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#she has a kid and they uHAULED

hischierdevils · 1 year

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Moth to a Flame | J.M.

note: inspired by this song

summary: you and john have always been drawn to each other but now it may be too late for him to do something about it

warnings: angst with a fluff-ish ending (it may or may not rip your heart out @rowdyhughesy)

wc: 2.5k

Like a moth to a flame

I'll pull you in, I'll pull you back to what you need initially

It's just one call away

And you'll leave him, you're loyal to me

But this time I let you be

John sits in his computer chair, picking at the arm rest as his mom goes on about something that’s happening in his hometown of North Easton. His brother Paul keeps asking his mother questions, keeping the conversation going so John doesn’t have to, something Paul has done since they were kids.

The Marino family tries to have a video call at least once a week and it seems like their mom, Jen, feels the need to give the boys an update on every single person in their hometown. There’s only one person that John actually wants to hear about though, and he waits patiently for his mom to bring up their next door neighbors.

He can still remember the day that you and your family moved in next door to him. It was the summer before third grade. He was outside in the driveway with Paul, shooting pucks at a trash can when a big uhaul pulled into the driveway next door. Their mom had told them that a family bought the house next door and they had a kid the same age as them. They were hoping for another boy to play with.

They hadn’t expected you to climb out of that big truck and walk right over to them with your hand on your hip. They were both staring at you with mouths wide open as you flipped your hair over your shoulder and gazed at them both appraisingly. “Are you trying to play baseball with that thing?”

John had looked down at the hockey stick in his hand, wondering how you could confuse it for a baseball bat. Paul, the outgoing twin, was already speaking up. “You’ve never seen a hockey stick before?”

“Why would I ask if I knew what it was?” You were quick to sass Paul back and John found himself laughing at his twin's expression. No one had ever given it back to Paul like that.

From that day forward, John was in awe of you. That first summer, more often than not, the three of you playing outside each day ended with you and Paul in some sort of argument. You’d leave to go back to your own yard in a huff but you always made sure to say goodbye to John.

As the three of you grew up, you and John grew closer than you did with Paul. You confided in him about everything, he was your best friend. Both twins were protective of you as the three of you entered high school but anyone with eyes could see that there was something special between you and John. Both of your parents would even joke about your future wedding.

When John chose to join the USHL during senior year you cried and begged him to stay. You reminded him that he promised to take you to your senior prom. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you weren’t ready to let him go yet. He didn’t want to leave you or his brother, but he chose hockey. Paul ended up taking you to prom.

There wasn’t one big moment when John realized that he was in love with you. He just woke up one day and realized that he always had been. Watching you live your life through social media instead of being with you in person hurt him more than he thought possible. He often wondered who you were confiding in while he was gone.

You texted each other every day, but he could feel you slipping away from him. You attended Boston College while he and Paul went to Harvard. With his hockey schedule, he couldn’t give you the attention he wanted to or that you deserved, so he never said anything about his feelings.

“...and I was talking with Michelle the other day…” John snaps out of his thoughts and lifts his head up at the mention of your mom’s name. “She told me…oh I shouldn’t tell you.” Jen purses her lips in a laugh and John leans forward, knowing his mom is keeping something big a secret.

“Now you have to tell us, Mom.” Paul laughs. “Can’t just leave us hanging like that.” John nods in agreement and their mother laughs.

“Okay, but you can’t say anything to y/n!” John’s stomach does a little flip at the mention of your name. “Promise me!” Jen looks at her two boys through the computer screen expectantly.

“I don’t even remember the last time I talked to y/n, ma. It’s been a couple weeks at least.” Paul says.

John swallows a lump in his throat. “I promise.” He had talked to you just last night on the phone. If you had news why wouldn’t you tell him? Why did he have to hear it from his mom?

“Well, Michelle told me…” John realizes too late that he probably doesn’t want to hear whatever his mom is about to say. “Ethan stopped over the other day and talked with her and Greg. He asked for their permission to marry y/n!”

John’s blood turns to ice. Ethan. The guy you started dating your senior year of college after John had gone to the NHL. John’s only met him a handful of times and he seems like an okay guy, but marriage? Were you actually going to marry this guy?

“Isn’t that exciting?” Jen prompts when neither boy speaks.

“Uh, yeah. Great.” Paul is rarely at a loss for words. He glances at his younger brother nervously. John’s never mentioned his feelings for you to anyone but of course his twin knows. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I uh, I have to go.” John says quickly before his mom can answer. He looks around his desk, trying to come up with an excuse and spots his empty container from dinner. “The boys and I are going to dinner.” Paul sees right through him but his mother wishes him well and says goodbye.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you

And he makes you feel like you should

And all your friends say he's the one

His love for you is true

John can’t help himself and immediately pulls up your instagram, checking to make sure there is no engagement announcement. The last post on your page is a picture of you, him, and Paul at Christmas. The three of you are wearing matching Christmas pajamas and you’re standing between the twins holding up the elf dvd you insist on watching every year. Your caption reads ‘my favorite time of year with my favorite people’.

The picture before that is a picture of you with your parents sitting at a Devil’s game. You’re wearing John’s jersey and holding a sign that says ‘#6 my favorite baseball player’. He has to scroll a little bit to find a picture you posted of you and Ethan.

It’s a simple birthday post from last summer, you’re both on a boat. He has an arm around you, smiling at the camera. You’re pressed to his side but the smile on your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

To further torture himself, John clicks on your tagged photos. While you barely post to your instagram account, Ethan and your friends use it regularly. All Ethan posts are pictures of the two of you, some of them are just pictures of you with long captions that read like a love letter to you.

Your friends have also tagged you and Ethan in pictures. He finds one from Halloween. The two of you are dressed up in what is supposed to be a couple's costumes but he's dressed as Mario and you’re dressed as Princess Daisy. It makes John laugh, thinking of all the times you beat him in Mario Kart as Daisy. He always picked Luigi.

He puts his phone away before he does something stupid like call you. The two of you talk every day in some form or another but since you ended your late night phone call last night, he hasn’t heard from you at all. Even his good morning text went unreplied this morning.

Deep down he knew that Ethan had to be a good guy for you to stay with him for three years. He heard from his mom and friends from back home about how well he treated you and how in love with you he was.

What’s funny is that no one in the last three years had ever mentioned to him how happy you were. If you were in love with Ethan or not. Any time you came to visit John or watch one of his games, you were always with your family or the Marino family. You never brought Ethan.

Were you going to say yes?

But does he know you call me when he sleeps?

But does he know the pictures that you keep?

But does he know the reasons that you cry?

Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

John stayed up longer than he should’ve, hoping you’d call. He never went an entire day without talking to you, even if it was just a quick hello. It was getting close to eleven when he finally started making his way to his bedroom. He had practice in the morning and he could already tell that he was going to be tired.

He brushed his teeth and then peeled his shirt off. He plugged his phone into the charger and was just about to take his pants off when there was a knock at the door. “Who the hell?” He muttered as he walked toward his apartment door. Mikey and Nate both lived nearby so he assumed it was one of them stopping in although the late hour made no sense.

When he opened the door, all the breath was knocked out of him. The last person he expected to find standing in his doorway at eleven pm on a Thursday night was you. He could tell you had been crying. Your eyes were puffy and you had red splotches all over your face. The black dress you were wearing was fancy and your bare feet told him that you did at one point have heels on. If he didn’t know any better he’d say you were on the run.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asks once he finally finds his voice.

You try to smile at him but end up sniffling. “Hey, Johnny. Can I uh, can I come in?”

“Of course.” He steps aside and lets you in, closing the door firmly behind you.

You don’t walk very far into the living room, twirling a piece of hair around your finger nervously. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry I should’ve called.” You mumble as you take in his half-dressed appearance.

“No, I was awake.” He can sense your nervousness. “Did you drive all the way here?” It’s about five hours from North Easton to Hoboken with traffic.

“Yes, I, uh…” You try to laugh but it comes out as more of a sob. “I just got in the car. I didn’t know where I was going at first but then I just sort of ended up here…” You trail off as you look at him, gauging his reaction.

John keeps some distance between the two of you, keeping his hands in fists at his sides so he doesn’t reach for you. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

Seeing him so full of concern for you gives you the confidence you need to get your next question out. “Are you and I always just going to be friends?”

The question weighs heavily on John who opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on: “What?”

“Ethan proposed to me tonight.” Anger and jealousy hit John at once and your words feel like a physical blow as he realizes the girl of his dreams is going to marry someone else. “He took me to a fancy dinner and ordered a big bottle of wine for the table-”

“Y/n, I don’t want to hear this.” John admits as he backs away from you. Every word you speak is another knife getting stabbed into his heart. “I can’t.” He’s always been a shoulder for you to cry on, but this is too much.

“Johnny.” Your voice is soft and he jumps a little when you place your cold hand on his bare forearm. “He got down on one knee and gave me a long speech about how much he loved me and then asked me to marry him. Do you want to know what I said?”

There’s tears in his eyes as he forces himself to look at you. Unshed tears are shining in your eyes as well. He’s hoping with everything in him that you said no.

“I said your name.” You shake your head with a laugh. “This wonderful man got down on one knee for me and the only thing I could think of is the boy I've loved since I was eight years old.”

John stares at you in shock, unsure if he heard you correctly as you start to cry. “Do you want to know the worst part? He forgave me! He still wanted me after I said your name. And what did I do? I ran out of the restaurant. I got in my car and I drove to you.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as you sob into his bare chest. Your words replay over and over in his head as he rubs your back. The only thing I could think of is the boy I've loved since I was eight years old. You’ve been holding on to the same feelings that he had all these years? He realizes that you had five hours in the car to yourself. You could’ve turned around at any point and gone back to Ethan. You chose to come to him instead.

“Everything’s going to be alright.” His voice is quiet as he tries to calm you down but you still hear him.

You take a deep breath and pull away from his chest so you can look at him. “There’s something here, isn’t there?”

John brings his hand up to wipe a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “I think I've been in love with you since that first day when you talked back to Paul.”

You laugh as you remember the first time you met the twins. “You were always so quiet. I didn’t think you liked me at first until I realized you were like that all the time.” John pulls you into him again, resting his chin on your head as you nuzzle into his chest. “I made a mess of things didn’t I?” You mumble.

“As long as we’re together, we can figure the rest out.” He assures you.

Tag list: @cellythefloshie @nowandkeiei @hughesmedicine @huggy-hischier94 @diary-of-jj @cole-mcward48

#john marino fic #john marino imagine #john marino x reader #my writing

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saintjosie · 1 year

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WAIT YOU AND JESS WEREN'T DATING BEFORE???

storytime! @pirateprincessjess

so i met jess around march 2021 because she raided me on twitch. she said she found me on tiktok and i immediately went to go check her out and followed her back. i actually remember looking at my phone during my stream and thinking, “oh she’s really cute”, following her, and then moving on with the stream.

we chat back and forth for a few months and stream together a few times and then towards the end of 2021, i found out that she only lived a few hours away from me. so i’m like, “hey! you’re nearby, wanna get together and make some videos?”

that was our first time meeting each other in person and it was also the same weekend that we filmed the skirt go spinny video! we got along so well right off the bat but we both knew that we werent ready to date for different reasons.

6 months later, in feb of 2022, jess has her orchiectomy. i had moved twice within those two months, raleigh to dallas and then from dallas to nashville, and we are on a video call late at night while she was recovering from her surgery. jess is stoned out of her mind on pain meds and all of a sudden she is like:

“are we flirting right now?”

and i’m just like 😳😳😳 UM KIND OF MAYBE YES IDK BUT ONLY IF YOURE INTO IT HAHA JUST KIDDING 😳😳😳

to which she responds “nice. you should come visit again. come any time. and i literally mean it, you can come visit ANY time”.

i’m now sweating profusely, “haha okay how about next week?”

i drive 8 hours from nashville to south carolina to help her get around the apartment while she’s recovering from her surgery and hang out with her. on the day before valentine’s day, the day before i am headed back home, we decide we are going to try dating and that we are gonna take it really slow.

for the next month we spend hours talking on facetime every day. at first a few hours a night, then five, then 10, then we are falling asleep and waking up together over facetime. then i finally get to go and visit her for a week and we finally get to have our first date. the week is too short. i weep when i have to leave. i weep on the drive home. there was nothing slow about how fast i fell for her.

a month away from jess then a week with jess. we do this for 8 more months. driving back and forth 8 hours has never been easier. we talk about moving in together but it’s too much too fast and we don’t want to be hasty uhaul lesbians. until finally my lease is up and we cave.

it’s been four months now since we’ve moved in together and it’s been absolutely incredible 🥰

235 notes · View notes

delopsia · 1 year

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Flowers In November (1/4) Rhett x Reader

Word Count: 12,705 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking. Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

Flowers.

No matter where you go, whether it be the big, bustling concrete city or the vast, unforgiving pastures of your hometown, there have always been flowers—poking out from cracks in the sidewalk, dancing like fairies in unkempt lawns and waving daintily from their pots and planters.

But you think this is the first time you've ever seen something quite like this.

When you'd gone to bed last night, the backyard had been green grass for as far as the eye could see. All was normal, not a singular sign to be found that you would wake up to this.

"I've never seen so many flowers in my life," your mother muses from where she stands in front of the sliding door, "and yet, not a single purple flower to be found."

At first glance, you'd thought they were Autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the old Oaks along the tree line, but those trees shed their leaves weeks ago. Overnight, flowers have decorated every inch of your yard just days before December's start. Coming in all possible variations of red, orange, and yellow.

"Would you mind filling a basket of them for me?" She asks, already reaching for the wicker basket she's just put away, "I reckon we could make a beautiful Autumn wreath out of these."

"Sure," picking flowers sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than packing belongings into cardboard boxes and loading them onto a Uhaul.

You don't think you've actually seen her make a wreath out of live flowers before, but again, you can't argue with such a deal. Not when your shoulders ache from days of hauling everything your family owns from place to place.

It would have been so much easier to hire a moving company.

"Do you want the basket to be completely filled?" You question, just to be sure.

"Please," folding up an old flyer for the local raffle. If you'd guessed three-hundred forty instead of three-hundred ninety, maybe she'd have the leather necklace printed on that paper, "keep an eye out for some purple ones, too."

Can't be too hard, can it?

Sliding your headphones up over your ears, you step outside, basket in tow. For as beautiful as it looks, it sure doesn't feel like it.

Frighteningly chilly wind nips at your neck as you walk across the yard, seeking the perfect spot to settle down in. The more you think about it, the more you realize that this is really, truly, weird.

This many flowers, three days before December starts?

Even the pasture in the front yard is full of them; from the looks of it, so are the lots all around you. An endless sea of flowers with absolutely no business showing up as abruptly as this.

You wonder if they'll come back like this in the spring.

A part of you wishes that you could be here just in case that day comes, wake up to a magical sea of brightly colored flowers marking winter's end. But that won't be happening. Not if the brightly colored for sale sign at the end of the driveway has anything to do with it.

Right by the treeline, you find the old tree stump, still stained from all those times you painted it when you were a kid. It's uncomfortable sitting on, but it's better than sitting directly in the flowers themselves.

Drowning your thoughts with the music from your headphones, you get to work. Picking flowers with the longest stems and placing them neatly in your basket.

This isn't how you pictured your gap semester from college going.

The plan was to come back home and take it easy for a few months, pick up a job waitressing at the local mom-and-pop diner, something simple until you could get over your rapidly worsening burnout. But your mom has her heart set on selling your childhood home and moving closer to the city, and that's a process that has had you working for months.

You never truly realize how many things need to be fixed in a house until someone comes in to appraise it. Replace this, replace that, so you'll finally get an offer worth accepting.

But it doesn't work. You've practically renovated this entire house, and not a soul has made an offer. You don't want to see the house sell, but Lord, is it frustrating, working your ass off, only for it to add up to a whole bunch of nothing.

At the end of the day, many people want to avoid buying a property with a not-so-pleasant history. A handful of times, your mother has mentioned that all this land belonged to a single family. Their daughter, the sole inheritor, disappeared in a storm. Your folks bought this place shortly after the final member of the family passed.

"How's it going?"

The sudden appearance of your mother has you jumping out of your skin, your heart rising into your throat.

"Baskets nearly full," you chirp, sliding your headphones down until they rest around your neck, "not seeing any purple, though."

She hums, reaching down to sift through what you've collected. To be honest, you hardly remember picking half of these. How long have you been out here?

"Well, I hate to interrupt you," she muses, still rummaging through the basket, "but dinner's ready."

Alright, so you've been out here for a little while.

It starts to rain the moment you step inside the house. It feels as if the clouds had been waiting for you to get out of dodge, the storm appearing just as quickly as the flowers had. The wind howls as it whips around the corners of the house, angry and threatening to break through even the tiniest of entryways.

Storms around this part of Wyoming are common. Usually, they don't last any longer than twenty minutes, but it only worsens. The wind only grows louder, buckets upon buckets of rain coming down in thick, white sheets that seem to wrap around the house, blanketing the outside world from view.

You're washing dishes, gazing out the window just in front of the sink, when you notice something bouncing around in the lawn.

"Is that an animal?" Thinking aloud, you lean closer to the glass, squinting. No, animals don't move like that.

Shit.

Swearing, you reach for the towel, dying your hands as you rush toward the door, "I forgot the flowers outside!"

That's what it is. Your mom's favorite wicket basket is bouncing around the lawn, back and forth, being whipped around by the wind like a ball.

Without much thought, you pull the sliding door open, and immediately the cold wind starts to painfully nip at your skin with its frigid teeth. It's only worse as you step outside; the tiny raindrops feel like needles as they batter you, but you can't let that old basket be blown away.

You can hardly see, stumbling blindly as you chase the silhouette of that tumbling basket, but the wind is making a game out of keeping it from you. Whenever you think you've got it, the wind picks up, ripping it away.

But the wind slows a bit, and in a last-ditch effort, you jump on the basket the moment you've seen your chance. Your foot catches on a patch of mud, and your back hits the ground with a painful thump.

But you've got the basket. It's mostly empty now, but you've got it.

All your collected flowers are probably miles down the road by now, blowing into who knows where. So much for making a wreath with them. Swearing under your breath, you push yourself back up, fumbling for purchase on the muddy ground, some kind of leverage to help you onto your feet.

"Huh?"

There, right in front of you, lies a dainty purple flower. Remarkably short, its petals fluttering in the wind. No wonder you hadn't found any.

It should be easy to pluck from the ground, but it's not.

No, the damn thing will not so much as budge from its spot in the ground. You change hands, supposing that one is weaker than the other, but it barely moves. Come on; this can't be that hard. Using both hands, you take hold of the flower's tiny stem and pull.

Just like that, the flower plucks from the ground, leaving a dark hole in its former resting place. Strange.

With the flower safely tucked into the basket, alongside the ones that have survived the wind's torment, you try to get up.

But that hole...it's starting to...grow larger?

You think it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no, it's—that hole is getting bigger. Beneath you, your legs become nothing but jelly, near useless, as you slip around on the muddy ground, fumbling for footing.

One foot catches traction; you've almost got it, you've almost—

the ground disappears out from under your feet,

and you

fall.

You don't know how long you fall for.

Everything around you is pitch black, a blanket of darkness wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely tell if your eyes are open or closed. The sour bubbling in your bones is the only indication you have that you're moving at all. You've become weightless, fluttering through the air like a discarded feather.

All of a sudden, a strong gust of wind hits you from behind. Now, it feels like you're moving back up, like someone's just flipped this hole upside down.

Where in the world are you? Are you halfway down to the center of the Earth, or are you somewhere else entirely?

A twinge of light appears in the distance.

It's faint, but it's there, and it's growing larger. You can't quite tell if you're moving toward it or if it's moving toward you. But it grows bigger and bigger, rapidly hurtling towards you until all you can see is a blinding light as it engulfs you.

All you see is a dark sky, but then, like a quarter, the world around you flips, and all you see is green as you come crashing down into it with a painful thunk. The impact is strong enough to knock the air from your lungs. It feels like someone's picked you up and thrown you against the ground.

Miraculously, your basket still contains its flowers, the tattered handle clenched in your weak hand. Your only sign that you just popped out of a...

...hole that has seemingly disappeared.

No, no, no, none of this is right. Where are you?

Instead of being once again surrounded by your childhood stomping grounds, all you can see is endless pasture hills. It's dark, still raining, but you can see enough to know that you've never been here before.

The ground squelches below your muddy shoes as you slowly stand. White-hot fire shoots up your right ankle as soon as you put weight on it. It doesn't look broken, but it's hard to tell when every bone in your trembling body aches.

There's movement up on the hill.

A woman. You can't see much of her, but her blonde hair is easy to spot as it flows in the wind, waving like a flag behind her. It seems she's seen you, too, because she's coming toward you.

"Hello?" You call out, shielding your eyes from the rain, "ma'am?"

She yells something back to you. Intelligible, borderline a shriek. No, that doesn't sound like the voice of someone coming to help.

"No, no, no!" She wails, "you don't belong here! You don't belong here!"

You have no time to question it. All you have time for is to turn and run.

Every step hurts. Your feet struggle to maintain traction as you race across the slick ground, left foot sputtering out from beneath you with every stride.

You don't know where you're going. You can't see anything. It's all pitch black and silvery raindrops and green grass, and you can't figure out how close this woman is getting to you. Her voice grows louder and louder with each passing step, chanting incoherently; how you don't belong here; this isn't right.

Lightning strikes the ground, lighting up the world around you.

There's a fence in front of you, the silver gate already halfway open. However, there's a black dot just beyond that. You haven't the slightest clue what it is, but you'll take anything over the woman that's rapidly gaining on you.

Come on, come on, come on, you're almost there.

Something heavy hits you from behind, and for the umpteenth time, you hit the ground with a painful thunk.

"You!" Her voice is so loud that your ears feel like they're going to bleed. Silver glints in the dark as you squirm, legs kicking out as you try to get back up. But she's faster than you, climbing up on top of you as that sharp silver glistens. Your nails find purchase on her scalp, clawing at a raised scar. It doesn't faze her. "You don't belong here!"

Black flickers across your vision, and just as quickly as she'd climbed on top of you, she's knocked off, landing flat on her back. She's still yelling, chanting the same thing over and over, but her voice is drowned out by a deeper one that booms through the dark like thunder.

Your throbbing ankle crumples out from under you as you try to stand, leaving you frantically scooting backward. Away from that girl. Away from whoever was crazy enough to go after her. No, no, no, you've just backed into the fence.

...and the fence steps out from behind you?

It's a horse. Black in color, concealed near perfectly by the blanket of the night. She steps out from behind you, feet dancing dangerously close to your face as she does so, and then she turns and...

It's enough of a sight to make you momentarily power through the pain biting at your nerves. Rising to your feet, you stumble for the open gate, each step feeling like it'll be your last.

That horse has three heads.

The man's calling after you, something that sounds like a rushed 'hey!' but you pay it no heed. Your heart hammers against your chest so loud that it drowns out everything else, beating in perfect synchrony with your racing feet. But that three-headed horse is coming after you, barely visible as she runs you down.

Something thin passes overtop of your head and cinches tight around your waist. The next thing you register is the sharp pull of rope, so strong that it stops you in your tracks.

"Hold on, hold on!" That deep voice shouts; it doesn't sound threatening, but it doesn't stop you from fighting the lasso cast upon you, squirming, pulling at the loop.

Maybe it's the rapid in and out of breath; perhaps it's the fear permanently etched into your expression, but something makes him get down from that monster of a horse. Dropping the rope in favor of kneeling and raising his open palms to the sky.

"'m not gonna hurt you," he breathes, speaking slowly, "a'ight?"

You don't know if you believe that, but as a scream echoes through the night, you realize that you don't have much choice here.

"Who..." your voice dies in your throat, "who are you?"

He's quiet like he's considering, and then, "'m Rhett."

Rhett.

You don't think you've ever met a Rhett before, surely haven't met a Rhett who smiled when you uttered your name.

Whatever moment you've just built up is shattered by the rapidly approaching yelling, the shrill voice of a woman who isn't happy about your presence. Rhett peers over his shoulder, then, turning back to you, "do you trust me?"

"Define trust," you blurt, shaking free of the lasso.

With remarkable speed, he stands and mounts that three-headed mare. "Either you play your cards with a woman wielding a handmade knife," holding out his hand, "or you let me help you."

Well, when he puts it like that.

His hand engulfs yours as you take it. There's some effort required, but he's strong and quickly pulls you up onto the horse with him. It's uncomfortable being crammed up here when this saddle was clearly not meant for two.

"Hold on to me," he tells you, peeking back at you, "don't let go until I tell you to."

Mayhaps it's because you're dripping wet, but as you wrap your arms around his waist, you learn that he's remarkably warm. And as the horse starts to move, he reaches down to tuck his arm alongside yours as if they'll slip away at any given moment. You're lucky that this isn't your first time on a horse.

As the fence line disappears from view, you begin to lose track of where you're going. Everything looks the same; everywhere you look, it's the same. It's starting to feel strangely similar to the lots for sale around your home.

There's no way that this is actually happening right now. This must be some wild, fucked up fever dream you're having. There's no way this horse has three heads, and there's not a damn logical reason behind that hole you just fell through.

Yeah. This is all just a vivid dream.

Rain begins to pick up, wind beats against you like it did before you fell into the hole. It feels a little too familiar as you cling to this strange cowboy, trembling under your wet clothes. But at least he's warm.

It's a while before a dark, rustic little cabin comes into view, looking strangely similar to the abandoned one across the street from your home. It bears the same log walls, cement filling in the gaps left between, but this one has a bite-sized front porch with a little white swing that sways in the wind.

The horse stops just in front of the porch steps, and it's only now that you realize you've just about frozen to Rhett. Muscles and bones stiff with imaginary ice, struggling to detach yourself from him.

As soon as you've let go of him, he's hopping off the horse, spinning around with outstretched arms, "God, you're fuckin' cold," he hisses from the moment he touches your numb hand, "you're lucky you still have these things attached."

Beneath you, your legs feel like sticks, completely numb as you let him guide you up the stairs. The door is partially ajar, easily kicked open with his boot, but the house is warm. Hot, even, feels like the heat that first washes over your face when opening an oven.

A little kitchen sits just to the left of the entryway, but the only thing you can focus on is the crackling fireplace directly in front of you. Rhett walks you right to it and places a thick blanket around your shoulders as you sit on the floor next to the dancing flames.

With two thick fingers, he pinches the sopping wet clothing from your shoulder, chewing on his lip as he visibly thinks. Then, he ventures off through a door on your right.

The fire is hot, and you think you can feel the coldness melting from your skin, but it's hard to warm yourself when you're practically wearing a block of ice.

"These are probably too big for ya," he remarks, remerging from what you assume to be his bedroom, "but it's better than nothing."

There are folded clothes in his arms, what looks like a shirt, a pair of flannel lounge pants, and some plain socks. He sets them on the footstool just behind you, careful not to ruin his near-perfect folding of them. The way he speaks to you makes you feel like you're a pair of old friends, like this isn't the first time you've met.

"If you want to get that mud off," pointing off toward the room he just came from, "there's a shower just around the corner; help yourself to whatever you need in there."

Then, without much else, he heads for the door and mutters something that sounds like an "I'll be back in a minute" before the door shuts behind him.

It takes you approximately half a second to decide that you'll take him up on that offer.

You were right; this is his bedroom. Looks just how you'd imagine any man's bedroom to be, plain navy blue comforter, bedside table devoid of anything but a lamp, a phone stand, and what looks like an obscenely large belt buckle.

Fluffy white towels are on the bathroom sink, neatly arranged into a stack of largest to smallest. You don't think you've ever met a cowboy that was so meticulous with arranging clothes and towels.

Thunder rolls as you step under the water, the lights briefly dimming, but they don't go out. The sound of the shower barely conceals the howling of the wind, angry, daring you to venture out and face its frigid wrath once more.

You think you spend a good fifteen minutes scrubbing the mud out from every crevice of your body. Just as you believe you are finished, you find another patch, caked to your skin like glue, refusing to budge. God, it's even in your eyelashes and behind your ears. A part of you wonders if this three-in-one wash has anything to do with how hard this is to remove.

In the light, you can see that your ankle has swelled up. Not too much to be of concern, but it's a visible difference from the other one, puffy around the joint and sore to the touch. Must have injured it during one of your many falls tonight.

Come to find out, he's given you an option of two shirts, a plain black tee, and a soft, long sleeve pajama flannel that matches the pants he's given you. The shirt you choose engulfs you, the pants a little loose in some places, but they're warm, dry, and not caked with rainwater and mud.

As you lift your dirty clothes up, something hard hits the ground.

Your phone.

Huh. How long has that been in there?

It's got no service; the battery is only at half charge, but aside from that, it hasn't been affected by your escapades in the rain. The time though...how is it eleven thirty at night? It was barely seven just earlier.

Rhett's moseying about the kitchen with a basket of laundry. Perking at the sight of you. "Y'almost look like a different person," he muses, holding the basket out for you to place your soaked clothes. You feel like a different person, to be honest.

"Now, if you don't mind me askin'," making off toward the laundry room, just past the kitchen, "how did a lady like you wind up in our west pasture?"

Well...

"I'm still figuring that out...?" Because you're still processing it all yourself. Surely this is just a horrible dream; maybe you banged your head and hallucinated all of this.

Rhett's head pokes out the laundry room door, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't say anything. That look was enough of a statement.

Calling your mother's phone doesn't work. It doesn't ring, only displays your call screen, and does nothing more. The frustration must be evident on your face because Rhett fishes his phone from his pocket, "y'can try mine," he offers, holding it out for you to take, "service is patchy out here."

But you receive the same outcome, except his phone won't even accept the number as valid. The longer you struggle, the closer together Rhett's eyebrows knit, tongue poking around in his bottom lip. On your third try, he comes over, peering over your shoulder.

"You're still missing some digits," he says after a moment.

"No?" Lifting your phone for him to see, "I have all ten."

You don't understand why he's looking at you like that, absolutely perplexed by what you've just said. He squints at your screen, reaching out to tap and expand one of your contacts. Ten digits. But then he opens his contacts, and you see...fifteen.

What the hell?

Hesitantly, your mouth starts to move, "I can tell you how I wound up there," your voice wavering, "but I don't think you're going to believe me."

But Rhett is all ears.

And so, you tell him from the strangeness of the flowers that chose to appear toward the end of November to the flower that opened up a hole to your unceremonious arrival to his west pasture. As you tell it, you realize that you've lost your flower basket somewhere in that field; the one thing you have to back up your statement.

Somewhere during your retelling, you wind up on the couch, sitting across from one another as you recount your tale. Rhett doesn't say a lot, nodding his head every once in a while, like this happens every Tuesday.

"That may explain the strange noise from earlier," he recalls, gaze fixated on the fire as the flames twirl and lick the air.

Lifting your head up from where it was resting against the couch, "there was a noise?"

Again, his head nods, slow, "my brother sent me a video of it, hold—shit."

He recoils with a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut as he reaches behind himself, rubbing his right shoulder blade. Is that...

The image of that silver blade flickers through the darkness of your mind.

"Did she stab you?" It's more of a statement than a question; it's hard to mistake the red stain on his jacket for much else.

"Maybe," speaking through his teeth.

Still, he doesn't fight you as you reach over, urging him to turn so that you can see it better. It's easily missable, but there's a thin cut through his jacket, maybe four or so inches long, slicing through two layers of clothing and deep into the meat of his shoulder. Most of the bleeding is concealed by a bit of mud caked onto his shirt, you suppose, from a fall.

"This needs to be cleaned," how long has he been quietly putting up with this? "It's going to get infected."

"Nah, it's alright," poorly concealing his wince as he stands up, "not like I can reach it, anyhow."

"Well, I was gonna offer to do it for you," it shoots out of your mouth before you've even had the chance to process what your reply was going to be.

Your words make Rhett stops in his tracks, arms limp at his sides. Quiet, dead silent, actually, to the point that you're just about to retract your words when he looks back at you, "...okay."

He disappears into his bedroom, and through the wall, you can hear him shuffling around in there, searching, sifting through cabinets and drawers. But eventually, he comes back with a wet cloth and a white plastic box, the little red plus sign so faded that it's barely visible. Looks vintage.

It's heavy in your lap, full of all the supplies you could ever need. Bandages, creams, sprays, tweezers, safety pins, a strange assortment of oddly shaped bandaids. Everything you can think of is in here.

Rhett's jacket hitting the floor regains your attention just in time for you to get an eyeful as he removes his shirt.

Good Lord.

Those muscles in his back could go on for days, rippling under his pale skin with every movement, a display sent straight from the heavens above. Are you drooling? You think you might be drooling.

Red soaks his right shoulder, blood dried and stuck to the skin there, and it's just about what you'd pictured the moment you laid eyes on the slice through his jacket. But damn, are you glad it's not a cut on his chest. You don't see much of it, but you catch just enough to know that you'd definitely be distracted.

He sits on the floor, back to you, granting you ample access to his injury. The wet cloth does most of the work as you gently wash away the dried blood, careful of his still-open wound.

A strange sound plays through the air, loud, like a rusty gate creaking open, only deeper, unnatural. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. "What is that?"

Rhett lifts his phone from his lap, "that's what the sound was." Did that sound come from...you traveling through the hole?

"That sounds like something straight out of a horror movie," your remark earns you a dry chuckle, a slight, easily missable noise that dances around your ears like the sweetest music.

"I was convinced we had a troll on our land again," Rhett barely winces when you touch the antiseptic wipe to his open wound. Still, you can hear the pain in his tone, words becoming tight, higher in pitch. Falls quiet as you clean it properly, removing the mud and a stray piece of grass that wound up there. "Didn't expect to run into a pretty little thing like yourself out there."

Oh.

You have no reason to smile at that, you really don't, but you find your lips twitching upward.

"I—I'm sorry," evidently, your silence is getting to him, "I didn't mean to..."

"You're fine," you can't help the laugh that leaves you; at least he's not being weird about it, "I'm just too focused on your shoulder to think of words right now."

Intentionally vague, leaving him to fill in the blank incorrectly because right now, you're only focusing on how these muscles feel under your hands. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. At least this wound of his doesn't look like it needs stitches, just a bandage.

"Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

"No?" Holding two bandages beside the cut, internally debating which one is big enough. Hm. Seems the one on the right is the better option. "I take it you don't get hurt very often, then."

"Naw, I wind up with a new injury every week," he drawls thickly, "that there is my bad shoulder anyway."

To add to his words, he lifts both arms above his head, and you can see exactly what he's referring to. His right arm looks normal, but his left one fails to go up all the way, falling short by an inch or so.

"How did you do that?" Inquiring while you open up the packaging. His left arm is slower, too, and takes a little more time to drop back down than its companion.

His shoulders shake with a half-hearted sound, nearly making you put a crease in the bandage, "Thought I could make a livin' bein' a bull rider," the bitterness of the memory so thick that you can taste it in the air, "dislocated it in the finals. Went from first, straight to last."

With the bandage applied, he rolls his neck back and forth, cracking the joints, shoulders doing much of the same. From here, you would have never been able to tell that his left shoulder had anything wrong with it. Those muscles twitch and flex all the same, putting on a simple little show that's got you mesmerized.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long because he soon gets up. Disappearing with his dirty clothes and the bloody cloth, leaving you to pack the first aid kit back up. He isn't gone long, reemerging into the room, pulling the ends of a black tee down over his gently defined belly.

Selfishly, you wish that he only owned two shirts. The one you're wearing and the one that was just ruined.

"Look, I know this ain't...ideal," he mutters, scratching his neck, "but how 'bout you take my bed for the night."

Your mouth opens, protest heavy on your tongue, "I don't...you don't have to give me your—"

"—and my momma taught me never to let a lady sleep on the couch," his voice firm, but his face soft, "I washed the sheets this mornin' if that makes you feel any better."

This argument was over before it even started.

As you rise to your feet, the ache in your swollen ankle blossoms into something sharp, enough to make you wince. It's barely a reaction, a squinting of the eyes at most, but Rhett's already caught it. Eyes already trained on the way you mind your foot.

"No, no, don't you even say a word," effectively killing your protests before they've had a chance to open your mouth; Rhett heads over to his fridge, "I coulda sworn you were limpin' when I found ya."

"I'm not sure what I did to it," you admit, sheepish. You really don't have any recollection of it happening. It hadn't been hurting when you fell through the hole, but adrenaline is a deceiving mistress.

Which could explain why it hurts even worse than it did while you were showering. Putting pressure on it only makes matters worse; nerves feel like they're burning hotter than a blazing wildfire. Still, you make an effort to walk back towards Rhett's bedroom, hopping along to avoid any more usage of it than necessary.

"You sure you ain't part bunny?" Chuckling at the sight of you, Rhett slowly follows after you, armed with an ice pack.

It could be the pain and exhaustion that makes this bed feel so comfortable; even sitting on the mattress feels like a cozy dream. Rhett kneels in front of you as soon as you're off your feet, taking your foot into his large hands. One on the back of your heel, the other gently manipulating it in his grasp.

"Not broken, at least," he observes aloud, "probably hurt it when you fell, and the adrenaline kept you from feeling it until later."

At least his theory is similar to yours.

He's quick to leave you in peace, passing off the ice pack and letting you know that you can find painkillers in the second drawer of the bedside table. Before you know it, he's made off with a pillow, and even from here, you can see his feet propped up on the edge of the couch. Stacked, one on top of the other.

The sheets are warm and soft against your skin, so freshly cleaned that all you can smell is the fresh linen and vague smokiness of the fire. It's almost as good as your bed at home.

Almost.

You're still figuring out if this is all real, if this is really happening, or if it's just a vivid dream. This bed, this place all feels real; even Rhett feels too real to be a figment of your imagination. But a magic hole? And that...woman?

No, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. None of this does. If these magic holes were natural, they would have been documented long ago. They'd be common knowledge.

But the drowsiness pulling at your eyelids, weighing them down, feels pretty real.

The next time your eyes open, you feel like you've stepped into a new body.

Eyelashes flutter, momentarily blinded by the bright morning sunshine peeking through the blinds. The air is warm enough so that you aren't burning up under this nest of sheets. You don't want to move, your head full of clouds, your body as light as the comforter nestled on top of you.

Your eyes adjust. This isn't your bedroom. This is...Rhett's.

Sitting up, it all comes flooding back to you in the form of watery memories, vague and fuzzy around the edges. The flowers, the hole, the strange woman, the cowboy, and his three-headed horse. There's a peculiar squishy material under the blankets: the ice pack.

No, no, no, this isnt—

your mom's flower basket sits on the floor next to you. Battered, strands of the material stick out, the handle crushed and deformed, but it's the basket. Flowers and all. There aren't many left, but a handful of orange and yellow have survived, accompanied by some flowers you don't recall picking. Three daffodils and a handful of daisies. Rhett must have added these.

On the very top, though, lies that purple flower.

Pale petals with a darker center, with three red stigmas standing proudly. A fourth one has been crushed, lying bent alongside its companions. The little flower that your mom would have loved.

You wonder if time has passed the same for her. Selfishly, you hope your disappearance has stopped time, wherever she is. You can't imagine how worried she'd be, knowing that her daughter disappeared in a horrible storm, leaving little to no trace of where she'd gone. There has to be a way for you to get back...but how?

Considering the horse...maybe Rhett will know. Thinking back, you don't recall a trace of disbelief as you recounted the night's events to him. If the three-headed horse you saw last night was real, surely this place can't be normal.

This time, your ankle doesn't hurt as badly when you put weight on it, but it stings and is still somewhat swollen. It hurts enough to affect your stride, limping toward the bedroom door.

"Rhett?" You croak, voice echoing about the house. No response.

You can properly take in the room with the sunshine creeping through the windows. It bears the same white horizontal wood paneling as the bedroom did. Two long brown couches on either side of the fireplace and a matching, short sofa in between them. The kitchen is tiny and feels more like a hallway than anything.

Barely any decor, aside from a tall cabinet that stands next to the bedroom door, decorated in trophies, awards, and little knick-knacks of all things Western. The golden bull wearing a cowboy hat is your favorite.

"Rhett?" You try again; maybe he didn't hear you the first time.

Nothing. Must be outside. Your shoes sit in the gap between the fridge and the front door. They've seen better days, but they're dry, slipping over your feet like they always have. The door squeaks as you open it, painfully loud compared to the silence leading up to it. It takes a little effort to shut; the door a hair too big for the frame.

There's an old wooden barn off to your left, not far from the house; everywhere you look, you find nothing but rolling green pasture. In the distance lies the same snowcapped mountains that surround your childhood home, identical. Is this the same location?

"Rhett?"

Again, nothing. But at least a bird chirps in response this time.

A little dirt path leads to the barn, worn down from years of walking the same route until the grass has died and refused to return. Beside the barn sits a GMC Sierra, looking a little worse for wear and desperate for a good scrub. So thoroughly covered in dirt that you have to wipe away some of it to see its actual color.

Blue. Like his eyes.

The barn doors are wide open on either side; it feels like a tunnel, dark inside, with light pouring in from the entrances. Horse stables line the room, maybe twelve in total, with a big back room to your right and what appears to be a feed room to your left. Something's rustling around near the doors on the other side. What that could be, you're not sure you want to know.

Three-headed badger?

A portion of you wants to investigate. Maybe it's Rhett or an adorable barn cat that deserves some head pats, but rationality reminds you that you may not like what you find. The rustling growing louder is what makes up your mind.

Not today.

Turning on your heels, you leave. You've had enough life-altering escapades for the foreseeable future. Lord only knows what else you may run into, given your current luck. But walking away from the barn means walking away from your only viable idea of where Rhett could be. Glancing at the endless fields surrounding the house, there's no telling how hard it would be to find the guy.

A strange sound resonates from behind you, metal on metal. The hair on the back of your neck stands straight.

"Make any sudden move, and I'll put a bullet right between your eyes."

That's not Rhett's voice.

"Turn around."

In your chest, your heart hammers so hard that it feels like it'll throw you off your feet as you slowly turn, raising your palms to the sky. Innocent. Mean no harm.

You find yourself in the middle of Rhett's dirt driveway, staring down the barrel of a gun.

"What are you doing here?" Growling, the man steps closer. Words fail you. Stunned stupid by the gun that bumps into your nose. "You here to take Amy too? Huh?"

Stammering, your feet tangling as you try to step back. Who is this guy? Who's Amy? He won't get the gun out of your face. The barrel pressing into your trembling flesh. You step away. He steps closer.

"Answer me, bitch!" He barks, spit hitting your cheeks.

"I—" gulping, "I was looking for Rhett."

The gun doesn't lower.

"Don't you bullshit me, girl," his words drip with so much venom that it makes him tremble, "I'd know if my brother brought one of his bitches home."

Brother.

Your tongue evaporates. Language forgot. Sweat beading on your forehead. Rhett's brother clenches his jaw, breath whistling through his teeth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I—"

"Perry!" Barking so loud that it sounds like it's come down from the heavens above.

The world goes dark.

It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking into the back of a jean jacket with a rip down the right shoulder, exposing the plain white shirt underneath. Even longer for you to catch on to the fast-paced bickering, words hurled back and forth with such malice that they burn your ears.

"How about you quit waving that gun around like it's a fuckin' toy?" Rhett's nose to nose with him, teeth bared.

"This bitch is trespassing on our land and saying she knows you," Perry's stepping back and forth, a caged dog trying to get around him.

Rhett's always a step quicker. "They have a name, Perry," he hisses, "and you'd know that if you were decent enough to ask before you put a gun in their fuckin' face."

The argument is over. Not because of a loss but because Rhett walks away from it. Whatever words Perry has to add to the pot go ignored.

"Y'alright?" He's slow to approach you, allowing you to close the space if you're comfortable. When you do, he reaches out to rub dirt from your nose using his thumb, likely from the gun.

"As alright as I can be, considering the past twenty-four hours," his touch tickles, a welcome sensation to distract from the spasming of your gut.

"Are you really pretending I'm not here right now?" Perry huffs, raising his hands up, gun-free.

Rhett tilts his hat, effectively blocking his brother out, "were you the one callin' my name earlier?"

Nodding, "I can't exactly remember why I was looking for you, though."

You're only just now recognizing that his horse is off to your left, one head idly sniffing at the sparse ground below her feet. It's hard to tell what the other two are doing.

"'ts alright," chuckling, he nods toward the house, "was about to come checkin' on you myself."

If only for a moment, the two of you step back inside. Rhett's fridge is the definition of baren as he rifles through it, but he produces two breakfast rolls, says he made them this morning. They don't taste how you expect them to. At a glance, you figured they must have been some gross concoction of ingredients, but biting into it is like biting into a dream.

"Not as bad as you thought, huh?" Rhett grins around a bite of his, "I saw that look you gave me."

Has it always been this warm in here? "Only because I don't know if the food here is different." Lie.

Glancing up from his phone, "is it?"

You pause. Now that you think about it..." it's better," you conclude, and with that, you finish it.

"Good," his chest rising and falling with a silent laugh, "don't tell my mom I stole her recipe."

Rhett doesn't have the answers you're looking for, but he suspects that his father will know something. Based on the way he phrases it, it sounds like strange things happen all the time here. What kind of place is this? The cowboys where you come from would not be as calm as Rhett is.

"Takes too long to drive," Rhett explains as he walks you to his horse, "Isabel won't mind a second passenger, though."

Isabel.

Despite her unearthly appearance, the horse isn't as scary as you expect her to be. She happily accepts the pets you offer her, leaning into your touch like any other horse. In fact, everything about her is absolutely normal, aside from the head situation and her massive size.

You've ridden horses enough times to know how to get on their backs, but Isabel is so tall that you need Rhett's assistance. It's a miracle that you fit up there last night, all things considered. Once you're up there, though, it's alright. Especially not when you're graced with the opportunity to wrap your arms around Rhett. Snuggled close, your head tucked below the brim of his cowboy hat, perfectly blocking the sun from your eyes.

You learn that there are four pastures. Rhett lives in the north, Perry in the south, and their parents reside in the south pasture. He says nothing about the east one.

There's something shiny moving in the pasture as you ride through it. Too far for you to tell what it is; its location is only given away by the way the sun glints off of it. You struggle to piece it together as you ride directly toward it.

But then it clicks. "What the hell is that?"

While you can't hear it, you feel him laugh, vibrating against your skin, "you ain't got cows where you come from?"

"Of course, we have cows, genius," you retort, "but we don't have cows with shiny gold horns!"

You can't believe what you're looking at. A herd of maybe forty cows, black in color, bearing long, golden horns. At first glance at those horns, you'd thought they were longhorns, but they're much too fuzzy. The animal equivalent of cotton balls.

The words that left your mouth are enough to make Rhett look over his shoulder, eyeing you, "no?"

What kind of world is this?

A good portion of you expects to see miniature elephants next, somewhat disappointed when you don't see them. The only other animal you pass is a singular bison relaxing in the west pasture. Just beyond lies a marvelous, towering mansion. The close you get, the bigger it becomes until you can no longer comprehend if this is a house or a stadium.

"Good lord, Rhett," choking the words out, "are you sure this is a house?"

His hand squeezes one of your arms like he's trying to make sure you're still there, "still decipherin' that myself, actually."

An older woman is sitting on the front porch, a stablehand at her side who wordlessly takes Isabel off to a paddock next to the house. For the longest time, she doesn't speak. Not when she leads you inside, not when she has to pry an adventurous kitten from your pant leg, not even when Rhett asks if she's alright.

The inside of the house is just as ridiculous as the outside. Towering white walls, vaulted ceilings, glistening chandeliers, and sculptures that cost a pretty penny. A variety of kittens scamper about, tiny, too young to be taken away from momma just yet. Paintings of cowboys and horses hang along many of the walls, accompanied by pictures of Perry with a blonde woman and an equally blonde daughter.

But try as you might, you can't find any pictures of Rhett. Even when his mother leads you into the living room, you fail to come up with anything. No embarrassing school pictures, no baby photos, no nothing.

"Rhett," her voice firm, quiet, like she's afraid of being overheard, "what have I told you about bringing women home?"

Rhett begins to speak, but an older man steps into the room before he can get the first syllable out. Dark, graying hair, an equally colored beard, and a hat nearly identical to Rhett's. This must be dear old dad.

"Rhett, can I speak to you alone?" he says, smiling, but it fails to make the statement sound any less cold.

For a moment, Rhett hesitates, gaze flickering between you and his parents, until you nod and motion for him to go ahead. Then, albeit reluctant, he leaves the room without a sound.

Friendly family.

"Listen, honey," his momma begins, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but..."

Tilting your head to the side. "But...?" Where is she going with this?

She sighs, loud, exasperated, "I know you must like my son. He's a good man. Exactly who I raised him to be."

You have no idea what she's trying to tell you, but you force a smile, pretending that you do. Sure hope Rhett is gone for a while.

"But he's a bit of a casanova; he's darn near slept with every young woman in this town," oh, that was...not what you expected her to say, "I just want you to know that before you go and get your heart broke."

With that said, she scoops up a gray kitten from the floor and leaves the room.

You feel like you've just been slapped.

What the hell just happened?

It's probably a minute or two, but you must sit there for an hour, staring at a picture frame containing a pressed flower as you try to comprehend her words. Does she think you're Rhett's girlfriend? Did Rhett not tell her how you got here? You wish you were here all for a pretty cowboy, but you're not.

Just as quickly as they'd left, Rhett and his father return. You're thankful that Rhett sits next to you again. Even though you don't know him very well, the familiarity is much welcomed after the uncomfortable experience you just had. His dad carries a large book, the binding so old and tattered that it barely holds together.

"So, Rhett tells me that you...came out of a magic hole in my pasture last night?" His father inquires after a minute.

"Picked a flower, a hole opened up, and now I'm here," you get the feeling that you're going to become sick of recounting this.

For the longest time, he stares at you as if you've grown three heads yourself. Gaze hard, but his eyes wide with unspoken recognition. Then, carefully, he begins to flip through the book's pages. You squint, trying to read the pages, but you're too far away.

"Strange things happen on this land all the time," Rhett elaborates, "our family has been documenting it for generations. If it's happened, it's in that book."

Explains the age.

You don't like how long his father looks through it. Flipping through it once, twice, gradually becoming faster with time. Rhett looks at you. You look at him.

You're still looking at each other when his dad says, "Books got nothin'."

Your expression drops. A million and one worries flicker through your psyche. Rhett's jaw tightens, the muscles flexing under the effort. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," his dad's voice raises, "what, do you not believe me?"

"Couple of months ago, Perry said a hole just like that appeared on his land and swallowed up half his kelpies," Rhett chides, leaning forward, "now, according to him, you handled it and got them back."

So this has happened before.

Abruptly, his father stands, the book falling to the floor with a resounding thunk, "how many times have I told you to stay out of Perry's bullshit?" He howls, going from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.

Not backing down from the fight, Rhett stands and steps off to the side, away from the couches. Leading the argument away from where you're sitting. "You only say that shit when it's convenient to you," hissing, an octave deeper, "but you involve me in his business when you want me to do his work for him."

"Because it is your job as a younger sibling to cover for him while he's grieving!" Words shouted so loud that they echo, bouncing down the towering hallways of the house, shaking the paintings and the house's very foundation.

Rhett scoffs, incredulous, "it's been nine months, pops. Nine months."

As if on cue, they both yelp, stumbling away and rubbing their ears. Rhett's mom stands between them. "That's enough!" She bellows, a completely different woman from before, "Rhett, I think it's time for you to leave."

You wish you had your phone; you could definitely use the twisting of the ear technique in future ventures.

Rhett barely waits for you to catch up to him on your way out of the hose. Winding through hallways, past rooms that you know you've passed but have no memory of, everything looks the same, but it's all different spaces. He holds the door open for you, though.

"Did my mom give you a...talk while I was gone?" He inquires as you step past him out onto the porch.

Nodding your head yes, "she practically told me you were the town whore, if that's what you're asking about."

That seems to be the statement that he's looking for because his eyes roll. "She keeps telling that to every woman I so much as glance at," shutting the door behind himself, albeit a bit too hard, "I haven't slept with anyone since I was twenty-three."

"And how old are you now...?" Please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old.

"Twenty-six," tilting his hat downward.

Oh. Well, that's a lot more palatable than what you were afraid of.

"Wow, a whole three years without sex," melodramatic as you can manage, "how have you ever survived?"

"It's easy when you don't get nothin' out of it," you can't tell if that's bitterness or jealousy leaking through his tone, drenching it.

"Get nothing out of it?" You parrot as if it'll help you decipher what he means.

"Nope."

So much for elaborating.

On your ride home, it starts to rain.

It's hard to do much of anything. Even with the weather, Rhett still has work to do, leaving you alone in this strange, unfamiliar house. Without a working phone and hardly anything to distract you from the situation. There's a television above the fireplace, but the remote is nowhere to be found.

Chores are your only escape for a while. Washing the few dishes left in the sink, making the bed, and sweeping the floors until it's pristine, without a single flaw. But even then, it's difficult to silence your thoughts. You think about your mom, your disappearance, all over again. If time passes, the same for her, and if she saw what happened.

Your head is torn between hope and horror. If Rhett told the truth about the hole, you can find a way home. His father doesn't seem keen on helping, though. What if Rhett's wrong? And wait, what happened to that girl last night? And his brother, what's up with him?

Oh, what if there's another variant of you here, and what if she's why Perry was so hostile towards you?

This is getting out of hand.

Your only option to stop your racing mind is to make a game out of organizing the shoe rack that sits by the front door. It's a disaster; shoes piled onto its shelves with little to no care. Once you're done with it, though, it's picture-perfect. Boots, dress shoes, and sandals are carefully arranged into appropriate sections, ranging from tallest to smallest.

Come to find out, the remote was also in that mess.

You don't even realize it's a remote at first. Rather than being built vertically like the remotes where you come from, it's horizontal, like a keyboard. Fitting somewhat strangely into your hand, but it turns the television on just fine.

At least Rhett has a few streaming services, all with familiar logos but different names. Prime Pictures, Hoop, and something named...Kibble. But who would have thought that this world had the same shows and movies? There are so many things to rewatch. Are they going to be the same? Different?

It's too easy for one movie to become two, and soon you lose track of how many you've started.

"Where the hell did you find the remote?"

Words as sudden as a thunderclap send your heart into your throat.

Rhett. Dripping from head to toe with rain water, cheeks covered in a thin sheen of dirt.

"Over in the shoe rack," nodding toward the door, "not sure if I want to know why, either."

He turns, casting a long glance toward his newly organized shoes, then a sheepish grin works across his face, "I uh..." rubbing his chin, "I tend to reorganize the house when I'm drunk."

You laugh. His face blossoms into a bright cherry red. Unable to form many words all of a sudden, he fishes out his phone, telling you to order any pizza you'd like while he takes a shower.

Pizza boxes are circular here.

"The fuck you mean they're square?" Rhett sputters, so shocked by your words that he has to put his slice down.

"They just...are?" You think it's got something to do with cost-effectiveness, but you're unsure. "I'm being serious; we don't have round pizza boxes where I come from."

With how he looks at you, you're not sure he believes you.

"I need to see one to believe it," that sounds like intrigue laced around his tone.

"Well, if we can figure out how to reopen the hole," you say, leaning forward, "then I can show you all the square pizza boxes in the world." And...you know, go home.

"Deal," Rhett grins like a cat, "we need to look around the west pasture and figure out where you came out at, anyway. Mash two potatoes with one fork."

Mash two potatoes with one fork. That's different.

An aggressive slam of the front door wakes you around three in the morning. The sound startles you awake, and as you sleepily call out for Rhett, you get no response. He's not on the couch, his blanket and pillow lying in a messy heap on the floor.

You expect him to be mulling around the house when you wake up around eight. Or to at least be within the vicinity of the place. Nine o'clock is the time you've set to go and visit the west pasture because his father tends to have visitors that will get in the way if you wait until any later.

That time comes and goes with no sign of him.

You shower, hunt down a vase to place your slowly wilting flowers inside, reheat some pizza, and still, nothing. This was his time suggestion; he was the one that insisted that you go early, and now the blue-eyed bastard is late to it.

If he doesn't want to come to you, fine. You'll go to him.

The land around his home is vast and unwelcoming to those unfamiliar. His property is that it's mostly flat. You noticed it yesterday when you were riding on the back of Isabela. It's nearly impossible to lose the house if you keep its silhouette within your view.

"Rhett?" You call out, "Rhett!"

No dice.

He's not in the barn, and his truck isn't here. Asshole must have left. Not like you're stuck here against your will or anything.

Isabela knickers at you as you walk past, a harmonious synchrony of three, her own little choir over in the pasture.

"Hi, Isabela," reaching out to scratch her foreheads, "you wouldn't happen to know where your owner went, would you?" You don't know why you expect a horse to respond to you, even a three-headed one.

She looks behind herself, her ears pricking like she hears something. Is that..?

"What is he doing?" Isabela can't talk, but you're pretty sure she understood every word you said because that's Rhett's truck out in the middle of the field. In hindsight, the fresh tire tracks leading toward the gate should have been enough of a clue.

It's a longer walk than you thought it would be, but still, Rhett fails to see you coming. He's got a shovel, throwing dirt into a bottomless hole in the ground. A tarp lies in the bed of his truck, audibly rustling in the morning breeze. It's covering something, but you can't quite decipher what.

"Did you forget you had something planned for nine o'clock?"

He jumps, swearing expletives under his breath, "Jesus, how long you been fuckin' standin' there?"

"Just got here," biting your bottom lip, "you're two hours late to the plans you made because you wanted to do...this?"

"Somethin' came up last night," grunting, he lifts the shovel again, spilling dirt into the hole.

Very descriptive, Rhett. Very descriptive.

"Something?" Isabela nudges you from behind, politely demanding that you give her more pets.

The shovel hits the ground with a soft sound as he marches to his tailgate. Grabbing the edge of the tarp, he yanks it upward. Revealing two severed legs, but not to a person; no, they belong to a horse. Or, they used to belong to one, anyway.

"I don't..." looking back at the shovel, then back to the house, "I don't understand."

"Perry drove home drunker than shit last night," he elaborates, tucking the tarp back down, "moron went off the side of the road and hit one of the neighbor's horses."

You're still not computing this. "So you're hiding parts of it on your property...?" So bewildered that it simmers in your speech.

"The horse is a retired racehorse worth a couple million, at least." Rhett hisses like his neighbors can hear him from here, "if they find out Perry did it, they'll sue us and take the whole ranch."

Exciting. You hope you won't be here when the law comes knocking. "Well, can we look for the hole after you're done?"

"Probably fixin' to be out here all afternoon," he says as he lifts the shovel with his foot.

"Tomorrow?"

"Probably be busy all that day, too."

Helpful. So helpful that you can feel your blood bubble in your veins, red hot, "so when can we look, huh?" It's not even like you can go by yourself. You don't even know which direction the west pasture is in, never mind how to get there on foot.

"God, fuck, I don't know, Monday?" Throwing his hands up, Rhett drops the shovel for a second time, "look, I know you're wantin' to go home, but I have to run this ranch all by my damn self. I don't have time, woman."

You're speechless. What does he expect you to do? Lay around without a care in the world until he feels like helping? Not like you've been uprooted from your entire life and everything you've ever built!

"Alright, alright," deadpanning, your feet move, turning back for the house. Then, under your breath, "with how you talk to women, you probably had to pay all those girls to sleep with you."

A shadow casts over you. "You wanna say that again?"

"I think you heard me well enough the first time," you smile, tight-lipped.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back. The cold metal of the truck presses against your skin.

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he says, voice lower than you've ever heard.

"What, you gonna prove me wrong?" You shouldn't be taunting him when you're backed into a corner like this. But for some reason, you still do. "Call one of them up for a testimony?"

The bastard laughs, "oh, honey," his hand coming down to plant itself next to your head, "you don't need no damn testimony when I'm standin' right here in front of ya."

Your eyebrows raise. He can't possibly be suggesting..."I thought you didn't like sex?"

"Not usually, no," his head drops down as he speaks, looking you dead in the eye, "but there ain't nothin' better than watchin' a pretty woman fall apart on my tongue."

You're unsure how you feel about the heat that sparks between your legs as he sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. Here you are. In the middle of this pasture, with a cowboy on his knees...for you.

One of his hands caresses your hip, thumb teasing the brim of your—no, his sweatpants. You shouldn't be doing this. You just met this guy for crying out loud!

Logic doesn't stop your hips from twitching forward into his touch.

That's all he needs to hook his thick fingers into the waistband, "no panties, hm?"

"I didn't exactly have the luxury to pack," there's more you want to say, but it's hard to when he pulls the material down until it pools around your ankles. Cold air nips at your previously covered skin, only warmed by the hot breath that fans against you.

Rhett's hands trail up the inside of your thighs, callouses tickling the sensitive skin there. It's been so long since the last time that his simple touch alone makes you start to drip. His hands continue to rise until his fingers comfortably dip between your folds, running from your entrance to your clit.

"Cute." Before you can even process what he's just said, Rhett leans forward and—

oh.

His tongue is so unbelievably hot as it presses against you, spreading you open around him. Then, one slow, flat, broad stroke of his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit, circling it lazily. The motion pushes his hat into your belly, and as he drops back to tease your hole once more, it ultimately falls off. Leaving nothing but messy hair, perfect for you to tangle your fingers into.

And you do just that.

"That's it," he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, "pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours."

One little tug, and he moans directly into you, laving over your clit in sloppy figure eights, and that, that. It has no right to feel as good as it does, making your hips start to writhe.

"So squirmy," big hands settle upon your hips, forcing them to stay still as he works you, rapid, quick little licks that wrench a cry right out of your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this guy knows what he's doing. "Still think I had to pay them, girls?"

You don't recall closing your eyes, but when you find the strength to open them, you see those blue eyes peering back up at you. He smiles at the sight of you, flits his tongue against you a little harder, the tip pointed just at the right angle.

Chest heaving, you tug on his hair a little harder; your legs are starting to shake from it all, "fuck," the tone of your own voice foreign to you, "Rhett."

"God, you make my name sound like it's a fuckin' sin," growling, he pulls you close toward him, giving you no chance of escaping the onslaught of his wicked tongue on your pussy.

The sensation of him sucking on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure, heat pooling between your thighs while he keeps fluttering his tongue over it. You're whimpering out into the open air, helpless as he downright devours you like a starved man, and you're his last meal. It's been so long since the last time you felt the subtle nudge of your gut tightening that it's almost foreign.

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

You barely feel it coming on.

All it takes is one more suck against your clit, and you're spiraling toward the edge with no guardrail to catch you. Too much, too fast. You yank on his hair so hard that Rhett moans around your clit, a beautifully pitchy noise that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Like a tidal wave, your orgasm washes over you. Convulsing as he licks you through it, straddling the border of too much and just enough. Lungs burning, head spinning.

Just as quickly as it had bubbled up, it fades away, leaving you a panting, trembling mess, all for him to see.

"Damn," his scruffy cheek is pressed against your hip, lazily smiling up at you like a cat who got the cream, "you're out of this world."

You could hit him.

His chin is so drenched that it's downright glistening in the sunshine, thin lips swollen, so completely, utterly relaxed against you. A totally different man from the one a few minutes ago.

"You know," carefully running your fingers through his hair, combing out the mess you've made of him, "I can't tell who this benefitted more."

He laughs, cheeks starting to turn pink, "consider it a mutual trade-off." The end of his sentence distorts around a sleepy yawn, "'m sorry, I tend to be a real ass when I'm tired."

The way he's peering up at you is awakening something. An uncanny urge to take him back to the house and look after him until he's well-rested and that lively spark has returned to his eyes. But, for the life of you, you can't understand why.

What the hell did you just do.

Taking your silence as a reply, he opens his mouth again, "whaddya say we try and make a quick trip to that pasture?"

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

You're lucky he offers to drive you back up to the house because your legs tremor so much that you can hardly walk straight. Rhett's quick to notice it, winking at you as you stumble past him and toward the front door.

Curse orgasms and their need to fill your bladder with half the water in the Pacific ocean.

By the time you step back outside, a little more stable on your feet, Rhett's already got Isabel ready to go. She's standing next to the small porch steps, and with the added leverage, it's much easier to climb up.

"If you can't figure out how to get you home," he chuckles as you squeeze in behind him, "we're gonna have to find you a horse."

"You gonna go hit one too?" It shoots out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Lucky for you, Rhett laughs some more, "somethin' like that, yeah."

Back to the pasture again, bypassing Rhett's little stash of evidence. Should you be concerned about that horse's owners coming knocking? Probably. Are you?

Not really.

Maybe you would be if you thought about it more, but it's hard to linger on it when fluffy cows appear in the distance. With their long black fur and glistening horns, something straight out of an art piece.

"Are their horns actually gold?" You inquire. It looks damn close to real gold to you.

"Yes, ma'am," Isabela slows as you grow closer to the herd, stopping just shy of them.

One of the cows is feeling friendly, approaching you like an old friend. She's close enough for you to touch, but as you reach out, she looks at you kind of...funny, making your hand freeze midair.

"You can pet her," demonstrating, Rhett reaches out, scratching his nails against her cheek.

You're not too sure about that one. She sure doesn't seem to like it when you brush your nails over her forehead, absolutely fixated on you, as if you've just offended her to the core. Yeah, no, you probably shouldn't...

A careful hand curls around the back of your own. Slow, Rhett guides your hand to pet her forehead, up and down, in the same fashion you would pet a dog you've met. She's so unbelievably soft.

"Are all cows this soft?" You've never felt anything quite like it. Silky, a little velvety, even.

"Nah, not all of 'em," he lets go of your hand, gives her golden horn a little tap, "these right here? Solid gold, not hollow."

Their horns are entirely and utterly mindboggling, perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, not at all like you'd expect a horn to feel. How strange.

"Do you raise them for their gold or their meat?" A part of you isn't ready for the potential answer.

Rhett chews on his bottom lip, "both." He gives the cow one last head pat before Isabela starts to move again, "the gold pays for most of the expenses 'round here."

So gold is still considered valuable here. Interesting.

"But just between you and me," he continues, "lately, I've been lyin' sayin' nobody's in the gold market no more."

You have to cling to him a little tighter now that Isabela is starting to move quicker; with every step, you fear you may fall. "How come?"

"They think they're entitled to it," he reaches down, grazing his fingertips along your arms, where they're looped around his waist, "always askin' me to slaughter my cows before their time so that they can buy stupid shit."

A memory flickers into the forefront of your head. "Is that how your parents could afford that giant house?"

"You catch on quick."

The gate to the west pasture is just up ahead. While it's hard to say, you think this is where you first met Rhett. Barely even a few days ago, and yet, it feels like a distant memory, fuzzy in your head. You can almost feel the way that lasso cinched around you, catching you with such little effort.

After you go through the gate, it takes a lot of work to come up with much of anything. You know you were close to the fence that borders the end of the west pasture, but the land looks so different during the day than it does at night.

"I've got nothing," you frown, "it all looks the same."

Rhett hums. A deep sound that vibrates through your arms and up into your chest, leaving you feeling all tingly after he stops. "Y'know, I think you landed a little further down."

"How would you...?" Unless... "Rhett, were you there when I came out of that hole?"

"Sorta." You can't see his face, but the tips of his ears tint a pretty shade of ruby red, "I watched the hole open and headed off to let my dad know," he peeks over his shoulder at you, "but then I heard Autumn start screamin' and I turned back 'round."

Autumn. So that's what that woman's name was.

Up ahead, there's a patch of dead grass. Perfectly circular, maybe ten feet in diameter, brown in color, a stark contrast to the green surrounding it. Isabela stops short of it and refuses to move any closer, even as Rhett asks her to continue. Seems you'll be going on foot.

You're unsure why you feel nervous about walking closer to the patch of grass. Ideally, if it reopened under your feet, you would wind up back at home, and all of this would be over. So why are you feeling like this?

Rhett audibly sucks in a breath as you step into the circle. Like he's expecting it to swallow you up at any given moment.

No, no, no, there should be something here. A sign, a clue, something, anything. The realization of there being absolutely fucking nothing is suffocating. Brings your heart rate up until it beats in your ears like a drum. You look and look, kicking the ground as if that will force it to open.

Nothing. Nothing happens, and the only things out of the ordinary are the few remaining flowers strewn about the grass.

"If it can open up once, it can open up again," Rhett tells you, holding out his hand to help you back up, "we'll figure this out, one way or another."

You're beginning to wonder if that's truly the case.

Rhett hums the entire way back. Some slow little tune that he doesn't have a name for. It's not much, but it's enough to distract you from the sour taste this trip has left in the back of your mouth. At least for a little while.

Something possesses you to stick around while he untacks Isabela, petting her as he busies himself with unclipping various things you don't know the name for. You're thankful she enjoys all the attention because it's the only thing keeping your hands from shaking.

For the first time, it hits you. The realization that you could be stuck here for the rest of your life. There's a very good possibility that you're never getting home. That you'll never see your mom again, your friends, your old life. They'll never know what happened to you.

"You're gonna spoil that horse," you've almost forgotten that Rhett was in here with you.

"Probably," you wish you could come up with more to say, but you can hardly think up another word.

Rhett has already caught on to your mood. Doesn't say anything else, instead communicating without words. He tells you he's ready to turn Isabela out by placing his hand between your shoulder blades and giving you the slightest nudges to get you going in the right direction. Does it again when he's done with that, wordlessly telling you to head for the house.

As you step inside, you can't help but feel like something is...off, but you don't know what it is.

"Y'alright?" It's now that you realize you've stopped dead on the threshold, leaving Rhett no choice but to idle on the porch. You start to turn, but along the way, your eyes catch a glimpse of the vase sitting on the counter.

"Someone's been in here."

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?"

"When I left," gulping, "my flowers were sitting in that vase on the counter."

It's empty.

All it takes is one long gaze into the house before Rhett reaches for the door, slamming it shut. Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, "we're goin' into town to get a doorknob that actually locks."

Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

#flowers in november #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #oneshot #ao3fic #ao3 oneshot #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #rhett abbott outer range

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alittledizzy · 9 months

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i don't post a ton of personal stuff on here but i also kinda always just feel like everyone that follows me has known me forever. but in case you've followed me in the last month or two

hi, i'm mandy. i'm 38. i have a real adult job that's mildly soul crushing in that i'm overworked and underpaid just like every millennial.

i like when people are nice but not fake-nice just like, genuine nice. to quote wil wheaton of old, just don't be a dick. or at least don't be a dick on a regular basis. everyone has off days, after all. but be a general all around decent person who doesn't set out to make anyone's life or fandom experience worse, and we're good.

i enjoy when people wanna have conversations with me about common interests. i like to write fic. i have written approximately four million fics in the past 25 years. i like when people like my writing but you don't have to like my writing. fic and my fic isn't for everyone.

i was in glee fandom and i am in dan and phil's fandom and before that i was in stargate/farscape and before that i was in lord of the rings rpf, those are my Big fandoms. i also like star trek and old game shows and 90s sitcoms and horror and i hate watch some youtube family vloggers and fundie families. my hidden talent is that i can name all of the duggar kids and grandkids.

i have two cats and i also foster. my current foster is a wild child i call liza may. she is obsessed with people and hates other animals so placing her permanently has been difficult. i have a girlfriend that i am kinda crazy about. i think the only reason we haven't uhauled it already is because we live in different countries. (for now. there's a plan in place.)

anyway. hi! if you have questions just hit me up. my askbox is open.

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beansprean · 2 years

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hi, I’m new to your acc and tumblr in general and idk if you even still make tt content but if you do: how did all the Titans end up in the polycule? Like who was dating first, who did brought it up, who was totally confused at first, etc?

If you don’t make Titans content any more that’s totally fine. Have an awesome day, and I think your blog is really cool. Thanks!

….I have literally never given thought to how they got together djdjdjdj they sprang from my head fully formed and ‘culed lmaooo

I imagine it started with like, separate couples. Like bb and rae kinda sorta got together during all the terra drama (both also in love with her) and drew her back to their side with the power of love but it’s a while before she agrees to date them both bc she’s not in a great place after all that. And then robin and star got together obvs, uhaul lesbians always. Meanwhile star and cy have been hooking up long before she and Robin officially start dating. Star is like if u wanna be exclusive it’s fine cy and I are just post-gym adrenaline fuckbuddies, no romance just sweaty buff alien robot porking. And Robin is like 😳 umm….ok… but eventually is like please continue doing that not because I’m into it or anything. And then eventually he and cy start dating too and that was cyborgs plan all along. Then BB is like “my best bro is dating my bro….I am….third wheel?? 🥺” and so he starts flirting with cy constantly (poorly) and interrupting their dates with Robin like a weirdo. Until everyone has to sit him down and explain gently that he has a crush on cyborg and they should just date already. Meanwhile with their bfs dating new people raven and star tend to hang out more (raven thought this would result in more alone time for her but alas star keeps finding her) and star keeps making jokes like “everyone else is dating when are we gonna get together raven?? Haha just kidding…unless?” And I think that takes a much longer time to happen, like after terra returns and the bbterraven minicule is complete and they get comfy being together and raven becomes a little more emotionally available. Star keeps patiently pining. Until raven looks at her one day and is like huh. We should be holding hands. And then they do.

Ok turns out I had plenty of thoughts about that lmaoooooo ty!! WELCOME TO TUMBLR you're either here for a month or you're here forever

#teen titans #robstar #bbrae #cyrob #bbterraven #starrae #bbcy #bbterra #terraven #titancule #the-rain-falls-up #ive been here 10 years now #holy shit

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pocket-poly · 27 days

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14 days ago my sister found out mother's (dead 12 years now) estate was in a storage unit and about to be gone forever. Our stepdad died and his brother kept it a secret. It was the real estate agent that salvaged stuff hoping to find the 2 girls and grandkids she saw in photos on the walls that my step-uncle denied knowing. 500-mile trip in 48 hours and a Uhaul of memories was saved.. bringing my sister lots of closure

Just 9 days ago I was almost hit by a bus in SF. It tore my driver's door almost off. *photo attached the bike lane on this street is next to side walk and parking is closer to traffic than anywhere I live. And well... crunch... I'm okay.. got all of me still attached. And the body shop had MOXIE done in less than 5 days. Being away from both my guys and my son was hard. But honestly best case scenario for a wild situation that still feels like a movie scene more than my life.

For the last 5 days my oldest (who i have had a rough relationship with) and her two young kids have been living here at home, while in transition to moving to Korea where her husband is stationed.

I've been going non stop for 14 days and hubby has been an amazing help and redgrasshopper has really helped me talk stuff out.. his patience and calm really has helped me heal in many ways that while this cohab with my oldest is stressful it's also brought a lot of healing to our relationship. It's like he detaingles my messy pieces.

I found myself growing, healing, and thriving in different ways and different parts of my life simply by being loved and supported in ways that are still new to me.

Having such a toxic bloodline, addressing my own toxic shit, breaking cycles, and then having healthy relationships is a learning curve that's is so worth it.

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aejeongjongno · 1 month

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hello all! i am very excited for the opening of jongno! my name is chy, and i present to you my tiny sweetie, kim aejeong! she is 34 years old, and is the owner of 32 below creamery ! she is inspired by traveling and other cultures when she creates flavors, though she also has the standard flavors. aejeong is a very classy, sassy, and confident lesbian lady who is living her best life. she is one of four i am bringing in this first round of acceptances alongside aidynn, dottie, and jiho. below i am going to throw in some general information and plot ideas maybe we can work off. for now, here is a link to her profile and connections. please feel free to like this if you want to plot, or just message me at discord (just ask for it) or on here!

tw: internalized homophobia

only child to two very loving and encouraging parents in london, england

thought she wanted to go into a standard business degree until she took a food related elective and switched to food sciences

figured out early on that she wanted to focus on ice cream, as it was her favorite dessert and she had fun coming up with ideas

saved up diligently and along with a bank loan, opened up 32 below creamery in london, and over time it became very popular

she uses travels and other cultures as inspiration for new flavors

got married to a man straight out of undergrad

kicker is she knew she was a lesbian about a year before she began dating him in high school

they were childhood friends, and aejeong was worried about her parents reaction

they had a dream of her marrying and having kids with a man and living happily ever after and it was difficult to dash those hopes

so for 12 years of her life, from 16 to 28, she made it work unbeknownst to everyone around her

something clicked at 28, nearing her 30s and in a marriage with someone who wasn’t the love of her life and not living honestly, she came out and divorced the man

surprisingly, everyone in her life took it much better than she ever expected

to start anew, aejeong decided to move to her parent’s home country of south korea, wanting to explore her own culture more after loving her travels to the country

opened up the second location for 32 below

still loves to travel all the time for inspiration

ideally would love to find mrs. right, wants the happily ever after with the woman of her dreams and some kids

tiny yet mighty

very motherly, will adopt anyone in two seconds and treat them like her own child

plot ideas

the type to have a few very close friends but a large social circle because he gets along with people easily

first girlfriend after she divorced and moved to south korea

frequent customers of the creamery

also people who work at the shop

neighbors, both her own and of the business

other pups for hers to have play dates with

maybe fellow dessert shop rivals

if anyone wants to bring her ex husband who ended up moving to south korea too, that might be interesting *eyes emoji*

occasional hook up girlies

she is on the hunt for mrs. right, wants the picket fence and babies, will uhaul

#will get back to messages and plotting after i get home from work!#jongno:hello

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princess-schez · 2 years

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Fic: Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare - Chapter 3

Rating: M (no warnings yet for this chapter, but don’t worry, they are a comin’! . . . Ok I’ll show myself out now, lol) Genre: Bill Cipher/Reader fanfic Summary: The Reader has been plagued by violent nightmares for as long as she can remember. Deciding to move to Oregon for a simpler pace of life, it is there she meets the dream demon himself and begins to unravel a mystery connecting them both.

Fic under cut below.

Chapter 3. You followed the little family for a bit, driving down the road behind them until a large two-story house appeared. It seemed relatively normal enough, and not like anything out of a horror movie, you thought. Though it did seem a little... beat up was the best way you could describe it. They pulled off to the side, and you followed, pulling up next to them as the front door opened and a figure stepped out.

He looked a lot like Ford, except he was wearing a fez, shorts, and a white tank top. The ensemble made you smirk. He noticed you almost right away, eyebrows raised in confusion as the kids came hurrying out of the car up toward him. Tentatively you got out of the Uhaul, your weak legs thankful to be feeling land again. “Who’s this?” the man in the fez asked, indicating to you. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Uh, so that thing we were hunting, well, it kinda ran out in the middle of the road and nearly hit this lady and—“ “But she hit her head from stopping her car so suddenly,” Mabel continued. “So I thought we should bring her here for the night. Is that okay, Grunkle Stan?” Stan looked over at Ford, who simply shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “You know there’s no arguing with Mabel once she has her mind set on something.” Figuring it would be best to at least go over and introduce yourself, you made your way over to the small family, an embarrassed look on your face. “Um, hi,” you began, giving a small, nervous wave. “Uh, I did hit my head a bit, but it’s nothing serious. I mean, like I’m not bleeding or anything and I can just sleep in my van or something if it's too much...” Stan raised a hand, and you stopped rambling. “It’s fine,” he grumbled, noticing the pleading look in his great niece’s eyes. “We have a guest bedroom. But we don’t do wake-up calls, and you fix your own breakfast.” You smiled. “Thanks! You won’t even notice I’m here,” you laughed nervously. “C’mon, you can tell us all about you while I give you the grand tour!” Mabel said excitedly, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you through the front door and into their home. You looked around and smiled to yourself as she guided you around, Mabel giving you the tour of your temporary home. “Over here is our kitchen, and just through there is the living room. Our Grunkle Stan’s room is over there, but I would stay out if I were you,” she added in a whisper, still pulling you around as you took in the cozy—almost safe—feeling the house had. You looked around, noticing the simplistic decor. It was undoubtedly the home of a bachelor. Or two. The floorboards creaked, each step you took up the stairs, almost rhythmic, as you followed the energetic girl to the second floor of the house. Taking a quick look behind you, you saw her brother following behind, your eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds, and a deepening red colored the boy’s face. “This,” Mabel indicated toward a room with the door slightly ajar, “is Soos’ room, but he’s on his honeymoon with Melody, so this is going to be your room for the night.” You stuck your head inside the room before stepping in completely. The first thing your eyes noticed was the comfy bed. “I appreciate this,” you said to the kids as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your body giving in to just how weary and tired you were. Suddenly, every bone and joint in your body ached from having sat driving for so long. “It’s no problem,” Mabel grinned. “My brother and I have the attic room upstairs, so if you need us, we’ll be there.” You smiled at them gratefully but exhausted. “So what’s your story?” Mabel asked. “My wha—oh, nothing really. I was moving to Oregon because I was tired of the hassle of the big city, so I accepted this job that was way less stressful than my old one. But,” you stopped, thinking about some of the weirdness you had experienced just tonight on your journey. “But coming even this far was... strange.” Dipper perked up. “How so?” “Well,” you began, hoping you didn’t sound certifiably insane, “it seemed like time wasn’t acting... normal, for want of a better word. Like, I could have sworn when I got near the state, it told me I had 15 miles to go, then a few minutes later it said 25 miles. It felt like I was driving in circles too...” Dipper pulled out a notepad and began scribbling down something excitedly, his tongue darting past his teeth. You looked questionably at Mabel, who shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head. “But, but yeah,” you continued, “then I almost hit that thing—whatever it was—in the road, and I just... I don’t know.” You rested your head in your hands, as you felt a small hand pat your shoulder comfortingly. You looked at the girl and smiled. “What was that thing?” you asked, remembering how it didn’t look like a normal creature. And certainly not like one you had ever seen before. “We think it was Huntokar,” Dipper replied. “At least that’s what Grunkle Ford said. It’s some kind of monster god that looks like a woman with a deer’s head.”

Not a word of what he said made any sense, and the confusion must’ve been evident on your face as Dipper cleared his throat and tried again to explain. “Gravity Falls has a—uh—unique reputation for strange things.” “Dipper’s right—” “And ever since Weridmageddon last year—” “—things have only gotten... stranger.” You looked between the twins, waiting to see which one would break first, which one would admit that everything they just said was a somewhat terrible joke they decided to play. Yet when neither one said anything after a few uncomfortable moments had passed, you realized either they were pranksters with a vivid imagination, or this was all just some funky extension of your tired mind. “Okay,” you said, not wanting to drag this out any further. You slapped your palms on your thighs and laughed a bit. The twins gave a nervous laugh in response, before wishing you a good night, and leaving you alone in the room. After a second, you got up, closed the bedroom door, and locked it, shaking your head in disbelief. Weirdmageddon? Huntokar? You chuckled to yourself, those words repeating in your head as you flopped back on the bed, falling instantly to sleep. _____

A/N:

Thank you so much for your patience with me getting this chapter up! Had a lot on my plate, with my job nearly going on strike and dealing with all that drama. :-( But hopefully, everything is good now, and in, like, two more chapters Bill himself will finally be making an appearance. ;-) Chapter 2 / Chapter 4 AO3 / Wattpad

#bill cipher x reader #bill cipher #gravity falls #fanfic #my fanfic #fan fic #my writing

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fratboykate · 1 year

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kyfbau - so while college is 100% a requirement in the Bishop household, does Yelena get particular about schools? And to go off of this - who handles their kids growing up and moving out the worst? Because I know Kate is probably crying the second the moving date shows up, but I feel like Yelena would hold it together until its 6am and she's walking into Macs or Alex's rooms to get them up for breakfast and then they're not there and she just... is not OK.

Like she has the emotional intelligence of a piece of toast in a lot of ways, but her babies are everything and they are not there.

(if there is a 3rd, I am so sorry 3rd Bishop Gene Juice Baby. It's been so long, I know, I know, I need to reread the AU and it is worth every reread I KNOW it's fantastic. It's the author's fault, really. She wrote a story too fucking good. You'd think she does it for a living. But really. I am so sorry I forgot your name. I'll get you a lego. There's no way Yelena did not see the educational benefits of legos. Kate's feet don't see it, but when has Yelena ever listened to Kate's feet about shit? They choose to wear boat shoes places like a pleb.)

But yeah. I think Kate is a WRECK when her babies are adults and have lives and don't need them every minute of the day. Or I'm projecting because when I finally moved out of my parent's house at 26, I wanted my mom to break down in tears and my Dad stole that moment from me by making sure they were driving the Uhaul back to the lot before the waterworks started.

"IF THERE IS A THIRD?!" Karina Sonechka Bishop aka angel baby Sonny Bishop is giving you THE WILDEST of sideeyes right now for forgetting her entire existence. APPALLING. INSULTING. OUTRAGEOUS.

But yeah, Kate would be expected the open mess during college move-in while everyone thought Yelena would be like "use condoms. i have no interest in being a young grandma. dont do drugs. addiction is hereditary. dont fall for anyone even remotely like your mother. it'll make your life difficult." instead they pulled up to the dorms and she was like *insert emotional breakdown here*. crying screaming throwing up (not literally but you get the point). and kate and the kids are like "AWWWWWWWW MOM HAS FEEEEEWINGSSSSSSSS" lol. And Yelena is like "😒i will kill each one of you...once im done crying😒"

#kyfbau #anonymous #answers

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meangirlstobin · 1 year

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im not really a major au person but i cannot stop thinking about stobin who meet later in life.

im talking mid 50s. steve’s been divorced twice, had three kids, and one failed engagement. robin has uhauled all over the states and even parts of europe with countless women but neither of them have ever really felt fulfilled.

one day they meet at some kind of class, both of them there in an attempt to actually make Friends instead of short lived romances. they get paired together for an activity and while they work well together, they don’t really speak. that is until they both make the same bitchy comment under their breath and just Look at each other before collapsing into laughter and getting told off for disrupting the class. from there its like the seal breaks and for the rest of the class they’re constantly talking, sniping, and laughing with each other, much to the collective distaste of rest of the class.

once the class is over, they decide to continue hanging out so they go get coffee. as they sit opposite each other in shitty dinner booths, spending hours learning each other, they’re both hit with the realisation that THIS is the person i’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. from then on, they’re inseparable.

their friendship and the life they build together is everything they were missing before. steve’s kids (31, 29, 23) love robin, and robin’s exes (the ones she’s on good terms with) become well acquainted with steve.

they both still pursue separate romantic relationships, but they’re less frequent and more satisfying since they’re no longer born from the fear that their only chance to find Real Love is escaping them. they’ve found love in each other and it’s the truest thing they’ve ever felt.

#i havent really figured out how canon events could fit into this so i guess its a no upside down au?#which is something i usually dislike but the power of stobin overrides that <3 #this is kinda inspired by a tiktok i saw of two ladies who met in their 60s and finally found a best friend in each other <3 #also robin is friend with SOME of her exes in that dyke way u know #however the rest of them. curse her name until the end of time #stobin

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the-writing-mobster · 2 years

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Could we maybe get some hcs/imagines about the Baby Face gang at a school event (ex. a dance maybe?) I feel like they'd be a chaotic group at social events like those lol

| Baby Face Boys & Babes HCs! | Prom! 🪩💖🫶

*Set in the 90s of course. 😌 Frisk not included since this is Senior prom. Also, these are a bit long, I kind of popped off with these soooo...

AHHHHH yes of course! Such a great suggestion! 💖🫰 My girlfriend and I were actually talking awhile ago about what the boys would do at prom. I know you said any general school event, but you did specifically mention a Dance, so I'm going with Prom because it's the most recognizable event here in the states at least, ever haha! ...this might actually make it into the fic tbh...

If anyone else has requests for head canons and little imagines like this I guess, feel free to drop them in my inbox. You can do anon too if you're shy, I'm pretty sure I have it turned on. If you want HCs for a specific character from Baby Face (Sans, Frisk, Nick, Alphys, Jonas, Midas, Maeve etc) just let me know! ;)

Sans: Mr. Steal Your Girl

Didn't bring an official date (although Jonas did come as his Junior Plus One,) that comes with way too much pressure tbh, and he's too cool for that shit so... Instead, he's made it his personal mission to bag as many chicks in one night as possible. Why else come to a school dance? 🤨 What to have fun? Don't be fucking lame.

He brought his own alcohol and teachers are warily eyeing him about it. He's not subtle but no one's stopped him at all. He has too much audacity and not enough consequences.

He's definitely not wearing a full tux. He's got a black suit jacket, a black turtle neck and black jeans, and he knows he looks good too. He's dangerous.

“Excuse me, you look like you're bored out of your mind, care if I step in? Don't worry bro, I'll bring her right back.” The poor guy ain't gonna fight him. What, fight SANS!? AND FUCKING DIE TOO WHILE I'M AT IT?

Such a smarmy prick, but he's got the whole gym swooning after him. Every guy wants to knock his lights out but he's untouchable.

He's a decent enough dancer for a slow dance, and can lead without looking at his feet which counts for something. He's definitely not gonna bust a move, but he is gonna encourage some light grinding.

Although he doesn't spend most of his time dancing in fact, he's at the poker tables, doing some mock gambling with a crowd of ladies. Definitely teaching the girl right next to him how to play poker. He helps her win and she is all over him afterwards.

The guys are ANNOYED that he just ditched them to flirt with girls he definitely won't care enough about to call back the next morning but hey, who's gonna stop him?

He's not completely selfish though. The boys don't know but he's pointing some of them out and talking them up to some of the girls. What a fucking hero.

“Yeah you see my friend over there? He's fucking hilarious. He'll make you die laughing he's so funny. Such a goofball... You like goofy guys? You must if you're goin out with Morty, although... Morty's kind of a total cringefest. Like... I know a fake laugh when I see it, kid. You might be fooling Morty into thinking he's funny you're not fooling me. Go talk to Jonas. You'll love him.”

After he and some girl sneak off to the bathroom via teleportation and he's a little happier about the night (😏,) he comes back to the guys to deliver phones numbers and tales of his exploits.

Nick: Dual Class CD Solicitor & Dance Captain

He is using prom as not only an excuse to hang out with his friends, but also to sell their CDs and maybe, HOPEFULLY play a set for everyone! He has all of their equipment in a UHaul Van, COME ON PRINCIPAL GIVE US A CHANCE! We Promise we won't play any Heavy Hard Rock 🥺🥺

When a song he actually likes comes on the speakers, he reveals to the world that he's actually an INCREDIBLE dancer! He knows how to SWING DANCE! (His mom taught him)

Throw this man into a dance circle and he will bust out the double back flip into the splits bullshit you've ever seen.

Him and Jonas will dance together because they're both pretty good dancers and Jonas is the only who can keep up with Nick's energy.

The two are flinging each other around and all anyone can do is stand in a circle and cheer them on. It's the 90s and two guys dancing??? I mean it's not slow dancing or anything, thems is impressive! No one is weirded out by them thank God. I mean, if they had a problem with them, it'd probably be Monster related.

But Sans is just around the corner so ain't no one gonna be a bigot to their group.

A girl who's most certainly had a crush on him for forever, finally gets the courage to ask Nick to dance and he just smiles at her all sweet and asks if she knows how to swing. If not, he shows her a few basic moves and the two get to it. He doesn't ask for her number though, in fact he completely forgets that that's something a normal guy interested in girls would do. As soon as they're done he leaves her with a friendly goodbye and goes back to hanging out with his buddies, content as ever.

She definitely thinks he's gay after that (he's Bi and just so... Oblivious) ... He ruined her night without even realizing it 🤦🏼‍♀️ That girl is crying in the club because of him.

He would ask one of the admins if his band can play a song or two and gets denied every single time no matter what. He keeps insisting though, at one point practically begging.

Finally they're allowed to play ONE song (He went to Muffet and she put in the demand, ain't no one gonna tell Ms. Muffet no...)

Once Sans finally comes back, Nick rushes everyone on stage and they perform one of their more light hearted fun songs. It's a hit, obviously! Especially with the ladies.

All the other guys in the school are punching the air right now. Like, this friend group is too powerful.

Annnnd after the performance they fucking leave. They dip immediately and go get drunk in some parking lot.

Alphys: Awkward Lesbian™

Too many pretty girls.

She and Maeve opted to be each other's dates, but Maeve is off playing black jack with Midas so she's stuck at the punch bowl.

The punch bowl has obviously been spiked, and Alphys knows exactly who did it, but ain't no way she's ratting.

In fact? It's honestly a win. Why would she want to be sober at Prom?

Having gay panic every single time she sees a girl in a beautiful prom dress.

Alphys was convinced to wear a dress and is now trapped in a dress very similar to the one from Never Been Kissed. (If you know you know.) She's wearing sneakers with it though because of course she is :)

She is gorging herself on cupcakes too. In fact, the entire snack table has been turned into her stress, drunk eating buffet, the poor Baby!

Maeve comes to check on her and the two go dance with each other as well. Again, no one fucking messes with them because if they did they'd be dead in a dumpster from the reaper.

As a complete opposite to Nick, Alphys is the worst dancer, she has two left feet and constantly steps on Maeve's toes. She's always apologizing and Maeve is ever so patient with her. It's a good thing Alphys is tipsy off spiked punch now, otherwise Maeve would've never been able to convince her to dance.

As the night comes to a close and the boys climb up on stage, she retires back to the punch bowl. Prom is shaping up to be so awkward and...

“Ugh, they're letting a rock band play? God this is lame.” Alphys staggers over herself to defend her boys and comes face to face with the prettiest, most chiseled fishy face ever... Red braids towering her head.

Instantly she becomes a stuttering mess. Obviously. Pretty gorwl... But the spiked punch gives her that courage she needs to actually be able to talk to her. AND SHES TALKING BACK!?

This girl is obviously Undyne; she's a freshman in college, but was invited as her cousin's plus one so that the poor guy wouldn't be alone.

The two sense the sapphic vibes from each other and instantly hit it off. Undyne takes her to play poker, they dance, they get to know each other, it's soooooo sweet!

At the end of the night when the boys head out to leave, Maeve comes to find her and asks if she wants to join. Alphys decides to stay to hang out with Undyne. Maeve is instantly their biggest supporter, I mean come on.

She had no expectations for prom and then found her soul mate 🥹

Undyne takes a drunk Alphys home, and as a college student who is an expert on holding ones liquor, she helps her stay hydrated, gets her meds so she doesn't puke in her sleep, and helps put her to sleep.

Jonas: Lover boy

Much like Sans, Jonas is here for one thing: Girls.

He also didn't bring a date, and it's exactly for the same reason as Sans - In fact, as much as Jonas would never admit it, Sans is his unofficial Dating Sensei. (This is awful, wdym there's two of these fuckers!?)

He just doesn't have the untouchable suaveness that Sans has, so instead, he relies on being an adorable goofball which... It also works pretty well in his favor.

He also steers clear of taken girls. He doesn't want to start shit. I mean... Could he knock someone's lights out? Of courses but that's just so barbaric. Lycans already get enough shit.

Because Sans is kind of his role model, Jonas is also not wearing a complete suit. He's only got the nice button up and a loose tie around his neck. It's a good look for him, it's super cute.

Obviously, he's also an exceptional dancer as one of the other athletic guys in the group. Where Nick does swing, Jonas is super good at the Lindy Hop, an amazing improviser.

He's also super competitive so, Nick busts out a back flip, so does Jonas. Nick starts swinging, Jonas starts twirling and throwing him around on the dance floor until the circle's been formed and there's nothing these guys can do but keep dancing.

Once they're finally done, Jonas is amazed by how many girls want to dance with him. They're also surprisingly good humored and laugh at all his jokes. Wow he's really good at this!

The girls love being twirled around by him, dipped, lifted and tossed around. He's so energetic and has really great stamina, plus he's not embarrassed at all.

Sometimes he'll seek Sans out while Sans is making out with someone and just bum his flask off of him for some more ~liquid courage~

(not that he needs any. That guy has no shame whatsoever.)

He would definitely make a dirty joke to a girl who he didn't realize was already with someone and get slapped. Nick would immediately come to defend him but Jonas would be like "no I deserved that, I'm sorry."

Always wondering where Midas is because those two are like pees in a pod and is the only one who notices Midas and Maeve exclusively hanging out with each other. "huh, 🧐 cool! 😄" *does not question it at all*

You know he adores performing and being in the limelight. He's so excited about everything and loves all of the attention.

After they leave to their little friendship after party, he gets black out drunk and does a lot of stupid shit that the boys will be talking about til the day they die.

Midas: The Prom Demon Legend 😈

You all saw this one coming.

He is the one the teachers are always keeping their eye on. They know Sans has a flask, but Midas is definitely hiding something and he's up to no good!

At first he stuck with Jonas and Nick, but got bored when they started to dance. Dancing isn't his favorite, he might knock his sunglasses off so...

Instead he's just lurking the gym and when Nick starts begging the teachers to let the band play, he slips in and the bastard spikes the punch Alphys can thank Midas for everything that happens from there on out 😎 unintentional cupid.

Maeve & Midas run into each other after the successful Punch Spiking of '96. Obviously they stick with each other and go play black jack.

Midas is terrifyingly good at black jack. For a game entirely based on luck, he seems to win every damn time. Definitely suggested they actually start gambling and promptly shut down by the teacher.

“Well I don't know I'm feeling lucky tonight, how bout you guys?" "Midas, no sir.”

Maeve and Midas would go outside so that Midas could start smoking. They share a blunt together as they joke about everyone in the group being complete goobers.

Those two absolutely dance high together outside to muffled music. It's surprisingly romantic, but that's what prom is all about right?

If someone misgenders Maeve, Midas gets really pissed off and threatens to turn them to stone. Almost gets in trouble because of this, but Maeve is there to talk the admin down

Probably the reason the teachers were apprehensive about letting the band play. He's a little bit of a problem child 🤪

I'd say for him at least, the night is a success, and he goes down in legend as not only the most wicked keyboard player of all time, but also the legendary punch spiker, King of Prom.

They all leave before Prom King and Queen can be announced. Fuck that noise.

Midas makes Maeve a little paper crown while they're all drinking in the parking lot and declares her his personal prom queen.

Maeve: Paper Prom Queen 👑💖

Obviously we already know she and Alphys came as dates. Maeve is dressed in a prom dress she made herself.

It is perfectly fitted to her.

She gets a lot of weird looks, obviously from being a trans woman in the 90s, but she's also a big Lion Monster who is ALSO friends with a reaper so, again, no one's gonna say shit to her, and she's not going to take it.

Besides, she wears skirts to school all the time, even before she transitioned so it's not like it's something she's never done before. And she WORKS IT.

She's out in the crowd complimenting everyone's dress and their corsages. Always gassing other girls up and making them feel like the princesses they all are. Maeve of course is the queen of all of them.

She really wants to join Nick and Jonas to dance, but her heels are a little too tall for the kind of dancing those goobers are doing.

She finds Midas eventually and the two stick to each other's hip like lichen. She's always impressed by him, especially at the black jack table.

Where Midas is always winning, she's always losing but is a super good sport about it.

Covered for Midas when the teachers started asking about the spiked punch.

When they're outside she definitely wanted to confess she had a little crush on him but didn't want to ruin their moment so she just enjoyed herself.

They slow danced to Head over Heels by Tears for Fears, of fucking COURSE they did.

All female drummers are the hottest thing ever, so she definitely got a lot of under the table interest from some other guys but she didn't pay any of them mind. Why would she if they're gonna be fucking weird about it?

She's only got eyes for one guy who unfortunately, she can not look in the eye.

Her heart is literally bursting out of her chest when he crowns her paper queen though. One, it's literally so gender affirming for her and two, she's head over heels. 🥺🥺💖💖

You're honor... I love them.

Kronk Face: Oh yeah. This is going in the fic. Thanks Galaxy.

↓ Slow Dance song of the century 🥺💖🫶 ↓

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lovesaved · 1 year

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i need more of your incredibly correct Bella headcanons and dynamics with the other characters RIGHT NOW

OKAY SO.

she jacob and leah are all the same age bella is the oldest born in september, then leah in november, and finally jacob in december. they are her oldest and best friends. like there are pictures of the three of them as babies and toddlers in the little inflatable kiddie pool in billy's backyard and their moms holding them on the steps.

charlie and renee divorced when bella was around 3 and it was. pretty brutal. there weren't any fights or anything like that, but you know how they say the opposite of love is apathy? that was pretty much it. as far as charlie knew, one day things were fine. the next? renee had put her things in a uhaul and driven south. she didn't give him a reason until weeks later when she bothered to call. then she came back for bella and bella alone. the custody arrangement got sorted later and charlie waited bravely until bella stopped waving at him from her little car seat and the car was vanishing down the road to cry his eyes out.

renee wasn't a deliberately bad mother. she was just very self-centered and that didn't change when she had a child. she viewed bella as less of a small human she was responsible for and more of a tiny extension of herself she could tote around. renee loved dance, so surely bella would be thrilled with a ballet class! it didn't matter that bella practically begged to go to a science program after school instead, that she came home from class in tears every day.

she and charlie both LOVED the summers. she'd get to be a kid during those months :( she didn't have to tiptoe around an adult's feelings and go with her whims or hide the way she was disappointed. it was endless days of riding her bike around town with jacob and leah and showing them bugs and naming them on the way through the woods to the creek and bonfires and smores at night until she was so tired charlie would have to carry her to the car.

rest is under the cut or we will be here all day

again, charlie never knew how bad it was in phoenix. bella learned how to lie to him on the phone by the time she was five and to his face by age 6. he never heard about the power being shut off because renee forgot to pay the bill, or about how she'd made her feel bad for not liking ballet. just about her chalk drawings on the sidewalk and the scorpion she managed to get a picture of in the yard. by the time she was 13 she was so convincing that he believed her when she said she just didn't feel like coming up anymore.

despite this, she does actually miss phoenix a lot at first. it was consistent there, she enjoyed the sun and the desert and all the flora and fauna that lived there.

the way she sees leah that first time in 3 years and blurts out "you got hot!!" and she and leah just hold each other up while laughing

bisexuality <3

bella isn't on her "not like other girl's" bullshit. she has a hard time understanding "girly" things sometimes, renee wasn't a huge help, but when she softly says that she doesn't know how to do things like eyeliner jessica, angela, and leah descend on her to show her <3 there is a cute montage to be had of the three of them picking out new clothes with her and trying to teach her how to walk in heels,

this is less bella focused and more just me thinking smeyer sucks but I'm not acknowledging imprinting as a thing. it really does feel like another weird ass machination of a racist mormon to paint native characters as predatory

she finds out about edward and his family in a v similar way but there is no romance during the reveal. he confirms her suspicion that he's not human her and her first thought is "oh god he's going to kill me i got too close i know too much". she bluffs like a champ tho.

edward admits that he isn't able to read her mind and they both kind of come to an awkward gentleman's agreement where they are friends with each other- for research purposes.

next few months she hangs out with the cullens more and more. rosalie hates it from the start and is always like "are yall fucking dumb??". the others are more open-minded. jacob and leah ALSO hate it! they don't really believe the stories but their dads do, but mostly? they miss their friend and they have a sixth sense gut feeling.

like leah and jake are hanging out and he's like "you remember how stranger danger didn't work on bella when we were little and she'd try to make friends with people she didn't know and nearly gave charlie a heart attack? what if this is a little like that. her danger meter is broken."

that being said the thing with james still happens. he sees this one little human surrounded by protective vampires and decides this will be GREAT enrichment time in his enclosure. like by this time, edward and the other cullens- save rosalie- have gotten fond of her. she's like their weird little human mascot

the story then kind of goes into victoria wanting revenge + the volturi finding out about their laws being broken. the cullens are like "its not her fault james fucked around and found out" and then "you don't have all the facts" "which are?" "we love her,"

while this is going on, jacob and leah shift and get drafted into this whole thing. they absolutely view this as the cullens dragging bella into their shit and endangering her for their own selfish wants.

tbh they can't even really argue that? but also they want to stay to make sure the mess they made is taken care of without having to rely on the wolves- bc if they leave, the problem will not necessarily follow them.

bella also realizes she might have a thing for both jacob and edward- she just doesn't know if she's gonna live long enough to make a choice there.

like spending time with the cullens, she tends to think of her humanity as something she needs to be cured of a little. she wants to be unbreakable and unmoving. but over the course of the series she sees her life as the gift that it is; her being a human, something that can grow and change and live and breathe, isn't something that needs fixing anymore. she doesn't need fixing.

years and years down the road the cullens still visit from time to time; edward tells her she's still beautiful and rosalie admires the gray that's started to form at her temples.

#bella tbt #nightmarecountry

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cactuarjen · 2 years

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Meet Haeni Goodfinger, a cute, but sassy halfling artificer and anthropologist who has sadly already been retired as a character (part of that, 'wow, you actually can have too much D&D' revelation). Haeni had a passion for discovery and what she thought was a fairly high tolerance for danger. After a stint in the swamps living with lizardfolk and learning their ways, she ended in Waterdeep, in some very unlikely company: A frisky tiefling star druid who willfully didn't understand personal bubbles; a blood-sucking drow cleric who actually wasn't as evil as she sounds; a jerkface, patronizing shadar-kai noble who had no business being as pretty as he was; a guard in the city watch who shockingly didn't hide the fact that he was a changeling; and a bookish tabaxi who was lethally honest. They acquired a bar, three orphans (one of whom was killed in an attack on the bar, and subsequently revived, but damn), a talking donkey, questionable allies, and even more questionable enemies. And an also questionable, hot half-orc, uh, roommate.

In the end, after they very nearly all died in a deep dive into dangerous caverns and the cleric had already had her brain devoured once (some slick GM handwaving on that one), Haeni (and I) finally had to bow out of their adventures: "I don't think I can keep going like this. I'm small, and I'm weak. I just watched you all nearly get killed, and if I stay with you? I'm going to end up dead. I like you guys—well, some of you more than others—but I'm not willing to die for you. And I didn't mind doing things to help out here in Waterdeep, but I'm not willing to die for Waterdeep either! And the kids? They're not safe here either—we already had to bring one of them back from the dead! So... I guess what I'm saying is, I need to leave. I want to go somewhere quiet and-and safe, and I think I should take the kids with me."

The party agreed, Haeni left a few magic items she'd acquired or made, and loaded up her stuff and the kids in the party's wagon, hitched up the talking donkey who was just as eager to get the hell out of Waterdeep, and—not least of all—asked Yagra (yes, that Yagra), who wasn't the most popular girl in town at the time, if she'd come with, y'know, to protect them from bandits on the road. Totally just that. They ended up getting a place in Red Larch, where nothing bad ever happens. TL:DR: Waterdeep can kick rocks. C'mon Yagra, I got us a uHaul.

#d&d character #waterdeep dragon heist #dnd halfling #jen's art

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trialsofaninternallybrokenwomen · 2 years

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Rant time...probably doesn't follow or read well but I need to get thoughts out.

I'm ovulating and of course my husband's family has to fuck it up/all cards are stacked against us. This was our last chance before we get referred out of our already specialist to the next level.

How did his family aid in fucking it up you might ask? We told them this week wasn't good for their moving trip. Mind you they can move anytime they want. They own both houses and have no rush. Well his mom said he had to move her and that my issues do not matter to her and she already has one grandkid from his sister (who mind you didn't even want kids in the first place) that she hates. She didn't want another one.

So he tried to tell her no. She said she didn't care and already rented a Uhaul. She is disabled and none of the other kids will help her. They are to lazy. Literally his sister pawns her kid off on anyone who will watch him and gets high all the time. The other brother says it's to hot and he can't work. So my husband is left no choice if he wants to see his nephew and be a part of that family. She also gave him such short notice and he has to take the rest of the week off. Thankfully he had PTO so we wouldn't be short on bills but there goes any chance of the vacation for visiting my family up north. I haven't seen them in 4 years. I have my family here but they are my siblings and grandparents from my biological father. I hate his guts as he was an abusive addict. They all live in up north. But aside from him everyone else has stayed in touch with me. My grandma is a wonderful women. She had a stroke and almost died and isn't doing well....I want to see her. I have my mom and one brother here. I'm thankful for them but I don't see them much do to work schedules....

We were planning on it.

I have to work. I could not switch my schedule. I tried....

He is leaving today after work and won't be back till Friday night late.

We baby danced last night and tried again this morning....except this morning he couldn't get off. He woke up late, I tried to get him up earlier, and he just couldn't. We tried many things. In his defense he was half asleep....

I just feel so defeated. I have been working on losing weight, taking my meds like I'm supposed to. Testing every day. I'm trying so hard.

#infertility #pcosinfertility #endometriosis #pcos #ttc #ttc baby 1 #ttc with pcos #ttc with infertility #infertilityawareness #saddness #toxic in laws #depression #defeated

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