#you don’t have to be at church or go to one

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo. 

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them. 

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better. 

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description. 

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty. 

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return. 

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him. 

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.  

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay. 

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too. 

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual. 

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne. 

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.” 

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial. 

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do. 

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says. 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king. 

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again. 

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.” 

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?” 

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you. 

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?” 

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it. 

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch. 

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt. 

“I don’t know the code,” you say. 

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.” 

You nod. 

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase. 

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.” 

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently. 

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning. 

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it. 

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--” 

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?” 

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds. 

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?” 

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards. 

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.” 

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling. 

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.” 

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means. 

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--” 

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.” 

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks. 

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.” 

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

CONTENT WARNING!! religious aspects, use of father and in church, smut, please do not read if you don’t agree. thank you!

MY BLOG IS STRICTLY 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: Father Charlie is fond of the new nun.

Authors note: Hi!! I know i haven’t posted in forever- but i wrote this and thought it would be pointless to not post it. i’m still actively taking requests due to the fact that i'm out on leave for work due to foot surgery :) so my inbox is open! love you guys.

The silent nun.

In a holy place you would think gossip was forbidden but- of course not. There was always talk.

When you first entered, everyone was so incredibly kind to you. Inviting you to every small gathering they’d have, even mentioning you by name in group prayer. You couldn’t remember what changed, they suddenly stopped knocking on your door asking if you had laundry. Not ringing your bell when dinner was ready. You were so thankful you praised a kind god who never made you feel alone.

There was one person who was still continuously kind to you. Father Charlie. It was odd seeing somebody so young be a priest, but his sermons were powerful, far more powerful than any older priest you’ve seen.

That’s why Sundays are always your favorite. You stand far off by the door leading to the housing area of the church, your eyes peeking out slightly to watch as Father Charlie shook hands. Your fingers making the wood creek as you gripped at the door frame, your one eye looking out.

“Sister”

A woman’s voice spoke, making you gasp, your hands flying to your sides as you turned to the one who called you seconds ago, an older woman who seemed to wander from the first entrance over by the gardens, a small basket in her hands.

“Blessed day, how can I help you?”

You tried not seem shaken, maybe you were just checking if the door frame was loose. The older lady handed you the basket, her finger shaking as she pointed over towards where Father Charlie said goodbye to everyone.

“Give those to the father- thank you dear.”

It was a bit odd to you, you looked down at the basket, just some cookies and muffins.. you turned to assure her they would be delivered but she was already walking out past the gate, your eyebrows frowned as you watched her push it open. The sound of the heavy front doors closing made you focus back on the pews, your eyes flicking to see Father Charlie walking back down the isle way.

“Father”

You spoke out as you stepped from the doorway, putting on a gentle smile as you noticed his eyes shoot to you. Your hands gripped at the basket as you walked to him, handing him the woven handle.

“A nice woman came to give these to you but saw you were preoccupied.”

Father Charlie’s eyes shot down to look at the basket, nodding his head as he shifted through it.

“Well thank you sister. How kind of you to handle some business for me. I'm incredibly busy today- in fact..”

Father Charlie clicked his tongue as he stepped back up onto the alter, flipping through a bible a few times before sighing.

“I’m glad you’re here because I was going to try and pull you aside during dinner tonight but you showed up.”

The man spoke with a smile as he leaned on the small stand in front of him. Was his tone teasing? There was no way he saw you in the door frame, he cleared his throat as he pointed over to the door frame.

“As for me and my house, we serve the lord.”

Father Charlie’s voice echoed through the now empty church. Your hands nervously playing a loose string from your outfit. Why is he repeating verses to you?

He closes the bible and hands it to you, your eyebrows frowning as you realize.. it’s yours. You must have left it in one of the pews and he found it. He didn’t say a word, his silence heavy as he walked over to the confessional, looking back at you for a second as he opened the door.

“I will be waiting, Sister.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried not to seem frantic as you opened the bible. All the pages full of your notes had been highlighted. He read them all. Read through your trouble with sin. Parts of you felt violated, you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. Then you remembered maybe he was looking out for you. He just wants everyone to be faithful, especially in the church. Your shoes clicked against the wooden floor as you stepped up the aisle way and towards the confessional, your bible still in hand as you sat down in the booth, listening to the door click close.

The faint echoing of your heels in your head makes you remember.

Times where you were unfaithful, untied. regret laying heavy in your heart daily.

“I should’ve left the congregation.”

Your words echo softly through the small booth, Charlie’s tapping of his shoes suddenly stopping.

The memories coming back as it started very similar to this.

The booth door slamming as father charlie shoved you into the small crowded area.

You could’ve protested- you should’ve protested.

How could you when his rough hands pushed the coverings of your skirt up, your eyes darting around the dimly lit space. He was far too silent, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he tugged the fabric of your panties aside.

It was wrong, you had a duty, so did he, you thought he knew this?…

The lewd sound of his tongue running over your folds shocked you back out of your thoughts, your thigh going to lock around his head but he read the room quickly, shoving you back onto the small bench as both his hands hooked under your thighs.

“Father-“

“Stop speaking.”

The man mumbled into your flesh as his fingers found their way up your thighs as he spread you open more.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, your hands gripping at the small handles on the walls next to you as a shaky breath left your throat.

Gluttony it’s a sin, you though as he lapped hungrily at you, like he hadn’t eaten in days. And he somehow never missed a spot, your heels digging into his shoulders as you finally built the courage to look down at him.

Almost like he knew you’d be looking his eyes open, his pupils blown so wide you could’ve sworn his eyes were colored black. The loud moan that left your lips made his thick eyebrows frown, his hand rubbing up your stomach, making sure he touched every inch of your skin, covered or not it didn’t matter to him. His palm tapping your face before the rough padding of his fingers slipped past your bottom lip, his body pulling in closer to you as he felt your hips push into his face.

The burning in your stomach grew rapidly as his tongue laid flat against you, your thighs shaking with every lick, your vision becoming spotty as your head tilted back as his fingers hooked into your mouth.

The moment the coil in your stomach snapped, his tongue shot down, making sure he got every last drop of you as your head shot back, your eyes fixating at the crucifix right above the two of you.

Spit falls from your lips as he stands up, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, shoving your panties in his pocket as he quickly wipes his face, exiting like nothing happened..

And now you were in the booth again, separated by the small gated window.

“All we can do is pray for our forgiveness, Sister. Please don’t be afraid to put your faith.. in his hands.”

Father Charlie’s voice made your head nod as you stared down at the rosary in your hand

“You are faithful, and he values you.”

Your hands shook a bit as you let go of the rosary and stood, hurriedly exiting the booth and basically running down the pew.

How could you ask for forgiveness, for this? Especially if you craved it more than you’d like to admit.

Your eyes shot down at the bible as you stop in the middle of the hallway, flipping to the bookmarked page.

‘Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted’

your eye twitching as you looked down the hall that lead to the pew, and there stood father charlie, small ladle in his hand as he put the candles out, his eyes shifting over to your form.

Shutting the book you stared back at him, the sound of your heels clicking filling the long hallway once again as you hurried your way away from his sights.

[interstellar-productions]

Thinking so many thoughts honestly, about Aaron currently (spiritually not situationally I relate to him, it’s complicated). Aaron so specifically speaks to me because of how (at least with the crumbs we’re fed by canon) he internalizes and deals with his trauma. He WANTS to be normal. In fact he tries so hard to be normal (as society interprets normality) that he actively distances himself and represses any part of him that may lead people to viewing him as anything other then normal.

In my mind this was probably done intentionally, it creates a contrast between him and Andrew (and is probably why Neil is able to tell the twins apart pretty much from the get go). Andrew doesn’t speak about his trauma but he also doesn’t necessarily minimize it. Andrew makes himself big, body language wise he’s very loud. “Look at me, at what they did to me. Look at who I became”. Andrew is a warning sign, he lets his bleeding wounds show and mixes them with ragged bone and snarling teeth. Andrew is telling people without telling people what will happen if someone crosses him.

In contrast Aaron hides, his pain and his scares. Aaron turns everything inwards, shoving it all into closets and under beds. If he blends in then maybe no one will notice him enough to pick him out. Hiding in plane sight. Aaron works so hard to be normal and is canonically known as the least interesting and most normal fox, despite having a murder charge and being a recovered addict. He is the normal fox. People overlook him, glance right over him, his teammates, peers, everyone. Perfect grades, good at his sports, girl next door girlfriend. Aaron is so painfully NORMAL.

It speaks so deeply because it’s so obvious to me that its a coping mechanism and not actually because that’s how he really is. If he was just painfully normal we wouldn’t get some of his more violent or assholeish out burst and he probably wouldn’t have that grudge against Bee. His grudge against Bee is actually what sparked this whole thing for me. He hates Bee, he says that he’s never actually spoken a word to her and even when he starts sessions with Andrew he’s really just speaking to Andrew while Bee is in the room rather then directly speaking to Bee. My little psych major mind (mixed with my personal feelings but HUSH) is just screaming that this whole “I’m normal look right through me please I’m normal”. It’s how he COPES. This guy grew up at least a little bit inside a church (because Luther) and had to hide both bruises and addiction and whatever else was going on inside that house. Statistically speaking there’s two major ways you internalize trauma like that. And I love Aaron and Andrew because their those two ways basically. Aaron is trying so hard to be so Normal that he becomes basically invisible. Blending into the background.

He probably has everyone convinced that he’s got it all in the bag, all his shit? It’s in a sock, don’t even worry about it. He’s got the grades, the girlfriend and he plays a sport. Bro is literally sitting pretty to be so uninteresting that he gets nothing but a cursory glance, and it’s totally part of his scheme. No one’s going to think to ask questions he doesn’t want them too. Not about his past and not about what’s going on in his life. “Oh that’s Aaron yeah I’ve got advanced chem with him, yeah good guy. I think he plays exy.” Aaron doesn’t want people to ask questions, because he knows he’s towing the line. Does he have it all together? Or is he desperately trying to keep all his shit in the boxes he’s stuffed it in? Who knows. Aaron probably doesn’t even know.

Aaron gives me “fake it til you make it” vibes that it actually hurts my soul. This man wants to be normal so bad that he’s doing everything he can to not have to address what’s actually wrong, because acknowledging something’s wrong means acknowledging that he is in fact NOT normal. And he wants to be normal because being normal is how you survive. (How he got Tilda to not beat him for dragging the wrong sort of attention to her)

My psych major mind is absolutely consumed by AFTG because to me they represent all the different ways that trauma can manifest in people. Basically all of the foxes (even and Renee Wymack) are the violent kind. Their teeth and warning signs, don’t get too close, don’t step on my toes. But they all show it so differently. Renee for example is the healed sort of violent, she’s faced the majority of her demons and won, she knows she’ll be able to handle you if you step out of line (see her ruining the nest). Nicky is the loud kind. He’s not the break bone sort of violent but he is the make you uncomfortable kind. So much of Nicky’s early character (Foxhole court) is him giving off borderline predatory vibes. His jokes, his mannerisms, the whole Edens trip. It’s his version of violent. He makes you uncomfortable so he knows whose safe and who isn’t.

Then you have aaron and his whole character is a ticking time bomb. Aaron isn’t normal because he’s healed, he’s normal because its the only way he knows to survive. That’s why he doesn’t like Bee. Bee is a psychologist, her whole job is to know their problems and fix them and the fact he even has to go sit in a room with her is a threat to his overall performance of normality. Because normal people don’t NEED therapy.

Screams into the void, I’m so normal about him.

Also all of this is just my personal little ramblings about a purely fictional character that reminds me of myself as it relates to the topic of interest I’m currently studying. If you don’t agree with me that’s totally fine, if you have different preconceptions about him thats totally ok too. This is just my little brain rot corner of the internet and I’m just trying to have fun.

To the 3 people that wanted to see my deranged psych rambles i hope this reaches you, this is all for you!

[dallasgallant]

Country/southern slang and vernacular-

This is what I’m going with for the title as honestly I’m not sure what else you would call it, but it is also linked to class a little bit? It’s complicated. Anyways, surprised I haven’t done one like this sooner as I’ve done:

JD slang. 60s slang. Rodeo terms

However, it can’t include everything! As usual take this as a jumping off point, it’s funny as Oklahoma is technically southern, culturally and such. Some are sourced from general knowledge, others from southern or “Oklahoma slang” which heavily overlaps but is more accented.

A lot of this ended up actually being more writing accented speech with some slang thrown in, a lot of it is about contractions! Also word usage! They’ll be a more “general grammar” and accent section at the bottom.

—

All get out- sentence enhancer (ex. Funny as all get out)

Air up - Pump air into something (Tires, mattress)

Ain’t - am not; are not; is not. has not; have not.

An’ all - and all

Belted- beaten

‘Bout - about

Billfold- Wallet (Oklahoman, used in place of wallet)

‘Cos - cause/because

Coke- soda (any kind) (ex. You wanna get a Coke? What kind?)

Crick- creek

Do up - prepare : clean/repair (Ex. Y’all do up the dishes)

Do wut - say again

D’yall - Do y’all or did y’all

don’tcha - Don’t you

Drop trou- pull down one’s pants , especially as a stunt in public

dyeet - did you eat?

Figure- Calculate, consider, decide

Fixin’ - on the verge of something : getting ready to

fronta - in front of

Gettin’ round - getting ready to go somewhere or do something (ex. Gettin’ round to it)

Gonna- going to

Gussied up - dressed nicer than everyday (ex. Church clothes)

hafta- have to

Hankering- desire, yearning, craving

Heap - a large quantity (ex. Heap of trouble)

Holler- loud cry or shout

Honky tonk - bar where people dance (typically to county, line dance )

Howdy- Greeting or used to express surprise

howta - how to

Hush- quiet, shut up

Ice box - fridge (Oklahoman or rural)

I’mma - I’m gonna or I am

Imma geddin sig n tard" - I’m getting sick and tired

ja'eet yet?- did you eat yet?

Kin- family (not always by blood. Could be someone you’re close to)

Laying out - staying the night (doing something illicit) or

Let alone - leave alone or to indicate somethings less likely

Like to - Almost (rare)

Lick [Noun] - any amount (Ex. Didn’t get a lick of sleep last night)

Lick [Verb] - beat (ex. Steve Licked that soc good)

Musta- must have

Muddin’ (Oklahoman) - off-roading, going down muddy trails

‘N - then/than or and

Naw- no

Neither- not one or other (sometimes used in place of either)

Nuss - To nurse

Okie- native resent of Oklahoma (formerly derogatory during dust bowl)

Ornery- combative, mean

Ought- indicate something correct or probable

Oughta- ought to

Ope- oops

Outta- out or

Preddy sure - pretty sure

Prolly- probably

Pop- soda

Purdy- pretty

Pitch a fit- throw a fit, be really upset

Reckon- think: suppose

Rise- upset someone (ex. He sure got a rise out of her)

Rile- upset someone (ex. Don’t rile up the dog)

Ruther - rather

Shouldn’t’ve- shouldnt have (double negative)

Shoot- polite way to say shit : go ahead and speak

Sho’ nuff - sure enough

‘Sides - besides

s’not - it’s not/is not

s’okay - it’s okay

Sorta- sort of

Sprinklin’ - light rain

stocking feet - wearing just socks

Sumbitch - son of a bitch

Tailing- follow without being noticed

The city - Oklahoma City (even if you live in Tulsa. ‘The city’ is Oklahoma City)

Tore up - upset

Twister- Tornado (used to be more regional)

Upitty- conceited, fancy, snobby

Welp - well or expression (ex. Welp, I better head out)

Whup/whoop- hit

Whipped- beaten

won’tcha = won’t you

Y’all - you all

Yall’re- y’all are

Y’ain’t - you ain’t

Yer - your

-

Grammar-

The more I added to the list the more I realized writing for the gang is just as much learning to write accent than it is slang, it’s the way they talk and that includes grammar etc. Im going to try and explain some points that I’ve noticed in an understandable way, but it’s also important to note that these rules don’t apply every time necessarily.

Using the wrong word

less words in certain sentences (ex. Don’t mean nothin’)

With above, fewer words to describe things.

Drop the G occasionally (ex. Nothin’ )

Adding ‘d instead of saying ‘would (ex. Soda’d)

Real> really (descriptive)

Anybody > anyone

Weren’t typically goes with a double negative ( ex. weren’t nothing we could do)

Use of ‘you’ (used instead of a name or ‘your’)

Use of ‘was’ instead of ‘were’ ( ex. I knew you was)

Both Aren’t and isn’t become ain’t (sometimes even more)

A LOT OF CONTRACTIONS

Combing words - either a new contraction or new spelling to emphasize accent, especially around questions (ex. ja'eet yet?)

Use of expressions/idioms (ex. That dog won’t hunt)

[gothamite-rambler]

Batfamily Mitzvah (I learned about Bruce is canon Jewish because his mother was and this is if Kate dragged Bruce to a family bar mitzvah) (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

Kate is reading a People magazine.

Kate: Bruce, do you know Linda?

Bruce (sorting through paperwork): The crazy family member? That doesn’t narrow it down, does it?

Kate: Not really. She’s our third cousin, but she goes by Aunt Linda. She’s the one who hit her husband with her car, and when he survived, they stayed together.

Bruce: That Linda... I’ve always hated her.

Kate: We all do. But her son's son—

Bruce: Her grandson?

Kate: Yes, smartass. They’re throwing him a bat mitzvah in a few weeks, and they invited me. You’re coming.

Bruce: I’m busy that day.

Kate: I haven’t told you when it is.

Bruce: My schedule is full when it comes to visiting 'Aunt' Linda and her insane family.

Kate: My bad, cuzzo. You misunderstood. That wasn’t an invitation; it was a command. I’m not going alone.

Bruce: Why not?

Kate (looking up from her magazine): I’m a lesbian, and they’re very religious. Linda will be there and has made it very clear that “Oh, it’s just a phase, darling. You’ll find the right man!”

Bruce: Why am I coming, though? I don’t like her, and I don’t want to hear her voice.

Kate: I’m bringing you so she can ask why you’ve adopted those kids and aren’t married yet, how one of them died and then came back to life, why you’re dating a former bank robber, and why you only have one biological son. Tsk, tsk, naughty, naughty, naughty. I told her some things about you in the group chat, and she’s already asked a lot of evasive questions... about you. Make sure you have a good suit; that’s basically all you wear.

Bruce: Oh, okay... I have no say in the matter. Got it. Fine.

Kate (dryly): There’s the master detective you pride yourself on being.

Bruce (already regretting this): What time are we supposed to be there?

Kate: We have to be at the synagogue early in the morning because it’s on a Sunday—you are going into the synagogue; I don’t want to hear it.

Bruce groans, rubbing his head. He and churches don't get along.

Kate: After that, the party is at three. I hate talking to so many of them; we can sneak off, have a drink, whatever you want to do, and show back up at four. Are you bringing the kids?

Bruce (sarcastically): Was that a question I'm allowed to answer? Thank you so much for allowing me to respond.

Kate: I can be nice like that.

Bruce (aggravated): No, they’re not going. I don’t even want to bring Damian. They wouldn’t like that side of the family.

Kate: Hmm, I never asked—are you practicing Judaism?

Bruce: Nope.

Kate: Why? Aunt Martha was Jewish; by extension, you’re Jewish.

Bruce: That’s not true.

Kate: You’ve studied numerous forms of fighting, weapons, and even opera, but you don’t know that if your mother is Jewish, you’re Jewish, too? Damian, however, is ethnically Jewish. Your dad doesn’t factor in... were you unaware?

Bruce glares at Kate, refusing to answer.

Kate: Oh my goodness! Yes, I knew something you didn’t know!

Bruce (rubbing his forehead): Yup, I’ll give you that. But for your information, I was never raised with a Jewish upbringing.

Kate: Seriously, I thought they’d do something—

Bruce: They died when I was eight in an alley. You lose the spirit of anything when that happens!

Kate (sighing): You use that excuse too much.

Bruce: My parents died!

Kate (silent for a second): My sister is clinically insane, and one of your sons shook hands with God. It’s not a competition.

Bruce: The way Jason tells it, he met Satan for some time.

Kate: He’s joking; were you unaware of that as well?

Bruce refuses to respond, pretending to read a document on his desk.

Kate (laughing): Are they aware you’re Jewish?

Bruce: Yes, but again, I’m not practicing. So it’s like... yes, but no.

Kate: Oh, so me. Cool.

Kate returns to reading, while Bruce looks over a case about Scarecrow.

Bruce: Can I pay you—

Kate: You’re going to this party; money won’t change that.

Bruce (semi-sarcastically): I enjoy when we spend time together.

Kate: Aww, same, cuzzo.

(Batfam mitzvah part 1 of 7)

[cinnamonest]

Don’t worry about replying to this in any capacity. Just wanted to say that I read your most recent post and it was extremely helpful and informative for me. I was just talking to my dad earlier about really struggling to understand how anyone could support Trump when he is just a complete bumbling fool of a man at best and a piece of shit bigot and sexist at worst. (Not to say that Harris is some beacon in the darkness, not a fan of her either.) But the perspective you offered was really enlightening so thank you for it. and I hope you are doing well enough, all things considered, and that regardless of what happens in the coming days that things get better for you and your community.

Thank you, that's very kind. I'm very glad it was helpful, I was worried I was coming across the wrong way or didn't word it very well or could be misinterpreted.

If it helps, I had some more thoughts I think would expand upon that, specifically for women — since I see a lot of posts essentially asking how women can possibly vote for the guy, and I think I can explain that too, as I've been thinking and talking a lot about that with women who I know intend to do so.

1) I think for the upper class, they tend to focus more on social issues, because economic issues don't affect them as strongly.

But for some of these people, especially moms, the increased cost of living is literally a matter of "how am I going to feed my children, how am I going to pay electric AND water," etc. So it becomes a priority, especially as many families have lots of kids, and some are single moms. They don't really think as much about social issues, whereas when I went to college, most of the kids cared only about social issues. The more financially secure someone is, the less preoccupied they are with economy.

But for a mom, the safety of and provision for their kids is paramount above all else, so economy and crime will take priority.

But since we only have 2 major parties, people often assume that whichever you vote for, you must agree with ALL of the party's official stances, which is often not the case. That's part of why our bipartisan system is so divisive and breeds hostility, because it creates an "us vs them" mentality.

2) women in the area I talked about don't really even think about abortion/reproductive rights. They're not militantly anti-choice (like some of the more suburban moms of kids I went to school with), it's more that no one ever really thinks about it at all. Many of them have kids very young and lots of them, it's just normal. They also don't have careers to focus on in the way higher-class women do, and many have no chance of ever going to college, so there's less reason to hold off on it.

People do what's normal per their class/local culture — so here, if a girl gets unexpectedly pregnant (which is... not uncommon), they don't freak out or think about how it will affect their future, how they'll afford it etc, they usually just... shrug, drop out of high school, marry the guy, have the kid.

When we were 16, one of my good friends got pregnant, and she too did exactly that. She was unironically overjoyed to find out too, rather than panicked or dismayed. Like, when she took the pregnancy test, I was there with her, sitting on the tile floor of the church bathroom at 9 pm with the test we scraped cash together to buy from the gas station-pharmacy hybrid shop down the road, and she, as a 16 year old high school junior, was actively hoping, fingers crossed and smiling and everything, that it would be positive. She's now 24 and is about to have baby #5.

And part of the reason she was fine with it was... because her mom had her at 15. It's a very cyclic thing. The possibility of abortion would not occur to them unless someone else brought it up.

3) Moreover, when women vote, they focus on what affects them specifically as a woman — and prioritize what's most "real" to us as an individual woman, the hypotheticals one can most realistically see happening to them. But what that most realistic thing is, varies a lot from woman to woman.

For a woman living in, say, Maine or northeast California or even a safer rural place like Idaho, I can see how abortion is probably the most "real" thing to them, that they can see themselves being in a position to affect them.

Whereas for me, having experienced harassment and aggression, reading about these statistics and headlines, violence is something I am much more afraid of happening to me. I'm very careful to avoid an area where I was harassed before.

But for someone in a low-crime place, that isn't something that's going to be a priority.

I personally now realize that a lot of the misunderstanding and clashing is a matter of the fact that women in many blue areas simply don't think about this, because they've never had a reason to, and that's perfectly understandable.

But a lot of women in areas like my home do not realize that. Many women at home strongly believe that "them uppity rich white women out in California or wherever the hell" (quoth my 90-something year old neighbor), are aware of, but simply don't care about, the consequences women here/poor women face. I used to think so too, when I was younger, because that's what I was told.

As a result, they view their blue vote as a very "let them eat cake" heartless-rich-person sort of thing, as selfish and/or classism, in the same way that women in blue areas likely view their red votes as female-class betrayal, religious brainwashing, believe their husbands must be controlling them, etc.

Now, with greater life experience, I not only understand that it isn't like that at all on either side, but I can also see why many blue-area women dismiss our experiences as "not really happening" or "right-wing propaganda," simply due to the fact that it's very difficult for them to fathom it, because it's so different from the reality they live in, it feels like it can't be real.

3) it *is* true that these women are often demonized and gaslit for talking about the rapes, job loss etc, so that has shifted even more moderate women very rightwards over the last few years, because they feel silenced/censored.

Donald is a sort of savior figure — he acknowledges the issue they otherwise feel censored on, and moreover, has essentially promised to take away the men that hurt them, their daughters, sisters etc. They want to feel safe again, they want their husbands to get their jobs back, feel like they have a secure future, etc, and his platform is literally "make America safe again, make America rich again, make America great again."

That line you may have seen all over the internet a few days ago, where Donald said something along the lines of "I'm going to protect the women if they like it or not"? And you know how it earned disgust from the mainstream population of women?

That line was received extremely positively by women at home. I've already seen them sharing it around with my mom/aunts/grandma on facebook, in a positive light, ecstatic. It makes them feel seen and heard in a culture that otherwise puts a hand over their mouth, and they cling to those words in hope of a better future.

Tldr: it's women who are vulnerable and afraid and desperate, going for the only option that has promised to address their needs. Much conflict comes from the limited human ability to grasp things outside of ourselves, our tendency for solipsism — an unfortunate part of the human condition that has plagued our species from the dawn of time.

[autisticalastor]

the privilege of being born to be a man

Pairing: Alastor/Lucifer

Rating: G

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Alastor (his egg is cracking), Demiromantic Asexual Alastor, Colorblind Alastor, snippets of human!Alastor, slight TWs for internalized transphobia

A/N: Honestly, I just wanted to write Alastor trying on a dress and starting to realize he's Not Cis, but then I got Emotional about it. I like to headcanon Lucifer is agender and just plays fast and loose with femininity and mascuilinity, and this is just the perfect catalyst for Alastor's own little gender journey. Anyways, enjoy some snippets from Alastor's life as a human here as well! Title is from I / Me / Myself by Will Wood!

On his more feminine days, Lucifer takes forever to get ready. Alastor's fairly certain most of the time is spent just picking out an outfit, as if he can't just summon the perfect pieces with the wave of a hand. It can be a bit irritating when they have somewhere they need to be, especially since Lucifer never seems to know in advance when he's going to want to spend an hour or two trying to be the prettiest man in Hell. As if he wasn't already.

Today was one of those days, and Alastor was busying himself with some light reading as he waited for Lucifer to be ready. At least they didn't have anywhere important to be for a while.

“Alastor,” Lucifer calls, finally emerging from the bathroom. “What do you think? I haven't tried this style before, but I thought it looked nice in those old catalogues.”

Alastor looks up, and he must say, he's impressed. The dress Lucifer has picked is a vintage 1940s-style dress, mostly white, but patterned with small yellow flowers. It does look rather stunning on him, and as Lucifer gives a little twirl to make the skirt spin out around him, Alastor can't help but think he was made for outfits like this. Some part of him idly wishes, not for the first time, that he had the same freedom Lucifer did in that regard.

“Absolutely stunning, dear,” Alastor responds. “I do so envy your ability to pull off such lovely outfits.”

Lucifer gives him a warm smile. “Y'know, you could always join me. Bet I could whip up the perfect dress for you.”

Alastor looks away, a bit conflicted. In his time, it was rather unheard of for men to dress in women's clothing. Those who did were certainly not treated well. Part of him had always wanted to try it, envying his mother and the ladies from their church in all their pretty dresses and skirts. But he had pushed the feeling down, the shame of how he'd be perceived enough to keep him off the idea.

Now, of course, there isn't really anything stopping him. Except for this odd feeling that it's perfectly fine for someone like Lucifer or Angel Dust to play fast and loose with masculinity and femininity, but not for him to do the same.

“No, I don’t think so!” he replies, voice a bit tight. “I don't doubt your design skills, but I do doubt I'd make quite as pretty a picture as you do.” He's deflecting, and he's certain Lucifer can tell.

“Aw, c'mon! It's really fun! Plus, it can be just for us. You don't have to go out in it if you don't feel comfortable. I just think you might like it if you tried it.”

“I don't know…”

“We can design the dress however you want! I'm sure there's a style out there you'd just die to get your hands on.”

And there is. Alastor can picture the dress he'd ask for perfectly in his head, as if he's already got it in front of him. If nothing else, I could at least keep it as a memento…

“All right,” he agrees with a sigh. “You truly do live up to your reputation as the master of temptation, don't you?”

Keep Reading

[pejite]

Since her encounter with Cora at the church, Wilhelmina had been increasingly preoccupied with the idea of sending their children to school. The thought wouldn’t leave her mind, and though she knew Edwin might resist the notion of Thomas and Robert stepping away from their duties on the farm to pursue education, she felt strongly that it was the right thing to do.

That day, Wilhelmina waited patiently until Edwin had a free moment. As dusk fell and the chores wound down, she finally approached him. She asked him to sit with her, choosing the small workshop where Edwin had been spending his evenings making candles, a task that seemed to soothe his nerves after long, hard days.

Wilhelmina carefully poured them both some tea and set out a slice of the cake left over from the previous day. Edwin, already seated across from her, watched her closely, sensing that she had something on her mind. She fiddled with the teacup, searching for the right words, while Edwin’s brow furrowed with a mix of concern and impatience.

“What’s troubling you that you don’t know how to say?” Edwin finally broke the silence, his tone gentle but with a hint of urgency.

Wilhelmina offered a small, tentative smile, her eyes downcast. “Well, a few weeks ago, I ran into Cora while I was in the village” she began, her voice steady but cautious “You’ve probably heard about the new school they’ve built near the church…”

Edwin nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair, his curiosity piqued. He had an inkling of where this conversation was heading but chose to let her speak.

“She mentioned she’s planning to enrol her children, at least Bernard” Wilhelmina continued, her gaze now fixed on Edwin, gauging his reaction. “It got me thinking… maybe it would be good to enrol Thomas and Robert as well…” She paused briefly before quickly adding “It’s free, Edwin. We wouldn’t have to pay anything.”

Despite her attempt to frame the idea positively, Edwin’s expression darkened. He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Wilhelmina” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation. “I can’t agree to that.”

“But-” Wilhelmina began, but Edwin cut her off.

“No, love, no” he said, more forcefully this time. “If we send the boys to school, who’s going to help me on the farm? Who’s going to do the work that needs doing every day?” He shook his head again, his tone resolute. It was clear the idea didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I could help more, and the girls could too” Wilhelmina suggested, her voice soft but determined.

“And who’s going to keep the house running if you’re out in the fields?” Edwin countered, his frustration beginning to show.

Wilhelmina fell silent, the tension between them growing thicker. She looked at Edwin, her expression a mix of frustration and sadness, but she didn’t raise her voice. That wasn’t her way. “Edwin, you work so hard, and I’m grateful for it. But farming is so unpredictable… Don’t you see that? If the boys get an education, they could find work that guarantees them a future, a stable life where they’re not at the mercy of the land and the weather.”

“Nothing in this world is guaranteed” Edwin replied sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Enough, Wilhelmina.”

“But we could give them a chance-” Wilhelmina tried again, her voice growing more urgent.

“I said enough!” Edwin’s voice rang out as he stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I’ve made my decision and it’s final. The farm will bounce back, we’ve been through rough patches before, and we’ll get through this one. The boys will stay here and do their part, like they always have.”

Wilhelmina crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked away, her frustration evident. She hated when Edwin raised his voice, but she knew better than to argue further. Her silence spoke volumes, and she knew Edwin could see the hurt in her eyes. But he was already turning away, retreating back to his work, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the unresolved tension between them.

[fire-hose]

Do you ever think about what life would be like if things were different?

warning: mentions of religious guilt

Buck knew Eddie loved him, there was no doubt about it. But sometimes Buck just had this itch, something that told him Eddie didn’t love him. They had been dating in secret for the past few months and Buck desperately wanted to come out to the 118, but Eddie was still persistent on hiding. It bothered Buck, more than he thought it should’ve.

They were at a nice breakfast spot, one Eddie wanted to visit since it had opened. The two were having a decent conversation about the previous days shift, Eddies hand under the table carefully stroking Bucks knee. Buck loved when Eddie touched him, it made him forget about any issues he ever had. But somehow not this one.

The breakfast was going amazing, until the topic of coming out came up again. “Eds, do you ever think about what life would be like for us if things were different?” Eddie looked up from his eggs, fork still in his mouth. “What do you mean?” Buck fidgeted with his thumbs under the table “You know, just if the team knew.”

Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “Buck, I can’t keep saying this, we can’t tell them. What we have now is good, I like it, don’t you?”

Buck felt like he was pushed into a corner with that question. He liked being with Eddie, he liked practically living with Eddie, he liked hanging out with Chris. He hated keeping those things secret. “I guess” He spoke coldly, turning his attention back to his food.

Eddie just stared at Buck “You hate it don’t you” The blonde looked up from his food and shrugged “Not like it’s preferable to keep your boyfriend a secret from your best friends, or even your sister because she’s married to one of your best friends”

Eddie was going to speak up, but Buck went first, his mouth moving before his mind could. “And sometimes, it feels like you don’t love me. Am I like Ana? Because I know your son loves me, but do you?”

“I don’t love you any less just because no one else can see it Buck.” The other man snapped back “Are you serious? I don’t even think I can see it anymore Eddie�� That hurt him. More than he expected.

He knew Buck, he would snap often when he was upset, but he didn’t think he would ever be on the receiving end. All he could do was stare.

Buck stood up, pushing his chair in “Thank you for the meal Eddie. I’ll see you at work tomorrow” Eddie grabbed his lovers hand “Buck wait..”

“No Eddie! I’m done waiting, I’ve waited so damn long. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this” Buck had tears in his eyes, desperately wanting to escape the conversation before Eddie saw him crying.

The two were standing and just staring, Eddie wanted to scream, tell Buck he was all his and nobody else could have him. But he felt that he couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.

So Buck left.

Eddie didn’t stop thinking of Buck at all that day, he tried to call him but anytime he even picked up the phone he froze. He could barely breathe in his own home, so used to Buck laying beside him in bed, or his head in his lap as they complained to each other. But now it was just him and his thoughts.

He loved Buck, more than most things, but he wasn’t raised to love Buck. He had a wife who died, and a son who was still there, but he longed for Buck, God he craved him. The only problem was how he viewed himself, in the eyes of God.

Eddie found himself praying once again for the first time since Buck's death. He was sitting in a church for the first time in…he didn’t even remember how long.

His eyes closed and hands clasped into a prayer, he begged, begged to be forgiven for loving Buck, begged to be forgiven for acting on the love. Even after he finished praying he sat there, eyes closed, like he was waiting for an answer.

Ding

Eddie wearily opened his eyes and checked his phone, a message from Bobby. He didn’t believe in signs, but this was no coincidence. Right? He didn’t know what was right and wrong anymore.

‘Eddie, do you want to come to dinner with Athena and I, along with Hen and Karen?’

‘Of course Cap. What day and time’

Eddie slid his phone back into his pocket and got up, stepping out of the church. He sat in his truck, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white. He knew he fucked up with Buck.

After picking up Christopher from school they headed to a nearby flower shop. “Dad, what flowers does Buck like?” Eddie had to think, he knew they had talked about it before, multiple times at that.

“Daisies, and anything light pink” He pointed at the basket of white daisies beside Christopher. The two spent at least a half hour picking out the best flowers for Buck. In the end they settled on a bouquet of daisies, pink roses, gypsophila, carnations, and white roses.

“What color paper kiddo? They have newspapers and some colored paper” Eddie picked Chris up to look at the paper selections. After a minute of thinking the boy pointed to newspaper “Buck would like that one”

The bouquet was tied with blue ribbon, the color reminded Eddie of Bucks eyes. That had been his favorite color since they met.

The father and son were now in Eddies room, Chris sat on the bed helping him pick out a suit, even if they both knew he would end up in the black one. “Dad the blue one. Buck has one like it” Eddie shook his head, Buck grew out of that suit. Somehow.

Eddie had to figure out how to get Buck looking nice for the dinner. He groaned, deciding to text him

‘Dinner with Cap, look good’

He hated that, it sounded like he was ordering Buck around, but he wanted the second bit to be a surprise. Eddie stood in front of his bathroom mirror fixing his hair, anxiety high. Chim and Maddie already volunteered to watch Chris, he owed them big time.

“Chris! Get your stuff ready to see Maddie and Chim!” Eddie shouted across the house as he slid his shoes on, fingers so sweaty the laces wouldn’t cooperate with him.

After he finally got his hands dry enough to tie his shoes he got up, grabbing his wallet and keys. Waiting at the front door for Chris “Cmon kiddo, time to go!”

Eddie helped his son into the truck and then got into the passenger side, his nerves racing as he drove to Maddie and Chimney’s house. When they arrived Eddie was 4 minutes past his self-set time to pick Buck up, groaning he got Chris out the truck and knocked on the front door.

Chris went inside and Maddie offered Eddie something to drink, but he couldn’t be late any more. He wanted..no he needed to see Buck, to kiss him, to hold him. He climbed back into his truck and raced off to Bucks apartment.

So now here Eddie was, the bouquet of flowers in his hands, standing at Bucks front door waiting for an answer. Buck opened the door, he was in a white button down and dark suit pants “Couldn’t find the jacket”

Eddies hands made their way to Bucks cheeks, not caring about the flowers anymore, he pulled Buck down and kissed him. The taller man’s eyes widened, but he closed his eyes and kissed back.

After what felt like only two seconds Buck pulled away, picking up the flowers “You said this was dinner with Cap” Eddie nodded, fixing the last button on Bucks shirt “It is. You’re my date”

A smile creeped into Bucks lips, pecking Eddie before he took his hand, flowers in the other. “We better hurry then”

Eddie drove the two to the restaurant Bobby told him they’d be, and he walked in, Bucks hand in his own. He kissed his hand as they walked to the table. Bobby smiled and looked up at them “You brought Buck? You weren’t going to bring the girl we all know you’ve been seeing?” The four already seated laughed together

Eddie nodded as he sat down with Buck beside him “I did, you were just off with thinking it was a girl”

[nyny-213]

Good Friday. We remember the reason we have eternal life today. That Jesus died for us on the cross. Took an extremely painful death. A death every single one of us deserved and did it for us to have everlasting life with the Father. It’s sad to know we were the cause of His death. But encouraging to know that because of that death we can be forgiven of all our sins if we accept Him as the savior. Because of Him we can now have everlasting life. So whenever you feel down, feel hopeless, feel discouraged. Remember what this day means. Remember this as the truth. And remember the truth will set you free.

[doctorsiren]

he’s mad she ratted him out

[nuppu-nuppu]

Ignore if you don’t want to read about me being stupid once again

[leonardalphachurch]

sometimes i remember that most north fans don’t write him as an absolute insane person ethical manipulative girlfriend style and i’m like. what is he even then… just a pleasant white man? you know what. more power to you if you need a pleasant white man for a blorbo but god that could not be me

[adrienschat]

*screaming on the top of my lungs* that’s not what Jesus would have wanted

(Venting in tags)

[zeb-z]

bo katan living the far too relatable experience of pretending to be religious for family or extended relations to keep the waters calm. when everyone else around says amen This Is The Way with conviction and she can quietly get away with not saying it. it’s like when you have to go to church for some holiday dinner - you just smile, nod your head, and take extra care to say gosh instead of god