#country!reader

OMG I LOVE DIS QUESTIONNN.

so quick fun fact- pittsburgh is in appalachia, and is actually called the "paris of appalachia" because its one of the biggest cities in the region. so a lot of pittsburgh culture is built off of appalchian culture.

I could see a lot of the native pittsburgh characters understanding and connecting with country!r

def lots of slang and different word pronunciations: yellow as "yeller" hello as "yello" creek as "crick" etc. etc.

yall, holler, reckon, buggy... you get it.

some strange phrases that really don't make sense.

some of my favorite i grew up with:

"dumber than door nails"

"working me like rented mule"

"aint no hill for a climber"

"pot calling the kettle black"

"shit fire, save matches"

some real weird shit.

country!r who is really good with mechanics and woodworking

country!r who grew up listening to the truckers on the CB radio

I think characters like trinity and mel would get a total kick out of a country!r

country!r who adores how soft and gentle baran is compared to them

country!r who really understands cassies background because of their upbringing in appalachia.

parker ellis and emery walsh who like to rile reader up so their accent slips out thicker

samria mohan who things country!r accent is the cutest thing ever

none of this is proofread. I actually loved doing this. pleak send more asks with specific characters. or if you have questions PLEASEE ask.

✾𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚/Country!Reader Hc’s

(suggestive content near the end!)

——————

• The first time she heard your voice was at one of those elegant mixers she had gotten the Council to host. She had been convincing some wealthy— well, to her they weren’t — investors to take a look at one of her ideas. Though, it didn’t take much convincing. She was Ambessa Medarda after all.

• You had been grabbing a drink when you felt eyes burning into your back, and when you turned, there she was. Staring at you with a smile that nearly made you drop your cup…

~~

Hc’s

• Ambessa loves to hear you talk. When you lay beside her, she’ll run her hand along your hip just to hear your voice stutter. She learned that a lot of things will make your accent get stronger, and she does everything in her power to get it to happen.

• “Say it again for me darling…” She’ll whisper into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from laughing because she’s asking you to repeat such a simple phrase.

• She loves to make you angry because that’s when your accent becomes the most pronounced. “Oh, it’s all in good fun my love…” “Yeah well it ain’t funny. You’re gonna have to make it up to me or I’m not finishing that damn book you asked me to.” She always does and it leaves you breathless.

• Ambessa gets so disappointed at how your accent doesn’t do anything to her name. You try and tell her it’s because her name is too elegant for anything to change it, but she denies that idea because your accent is the most ethereal thing she’s ever heard.

• When you both have time to relax, she’ll have you sit on her lap and try out different names for her. “Darlin’?” “No, love, I call you that.” “Sugar?” “Hm…” “Lover?” “Oh..! Say it again…”

• Ambessa asks about your home town often, and it really is the most plain thing to you, but Ambessa finds everything about you fascinating.

• When you spend too much time with her, your accent becomes less prominent and she will kick you out…of her room. She’ll make you sit on the couch with your own thoughts until it goes back to normal. “Baby, this ain’t doin’ nothin’!” “See, darling? It’s already working. Be a good girl and just wait a bit longer.” “…she’s gonna stop calling me that, I’m not doin’ this today…”

• During your first, real, argument— you were beyond pissed. Ambessa had blown off your dinner for an important council meeting she didn’t even need to be apart of. She just didn’t trust her messenger to bring her exactly the “right information.” You were livid, and you were voicing that very loudly. And Ambessa really was trying to focus on what you were saying and not how hot you sounded.

• Everytime you see her, you always say “Hey lover…” because it gets Ambessa going. Like…every single time. “Again, darling…”

• Whenever Ambessa has a bad day, you’ll get into the bath together. It took some convincing, but you finally got her to be the one sitting between your legs. You’d lean close and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. “I could spend all night telling you what I like about you, but we’d get nothin’ done. I can hardly focus when you’re around me anyways…” You could tell what was working for her based on how hard she was gripping your thigh.

• Ambessa likes to get you flustered. It makes you laugh, which also makes you forget to try and tone down your accent. “Oh lord, baby, you need to stop doin’ that! You’re makin’ me embarrassed…” “Embarrassed? For what? Having the most darling voice I’ve ever heard?” “…shut up.”

• She like when other people compliment your accent because it makes you more inclined to not hide it. She will immediately shut it down when it becomes flirting.

• “Oh, darling, you make the most beautiful sounds…” “Ah..! You know, baby? I’m— mm— I’m startin’ to think most of your attraction for me is cause of my accent…” “…Well, it is what drew me to you, yes.” “Of course it was— AH! Ambessa!” “See? Beautiful.”

———————

᪥ I actually loved writing this, except I don’t think it should’ve been as difficult as it was considering I literally have a country accent LMAO. If you want, I’ll write a part 2. Oh and if you want headcanons to include NSFW ones as well, let me know!

“Two Left Boots”

Tangerine x Female Reader

Warnings/Genre: Meet-Cute • Romantic Comedy • Light Angst → Fluff

Summary: After a brutal breakup, Lemon drags a miserable Tangerine to a country line-dancing bar. Instead of a terrible night, he meets you—the ranch owner who teaches the grumpy Londoner to dance… and maybe smile again.

The breakup had been messy.

The kind that left Tangerine staring at his phone at three in the morning wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

He wasn’t usually the sentimental type, but this one had stung.

Which was exactly why Lemon had decided drastic action was necessary.

“You’ve been sulking for three days,” Lemon announced, tossing him a jacket. “We’re going out.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Exactly why we’re going out.”

Twenty minutes later, Tangerine found himself standing outside a bar that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a cowboy movie.

Country music spilled out the doors. Boots stomped on wooden floors inside.

Tangerine stared at the sign.

“Line dancing,” he said slowly. “You’ve lost your mind.”

Lemon grinned. “Trust me.”

⸻

Inside, the place was loud, warm, and packed with people laughing and dancing in rows across the floor.

Tangerine leaned against the bar immediately, unimpressed.

“I’m not doing that,” he muttered, watching a group spin and clap in perfect rhythm.

Lemon clapped him on the back. “Give it ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, Tangerine was still leaning there, drink in hand, when someone bumped into him.

“Sorry!”

You turned around, cheeks flushed from dancing, boots dusty from the floor.

Your smile was quick and bright.

“You look like you’re having a terrible time.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”

“Little bit.”

You glanced toward the dance floor, then back at him.

“You don’t dance, do you?”

“Not like that,” he said.

Your grin widened.

“Well, that’s tragic.”

He snorted slightly. “I’ll survive.”

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Where are you from?”

“London.”

“That explains it,” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You lot look like someone asked you to wrestle a bear whenever music starts.”

Tangerine let out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself.

You stuck out your hand.

“Come on.”

He blinked. “Where?”

“To dance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh yes,” you said, already pulling him toward the floor. “You look like you need it.”

Behind him, Lemon nearly fell off his barstool laughing.

⸻

The music started.

Tangerine stood awkwardly in the middle of the line of dancers like someone had dropped him in a completely different planet.

You stood in front of him, demonstrating the steps.

“Okay,” you said patiently. “Step right, step left, little kick, turn.”

He stared at your boots moving across the floor.

“Looks complicated.”

“It’s not.”

“You say that.”

You grabbed his hands lightly, guiding him through the first few movements.

“Step.”

He stepped.

“Other foot.”

He stepped again.

“Kick.”

He kicked slightly too hard and nearly lost his balance.

You burst out laughing.

“Alright, cowboy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you’re learning!”

“I’m surviving.”

The next song started, and somehow he was still there.

Still stepping.

Still trying.

Every time he got something right, your eyes lit up like he’d accomplished something remarkable.

And for the first time in days, he felt the knot in his chest loosen.

⸻

By the third dance, he was actually… smiling.

“You’re improving,” you said proudly.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m serious!”

He wiped a hand across his forehead, slightly breathless.

“You own this place or something?”

You laughed. “No. But I do own a little ranch about fifteen minutes outside town.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re serious?”

“Got horses, land, the whole thing.”

“That explains the boots.”

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“And the dancing.”

Across the room, Lemon raised his drink toward Tangerine in a silent told you so.

Tangerine rolled his eyes.

Then he looked back at you.

“You teach this often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Think you could teach a bloke with two left feet?”

Your smile softened slightly.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar faded.

It was just the music… and the way you looked at him like he wasn’t broken.

Like he was someone worth laughing with again.

The next song started.

You held out your hand.

“Ready for round four?”

He hesitated only a second before taking it.

“Yeah,” Tangerine said quietly.

“I think I am.”

And somewhere between the stomping boots, the spinning lights, and your warm laugh beside him…

The breakup stopped feeling like the end of something.

I just have this idea popped into my head and decided to make a post because why not? And also I have fallen back to the hell that is called Hetalia due my dear friend/hermana (You know who you are)

Imagine reader in hetalia as a country but she’s just like Gloria Pritchett from Modern Family. So for this scenario the reader be a Spanish speaking country and is the sister to Spain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Country!Reader with the Axis Powers and showing them a tactical military vehicle that her people made so the Axis Powers can use. So she’s driving it with them in the car but it got a flat tie, and surprise! She doesn’t know how to change a tire, neither does Japan or Italy so Germany has to do it.

Germany as he kneels down trying to change the tire with a pissed off expression as he eyes Country!Reader.

“[Country Name] I can’t believe you don’t know how to change a tire! The Verdammt car was build in your country! Your country is known for armored vehicles! Surely you had flat before!”

Country!Reader standing to the side with Italy and Japan watching Germany do all the work.

“I had a lot of flats but I would reapply my makeup and I would wait and then in five minutes, I would have my own pit crew.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

America needs a handkerchief for some reason, so he visits Country!Reader who’s in the Untied States for some diplomatic reason, so she’s renting a house.

Country!Reader looking through her drawers until she finds something for America.

“¡Ay look, this might work!”

Gives America a turquoise fabric, smiling brightly. He takes it with some disappointment.

“Well except it’s turquoise,” Unfolds the fabric to see it’s actually her bra, America grew a bit irritated. “Oh and a bra!”

Country!Reader place a hand on her hip annoyed by America being ungrateful. “Do you think the kids in my country have pocket squares?”

America rolled his eyes and head as he tosses the bra, annoyance in his voice.

“Here we go with your country…” (¬▂¬)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Country!Reader is talking to Japan, who’s feeling alone and feels out of place within the Axis Powers. She’s trying to comfort him.

“I know the feeling, I grew up as an isolated country myself when I was younger, so isolated that I had to bring in strangers so that the children could learn who not to talk to.”

Japan freezes for a moment before looking at Country!Reader, with doubt all over his face.

“You know… I have to say sometimes your stories about your country sound a little made up…”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Country!Reader is out drinking with Prussia and Germany, enjoying how the two brothers getting along. Country!Reader with a small smile as she took a sip of her drink.

“Mi hermanó will have never taken me out for a drink.”

Germany placing his beer down. “Why, was Spain super strict?”

Country!Reader shakes her head. “No, he never seen me as an adult… well except when more powerful countries came to our house like Turkey, then he’ll run to the back of the house and be like, ‘[Country Name] you go talk to him and tell him I’m not here right now, but unbuttoned your shirt a little bit first,’.”

Germany and Prussia completely stunned in silence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Country!Reader I don’t know switch sides and now is with the Allied Forces. She already been to a few meetings with them, so already seen the chaotic dynamic of the group especially when they fight. Country!Reader is already quite acquainted with America’s habit to play the hero and how he and England constantly argue.

She arrives early to a meeting before the others, and walks in to already see America and England fighting about something she had no clue about. The fight ends with America leaning his forehead against the whiteboard and England huffing in his seat. She quirked a brow seeing the depressed looking American.

“America what the hell are you doing.”

England sighs. “He wants to cancel the battle plans we made because he doesn’t like how it wouldn’t make him the hero.”

Country!Reader getting mad, tired of the American’s attitude. “The exact battle plans we made after rescheduling the meeting three times, changing the location twice so the whole Allied Forces can met up together?!”

America look to Country!Reader. “Please send my regrets, now can I have a little privacy…”

Country!Reader pissed off as she walks out of the meeting room as she yells. “¡Privacy, esto que faltaba a mí! ¡Privacy en este lugar!”

A moment later she comes back with a pistol. Completely fed up with the whole situation, this being the straw that broke the camel’s back for her. She is done with the fights of the Allied Forces.

“I’m so sick of stubbornness!”

She points to England, whose jumps a bit seeing the gun. Country!Reader remembering his moments of being immature.

“You act like a little boy that doesn’t want to accept he’s wrong!”

Then Country!Reader turns and looks at America.

“And you, like a sad old man that doesn’t want to be happy! That’s it!”

She then shoots a centimeter away from America’s head, shocking him and making England jaw smacked. The American blue in the face with fright.

“You could’ve shot me!!!”

Country!Reader huffs. “Come on America, I could’ve unbuttoned your shirt if I wanted to. Now sit down and be quiet.”

Looks at their shocked faces, waving the pistol. “I’m keeping this gun with me during the meeting.”

Southern Nights

kyle garrick x country!reader

tw: fluff that developed into brief smut. idk how that happened tbh. don’t look at me.

Kyle Garrick was many things, but picky was not one of them.

With food? Maybe a bit, but with women? He’d be absolutely mad to stick to a specific type of woman.

He’d been with them all — thin, chubby, short, tall, pale, tanned. Some were flings, some were girlfriends, and some were just mindless flirtations on drunken nights when he’d seek refuge in a shitty bar after months of grueling missions.

Kyle couldn’t exactly say he’d been with a southern girl, though. Not until you.

All wit and charm, pearly smiles and the cutest accent that made his sound like choked gurgles.

He didn’t know how he landed you. He must’ve done a hell of a lot in his past life to even gain the pleasure of calling you his, because the way you looked at him with that sparkle in your eye made him appear like he was God himself gazing down at you from the clouds.

Kyle knew close to nothing about the south. Fuck, he was british, could you blame him? How did a bloke like him end up with a southern belle like you?

Sure, Kyle had worked for the CIA before turning to John Price and vowing his loyalty to him. Even so, it seemed improbable of him to fall for a woman that accentuated her words with a lick of country charm, who wore sturdy boots on her feet that thumped along the pavement every time you walked beside him, hand in hand.

Despite it being near sinful for you two to pair together, it worked to perfection.

You taught him everything there was to know about your side of the road. He didn’t realize there was so much that went into being a pretty, little bird, but he was fully willing to learn so he could take mental notes of every piece of information that made you, you.

On late night drives when the two of you wanted to clear your headspace while also remaining in each other’s presence, you’d show him your collection of songs. He didn’t know any of them, nor had he taken the chance to listen to the arrangements of fiddles and guitars that poured through the speakers.

Somebody named Chris Stapleton was a repetitive appearance, and he didn’t have a clue who that was.

But the smile on your face as you sang along to the lyrics with your eyes on him while his remained on the road was enough to have him bob his head along and mirror your smile, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze from where he held it on the center console.

Bars were certainly different, too. They were more rundown and rugged than the ones he was used to, and it wasn’t a crowd of young people who were there to fuck and party.

No, it was a mixed crowd of all kinds of beings, sharing laughter with friends and enjoying shots of whiskey and a concerning amount of piss beer.

The music wasn’t upbeat and erratic and instead, filled the bar with a lovely atmosphere that made you want to saddle up with your lady and enjoy the blessing of her existence rather than fuel a desire to grind against one another.

The change of pace was something he hadn’t realized he needed. It was comforting, even more so with you under his arm, talking wildly about past experiences at that specific bar with old high school friends.

He thought you were beautiful like this, your words slurring together in your own form of accented youth, specific words slipping off your tongue in a way that gave him the subtle reminder of your roots.

Kyle had yet to know about customs, and when you pulled the cowboy hat you had graciously gifted him (he personally didn’t think it suited him, but he’d never shy away from your presents) and planted it on your head, he gave you a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you teased, and when his mouth gaped open in confusion, your sweet laughter filtered through his ears. “You’re the cowboy, Kyle.”

It took him an embarrassingly long five seconds before realization dawned on him. You giggled some more, eyes crinkled into dusty, starlit crescents, and he had to swallow down the rest of his drink to hide his lingering sheepishness.

And when he took you back to his your place, seeing as you practically moved in by now, he didn’t hesitate to ravish you in ways that had that southern drawl drip off your tongue like honeyed nectar he couldn’t get enough of.

Even as you clambered on top of him after he’d spent the last twenty minutes tugging pretty, little moans from your soft lips with his tongue between your thighs, where he’d worshiped you like the sky goddess you were, you made sure to keep the gifted cowboy hat perched on your head.

The hat wiggled with instability on every bounce of your hips, threatening to fall off with every thrust Kyle uprooted to meet yours.

Your baby hairs slicked with sweat against your forehead, right where the brim of the hat met, and by god, Kyle thought he was looking at the loveliest bird he’d ever seen.

“My pretty dove,” Kyle cooed breathlessly, fingers dipping into the fat of your hips as he guided every motion back up, then down, until you were slammed against the plains of his pelvis with every push and pull. “Look so beautiful wearin’ my hat, don’t you?”

You moaned his name with broken fervor, and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine.

“Keep talkin’, birdie. Y’know I love your voice, sounds so pretty like that.”

His words opened the floodgates for your mindless babbling, accent heavier than ever as it laced over with need and desperation.

Kyle was in pure heaven when each and every accented word fell from those pretty lips. They pricked his skin with want, fueling the warmth building in the pits of his abdomen.

Your body glistened with a gorgeous sheen as it continued to bounce and wiggle on top of him, chest rising and falling in erratic attempts to gather air as each thrust knocked it out of you.

The hat laid a bit crooked, but stayed true to its temporary owner, branding you as his from where it loyally stayed atop your head.

When you finally gave in to the tight coil in your core and exploded into a mess of warm, fuzzy pleasure, Kyle took in the sight and engraved it under his eyelids as he couldn’t hold back from finishing inside you.

After Kyle had you successfully spent, body floating on a soft cloud of his blankets and pillows, his hat halfway off your head from where your face pressed into the mattress and sleepy snores left your lips, he basked in the sight of you.

Kyle didn’t have a type before. He’d gone through nearly every course of women before you came along, but now, as he brushed away the stray hairs from the softness of your face, he thought maybe he had a thing for country girls.

Only if they were you, though.

pairing: brad colbert x cowgirl!reader

word count: 1.5k+

summary: in which brad learns to love country in his own way

warnings/contents: enemies (country style) to lovers, swearing, pda, insensitive jokes, outdated grammar and humour, army language, violence, use of guns, weapons

author’s note: this is based on the fictional characters from the series generation kill, not the actual war veterans. this is no way intended to hurt or disrespect the veterans

I’m from South Georgia, have a strong southern drawl, and CANNOT what so ever, find any southern readers, except there are two, for Bucky Barnes and Tom Hiddleston if you type southern reader into the search bar on here. They’ll be closer to the end. But anyway, this is based off that one episode where Morgan tells Rossi he’s never been fishing. this is 1,020 words and only two pages on word online so... i do plan on writing more of these to go with this.

You were walking by the door when you heard those words. They immediately caused you to backtrack and fully open Rossi’s door to step in.

“Did you just say that you’ve never been fishin’? Well, after this case, we have a mandatory two day break. Don’t bother making’ plans.” With those words you left the room causing Morgan and Rossi to turn to each other and with a raised eyebrow.

As soon as the words “Wheels up in thirty.” Left SSA Hotchner’s mouth, you said,

“Everyone wait a moment please. Due to Morgan bringin’ up the fact that he has never been fishin’ before, let’s try and finish this case by Wednesday so we have until Monday off. Y’all need clothes for hot weather, and I want the young'uns to come with us. I’ll take care of all the expenses, all I ask is that y’all be ready by 6 o’clock a.m. Thursday morning.” You stated before gathering your stuff.

“Where exactly would we be going L/n?” Hotch questioned, the rest of the team looking up at you.  

“Well, I’m goin’ home, and y’all are comin’ with me. I figured it’s been long enough since I last seen my kin folks, I was plannin’ a trip down there soon, might as well take y’all with me. So, y’all get ready for Fitzgerald, Georgia.” The last part was tossed over my shoulder as I made my way to my desk and grabbed my go bag.

As Penelope walked passed me going to her bat cave, I stopped her.

“Hey Penny, make sure you pack some flip flops, tennis shoes, and shorts okay? I know you like them big ole nice lookin’ dresses like you got on now, but it’s gunna be ‘mpractical where I’ll be takin’ y’all.” With my advice, she looked surprised.

“Wait, you were talking about me to?” It showed on her face as she turned to face me completely.

“Course darlin’ bring stuff you’d wear to the park on a hot summers night. And sun block.” She nodded before huggin me tightly around my middle and dashing off to her layer.  

After boarding the jet, and reviewing the case once more, J.J. asked about Will and Henry, wondering if it would be safe for her child.

“Of course Hun, the ponds I plan on takin’ y’all to are private property, so y’all won’t need a fishin’ license, and I’ve been goin’ to ‘em since I was knee high to a grasshopper. I think that both Jack and Henry will have fun messin’ around and fishin’. I mean, I’ll be able to when I teach Morgan how to fish.” I reassured her as I patted her hand.

Morgan, who had heard my last comment turned to me and said,

“Hey now sweetheart, Pretty boy over there don’t know how to fish either.” I gasped as I realize he was absolutely right.

“I can’t believe that actually slipped my mind. Reid, I’m sure you’ll love it. You can use math to see how far from shore you’ll needa throw to catch ya a big un. And do you know if Savannah’s coming Derek? I know she’s usually busy with the hospital.” I tore my gaze off of Spencer and turn my eyes to Derek as I asked him the question.

“She actually will be able to. Somehow, she got Thursday to Monday off. No idea how that happened though.” He shrugged and began to fiddle with his telephone. i grinned a secret grin, knowing that i had personal connections with the person who created the schedule at the hospital Savannah worked at.

“How about y’all Rossi? Hotch?” I glanced at the men who sat across from each other.  

“What kind of fish are we most likely to catch?” was what came out of Rossi’s mouth.

“well, catfish, bass, white perch, maybe some crappies among others. You should be fine with a regular pole and some 10-pound line. what about you and Jack, Hotch?” i turn to look at the man as i finish answering Rossi’s question.

“i don't have any plans and it isn't soccer season so yeah, you said six?” his baritone rang through the air.

“right-o sir. it won't be exactly 6, but no later than 6:30 hopefully. I'll pick Spencer, Emily, Garcia, the Morgan and his old lady, JJ and them, then ill pick up you and Jack, with Rossi being the last one. unless any of yall wanna take your own transportation, i was planning on renting a bus or van of some sort. i mean, with the young'uns on a road trip, and having to deal with Morgan all the way down there, phew.” I raised my voice during the last part, messing with Derek.

“Hey now, Y/N, i think that it’ll be Pretty Boy here that you'll have to worry about. get him started on Quantum Physics and he’ll never shut up about it.” Morgan jest at the younger man.

“Actually, the theory of the Quantum relm is actually rather spectacular. how it happens I-.” just before Reid could lift his hands up and dig deeper into the subject, he was beginning to talk about Morgan cut in with

“Kid, you know that the only other person on here that would know anything about that is Y/N, and that's only because she's a comic nerd.”  

“I'll have you know that I learned about the Quantum relm through a movie thank you very much sir.” the words escaped before i could stop myself.

“oh yeah. and what movie was that mama?” with raised eyebrows he asked his question.

“Antman and the Wasp.” i mumble.

“sorry, couldn't hear you there, do what?” oh he had heard me, i could tell by the smirk on his face.

“Antman and the Wasp.” i say, color high on my cheeks.

“a superhero movie, that's what I thought. nerd.” he leaned his head back with a laugh.

sorry if it’s to depressing of an ask, i just think your writing is great!! <3

yes im from appalachia! born and raised.

oh how I love this ask

southern belle!r who loves to bring in treats (cause southern ppl just love to feed everyone) pepperoni rolls, blackberry cobbler, cornbread, banana pudding, etc. and obviously its all homemade from great grandmas recipes

southern belle!r who uses nicknames with everyone. its basically second nature.

obviously the usual, honey, darlin', and sweetheart

and the more unusual ones, sissy, peaches, tater, bug, etc.

southern belle!r who rarely yells or gets angry, but the ED definitely gets a show when you are.

southern belle!r who has so many stories from childhood

southern belle!r who started out in rural emergency medicine but the constant failure from the state and region to provide resources for the struggling community affected their mental health. so they went to the city.

I 100% country!r would understand and empathize with frank while also holding him accountable for his actions.

country!r is strict but in the most loving way

country!r has seen it first and and knows how much addiction can affect someone but that it will never excuse poor actions