but you were glad Ford was there to commiserate with. When you had been here last as spry 30 something year olds and were flung back as 60 something year olds. Most night's you'd stare at yourself in the mirror after brushing your teeth until Ford would get up from bed and wrap his arms around your waist and look into the mirror with you. "Still beautiful" he'd mumble as he'd kiss your shoulder. It wasn't that though. Sometimes you just couldn't recognize yourself. You were supposed to have watched the both of you grow older in this house. Not blast back here after decades apart.

"Do you ever feel like we missed out on all those years?" you'd ask Ford one day. "Perhaps. But all we can do is focus on the future at this point, and at least we have that," he'd answer.

Taglist wooooo:

@valinbean

@sunniskyies

@fries11

@fluffymarshmalllows

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

billy taglist— @honey-bees-13 @poppyflower-22 @black-yn @siriuslybeloved @sherlollyliveson18 @cosmicspacewitch @aravenswritingdeskblog @sabrinasbd @cqsmo @coconut-dreamz @preciouspinkyy

₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ to remain on my taglist, make sure to interact :)

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

[frostbitemutt]

some Jack marston hcs? Low honor more specifically 👀

Oh dear. But, Yes. Yes I will. This is low honor. Don't expect anything less than awful 💀.

Yandere! Low honor! Jack Marston hcs

Warnings: gender neutral darling, yandere trope, forced "relationship", obsession, stalking, harassment, unwanted crude flirting, perverted comments, non-consensual kissing and touching mentioned (nothing explicit), breaking and entering, kidnapping, violence, murder, sadism

Main traits:

|perverted/possessive/violent/sadistic|

✘ John Jack Marston Jr. Better to just call him Jack. A raunchy 19 year old trying to imitate his less than a saint father. On track to being an outlaw... yeah.. you're pretty fucked. He's an absolute little shithead.

✘ I'm going to assume you're a local townsfolk, maybe a store clerk, farmer, or maybe you're just his neighbor. You'll know when you've caught his eye. He makes it more than clear. Hounding you around town. Cat-calling you.

✘ His comments are perverted "They tell me I'm at my sexual peak sweetheart..", "Come on, just one kiss.", "are you are aroused as I am?".. and other comments. Very much to your dismay. Dosen't matter your gender. The perversion dosen't stop at words. If you don't have your curtains shut.. you may have to deal with a peeping Tom. His hands wander where they shouldn't, attempting to grab at you, pull you in close enough for him to kiss.

✘ He's possessive of you. You're not in a relationship. Hell you're not even friendly with him. You're definitely less than that. He still feels you're his regardless of the fact you hate his ass. No other man or woman needs to be looking or touching up on you. That's his job. Not theirs. He won't stand by and let someone else harrass you either. To him it's only okay when he does it. Hypocrite. Threatening, dueling, and shooting people left and right.

✘ Just like his daddy, he's violent. Wouldn't John be proud? Probably not. I already mentioned him shooting randos down. Your friends? They're found with a ludicrous amount of bullet holes. Lover? Yeah their head got blow clean off with a shotgun, sorry. You ain't off the hook either. He'll tackle you to the ground and manhandle you in a fit of anger. He'll shout real loud too. Sudden and explosive is how his temper runs.

✘ Sadism is something that shines through a bit in Jack. Now he's not going out of his way to harm or hit you most of the time, unless he's feeling petty. Maybe he'll give you a mildly harsh kick to your side. However that dosent mean he isn't at all. Your tears, your screams, your sobs, and your insults...make him feel all funny inside as he'd put it. Yuck. He'll laugh and snort at you most of the time. Mocking you and your fear. Maybe even make some pig noises at you to add some salt to the wound. Calling out "Sooie!".

✘ You swear, you wake up at least once a week to a weird noise in your home. Window or door suddenly cracked open, not even cracked, more like wide open. Yet you can't find no one. Oh, yeah, mutiple items go missing too. Lots of clothes. Toothbrush. Notebooks if you got any. Were there always boot prints in your carpet? Your bed feel oddly warm? Nope. It was Jack. Who else.

✘ Escape is certainly.. difficult when he goes to kidnap you. He abuses the fuck out of his lasso. Running away on foot? Lasso. On horse? Get the fuck over here. Lasso. Move more than 30 feet from him? Lasso. That point he's doing it cause he thinks it's funny. Unfortunate for you. Not to downplay the fear that comes with it. Thinking you're free, only to be yanked off your horse and hogtied to the back of his.

✘ It's all much worse when he has you isolated, in his home. No police you can snitch to, bystanders to chase him off, or neighbors of yours to questioning him snooping about. He's dosen't bother restraining himself, he was barely before. Sloppily kissing you, hands grasping wherever he can, shoving you against the nearest solid surface. It's vile.

✘ You'll have to endure more of his tantrums than ever. Grumbling when you refuse to talk to him, because why would you want to? Pouting and stomping his foot when you push him away from you. Going on rants when you won't stop crying. His mood changes day from day. Luckily after a bit you might be able to read his face and tell when he's about to to blow a fuse. You can brace yourself for his delusional complaining.

✘ Don't loose all hope. Escape is possible. Now I'm not going to say Jack's stupid, he isn't. However we're still talking about a 19 year old. (I'm almost 19 I can throw shade). He doesn't have a plethora experience like his dad or an older outlaw. He's a new adult on a violent power trip. If he leaves the house, check the locks, he might have forgotten one. Try to knock him unconscious in his sleep or.. more permanent if you're absolutely certain you can. That's the more risky option. If you can act well enough, you can possibly convince him to let you outside with him. If he does? Book it.

[drdemonprince]

Hey, I just wanted to thank you for your honesty and willingness to explain how queer spaces can be a lot less transphobic than discourse within the trans community can make it seem. A lot of the past few years for me have been spent closeted out of fear that reactions around me would be uniformly hostile. Things are obviously going to be different for me as a transfem, but I have a much easier time being optimistic now!

I am so glad! Listen, the people who post online all the time about how miserably hard it is to find a place for oneself as a trans person create a kind of reverse survivorship bias. They are the people who have already convinced themselves it's best to forever remain closeted or that forging any kind of accepting community for oneself is impossible. Often, they are also people who once harbored unrealistic fantasies about just strolling up one day into a pre-existing community that was perfect for them, not realizing that we must form our relationships painstakingly one by one (it tends to be the white eggs/unhappy lonely trans people who are most prone to thinking of community in that way). there's plenty of trans guys who are doomers like this too and they really tend to actively encourage one another to remain locked away. it's like incel kind of behavior when it's taken to its most extreme form. sometimes, it can be outwardly really nasty homophobic shit too (especially among "afabs" who complain about "cis gays" never accepting them and being super privileged). in its milder form, it's just extreme trauma brain.

The people you do not hear from so much are the people who are busy out in the world going on dates, acting in plays, getting their asses spanked in dungeons, playing tabletop roleplaying games, and going to farmer's markets with their three also transgender wives. Those are the people who know (that is to say, have learned!) how to interact with their fellow queer people, have spent some time out in the community, and in all likelihood have many rich friendships with cis lesbians, cis gay men, enbies, asexuals, bisexuals, straight ish poly people, and everybody else under our big umbrella.

I don't want to be overly pollyannaish because of course trans people have a tough time, and especially trans women have unfortunately to be on the lookout for really vile transmisogyny. But I think when people are wounded and traumatized by these things, they sometimes make the entire world sound incredibly unwelcoming, which creates a self-limiting feedback loop of isolation and mistrust. That is what trauma does! But it is not the truth. and we only learn otherwise when we give other people the chance to prove our worst fears wrong.

Like, just for an example, this Sunday I was at a silent book club at Dorothy, a gay bar on the west side that skews lesbian but is for everyone. I'd never been there before but it was an absolutely charming experience! Dozens upon dozens of lesbians draped over couches and curled up in chairs with their books, quaffing cocktails, alongside a few random dots of gay and/or trans men. Trans women were just a natural completely unremarkable feature of this environment. I couldn't even tell you how many t girls were there. It would be like counting plus sized girls or butches at this lesbian function. If it's a good lesbian function, there's gonna be a diverse crowd and it won't be weird or a big deal to anyone, they'll just be like any other women there. a lot of the big lesbian events here in Chicago (like Strapped) are organized by trans women, so of course there's a robust trans femme presence there.

And all of these groups at this function were getting laid. the couches were overflowing with women, so many that girls were grabbing pillows to sit on and huddle together with their books on the floor. Girls canoodled and cuddled on couches. I saw a cis alt girl covered in facial piercings flirting with a very prim and proper trans girl who was dressed like a victorian governness. they didnt know one another, but after the silent book club hour was done, they left for a while together, then came back with some food. across from me and my friends, i watched them gathering up on the couch, the space between their bodies slowly closing up into nothing over the course of the evening. they flirted and touched and then left the bar together to (and im no expert on body language but i could pick up on this one) fuck eachothers tits right off.

and of course plenty of other lesbians and wlw paired off or tripled off and had their fun too. again, just like steamworks, fat people, thin people, black and brown people, white people, disabled people, neurodivergent people, trans people, older people, younger people, everybody was there. like any good queer space, it was just a reflection of humanity. there is always more that can be done to make these spaces more broadly accessible to full community. but part of that is by putting ourselves there.

again i dont mean to make it sound like finding and making one's space is easy! especially not for trans women! but I also don't want people to get seduced by the hopeless jadedness that some foment online. there are spaces that some trans women I know will never go to -- even an explicitly trans affirming bookstore like Women and Children First gives many trans women I know bad vibes they cant quite explain but all feel (the store is owned and run by old white cis lesbians, it's not surprising to me that it's a little fucked no matter their good intentions) -- and ive heard people say transmisogynistic stuff at events, particularly from "ill date anybody but cis men" type t boys (my brothers, i hate you). shit can be tough. very tough. but also, the world isn't all uniformly as hostile as it's made out to be. there are people who are desperate to meet you. I hope you will come out to find them.

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: amnesia/memory loss

My love for this trope started back with A Poor Imitation by leafygirl, which is unfortunately now deleted. I'm not sure what it is, but I just really enjoy the tragedy around the character's loss of memory. The pain and struggle that comes with them having to relearn their whole life.

Anyway, I don't know too many, but here's some ones that I like!

Started: 2025.02.22

Last Updated: 2025.02.22

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fanfiction recs (all organized)!

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The Long Way Home - thegeneralgirl || ao3 || T || sasusaku || amnesia AU || complete

Sakura finds Sasuke again in Wind Country five years after the war. He's supposed to be dead and she's supposed to be beyond caring, but neither of them likes to live up to expectations.

Amnesiac!Sasuke is found years after his supposed death by Sakura. It's really interesting because Sasuke is actually taken in by a civilian family (I think they're farmers) from a far off town. However, he can't help but gravitate towards the shinobi way. I really enjoyed it!

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Cherry Blossom Flames  - Winged Lady Colette || ffn || M || madasaku || founders era AU || incomplete

A seven year old amnesiac awoke in a stream, being rescued by two brothers. MadaraxSakura

A young, amnesiac!Sakura is found by the Senju brothers and later becomes one of the leading reasons for the founding of Konoha. Cherry Blossom Flames is actually one of my favourite fics! It's definitely not bamf!Sakura if that's what you like, but it's very well written and her sibling relationship with Tobirama and Hashirama is so sweet. Plus, her and Madara are quite wholesome. I will also note this this does cover a significant amount of time.

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The Lost One  - elle6778 || ffn || M || itasaku || amnesia AU || complete

Memories lost, Itachi began to settle into life as a civilian in a secluded village. But when fate thrust Sakura into the picture, he knew he could no longer avoid his past. ItaSaku. Spoiler up to Manga Chapter 449. Prequel to The Return of the Heir.

The Lost One is fairly popular, but for good reason! Itachi is the one here with amnesia and Sakura is a double agent. In Konoha, it's been Hokage!Danzo since the Pein attack and I'm sure you can imagine what that means for the village... Highly recommend!

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Sakura Haruno's Least Favourite Romantic Tropes - Sasstenance || ao3 || unrated || kakaobi & narusasu || amnesia AU || incomplete

Obito Uchiha has formed an unfortunate acquaintanceship with retrograde amnesia. Sakura Haruno, despite being the most socially aware child in her genin team, is like her two peers in being still largely friendless, and in dire need of a confidante.

Sakura's father drags home amnesiac!Obito to live with the Haruno's and although Sakura isn't initially happy about the situation, she warms up to him. Obito sort of trains Sakura a bit and becomes her new friend. Plus, now with her tearful discovery that Sasuke actually likes Naruto, she's determined to make sure they're together! Very fun.

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Tree & Blossom - Anannua, coolgirl3890 || ao3 || T || iruyama || babysitter Yamato AU || ongoing

Here he was, an ANBU operative with the ultra-rare Wood Release ability, being insulted through his bachelor pad's dingy bathroom by Sakura, a child who was distantly related to the person who gave him the ultra-rare Wood Release ability through years of unethical experimentation.

Kid Sakura is somehow related to Orochimaru and the Hokage assigns the job to keep an eye on her to Yamato. You guys, this fic is adorable! Another kid fic (I love), parental!Yamato, amnesiac!Sakura, pre-massacre, all of the kids are friends, and let's just give Iruka the honorary title of Naruto's dad.

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To Come Back To You - thekatthatbarks || ao3 || M || kakasaku || amnesia AU || complete

Kakashi wakes up in the hospital after a mission and has amnesia. He's forgotten the last sixteen years and Sakura doesn't know how to act around the man who doesn't remember he's her husband.

Amnesiac!Kakashi makes for an awkward situation where Sakura has to pretend that they aren't in fact married. I believe Sakura is 28 in this I love that the cast includes lots of Kakashi's generation! Also, I'm fairly certain this is on ffn too.

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Amnesia  - The Reading Cat || ffn || T || narusaku || amnesia AU || complete

Sakura wakes up in the hospital with little knowledge of her past. Will she recover her lost memories? Or will she just have to start a new life with old friends? If she can't remember, it may just put her and Naruto's lives in danger. NaruSaku.

After a mission gone wrong Sakura is unable to remember anything past the age of eight. Her mother is definitely a headache in Amnesia, but Sakura and Naruto are great and it's got a pretty good ending!

---

Oh boy, I really need to update my other lists! Thanks to everyone for bearing with me :)

Also, I feel like I know some more (it's an itch in my brain!!), but I can't remember for now...

[cultofdarkwood]

Hee! Saw your call for ficlet prompts. So how about, Leshycat with ‘Do flowers really taste that good?’

- you know who ;)

immediately needed to combine these two bcz Yesss.

Yarrow, yellow cat, they/them! yall feel free to steal the name yarrow btw, idc

-

Work in the fields began before sunrise, which meant the farmers had to be up before light. For Yarrow, it wasn't too major of an adjustment. They were used to farming back in their now destroyed village in Darkwood.

For their housemate though, it was an issue.

The Lamb had placed the cult's newest recruit in Yarrow's shared shelter. Before him, Yarrow had been living here all alone, enjoying both the space and the peace and quiet. Now, the blind bagworm he had for a roommate seemed to live to disrupt every part of Yarrow's life, and he despised waking up early. This morning seemed to be an exception.

The Lamb couldn't seem to get Leshy to hold down a job he wouldn't immediately fuck up, so Leshy didn't work. Since he didn't work, he had a lot of free time. And since he seemed to live to poke fun at Yarrow, it was more often than not that Leshy would show up halfway through the day to follow them around the fields while they worked. He lived to cause as much chaos as he could get away with without upsetting the Lamb, so most of the trouble he caused involved eating through the garden that Yarrow tended to instead of the cult's crucial crops.

This morning, Leshy was up before the sun. Yarrow sighed, and resigned themself to a long day.

"Good morning, Leshy," they said, mostly to be courteous. The bagworm grunted and said nothing. Yarrow sighed, placed their farmer's hat on their head, and headed out the door. Whether or not Leshy followed them was his choice.

Unfortunately, he did.

As Yarrow got to work with the other farmers in the field, Leshy plopped himself down in the flower garden, digging his hands in the dirt. They had learned to ignore his antics, knowing he just wanted to get a rise out of them, but as they watched him, they couldn't help but feel something was off.

"Hey, Leshy?" they spoke up, watching him shove a handful of flowers into his gaping mouth. He didn't pay them any attention. "Leshy, are you okay?"

The blind bagworm paused, another flower halfway to his mouth. He seemed bewildered by the question, though it was hard to tell with how covered his face was.

"I just ask because, you usually never wake up this early," Yarrow felt the sudden need to explain, their dirty paw coming up to absent-mindedly rub the back of their neck. "And you usually like to-"

"Shut up," Leshy muttered with none of his usual bite, before shoving the flower in his mouth.

Yarrow huffed. "Well, sorry for trying to care," they muttered back, but they couldn't bring themself to step away. Maybe it was just the morning air, but Leshy seemed upset.

"Do flowers really taste that good?" they found themself asking, watching him destroy the garden they put so much care into. Leshy paused again, and Yarrow felt the need to explain themself once more, stammering through their next words. "I mean, I just see you eating them all the time. I've never tried one myself, well, just raw like that I mean. I've had some of them in teas before, but that's definitely different than just-"

"They help me see," Leshy answered shortly, startling the yellow cat into silence. "Not like how I used to, not like real seeing. But... I can taste the colors they are. Feels like seeing, sometimes."

"Oh," Yarrow said. Awkwardly, they looked down, and began to anxiously pick through the fur of their hands. "That, uh... sounds like fun?"

"I wanted to see the sunrise this morning," Leshy grumbled, though it was more of a quiet mutter. He shoved another flower in his mouth, his voice so quiet that Yarrow had to strain to hear it. "Which is stupid."

"It's not stupid," Yarrow said, feeling a lot less annoyed about the way Leshy liked to destroy their flower garden. "I see it every morning, but I still look forward to it even though I've seen it a million times. It's about to start now."

Leshy grumbled wordlessly, gathering together red, orange, and some golden yellow flowers. Yarrow watched, knowing they probably should've been getting back to work, but unable to pull themself away.

"You should add pink in there," they suggested quietly. The branching antlers on the sides of Leshy's heads twitched, and the worm turned his head towards them as though looking at them. "The sunrises here, they always start with pink."

Leshy didn't say a word, but reached across the flower garden to grab a handful of pink flowers. Despite the fact that it was their garden he was destroying, Yarrow let themself be impressed by how well Leshy knew where everything was planted.

"It's starting," Yarrow said quietly, and Leshy gave a clicking chitter, a noise he usually made when he was annoyed. This time though, it sounded softer, almost nicer. They could almost let themself believe it was appreciative.

Leshy shoved the first of the flowers in his mouth as the sun crested the horizon.

[cosmicheartz]

finished my updated Solange ref!!

i have a lot of lore abt her but some general info

does not like most of the bishops ( leshy is kind of the exception ) and HATES Nari. I'm toying with the idea that Solange ends up kicking the Bishops & Nari out of her flock for her mental health ( she only kept them around bc she'd feel bad but it gets to a point where its either keep them around and have her mental health/sanity suffer even more or kick them out so she can heal )

polyam ( in my current save i married Aym, a follower named Lavender and Jalala ( not sure if the Jalala relationship will be canon though ).

Solange and Lavender ended up splitting sometime postgame on semi good terms because Solange felt heavily uncomfortable pursuing a relationship with Lavender due to her newfound god status ( and the cult leader aspect )

Solange really only accepted Lavender asking her out/the proposal in the first place is because the last time she rejected someone ( the farmer she lived with prior to her execution ) he ended up selling her out to be executed. Solange also was under the assumption Nari would make her mortal after she killed the Bishops so she was planning on convincing Lavender and her sister to leave the lands of Old Faith so maybe Solange would feel less gross about the relationship. Unfortunately that didn't pan out so Solange decided to break it off

loves and cares for her flock but didn’t really want to be a cult leader in the first place. If not for the fact she would have been killed Solange would have given Nari the crown so she could leave the lands of the old faith and try to find a place to call home.

Postgame she tries to make the cult less cultish and encourages her followers to have some free will and be self sufficient w/o her ( which does sorta work to her credit ) but deep down Solange knows it doesn't really matter as a cult is a cult no matter how hard she tries to make it not so.

on a small side note i hc she isnt the last sheep ever but definitely the last sheep in the lands of old faith and the areas close to it. Sheep are still very rare however ( especially what would be considered " purebred " sheep )

voice claim is Sam Boole from PN2 ( example here )

moral code is a bit loose. She doesn’t exactly like to sacrifice their followers ( she much prefers ascension which she primarily does for her elderly followers ) but has little to no issue with sacrificing/killing off spies along with other things.

She can hold a nasty grudge ( see: her hating Naris guts ) to the point its probably detrimental to herself

Solange also made a sort of " deal " with The Fox that while she wouldn't give him Ratau she will give him both the bodies of followers who passed away and any spies that sneak their way into her cult ( along with offering him minced follower meat meals )

wanted to be an artist or a baker when she was younger ( They technically achieved the baker part as post game she starts growing wheat and making bread/pastries for her followers )

more doodles of her + concepts for some of her followers

[imtrashraccoon]

Hey hey, I'm still alive! The writing inspiration came back yesterday and I got most of this written in a couple hours. Maybe it'll even stick around long enough to get the last chapter done? I've been looking forward to it for ages so you never know! (Side note: this prompt is one of the loosest ones I wrote for this challenge...)

So this chapter is based on a Don't Imagine Request by my friend @anartisticwoofer from a few months back and includes a few details about the Reader Insert character for them. I'd say this is pretty close to what I originally wrote but with more detail, so definitely better. There is toothrotting fluff and a twinge of angst ahead, so you've been warned...

First, Previous, & Last Chapter

Bad Sansuary: Bonus - Creator/Player

Word Count: 2,290

Featuring: Dirk!

Today was a beautiful sunshiny day. The birds were singing, the local honey bees buzzing, and your garden had never looked better. Thanks to the lovely summer weather, you had bushels of juicy tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, refreshing peppers, sweet snap peas, and delicious melons all but begging to be consumed. Needless to say, you had your hands full picking and preserving what you couldn't eat on your own. You didn't mind though, since it was encouraging to see the literal fruits of your labour, and you genuinely liked the preservation process.

Nothing could go wrong on a day like this. You had spent the morning in the sun harvesting all the ripe produce, and now you had the rest of the afternoon to relax as you made some of the cucumbers into pickles. Unfortunately, you couldn't do them all today since you didn't have enough jars. Maybe you could barter for some more tomorrow from the market?

Agritail was a small community on the edge of the Klasical Kingdom and where you called home. Life was simple here. Most people were farmers or kept animals and traded for supplies with their neighbors. Those with larger farms were able to directly sell their goods in cities, but for the most part, it was an incredibly close-knit community.

Just as you were about to start pickling, a pair of arms snaked around your middle from behind. You gasped, momentarily panicking as you lived alone, but when you heard your would-be captor snickering, you relaxed some.

"aw angel, did i scare you that badly?"

You rolled your eyes and playfully smacked one of his hands. "Dirk... You're literally the worst..." you grumbled, although you were only a little bit annoyed with him.

He nuzzled into the nape of your neck, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his skull. "mm, i know~" he purred. "but i can't help it, you're just too adorable when surprised..."

You thought he sounded different today. Normally, his voice had a sort of lilt to it, like he found everything entertaining, and he never passed up the opportunity to make some sort of teasing or flirtatious comment. This time his demeanor seemed quieter, almost drowsy in tone, as if he had just woken up.

You sighed and placed one of your hands over his. "You're going to be the death of me someday, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to see you. How are you today?"

He let out a quiet hum before shifting and pulling you impossibly closer, pressing his ribcage against your back. You were wracked with a full body shiver as his exposed soul made contact through the thin fabric of your shirt. His unstable magic made your skin feel tingly, and he let out a slight exhale, as if this simple action was affecting him just as much as you.

You could tell he was wearing leather armour again. Maybe that fancy black number he had been wearing when you first met? He liked to switch up his gear from time to time, but you knew this one was a favourite, although you couldn't imagine why. It was definitely high quality but also simply designed, almost as if it had been made for a specific purpose. You had asked about it once, but he redirected your attention so smoothly, that you nearly forgot about it.

"i've been better," he murmured against your shoulder blades. "...feels like my mana has been eating me alive lately."

One of his hands slid up, splaying across your stomach, while the other descended to your hip and gently palmed at the soft flesh. At the same time, you felt his face rub against your shoulder, almost like he was nuzzling you. Unfortunately, this meant he was smearing his strange black tears on your clothing, and you knew you would have to scrub them out later. Maybe you would even need to bathe if they got in your hair since he had mentioned his tears were acidic once.

"just... let me hold you for a bit. i missed you, angel..."

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a gasp when he moved to your neck, his flat teeth grazing your pulse point. He took a deep breath, letting out a soft purr as he inhaled your natural scent. This action made your cheeks grow rather warm as you had gotten sweaty and dusty while working in your garden that morning. You hadn't even had a chance to clean up before he had ambushed you like this.

For a moment, you debated pushing him off, squirming away, or doing anything to get him to stop his ministrations. This wasn't the first or even second time he had trapped you with the express purpose to rile you up, and while you usually rebuffed him, this time you didn't. The attention felt good, and it had been a while since he had come to visit. Maybe the food preservation could wait for a little bit longer if it meant spending some time with the person you cared about the most.

Unfortunately, your lack of resistance seemed to trigger something in the roguish skeleton. His breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly went very still. He straightened up and, while his hands ceased their wandering, he didn't let go of you completely.

"angel?" He paused before quietly saying your name. "are you feeling alright?"

The tone change was so abrupt that it nearly gave you whiplash. One moment, you were wondering how far he was willing to take this, and the next you were trying to catch your breath as you realized he had stopped. Your tongue was tied, and you couldn't seem to form the words to respond.

When you didn't immediately answer, Dirk only seemed to grow more panicked. He pressed one of his hands against your neck, apparently trying to find your pulse, but whether it was his leather gloves or general clumsiness brought on in his haste, he couldn't seem to locate it. Growing frustrated, he abruptly gave up and pressed his hand against your forehead in a vain attempt to check for a fever, despite the fact that being a skeleton meant he lacked the ability to detect much in the lieu of temperature.

Finally finding your voice, you grabbed his hand and attempted to pry it away from your face. "Dirk! Dirk, I'm fine! It's okay!" you protested.

He didn't respond. In fact, it was almost like he wasn't hearing you. His breathing had grown laboured, not from arousal but terror, and he was muttering something unintelligible over and over. His grip tightened on your body, so much so, that you could almost feel the sharp tips of his phalanges through his gloves.

Realizing something was terribly wrong, you began to squirm and shimmy until you could turn around to face him. What you saw was heartbreaking. Dirk had no visible eyelights, so while it was difficult to tell what emotions he was feeling at any given time, it didn't take a genius to see the sheer anguish written across his face.

His permanent grin was still present, but it was thin and far too sharp to mean anything positive. The black tears were flowing steadily from his eye sockets, pooling underneath his jaw and coating his leather chestplate. His target-shaped soul was more of a mess of red lines than its usual neatly separated sections, and it was like he was staring through you rather than focusing on your face.

You didn't know what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened while he was visiting before. However, while you didn't understand why, you knew what a panic attack looked like and knew you had to do something.

You wrapped your arms around his ribcage, trying to provide what comfort you could. "Dirk, I'm here. You're in a safe place. Try to match my breathing, okay?"

You continued speaking out loud, trying to keep your sentences short and reassuring him that everything was alright. It took several minutes before he was able to begin to calm down, but you held him as close as you could the entire time. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, returning the gesture to the best of his ability.

"I love you so much," you whispered. "You always brighten my day whenever you come visit. I know if I ever needed help, I could count on you to drop everything and come over. You're always so attentive and thoughtful too. If I could do anything to make your life a bit happier, I would, even if just to make up for the difference you've made in mine."

With each compliment, you pressed soft kisses against his skull, trying to cover every inch that you could reach, although it was a little hard to avoid his tear tracks. After a minute, he gently cupped your face and rested his forehead against your own, stopping you from continuing.

For a moment, he just stayed like that, silently gazing into your dark brown eyes. His breathing was a bit heavy, but it was nothing like his earlier panic. He still wasn't back to his usual self and likely wouldn't be for a while, but who would be after all that?

"i really like listening to your heartbeat," he finally murmured. His tone of voice was much more subdued now, to the point that it sounded husky, like he had just woken up, or as if his emotions had gotten the better of him.

You thought about asking what he meant, but decided to save it for another time. He had looked completely devastated earlier, especially when checking to see if you were alright. It was almost as if he thought he had done something to hurt you. So yeah, you weren't about to risk reminding him about it while those demons were still fresh.

Carefully, so as to not cause him to trip, you began to push him backwards, gently walking him out of your kitchen and into the living room. He only fought you for a second before seeming to realize that you weren't done comforting him, not by a long shot. You guided him to the couch, hoping your cat hadn't decided to take up all the cushions again, but thankfully, she didn't seem to be around at the moment.

Dirk laid down on the couch without complaint, although he did manage to drag you along as well, but you didn't mind. He clearly wanted you to keep touching him, and since you actually quite enjoyed the act of cuddling, you had no complaints either. Then, he shifted around a bunch and when you looked over, realized he had taken his gloves off. Maybe he didn't want any barriers between you?

He was always mindful of his claws so you didn't mind when he began to card his phalanges through your hair. The silky texture seemed especially intriguing to him since he kept letting it slide through his phalanges, although it would occasionally catch on the joints between his bones. At least he was careful not to yank or pull out any of it.

After a few minutes of playing with your hair, he stopped, only to press his teeth against your cheek in the skeleton equivalent to a kiss. It was slow and tender, yet no less loving than the dozens of other times he has done so. The moment he pulled back again, you responded by turning your head so you could return the favour, only planting one on his teeth instead. He momentarily froze up and you realized that for the first time, you had caught him by surprise.

He seemed to practically melt, even letting out a slight whine when you pulled back again. Maybe if he had more energy, he would have chased you and started a little fight to see who would have the last kiss, but this time he seemed content to let you have it. Most interestingly though, you caught a glimpse of a very faint white eyelight in his left socket, although it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. It was possible that he didn't even know it had happened since he didn't acknowledge it either.

He moved on from your hair to your freckles, mindlessly tracing them with his phalanges. At first he seemed to be drawing random patterns, but then you noticed that it was more like he was connecting each of the soft marks on your skin. The gentle caresses actually made you feel slightly ticklish, but not so much that it bothered you. It was a good feeling and something that you couldn't recall experiencing before.

"i like your eyes too," Dirk hummed. "from a distance they look like a chestnut colour, but when i get close, they're suddenly all golden. it's like a metaphor i think... something about strangers dismissing you for seeming ordinary, while in reality you're like a hidden treasure."

You couldn't help but smile at his comment. Despite having charisma in spades, he really wasn't the most eloquent speaker, and yet that was easily the nicest thing anyone had said to you. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside in the best of ways.

Letting out a happy sigh, you hugged him slightly tighter. "Would you ever consider moving me into that impregnable fortress you live in?"

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand stilling and coming to rest on your cheek. With a subtle shake of his skull, he pressed his nasal cavity against your scalp. "you'd be safer and a lot more happy staying here, angel," he murmured into your hair.

[honestsilasbirchtree]

June 15, 1952

The waffle house had been nameless for the entire eight years it had been in operation so far. Lizzie Dixon, 22, had been working there for three of those years. She could now begin preparing orders based on the sound of the cars pulling up and the tops of hats and hairdos that she could see through the blinds.

All of her lunchtime regulars were currently in, the dishwasher was out for a "smoke" again, and absolutely nothing was going to surprise her. She thought about dropping a milkshake glass for the hell of it.

"The back of that greasy kid's head looks like it could use some sparkle! Why don't you give it a hurl!"

Lizzie jumped at the sudden loud voice by her ear and dropped the glass, just missing her foot. The shards scattered. "Oh-! Oh no, no..." The dishwasher, finally back behind the counter, turned around at the sound. "Whoa, Lizzie, what happened?"

"Where have you been?" Lizzie snapped. "Don't just-- careful stepping through, oh, come on, get a broom or something, I have to take this gentleman's order--" She turned back to find herself face to face with a pale stranger in a suit and hat.

"Shucks, you missed!" he continued. "Better luck next time, huh?"

Lizzie allowed herself a smirk at that. "I might like that, but I like working here more, I'm afraid."

"Oh, you do?" said the stranger. His voice seemed strangely loud and shrill no matter what volume he was speaking at. "I see, got to comfort yourself somehow after your big audition flopped. Don't worry, that whole rodeo will fold a year from now anyway! BIG shooting malfunction! You're better off out of the, haha, line of fire! Trust me!"

Lizzie's eyes flicked over to the ad taking up most of the far wall at the end of counter--a flirtatious blonde cowgirl, SLUGGER COFFEE, 'Start Your Day Like a Shot!' She really hoped he was talking about cameras. "...I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Silas Birchtree, travelling salesman and so much more!" he doffed his hat. (For a moment, she heard some kind of buzzing.) She could see his eyes better now, wide and avid to a near painful looking degree, just like his smile. "Now, Lizzie, can I just say--"

"Hey!" A redheaded young man wearing a blazer in an unfortunate color took a seat at the bar. "Is this fella bothering you, Liz?"

"She hasn't been interested since you called her "Lizard" the first day of junior high, Chris!" the newcomer shot back. Heads all through the establishment were turning. "Take your comedy act somewhere else! I'd suggest the middle of the road, but if this one horse town ever gets anything resembling actual traffic, I'll eat that horse myself!"

Lizzie wanted to sink into the floor. Chris flushed red and balled up his hands. "Why don't you get bent, you creep! Who d'you think y--"

"Hey, ain't you supposed to be dead?" an old farmer at the other end of the counter called out. "We had a burial and everything, I saw." This set the gathering crowd murmuring.

Birchtree flashed a megawatt grin his way. "Normal human man, right here!" He thumped his chest hard. "Aren't you supposed to be cutting back on the drink, Ray? Then again, the doctor has bills to pay, too! Wanna bet you can help finance his new car?"

Ray's brow furrowed. "Say, how'd you know all that? What new car?"

"An excellent question! My unearthly knowledge comes from above!" Birchtree threw his arms wide, shouting to the whole restaurant. "An all-knowing entity of awesome power has chosen me to be his herald! He's seen your mistakes! He watches your dreams! He foresees the terrible way that you will die, yes, each and every one of you!" Now he was standing on the counter, with a sea of open-mouthed faces around him. "All of these secrets and more I will share with you rubes, if! You! Follow me outside!"

He stepped down from the counter and strode out the door, a throng following him out and down the street to Orchard Lake's central square. Lizzie let herself out from behind the counter to join them, still trailing broken glass underfoot.

"Hey, where are you going?" the dishwasher shouted after her. "Hey! Lizzie! What are you doing? Come back!"

[renthony]

🏳️‍🌈

any good queer book recomendations?

(Drop a 🏳️‍🌈 in my inbox and I’ll respond with a queer media recommendation!)

The Second Mango by Shira Glassman is the first book of the Mangoverse series, a queer Jewish fantasy series about young disabled lesbian Queen Shulamit and her family. It's very good, very sweet, and just about the most heartwarming cozy fantasy series out there.

The first book follows Shulamit after she's had her heart broken by her lady love and is trying to find other women who love women. Accompanied by a dragon-riding warrior woman named Rivka (my personal favorite character <3), Shulamit helps save a temple of women turned to stone by an evil wizard, rescue a beautiful woman from captivity, and get a wholesome sapphic happily-ever-after.

Here's the official plot summary:

Queen Shulamit never expected to inherit the throne of the tropical land of Perach so young. At twenty, grief-stricken and fatherless, she's also coping with being the only lesbian she knows after her sweetheart ran off for an unknown reason. Not to mention, she's the victim of severe digestive problems that everybody thinks she's faking. When she meets Rivka, an athletic and assertive warrior from the north who wears a mask and pretends to be a man, she finds the source of strength she needs so desperately. Unfortunately for her, Rivka is straight, but that's okay -- Shulamit needs a surrogate big sister just as much as she needs a girlfriend. Especially if the warrior's willing to take her around the kingdom on the back of her dragon in search of other women who might be open to same-sex romance. The real world outside the palace is full of adventure, however, and the search for a royal girlfriend quickly turns into a rescue mission when they discover a temple full of women turned to stone by an evil sorcerer.

The other books in the series follow Shulamit as she deals with things like "I have a severe gluten intolerance, but nobody respects my dietary needs!" and "I'm a cis lesbian in a relationship with a cis bisexual woman, but we gotta produce an heir to the throne!" and "oh no, our kingdom's crops are being affected by a mysterious blight and we have to help the farmers!" and "how do we help a gay prince from a neighboring kingdom fight against his father for the labor rights of the common people?"

The series is very Jewish, very queer, very feminist, and they're incredibly comforting. They make me believe in a better world, full of wonderful people who care about each other and fight to improve the world. It's a perfect series to read if you need something to feel hopeful about. The second book was even dedicated to a local labor rights organization in the author's city, which I think is pretty awesome.

The series gets mis-categorized as young adult fairly often, because it doesn't have explicit depictions sex or violence. It is not YA, though--Queen Shulamit is 20 years old in the first book, and by the fourth book, she and her wife have multiple children. YA is great, don't get me wrong, but this series is very much for adults!

Do yourself a favor and check it out if you're looking for diverse fantasy with a happy ending, where marginalized people get to love each other fully and triumph over difficult circumstances.

[imissnanami]

Hi Farmer Girl! ch.1

(stardew bachelors x f!reader/farmer) use of Y/N at the start, will change to the nickname "Farmer" in later chapters!

a/n | I've been working on this longfic for a while and thought I'd just start posting! hope you enjoy!

Ch. 1: Goodbye Joja Corp. 

Bright fluorescent lights cover the ceiling, every two panels down and three to the side, there are 92 in total. Fourteen of them are dead and the one right above the cubicle to the left has been flickering for the past two weeks, four days and three hours. 

How do you know? Y/N has been sitting in the same cubicle for the last four years. Having finished her Bachelor’s Degree, and having looked into all the “promising career paths”, a Joja part time- turned full time-job was all that was available. And frankly, it paid better than others. The price? Her soul... Apparently. 

That being said, the first few months weren’t all bad, what with the funny emails and decent pay, Y/N felt like it was the perfect stepping stone. Unfortunately, a summer turned into a year, which turned into two, and well, here we are. 

Clicking back and forth between two browser windows, Y/N watched them light up and grey out in turn. Having finished her allotted work for the day in the first three hours, she’s resorted to seeing if she can click both windows at the same time if she positions her mouse just right. So far, no luck. 

Mid click her cramped desk gets slightly darker. Despite the many ceiling lights, the close grid of the tiny cubicles allows for little light to actually reach their desks. And her dead lamp only adds to the problem. Sighing she bends down and check to see if it unplugged itself again. Nope. Unplugging it, Y/N turns the head of the lamp and checks the bulb. Yep. Dead. Heaving another dramatic sigh, she begins riffling through her desk drawers trying to find a replacement. 

The top drawer, having conveniently jammed, required a stronger yank. Which of course led to half her papers falling all over the floor. With a flat look Y/N slid out of her chair onto the floor and began picking up the papers. Deciding now was a better time than any, she began placing them in rough piles. Office work. Notices. “Company Moral”. A confused hand hesitated over a creme coloured envelope, a stark contrast to sea of blues from Joja. 

“What are you..” Y/N mumbled before bringing it closer. 

Messy handwriting spelt out: Y/N L/N Current Address

Feeling her heart drop upon recognizing the writing as her late Grandpa’s, she climbed backwards into the chair and pulled her legs up. Y/N was not a very organized person, and being unorganized led to things like forgetting if she’d locked her door, leaving her food on the stove for too long, and not cleaning her desk. When did she get this letter? One season ago? More?

Tearing the end of the envelop, she unfolded a single sheet. Three seasons ago. Fuck. Feeling a lump in her throat she began to read;

My Dearest Granddaughter Y/N, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight if what mattered most in life...real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. Stardew Valley. 

You were young when this happened, but I had my will decided the year you were born. Looking at you and how happy of a baby you were, I knew I would do anything to ensure your future. Including leaving my farm to you. 

Pelican Town is a small place with wonderful people. And Stardew Valley Farm is now yours. I understand it is a lot to take in, but I assure you, the farm will wait as long as you need it to. I just hope it can deliver you the same joy it did me. 

Remember I love you and will always be there for you. It is never goodbye.

Your Grandpa.

Y/N sniffed heavily and rubbed at her eyes. Allergies man. 

Looking pathetically around herself, the close walls of her cubicle, her papers littered on the floor, the broken lamp, and the white noise of keyboard typing and mouse clicking, Y/N had one thought. 

I don’t want this. 

Shifting her computer mouse the screen jumped back to life. 4:00 PM. One hour to go. After she picked up her papers from the ground and shoved them back into the drawer, Y/N decided that a better use of her time was looking into Pelican Town and not clicking between windows. 

Typing in the location, a few measly articles popped up. A handful featured general knowledge about the valley. Small Town Jock: The Next Sensation? A community centre website. Nature Snap-Shot 20XX: Participant List. Some more about farm life. Local Teen Inventor Wins County Science Fair.

Scrolling down a little, Y/N realized the newest article was was a small blurb dated 4 years ago. Local Doctor Saves Little Girl. Clicking on the title, Y/N begins to read. 

“Doctor Harvey Alswell, having moved to Pelican Town only a few weeks ago, jumps into action when a young girl (Jas, age 3) gets an unexpected coughing bout. Dr. Alswell puts his newly polished skills to the test and upon close observation, discovered that little Jas had Bronchitis. Luckily, due to his early detection and carefully administered antibiotics with plenty of bed rest, Jas was able to make a speedy recovery. Despite his heroic introduction to Pelican Town, Dr. Aslwell is “just happy to help and glad Jas is OK.” With winter closely approaching its important to know the difference between the common cold and something worse.” 

The author then goes into more detail about the importance of heathy eating and cold prevention, which Y/N elected to skip out on. At least she knows that she wouldn’t die if she moved away. Wait, move away? Since when did she start having these thoughts, its been half an hour at most...

*

For the past week and a half, Y/N has been debating wether or not to uproot her entire life. On the “for” side, we have amazing things like; 

-regaining my sanity

-actually talking to someone other than Mr Brown (my old stuffed bear)

-seeing sunlight

Not bad. And on the “against” side; 

-I don’t know the first thing about farming

-Bugs

Aannndd that’s about it. Staring at the measly sticky note, Y/N heaved a sigh before groaning and reaching for her Grandpa’s letter. Flipping over the page, a small post script note was written at the bottom. 

P.S. For when you’re ready, contact Mayor Lewis at X-782-733-9859. He’ll set everything up.

Frowning at the fact it was a phone number, Y/N emotionally prepared herself for the oncoming conversation. After typing in the number and saving it under Mayor Lewis Pelican. She anxiously waited. Ring. Please don’t pick up. Ring. Please don’t pick up. Ring. Please don’t pick up. Ri- Fuck.

A crackled and slightly distorted voice came down the line. 

“Hello? This is Mayor Lewis, who’s speaking?”

“Um, hi this is Y/N L/N.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Hello Miss L/N. How may I be of Assistance?”

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember but my Grandpa had a farm in the Valley, sorry, town? Uh, it was called Stardew Valley Farm?”

There was another pause, this time longer. 

“Uh, Mayor Lewis?”

“Uh, yes, yes! I’m so sorry, I honestly was wondering if I’d hear from you. I thought that name was familiar! I remember your Grandfather well.”

Y/N fiddled with her phone case, waiting for Mayor Lewis to continue. 

“Anyways, Miss L/N, yes, G/N ran the Stardew Valley Farm. He left me a binder with everything I need to know, and how to pass it long to you.”

Mayor Lewis then began to detail how the farm would pass along to Y/N. Having not expected to get an info dump, she quickly began scribbling details and notes on her little sticky pad. An hour and a half later and a lot of “yeses” and “uh-huhs” later, Y/N had a detailed outline of how she’d be able to move into Stardew Valley and inherit her Grandpa’s farm within the month. If she wanted too. Ending the call with the promise of calling again soon, she finally was able to hang up. 

Letting out a sigh, she took in her messy table. Noticing one of the blue sticky notes had fallen down, she reached to pick it up. It was her first note with the points “for” and “against”, and it looked a bit sad now. Deciding to take a breather from all of that, Y/N thought it was a perfect time for a nap. 

*

The seasons, having just changed, mean one thing for Y/N. Rent was due. Which was stupid, cause who puts rent one week into the season? Anyways. As she came home from work, Y/N picked up the mail and brought it in. Dumping it on the table she got un-ready and put on come cozy pyjamas. Winter is no joke in the city. 

As she looked through the ads and bills, another unfamiliar envelope appeared. She seemed to be getting a lot of those recently. Taking a look at the cover, she frowned as the name of her building appeared in the top left corner. Sitting up, she opened it to be greeted with bold red letters. 

EVICTION NOTICE SPRING 20XX.

Well shit. Quickly skimming the content, Y/N found that the entire building was being sold out to Joja Corp., for their their new “economy apartment buildings”. Ha. Ha. She was really feeling the irony right about now. Realizing that there was nothing she could do about this, she stared at the wall while she thought.

It seemed like everything in her life was telling her to leave. So for once, she wasn't gonna put up a fight and just, “go with the flow”. Well. That’s made her decision a lot easier, 

“Pelican Town it is...” She mumbled.

After the shock had passed, Y/N looked over the letter to see if there was any other information she’d need to reference later. Sending a quick email to her asshole landlord that she’ll be out by the 1st of Spring, Y/N looked into how to quit. Other than just not showing up. Seeing that there was nothing more needed than her 2 weeks notice, she typed up another brief email and pressed send.

*ping*

Huh? Not having expected a reply right away, she clicked on the message only to find a generated auto-retainment email. Are you sure about this permanent decision? Please reconsider, we greatly value your presence at Joja Corporation. It’s people like you that let us do what we do. Blah. Blah. Blah. With no need to reply, Y/N picks up the phone to call Mayor Lewis.

“Hi Mayor Lewis, this is Y/N. About my Grandpa’s farm-”

a/n | tysm for reading! posting chapter 2 soon!

I do not authorize any plagiarism of my work in any shape or form. Please respect this. 

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Heya, Mouse. I hope you're doing well. 😊

So, I recently got the Mr. Qi mature event again in my most recent save. A personal issue I have with this event is that no one, including your own spouse, ever hint at the event at all. Yes, the Farmer can't talk about it, but surely they'd be acting differently after such a scary and traumatic event? So my request is this: How would the sdv/sve marriagables + Krobus (bc I know my shadow roomie would be worried too) feel about the Farmer acting differently after they were found after the Qi event? Like, maybe the Farmer's more jumpy and sullen after what had happened, but they can't say anything because of the seal.

Hi, hello! 👋 I'm doing fine! ☺️ Thanks for your question, and I really apologize for taking so long to reply 😅 I decided to post here about only Bachelors + Krobus, hope you don't mind. Anyway, thanks again for caring and for the ask! Enjoy ❤️

Sam:

Given that the Farmer was found unconscious in the forest, Sam immediately thought that the reason for their behaviour was that they had been frightened by a wild bear or wolves. No wonder: you are lying defenceless and predators are walking around you, wanting to eat you. The young musician's guesses are far from the truth of what really happened to Farmer, but whatever happens, Sam will be there for his love, supporting them and comforting them.

Elliott:

Poor Elliott nearly had a stroke when he saw Farmer lying in a hospital bed at the Clinic. Taking them by the hand, the writer began to ask what had happened to his spouse, but was quickly silenced when he saw Farmer getting even worse. Elliott apologises for his panic and will do his best to make Farmer feel better. He still hopes that Farmer will be able to tell what happened in the future.

Shane:

Shane feels angry and wants to punch someone (or something) with his fist, which is the reason for Farmer's sadness and constant tension. He is even ready to fight with the whole world if he has to - no one dares to offend the people close to him and get away with it. But realising that Farmer's rage won't help him in any way, Shane tries to comfort them and calm them down. Even suggests they go to the therapist he went to himself after that event on the hill. Magic, not magic, he doesn't know shit about it. All he needs right now is to be there for Farmer and give them all the help and support they need.

Sebastian:

Sebastian can't calm down himself now. He knows that the Farmer fights monsters every day, which is the pure nightmare fuel of many people's lives, and the fact that his spouse met someone that even scared them.... However, Sebby is trying her best not to show his worries, because right now the Farmer needs someone to protect them. And he will be brave for them now, just as Farmer was brave for Sebastian and the other people they were protecting.

Alex:

Alex went into full protective mode, not letting anyone he deemed suspicious near Farmer. The young athlete thinks that some tourists have decided to attack and harm Farmer, as many people (including some unpleasant ones) have come to Stardew Valley, to admire the local town and relax. Unfortunately, Farmer can't tell the real reason, and that's what kills them the most - it's the inability to tell Alex what happened. However, gentle words and cuddles in bed are just what Farmer needs after the traumatic event.

Harvey:

Breathing exercises, sedation, elimination of junk food..... Harvey doesn't know what happened to the Farmer, but he certainly knows how to help them. Alas, in matters magical he will not help in any way, so does not even know of its existence. But Harvey will definitely do his best to help deal with his spouse's depressed mood. He promise to them, everything will be alright, doctor's word!

Magnus:

Magnus know very well about the silencing spell, as he knows this school of magic very well. And the fact that his spouse was acting like a frightened lamb after that strange event made him think about this possible option. Touching their hand, Magnus was scalded like fire, leaving no doubt. Magic. Dark, unfamiliar magic. The Farmer no longer needed to try to say anything, Rasmodius understood all at once. The wizard would assure his lover that he would definitely help them, no matter who cursed Farmer.

Lance:

Lance didn't feel magic as subtly as the same Rasmodius or Camilla, but he could feel the incomprehensible dark aura that wrapped around Farmer's neck like ropes. His one penetrating look into his consort's frightened eyes was enough for Lance to signal to some his fellow mages, including same Camilla and Magnus, that something out of the ordinary had happened. The gallant adventurer also remembered to kiss them on the forehead and envelope them in a tight hug, reassuring them and promising them that everything would be all right.

Victor:

Victor, seeing how the constant tension and depressive state is affecting his beloved spouse, he tries to find a therapist to help Farmer. Poor Victor cannot watch them suffer, so will offer his support and convinced them accept professional help. The sad irony is that Farmer can't tell anyone, no matter how hard they try. Still, they're glad Victor won't leave them alone.

Krobus:

Krobus doesn't realise what exactly happened to Farmer, but shadow person can feel them exuding alien magic and a restless aura after they returned from the clinic. Never, no matter what dangerous adventures they had been on, had the Krobus seen the Farmer so frightened. The fact that they wouldn't tell him anything tensed the shadow person even more. It's unlikely that Farmer would lie to him like this if they had always told Krobus everything about their adventures before. Something is wrong, and Krobus, worried about his friend, thinks that maybe Magnus or Marlon can help Farmer.