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#Dumpling frogs
cjschnyder · 1 year
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Some thing's I've drawn in the past few days
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amphibianaday · 6 months
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day 1590
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tricktrashing · 1 month
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I wanted to title it slim gals, but i made the breasts a little big to be called slim and i'm not sorry
(Also featuring @qqlettuce 's Tomato from a drawpile 💜💙)
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askblueandviolet · 5 months
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Emotional support frog sits politely
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MASTER POST
Asks Start 💙💜
Previous 💙💜
Next 💙💜
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kollector-of-stims · 5 months
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Gifs of stim toys I got recently :)
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probably2zjeb · 5 months
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So
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😇😇😇 (Sorry it's not cropped well, I'm sick and I didn't feel like it 😜.)
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He's a frog. @sluttery-withoutshame @ericsingerisababycat
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honeyslime · 3 months
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Turtle Cove by Dumpling Slime.
Upsides Mat by Just Messin'.
I got a silicone mat just in time to play with this slime, which unfortunately was delivered on a day with a real feel temp of 100°F. Turtle Cove was quite sticky upon first use even after I let it sit and cool.
It seemed like there was a disproportionately large amount of the clear slime as opposed to the beads at first. I perceived this because the slime is not as heavy as the large glass beads, which can take a bit of effort to remove from the bottom of the container. The clear slime was of a somewhat runny consistency at first play. I haven't added anything to alter texture so far, and I believe the colder storage temperature and my handing are improving matters.
Other minor gripes/comments: The clear slime whips up bigger and frothier than fits well in the container, which can make cleanup difficult and a little messy. I was a little disappointed that there was no scent.
Now, the upsides: this is one of the most beautiful slimes I have ever played with. The texture is unusual and enjoyable to handle, and its visual frothiness perfectly suits the ocean theme. The collision of different sizes of glass beads suspended in the slime produces a cold, pleasantly surprising crunchiness. The fimo bead slices look so cute and the turtle is adorable.
I would definitely recommend using a silicone surface protector or something similar with Turtle Cove. I didn't upon first play and had a lot more fun with it upon later use with the mat.
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jamienoguchi · 11 months
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Pausing the shop next week for vacay, so if you want stuff shipped out this week, head on over https://monstercutie.com/
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almightynewt · 2 years
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BEHOLD
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MY ANIMAL
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szept-sosna · 1 year
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do y’all know that one frog comic where he eats the dumpling and is happy with life afterwards. because i wish that was me right now
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ohsalome · 10 months
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What Ukrainians ate to survive Holodomor
(translated excerpts from an Історична Правда article): + images source
The villagers would dig up the holes of the polecats to find at least a handful of grain hidden by these animals. They pounded it in a mortar, added a handful of oilcake (from hemp seed), beetroot, potato peelings, and baked something from this mixture.
Those who managed to hide at least a little grain would grind it in iron mills made from wheel axles and cook "zatyrukha" (a concoction made from a small amount of flour ground from ears of grain).
Acacia flowers were boiled and eaten raw, and green quinoa was mixed with crushed corn cobs. Those who could - and this was considered lucky - added a handful of bran. This food made their feet swell and their skin crack.
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The peasants dried the husked ears of corn and millet husks, pounded them, ground them with weeds, and cooked soups and baked pancakes. Such dishes were impossible to chew, the body could not digest them, so people had stomach aches. Pancakes, the so-called "matorzhenyky", were made from oilcake and nettle or plantain.
It went so far that peasants would crumble straw into small chips and pound it in a mortar together with millet and buckwheat chaff, and tree bark. All this was mixed with potato peelings, which were very poisonous, and this mixture was used to bake "bread", the consumption of which caused severe stomach diseases.
There were cases when village activists took away and broke millstones, mortars, poured water on the heat in their ovens. After all, anything found or saved from the food had to be cooked on fire, and matches could only be purchased by bartering for their own belongings or by buying them in the city, which was impossible from villagers that were on "black lists".
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Chestnuts, aspen and birch bark, buds, reed roots, hawthorn and rose hips, which were the most delicious, were used as food substitutes; various berries, even poisonous ones, were picked; grass seeds were ground into flour; "honey" from sugar beets was cooked, and water brewed with cherry branches was drunk. They also ate the kernels of sunflower seeds.
Newborns had the worst of it, because their mothers had no breast milk. According to testimonies, a mother would let her child suck the drink from the top of the poppy head, and the child would fall asleep for three days.
In early spring, the villagers began to dig up old potato fields. They would bake dumplings from frozen potatoes, grind rotten potatoes in a mash and make pancakes, greasing the frying pan with wheel grease. They also baked "blyuvaly" (transl. "vomities") from such potatoes and oatmeal mixed with water, which was so called because they were very smelly.
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They ate mice, rats, frogs, hedgehogs, snakes, beetles, ants, worms, i.e. things that weren't a part of food bans and had never been eaten by people before. The horror of the famine is also evidenced by the consumption of spiders, which are forbidden to kill in Ukrainian society for ritual reasons.
In some areas, slugs were boiled into a soup, and the cartilaginous meat was chopped and mixed with leaves. This prevented swelling of the body and contributed to survival. People caught tadpoles, frogs, lizards, turtles, and mollusks. They boiled them, adding a little salt if there was salt. The starving people caught cranes, storks, and herons, which have been protected in Ukraine for centuries, and their nests were never destroyed. According to folk beliefs, eating stork meat was equated with cannibalism.
The consumption of horse meat began in 1931, before the mass famine. People used to take dead horsemeat from the cemeteries at night, make jelly out of it and salt it for future use.
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Dead horses were poured with carbolic acid to prevent people from taking their meat, but it hardly stopped anybody. Dead collective farm pigs were also doused with kerosene to prevent people from dismantling them for food, but this did not help either.
After long periods of starvatiom, the process of digestion is very costing for the human body, and many people who would eat anything would drop dead immediately out of exhaustion.
If a family had a cow hidden somewhere in the forest, they had a chance to survive. People living near forests could hunt/seek out berries and mushrooms, but during winter this wouldn't save them. People living near rivers could fish in secret, but it was banned and punishable by imprisonment/death.
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bratzforchris · 6 months
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could you do some uncle!nick hcs and how he would be with matt and chris’s kids??
Uncle Nick
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Uncle!Nick headcanons because we just KNOW that man would be the most fun uncle ever<3 No warnings!
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✬ nick is genuinely so supportive of his brothers' decision to have children
✬ whenever matt or chris and their parent need help with the kids, he's always there
✬ because he is the oldest triplet, nick has a lot of experience with kids and being responsible
✬ so protective of his nieces and nephews
✬ "someone's picking on you at school? tell them they have a void for a forehead"
✬ nick is absolutely his nieces and nephew's "yes man". whatever matt and chris say no to, he'll say yes to (within reason of course)
✬ he always makes sure each kid gets quality time with him, because he knows that that can be hard to come by when there's multiple siblings
✬ christmas with uncle nick is absolutely insane. he spoils matt and chris's babies
✬ nick always makes sure that his nieces and nephews know they can always talk to him about anything
✬ he genuinely loves matt and chris's kids like his own
✬ nick is definitely a pet parent and the kids absolutely love playing with them
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tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @ilovejohnnieg @lovingchrissposts @bitchydragonparadise @dumpling-to-eat @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @strnluvr @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence
note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3
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heartthrobin · 1 year
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paint my sunset peach (1)
mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader
wc: 6.71k
warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n
an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33
summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.
part two
Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.
The Red Lotus.
On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.
It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.
They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.
Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.
It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.
But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".
Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.
He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.
You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.
Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.
Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.
The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.
They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.
"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"
They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.
The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.
And you were fine with it.
Mostly fine with it.
Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.
Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.
Maybe.
But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.
Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.
Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.
Either way, it didn't matter.
She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.
At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.
The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.
You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.
"You're messing, Cherry."
Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.
You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.
"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"
His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.
"No problems, alright?"
Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.
You nodded.
It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.
The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.
Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.
You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.
Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.
"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.
It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.
It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"
"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"
"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"
A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"
"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"
You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.
"About two or three miles north west of the house?"
You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.
"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."
"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"
But the line was already dead.
You glared at the phone.
Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.
The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.
There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.
Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.
It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.
You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.
Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.
You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.
Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.
"Shit!"
You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.
The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.
Daddy was going to kill you.
Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.
Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.
"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."
Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.
The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.
For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.
The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.
Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.
Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"
He looked taken aback.
"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"
"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"
Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.
A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.
It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.
"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.
Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.
"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."
You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.
The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.
"I'm Eddie!"
You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.
Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.
It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.
Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.
The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.
You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.
"Hey, miss!"
He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.
Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.
"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."
You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.
"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."
It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.
But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"
"I'm fine—"
"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.
His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."
It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."
Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.
"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"
You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.
Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.
"I don't think I caught your name earlier."
You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."
Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.
They were cool against your sweaty ones.
He was grinning again.
You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.
"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"
But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.
"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."
He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.
"So you think I'm pretty?"
Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.
The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.
"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."
Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.
In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.
-
The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.
His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.
A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.
"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.
Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.
He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.
But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.
The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.
Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.
Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.
He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"
"Hardly, boss."
Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.
The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."
Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"
By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"
Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.
Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."
Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.
"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."
"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"
Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"
"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."
A sweaty hand shrugged him off.
"Get back to work, Munson."
But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."
Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."
The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.
"Appreciate it."
"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."
-
Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.
Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.
You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.
By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.
That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.
He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.
Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.
"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."
Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.
Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"
"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."
Your father handed the next plate over carefully.
Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"
"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"
Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"
The old man sighed.
Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.
"I want to fix up the Cobra."
In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.
The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.
"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"
He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.
"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."
You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"
"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"
Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"
He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”
-
Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.
Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.
You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.
At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.
When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.
"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"
"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."
The little man's eyes screwed at you.
"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"
By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.
"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."
The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.
"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."
You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."
"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."
Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.
"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"
Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.
"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."
Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.
"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.
But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.
"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."
The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.
"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."
With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.
"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."
The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"
"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."
You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."
Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.
He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.
Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.
"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."
Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.
Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."
Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."
But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."
-
Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.
"Cherry! The mech's here!"
You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.
Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.
He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.
"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."
"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.
The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.
As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.
It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.
There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.
Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.
"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.
We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.
"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."
You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.
"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."
You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.
Hm. Not today.
"Doll works just fine, greenie."
Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.
The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.
Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.
"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"
Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."
"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."
You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"
"Yes, you must really."
And he was gone.
The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.
Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.
You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.
The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.
Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.
Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.
The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.
His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.
"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.
"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?
You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"
The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."
You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.
He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.
"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.
Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.
"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.
You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.
"I should go—"
"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.
Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.
"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."
Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.
Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?
"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."
It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.
He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.
"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"
You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.
"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."
"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."
His amused look matched yours.
"Pulling carrots out the patch."
He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."
"You have no idea."
You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.
"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"
Your chest pinched at the question.
"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."
He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.
Okay, sensitive spot.
The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.
"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."
It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.
You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.
It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.
There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.
"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.
You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."
"Peaches are good."
"Peaches are good."
"No boyfriend then?"
It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.
You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.
The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.
"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"
Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.
The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.
"... Can imagine."
Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.
"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"
"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:
"Cowboy! Baby!"
Cowboy?
There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.
"Baby!" You called again.
Then he heard it.
The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.
From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.
Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.
"Hey, boy—!"
He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.
The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.
You were laughing.
The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.
It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.
Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.
"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"
But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.
"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."
"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.
Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.
"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."
You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."
"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."
Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."
Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.
"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."
"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"
Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"
"Nope ... none that come to mind."
You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.
It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.
"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"
You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.
Instead you stood up.
"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"
Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.
He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.
"I'll see you later then, doll?"
But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.
"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."
-
tags: 
@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual​ @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille 
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aphetaliamessages · 10 months
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What are the countries thankful for?
America: FAACES fam, Tony and Mr. Whale, his Uncle Scotty, his Baby Uncle Sealand, and the Awesome Trio. And Russia's muscles 😤
Canada: For Gilbert, who finally noticed him
England: For all his sons even though they enjoy annoying him. His daughter, Seychelles. His brothers, too, maybe. And "I guess frogs for being tasty."
France: Makeup, cheese, wine, bread, cake, England, the BTT, ~England~, his kiddos, his sister, ghosts, labour unions, pretty dresses, pretty suits, his cat, the Pierres, tsundere compliments from England, love stories, his hair, roses, love songs, frilly curtains—
Russia: Alfie, his sisters, snow, sunshine, nature in general, little fluffy animals, sunflowers, borscht, vodka, and Christmas
Italy: Pasta, his friend Japan, pizza, pasta, nice clothes, siestas, Germany, linguine—that's a pasta, naked siestas, naked Germany, ravioli, his brothers, and cats!
Romano: Tomatoes. And churros 🤔
Spain: Definitely VERY thankful for his Lovito
Germany: Italy. Japan and Gilbert, too. And cake. Not just Italy. Other things as well. Ahem. Like wurst.
Prussia: His brother, his besties, Gilbird (his favourite wingman), Mattie, Mattie's hair, Mattie's ass, Mattie's dick, Mattie's thighs, Mattie in comfy sweaters, Mattie in a crop top, Mattie with no shirt, Mattie with no pants, pancakes, Mattie's pancakes (not a euphemism), Mattie's pancakes (as a euphemism), how excited Mattie gets over hockey, Mattie's singing voice, Mattie's blush, Mattie's smile, aaaand beer
Austria: The familiar scent of his piano, the smell of edelweiss in the summer, orchestral performances on YouTube, and not being invited to Alfred's Thanksgiving party
Hungary: Austria. Austria in a frilly dress. Austria playing piano. Austria eating wurst. Austria in a tight dress. Austria in her bed. Austria—
China: Peace and quiet, Hong Kong speaking Chinese even if it's the wrong one, buffets, Hello Kitty, and Mickey Mouse
and Rommy
Japan: Cherry blossoms, green tea Pocky, Hatsune Miku, anime, dogs, cats, Greece, Germany and Italy, his weird big family, Animal Crossing, America's promise to beat up anyone who bullies him, Ao3 and Pixiv
Hong Kong: Hip hop, when Bàba approves, when Dad disapproves, the word "yo," wearing hats backwards, white boys with puffins (well there's only one), dumplings, and unrestricted internet access!
Send an ask if you want more characters! — Mod England 🎸
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All for the organic'd off shoot food hcs <3 i went way overboard <3 help <3
Kopaka: more curious about tastes than eager to eat, he collects them kind of like cards. Big fan of fatty meat of any kind, will devour it without even noticing. Not that big on vegetables
Pohatu: would eat cardboard if vaguely salted. Has a fondness for anything vaguely dumpling- or pie-like, and he likes offering bites to others before scarfing the whole thing down his throat
Gali: same as Pohatu, though she prefers veggies and fish and seafood and slugs and algae and bite sized fruits like grapes or berries. Shes really likes jello for some reason too
Onua: same as Pohatu and Gali but hes more of a bread and potatoes guy. Can and will carve out a pumpkin with his bare hands and eat it in one sitting if left unsupervised
Lewa: finally someone NORMAL about food!! Prefers slimy things like mushrooms and eels or juice-heavy fruit, but otherwise will try a bit of everything. Likes stuff fried or steamed
Tahu: very sensitive to consistency, too soft foods trigger his gag reflex. Likes nuts, raw veggies, insects, crayfish, lobsters, crabs, burnt stuff... Not as resistant to spices as you'd think
Jaller: the Capsaicin Conqueror, bites into ghost peppers unscathed. Soup savorer, with time will be able to whip out broths that could make Vakama Metru forgive himself
Hahli: mussels!! Oysters!! Clams!! Sea urchins!! Squids!! Octopi!! Big noodle slurper who canNOT handle sauce. She will get it Everywhere. Enjoyer of endives and hater of seasonings
Nuparu: genuinely cannot handle chewing so aside form jello everything needs to be blended into a smoothie. He slams back concoctions that would make a Makuta shiver. Taste is optional
Hewkii: could eat through the cheese caves if released within them. Hates seafood but everything else is fair game. Has tried Nuparu's horrible smoothies and survived several times
Kongu: texture is a big factor and he cant handle too slimy or too fatty things bc of this. Likes acidic or bitter flavors, sauces, dried fruit, and bugs. Refuses to eat poultry
Matoro: the concept of "doomed by the narrative" be damned my boy can hunt game and work a grill
Whenua: slurper of worms... Big fan of turnips for some reason. Its hard for him to find anything he doesnt like really
Nuju: loves poultry and butter and fish and berries and nuts... Stews... Creamy soups... God he loves eating. He could do it for hours
Vakama: vegetables and small game, cooked underground or boiled. Eats spiders by reflex for reasons you can imagine
Matau: LOVES poached eggs. Herbs n spices n fruits are his favorite. Unusual meats for him, like frogs and lizards
Nokama: will bite through any shell and bone no problem. Discovers a taste for bone marrow. Very picky with vegetables
Takanuva: if it were up to him he would eat only sweet things. lactose intolerant. Will that stop him from scarfing down gallons of cream? No babey!!!
Thank you! And thhose are neat headcanons!!
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amethystsoda · 8 months
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I honestly wasn’t sure how the flavors were going to work for this one, but it turned out surprisingly delicious!
The plantain gnocchi was a bit filling so I couldn’t finish it all, but the olive oil/gochujang/frog mixture on top was the perfect balance. Warm chili flavored oil and the small bites of meat paired well with the mini dumplings!
(I opted to use chili paste instead of fresh chopped up chilis, because my mouth can sometimes get welts from fresh peppers, so I have to be careful)
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