#tim ilysm like

[fragcc]

Help my boy is so cute I think I'm in love

[aru-art]

two-headed calf by laura gilpin

[medusas-graveyard]

Currently obsessed with the concept of Danny 100% being the most Violent and youngest Wayne. I'm so sorry but the writing opportunity🥹🤌

Danny's rogues were all dead so they can't actually... Die again. Like— not in the normal way, that is. The only way that they could die is by crushing their core.

Cue Bruce Wayne and the whole family Finding out his extremely timid and closed off son/brother (yes, being ooc is the point here stfu😭) is arguably the strongest being in the universe and admitting that he has a tendency to have intrusive thoughts and horrible mood swings so he doesn't trust himself with doing the family's... 'business' (knowing damn well he could kill someone if he gets too agitated) and they're almost not convinced.

Emphasis on almost.

Once they watched as the youngest of them all completely threw down a weird eyeball (they later learn is an 'observant'), threw a green dagger right beside it, kicked it violently and threatened to gauge it's eye out and disintegrate it for interrupting their dinner.

He apologized to the family soon after the thing disappeared, back to completely timid and embarrassed.

Extra, Danny finding out about Joker:

News: Joker found dead in strange circumstances!

Bruce, turning to Danny: Danny....

Danny, who placed a bounty on Joker AND his soul in the ghost zone: *gasp* He died of strange circumstances? How unfortunate!

Bruce: *sigh* Chum...

Danny: I didn't do anything, my hands are clean!

Jason, in the background: Kid ilysm you're my favorite brother now

Another extra, about Vigilantism:

Danny, in tears: Leave me alone!

Dick & Tim: C'mon, it'll be fun!

Danny: Absolutely not!

Jason, watching the chaos unfold: Guys I don't think—

Alfred: Master Dick, Master Tim.

Danny: Alfreeeeed!

Bruce, pinching his nose: *sigh* Stop trying to make Danny a vigilante.

Dick & Tim: But—!

Bruce: No buts. We had an agreement.

Steph, in the background: A somewhat normal kid finally joined the family just leave him alone!

Danny, also in the background, sobbing: I'm already in charge of another dimension, give me a break!

[beiasluv]

arrow and papaya | o. piastri (81)

a/n: this series performed a LOT better than I expected lmaooo thank you. Enjoyy

yn.png

liked by landonorris, daniel3.jpg and 9 others

yn.png my boy graduated kinda vibe. proud of youu

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oscarpiastri you did not just give me an earring (love you)

yn.png i did 😙 you looked good (ilym)

oscarpiastri thank YOU 😎

yn.png also. did you see what happened with lance??

oscarpiastri tell me 😧

yn.png dm.

landonorris TELL ME

logansargeant oscarsplaining??

yn.png better than logansplaining ✊

logansargeant freedom of speech, yn

yn.png tell me. what’s a kilometer, logan

georgerussell63 who gave you the power to run from mercedes to mclaren paddock after every race?

yn.png only god knows (OSCAR JACK PIASTRIII)

liked by oscarpiastri

yn.png

liked by aussiegrit, carlossainz55 and 8 others

yn.png he is sad because mark couldn’t make it. crying, throwing up, ripping my hair off.

view all 9 comments

aussiegrit Looking forward to seeing you guys at the next Grand Prix! Don’t pull your hair off, please.

yn.png Markkkkkk come back soon!

oscarpiastri I’m pretty sure I was sad because you didn’t buy me the orange juice but okay.

landonorris you miss mark webba, oscar?

oscarpiastri i do not sound like that

yn.png don’t bully my aussies 🤨 (yes, you sound like dat)

daniel3.jpg one aussie protector spotted!!

yn.png thank! you! can i have tim tams??

oscarpiastri my suitcase is open for you for the next visit

yn.png yessssss ilysm. get the dark chocolate ones.

yn.png

melbourne, australia

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 29 others

yn.png happy winter breakkk. also. spot the american challenge

view all 18 comments

charles_leclerc when are you coming to monaco this winter break??

yn.png wydm winter? I only know hot christmas 😙 (please come and get me I’m scared of spiders)

landonorris bro you have to visit us

yn.png if only oscar is going as well.

landonorris oscarpiastri approved?

oscarpiastri nah. hot christmas first, then maybe we’ll visit.

oscarpiastri wydm about spiders? I killed nearly 4 for you :(

yn.png thank you my knight in shining armor 😚😭

oscarpiastri you’re welcome. also. I don’t look like a koala

yn.png yes you doooo. you’re my favorite koala.

oscarpiastri fine. You’re stuck in Australia with me 🩷

danielricciardo yn.png thy need more aussie training

yn.png no, thank you. I cannot physically look at them.

landonorris I see you’ve posted 3 pictures of oscar. very thoughtful.

yn.png ikrrrr

logansargeant easy. the one with freedom of speech.

yn.png what is one quart of milk 😭

logansargeant do you want your pop tarts?

yn.png I deeply apologize, mr. sargeant.

lando.jpg

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossianz55, and 286,727 others

lando.jpg somebody (oscarpiastri) stole my camera 😒

view all 82,198 comments

yourinsta I think this somebody is a good photographer 😗

lando.jpg a little ‘thank you�� for me taking my time to post this would be nice

yourinsta of course, thank you to my favorite photographerrrr/ camera owner

danielricciardo i thought i was your favorite photographer

yourinsta this danny ric guy is my favorite texian, ngl

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri correction, you left it in my driver’s room 🤷‍♂️

yn.png

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon and 38 others

yn.png about last night…lmk what are you even yapping about, zak 😉

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oscarpiastri you’re going to get me fired one day.

yn.png if you’re willing to join me in mercedes 🤭

georgerussell63 What do YOU mean???

yn.png just assumptions 🤷‍♀️😗

georgerussell63 toto’s hearing about this. and roscoe.

yn.png NOOOOO don’t tell roscoe please.

yn.png dw, i can spoil you oscar 😚

oscarpiastri no :( I’m going to spoil you

landonorris GO AWAYYYYY

oscarpiastri this is the internet, log off 🤷‍♂️

landonorris I thought we were best friends :(

oscarpiastri yn is my best best friend

yn.png yeah, Carlos is waiting for you lan 😘

landonorris you guys are meannn

lilymhe miss you since last nightt

yn.png i miss you tooo 😩

alex_albon what about my taggg

yn.png sorry albonnooo 😭

danielricciardo thank you for the honorable tag

yn.png anything for my favorite aussie

oscarpiastri sorry???

yn.png okay, second favorite aussie

danielricciardo fine ☹️

yn.png’s story

reply

oscarpiastri: love you, p3

: you did not have to rub it in my face

oscarpiastri: had fun spraying you with champagne 🤷‍♂️

yn.png reacted with 😒

: can you buy me tim tams?

oscarpiastri: yes, and with milk and grapes?

: yesss, you are the best 😗

oscarpiastri: can I have your number though?

: i think you can have my house key first 🤭

oscarpiastri: no :( we’re going to live in Australia

: not with spiders.

oscarpiastri: I’ll kill every single one for you.

mclaren’s story

reply

like, reblog, do withever the heck you want if you enjoyed it. If you don’t, imma steal your security number 🤭 jkkk

(lets be moots????)

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it. 

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more. 

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.” 

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.” 

“You need some time to think about it?” 

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?” 

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad. 

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals. 

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.” 

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that. 

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”   

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard. 

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink. 

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.” 

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.” 

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly. 

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better. 

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?” 

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.  

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?” 

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?” 

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later. 

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary. 

“Easier said than done, believe me.” 

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.” 

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”  

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying. 

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside. 

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.” 

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale. 

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?” 

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly. 

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high. 

“But none of them are you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit. 

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.” 

“Including you?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?” 

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?” 

“My gut.” 

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.” 

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road. 

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him. 

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak. 

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s. 

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw. 

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!” 

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for. 

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home. 

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.  

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old. 

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.   

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok. 

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night. 

You did good today, sticking to your guns. 

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early. 

You’ve got somewhere to be.  

As it turns out, Tex  was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots. 

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands. 

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much. 

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath. 

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need. 

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?” 

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats. 

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back. 

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.” 

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing. 

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides. 

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?” 

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself. 

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things. 

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?” 

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.” 

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.” 

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.” 

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand. 

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.” 

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”  

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit. 

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses. 

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.” 

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?” 

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.  

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.” 

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?” 

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.” 

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.” 

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.” 

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.” 

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar. 

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest. 

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea. 

“Want to split a funnel cake?” 

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin. 

“Yeah.” 

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you. 

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late. 

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.” 

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off. 

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way. 

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first. 

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside. 

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?” 

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease. 

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?” 

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest. 

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.” 

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.” 

 He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.” 

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress. 

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore. 

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares. 

“Haunted house?” 

“No way.”

“Swings?” 

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?” 

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.” 

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.  

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds. 

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here. 

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all. 

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see. 

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”  

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.” 

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.” 

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.” 

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him. 

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.” 

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him. 

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes. 

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.” 

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away. 

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter. 

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side. 

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile. 

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half. 

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.  

“Sure it is, sweetheart.” 

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer. 

“Tex?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours. 

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you. 

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it. 

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone. 

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust. 

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.” 

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date. 

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?” 

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy. 

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”    

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!” 

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” 

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter. 

“I’m ok.” 

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head. 

“Tex…” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.” 

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead. 

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.” 

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?” 

“I guess…I can’t stop you.” 

“Would you want to though?” 

Therein lay the million dollar question. 

“Maybe not?” 

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.” 

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo. 

“Tex…” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month. 

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him. 

[whimsylace]

tim headcanons? 🥺

TIM SHEPARD HEADCANONS ⋆♱✮♱⋆

jay. jay you evil mf. ilysm😈 okay so i only have 17 rn but i’ll def write like fifty more . hope u enjoy pookie !! (also u weren’t expecting this very aesthetic very awesome very high level format were you. yeahf. ive become COOL.)

— he has unnecessarily loud footsteps.

— he appreciates his gang but never shows it. one day he said “hey fellas,, youve been doin’ a good job durin’ rumbles lately. im proud to have yall as my gang🙏”. and everyone stared at him wide eyed cause they honestly thought he hated them💀💀

— when he was a kid he used to pray every night that curly would get kidnapped n shit because he hated his ass☠️☠️curly was one of those really annoying toddlers

— he loses his jacket ALL THE DAMN TIME. (its mostly cause curly always steals it to look cool and dal just takes it for fun whenever)

— tim and darry understand each other. they both have dead parents/a dead parent and both had to take care of their kid siblings

— tim and darry also frequently talk to eachother🔥 sometimes darry finds tim asleep on the curtis couch™️ or its the opposite, & they end up chatting.

— ^they talk about parents, taking care of their siblings, and dally. (will elaborate further one day.)

— i think like. tims responsible and more mature compared to the others, right? BUT HES STILL 18. PLEAHS. HE ISNT A DAD. HE HASNT ACCEPTED HIS FATE LIKE DARRY (😭im sorry ily dar) HE IS STILL A HOOD WHO HAS FUN N SHIT DAWG!!!!!!!

— ^like ok imagine how curly always thinks tims like boring n old and all but after the rumble everyone in the reformatorys talking ab it and he hears how tim like crushed 5 guys’ skulls so hes just like 😨😨 (he then proceeds to show off the fact that THATS HIS BROTJER🔥🔥🔥)

— ^like guys even in the book pony says hes “constantly reckless” LIKE CMON. ((okay the main reason i wrote thsi was because i read this fic thingy and tim called dal “kid” even though theyre a year apart.wtf!! tim is not that boys old man!!!!))

— he steals angelas hair conditioners n other stuff because they smell good and make his hair soft🗣️

— he knows how to cook a few recipes, since his mom was never really there and he had to feed curly and angela somehow.

— ^curly calls his cooking ass but devours it every time (he would eat anything tbh)

— he lights fireworks n firecrackers n shit with dal

— was a demon as a middle schooler.

— hes really overprotective of his car. will not let anyone get near it or drive it. dal knows this; which is why he makes sure to slash his tires every 2-3 business days😇

— his nose used to be really straight but now its crooked as fuck cause hes broken it three fucking times😭😭

FOLLOW ME FOR MORE BANGERS LIKE THIS🔥🔥🗣️🗣️💯💯🙏🙏

[queseraone]

Do all the ones you haven't gotten yet 😂🥰❤️ ilysm

OMG YOU BRAT

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely? Um, probably my Linstead multi-chapter (I think you're familiar hahahaha), mostly because I had no plan in place and it became a total mess. So I guess I would rewrite it by... not writing it at all? Oh! But seriously I kind of wish I could go back and re-write this one. It was my first foray into writing for Chenford, and I've been thinking about a bunch lately for some reason (I think because it's vaguely related to another idea I have). I wish I'd kept it entirely canon compliant.

3. How would you describe your writing style? Lately? Nonexistent.

4. Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them? Original characters are TERRIFYING to me. There's a reason I write fanfic and not original fiction, coming up with characters (especially well-rounded, relatable ones that people like) feels impossible. So I just... don't. (To the point that I researched the names of every single referenced member of Metro so I could use actual character names and not make any up. I have the list if anyone's interested 😜)

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies? I find this question confusing. I never want to use MCD, but it shouldn't ever apply since I have no intention to write it. What a cop out of an answer, but I don't understanddddd. OH! I sometimes wish I could exclude relevant tags for the surprise factor.

6. What's your ratio for rating your works? What does this mean? Oh wait, I think it means in terms of T vs M vs E? Sex brings it to M, and porn is E?

7. Your favourite ao3 tag. Lately? Established relationship or missing moment.

8. How slow is a slow burn? So slow that they spend most of the story dancing around their feelings and only get together near the very end.

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference? Strictly English over here.

13. Rate your worldbuilding skills from 1 to 10. Uh... 1 or 2? Because I don't build worlds, I play in existing ones created by the show?

16. Are one-shots really underrated? Wait are they underrated??? WHY?? I LOVE a one-shot. Whether it's 500, 2000, or 10K words, I love being able to sit down and enjoy and fully fleshed out story from start to finish.

17. Past or present tense? Why? I used to write in past tense, but I think reading more present tense influenced me to do the same, and now I prefer present.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“No!” she practically shouts at him. She takes a moment to school herself, exhaling slowly. “I mean, Tim, I say this with love, but if you don’t give me some fucking space, I will kill you.”

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you? Many. Though it usually bites me in the ass because I end up stuck on something, and then something else, etc. So clearly it doesn't work all that well. But I think (unless I was on a total roll, which sometimes happens) I'd be stifled if I focused on only one thing. Plus ideas tend to multiply.

21. Can you accurately predict how long your fics are going to be? If you can, what's your secret? No, not really. I don't typically write anything super long though.

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again? I DON'T KNOW BUT I LOVE MY IDIOTS!!!!

24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards. Not really a fan, especially if they're super long. A couple of lines here or there are a-okay with me, but when you're italicizing half a chapter? Pass.

25. Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go? As in, with a multi-chapter? I clearly suck at that, so I think I'd only ever do another if I wrote the whole thing in advance (or at least had a VERY clear plan in place)

27. Do you agree that one shouldn't start a story with a piece of dialogue? Nope, strongly disagree. Sometimes it just works to jump right in without preamble.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? Not really, but I'll take any advice you want to throw at me, because I am soooooo stuck.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't. Well right now, every single one. Because I CAN'T WRITE 😩. Oh, but my Contractor Jay fic counts I guess? *Sigh* 10K words of nothing. IT HAUNTS ME

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing? Fuck. And murmur. I looooove murmur, it's my favourite.

33. Give your writing a compliment. 😩 I... can... idk dude, I can't right now. How do you compliment something that doesn't exist?!?!?!? I'm going with my fallback -- I'm decent(ish) with words themselves, but ideas are my struggle.

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you? Do I sound like an ass if I say no? 😬 I write as a creative outlet, that's all.

35. Thoughts on writing challenges/contests. Contests, no thanks, I don't like the idea of pitting writers against each other (assuming that's what that means???). I'm all about celebrating other writers. Challenges, like #chenfordweek? YES, I wrote more that week that I had in ages, I apparently do well when there's a fire under my ass.

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of? I ask you? 😅 And when I try by myself, I follow your lead of Taylor Swift lyrics. Fave of the ones I've managed to do on my own? I like this one best I think?

38. "This never happened" fix-it fics or "this happened but" fix-it fics?

As long as you fix it, I'm happy! (Yes Suz, I mean you specifically here)

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written? I've only written one, so I guess that's it -- paging Dr. Jay Halstead. I don't think any of the AU ideas I've played around with are particularly wild.

40. Write a 9-word fic. What the fuck is this question?!!? Tim Bradford loves Lucy Chen forever and ever. Amen. Nine words does not a fic make.

Thanks-ish, I love you and I hate you for this 💖

[imaginespazzi]

chapter six reactions!!

- SWEET GIRL YOURE INSANE ANOTHER MONDAY UPDATE!!! you’re spoiling us ilysm!!!

- FLASHBACK YAYAYA i love baby pazzi and you write it so well!!

- STOPP THE BANTER THEN BAM HEART MELTING..”Azzi please. We haven’t had just Paige and Azzi time in ages. Don’t want someone else. Just want you” 🥹🥹🥹

- stop the way they care and reassure each other is so sweet

- AZZI GETTING MAD AT THE GIRL FOR NOT TEXTING PAIGE BACK 😭😭 it’s giving her reaction towards the ex wife interviewing paige

- im honestly impressed with how easily it seems for paige to just admit things. like telling azzi, she would be upset too if azzi went on a date. im so bad at communicating oh my god. i never know how i feel 🙄 people who able to understand and express their emotions amaze me.

- stop the ending paragraph in the flashback🥹🥹as an over thinker how clear somethings feel is just so UGHHHHHH

- oh i love azzi fudd sweet sweet girl

- MY AZZI, MY PAIGE, HOW ABT FIND ME MY CLIFF TO JUMP OFF OF 🤗🤗

- GOD PAIGE BUECKERS YOU FREAK BUYING A CAR SEAt god why is kindness so attractive to me.

- i blame my baby fever and the fact im ovulating rn BUT PAIGE ANF AZZI TAKING CARE OF AND LOVING STEPHIE is killing me rn🥰🥰🥰 i need a baby (no man involved 💋)

- stop azzi being filled with guilt is going to kill me. babygirl you’re perfect. but also i feel so bad for paige going without such a big part of her family for so long 😢😢i don’t even blame azzi tho it’s all just SHIT (not ur story, writing, or plot line that’s perfection and i adore u)

- TIM HUGGING PAIGE😭😭😭 i am unjumping off my cliff

- stephie defending paige and azzi🤧🤧

- Stephie you angel ik u don’t know what you’re doing but oh god do i adore u

- “Azzi,” Paige’s voice is laced with uncharacteristic vulnerability as she speaks again, “you won’t- you won’t run away again tomorrow morning will you?” and just like that i’m off the cliff again😁😁

- yeah so i feel kinda lame for this but i don’t even have any questions im kinda just grinning at my phone like an idiot rn!

- thank u sm for the new chapter you’re forever my favorite evil genius ❤️‍🔥

🤩🤩

- BESTI HIIII kith kith ily <3

- Fetus Pazzi has such a special place in my heart and I love weaving them into my fics.

- I feel like Azzi has such "i'll kill a bitch for hurting you even if it kills me to see someone else get to love you" energy and I'm tryna channel that into this fic as much as possible

- I feel like I've done so much miscommunication trope so this fic, I am determined to stay away from it (it's eventually gonna bleed into it because well it's just too easy lol)

- I WANT A BABY TOO OMG you don't even understand the way I vicariously live through Paige and Azzi in this fic sometimes.

- LMAO I know a cliff hates to see you coming with the way you keep bouncing on and off it babes

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie m'dear, I'm really glad to hear you're doing well and I am sorry for your loss. If you need to talk I'm always around but there's no pressure to do so at all.

I really, really enjoyed that soft Preacher!Rhett drabble you wrote out (hit a little bit harder than usual but I absolutely love that side of him and can't resist it, lol). Might I offer you another in return??

I was thinking about it being fall and the weather growing colder. It's getting to be spooky season which means the church's annual Halloween party is right around the corner (like I said, man of God or not, Rhett loves Halloween and all the fun that comes with it) and that means the church craft market, the farmers' market and the Halloween fundraisers for the childrens' and veterans hospitals etc.

Rhett doesn't really have to shoulder too much duty in the fall seeing as he has you and the babies to look after. It's one of those crisp, autumn Sundays where you've just shooed the babies outside to go and play in the leaf piles that Rhett's raked up or blown with the leaf blower and they're all in their little flannel jackets and sweaters.

You're inside the house where it's nice and warm and cozy, the woodstove in the living room is going as is Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride". Baby Dallas, your youngest that you and Rhett adopted, is snoozing away in his little wicker bassinet in the living room, all snuggled under his crocheted blankets, sucking away on his little blue paci while the family cat is nested in beside him, purring away. You're slow cooking a chuck roast in the little red dutch oven full of carrots, celery, pearl onions, garlic, herbs, spices and a rather liberal helping of red wine (lol) and the house smells soooooooo good.

Rhett and the older children all come traipsing in from the chilly afternoon to the smell of dinner slow cooking in the oven. The babies all head down to the playroom that you and Rhett had made for them, waiting for the rest of your friends and family to come over for Sunday dinner including an elderly neighbor of Rhett's who's never missed a Sunday service since she was little. You and Rhett both share a little bit of a slow dance in the kitchen until Dallas starts waking up from his nap and wants his daddy.

You and Rhett both hang around in the kitchen for a little while, you to get the dinner prepped and him to have the baby close by in case he needs to feed (he definitely wasn't against you using a home remedy or something from the doc to stimulate the milk flow when you adopted Amy and she needed to feed and also knew you needed to do the same for Dallas when he came out of his incubator). Even still, you both look at the little stone claddagh ring wall plaque that says "Bless This House", you and Rhett know full well that you are and always will be.

ohhhhhhhhh my love my love my loveeeee! if this isn’t the dream! i’ve mentioned it before, but that season is my absolute faveeee and i felt so warm, cosy and comforted reading this, it was so lovely and really what i needed rn 🥺

to live a content and cosy life like that with rhett would just be the dream! i loved all the little descriptions of yours 🥹

thank you so much for this sweet and comforting thought, and for your well wishes. it means so much to me and you know i’m always here if you need me too 🥺 ilysm, mwah mwah mwah! 💗🫶🏼

[yandere-wishes]

Here are some of MY favorite playlists for you to enjoy.

Caged in a Dark Fairytale. This one is probably my favorite, I even have it in the background when I'm not writing.

This one is on Spotify but Ambient Dark Romance is beautiful.

This one isn't an instrumental but it's worth checking out. Wearing a Crown is a Dark and Lonely thing.

The ENTIRE Shadow and Bone OST. I said what I said.

A Playlist for Tim Burton Vibes. Frankly, just anything that could remind you of Tim Burton would be GOLDEN.

Don't judge me on this one but Haunted Forest Sounds. I deadass enjoy it.

I hope you like what I sent.

Thank you Ana !!💕🫶🏼💕🫶🏼 I'll totally give these a listen tonight when I'm working on my new story.

You're always so helpful ILYSM😘🩷😆🩷

[disraeligearsgoestumblin]

Does someone wanna explain to me how Tim Olyphant just walks around looking like That.

Like I watch him in Conan interviews and I'm just yelling at him the entire time.

TIM, you deliriously pretty grey-haired reptile. You gorgeous, smirking one-eared alley cat. You delicious hand stretched noodle creature. You slimy, exquisite ADHD work of art .

I hate you and ilysm.

[deputy-buck]

snafu, skinny, eugene sledge, burgie, eugene roe, doc bryan, nate, dick winters, and ronald speirs for the ask game please!

I love that you cannot count cause neither can I- THATS 9- I'm adding Heffron cause that's the first guy that came to mind

THANKS MAR ILYSM MWAHMWAH KISS

-

Skinny/Speirs, Why? Cause I ship Skinny/Lieb and Lieb/Spiers, who's to say Speirs couldn't have some fun with Lieb's boy alone?? Skinny would get his ass chewed for coming back to Lieb with bite marks and bruises all over, but when he tells Joe who did it, Lieb would drag him right back to Spiers so he can watch exactly how Skinny got each and every one of the marks.

Doc/Snafu, Doc would put Snafu in his place So Fast- Bratty Snafu no longer, he's put into a state of full submission by Tim. I mean No Thoughts Head Empty type of submission, blindly following whatever Tim orders with a dopey smile on his face and a slurred "yessir"

Burgie/Nate, I think Burgie would like having someone taller than him fully surrendering themself to him, not just for sex though. I really do think Burgie would make their play just as fulfilling and satisfying but without ever getting Nate or himself off. He's that good of a dom imo.

Sledge/Roe, I have to put Gene with the other Cajun, it's law- They give Lets Go Back To The Basics vibes, and I mean that as frantic handjobs and a lot of grinding while trying to see how far they can stick their tongues down the other man's throat. All they want is to feel good with little expectation of something more.

Dick/Babe..... let him fuck a sweet boy, as a treat for dealing with Nix and Welsh all the time. Actually, it's more like let Babe have a chance to melt into a service role for Dick, let him let go and just be Good for Winters, let him soak up all the sweet praise and compliments that don't sound nasty like Guarnere's praise and compliments. Let him just be a boy again.

-

For this ask game!

[faithdeans]

WAIT ISAAC GENDERFLUID NOT CLICKBAIT????!?!?? (<- great news for me, guy who is transmasc genderfluid associate) i'm so proud of you for your journey ☺️ i love how you can continue to find out new things about yourself, and even though it's scary i'm proud of you for doing it <3 i love you forever

HI YEAH IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES SENSE??? i feel like i'm forever stuck in a revolving door of gender crises and then i saw something today about being genderfluid and i went. OH SHIT THAT'S LIKE A NORMAL THING THAT OTHER PEOPLE EXPERIENCE AND THERE'S A NAME FOR IT??? and yeah anyway :)

and THANK YOU tim you have no idea how much you inspire me and ilysm <333

[punk-in-docs]

Libby! Enchant, Gory, Owl for your spooky asks!

@prolix-yuy I just about squeaked and flopped around like an idiot seeing this pop up in my inbox. Ilysm 💗 your writing is like crack to me man and your prose I can only describe as so poetic they could make Hozier jealous-

Enchant - Do you believe in magic?

Oh I absolutely do. Not maybe in the traditional sense but, I don’t know, perhaps in the sense of I think there are some moments of magic everyday. Like random acts of kindness or laughing so hard you can’t talk. When a pet comes to snuggle you or butt you with their little heads. Seeing a stranger be kind to another or make someone’s day with some little gesture. A bridge of your favourite song that just makes you go pure bonkers for a second. When a little kid says something unexpectedly hilarious. For me it’s just little glimmers moments where something aligns and you get a dynamite shot of pure unbridled happiness? That feels like utter magic to me.

Gory - Do you like horror?

Man I love horror- I love some some slashers, the OG Scream, Halloween, The Fog, John Carpenter classics. I love Tim Burton and his undeniably fall spookiness. I’m not really into the gore fests like Saw or anything like that, or the paranormal demon fuckery like the conjuring, that goes too hard for me. I’m in the classic route for Horror. I like my mild horror. There’s so many I still need to watch. I’ve never seen Coraline, or the Witch. There’s so many more on my list this year. Probably loads I’m forgetting. Anyone feel free to send me recs cause I’m ready for spooky season-

Owl - What creature would you have as a familiar?

I have one I believe. He’s a ten year old West Highland Terrier called Sherlock (Mr. Sherlock if we’re being formal; Shirley whirly whirl if we’re being informal) and he is glued to my side pretty much 24/7 and is about as handy as a piece of wet lettuce but he’s so loving and needy. See pic for reference. He does have eyes it just doesn’t look like it.

[heller-castiel]

🍓hiiiii

tim !!!! everything you’ve written splits me open so much you’re so good and nice and fucking talented as shit!! literally when i’m writing i swear so often i’m like gahhhhh you could’ve written this so much better!! like not in a self deprecating kinda way but in a you’re so cool and talented kinda way. literally like. oughh. your takes are insane and i can’t believe i’m subjected to them im literally just. in awe of you ilysm

[bailesona]

“  ellie?!  good  grief,  girl,  what  are  you  doing  out  here?  you’ll  freeze  into  an  icicle,  and  we  already  have  too  much  ice,  thank  you  very  much.  in,  in!  “          leo  lacks  the  exact  brand  of  hospitable  host  that  aisling  seems  to  force  herself  to  occupy  in  hawkins.  truth  be  told,  it  was  always  fine  and  good  until  they  left  the  burger  bar  behind  and  came  to  the  suburbs.  the  kids  were  terrific;  saner  than  any  adult  he’d  ever  come  across  since  arriving  here,  anyway.  but  watching  aisling  sketch  crimson  daubs  of  lipstick  and  cobalt  blue  eyeshadow  in  an  attempt  at  blending  in  was  a  new  form  of  uncomfortableness.  the  mums  and  wives  flocked  to  their  house,  more  often  than  not.  and  unlike  the  kids,  who  were  content  to  discuss  aliens  and  alternate  dimensions  and  dungeons  and  dragons  all  day,  these  women  had  a  single  focus  point  for  their  discussions;  gossip.  the  mailman  was  having  an  affair  with  the  librarian’s  sister.  the  vicar  was  skimming  nickels  and  dimes  from  the  collection  basket.  riveting  shit,  really.  the  true  irony,  of  course,  being  that  hawkins  was  a  hotbed  of  actual,  genuine,  world-changing  events  without  needing  to  talk  shit  about  the  poor  milkman.

“  you  want  a  coke?  hot  chocolate?  here,  dump  your  coat  on  the  pile;  i  think  aisling  got  collared  by  mrs.  wheeler  about  some  missing  pyrex  dishes,  so  we  could  be  waiting  a  while!  you’ve  met  tim,  haven’t  you?  he’s  trying  to  fix  my  deflating  meringue,  but  i  reckon  it’s  a  lost  cause.  tina’s  in  the  treehouse,  too,  and  i  think  everyone  else  is  piled  into  the  living  room  to  watch  telly.  i,  on  the  other  hand,  am  trying  to  fold  napkins  into  swans  for  our  fancy  family  dinner!  we  could  use  a  hand  setting  the  table,  though,  if  you  want?  it’s  up  to  you,  kiddo.  “

@couldfight​ liked THIS POST for a family holiday dinner thread! ( leo wants to meet his new bestie but ALSO U CAN LITERALLY PUT EL WHEREVER U LIKE OKAY ILYSM-- )