#I read my first fanfiction out loud at a sleepover

[sylphiesweet]

: ̗̀➛ Rarijack Fanfic - Ch1 ౨ৎ

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a/n: hello !! this is my first real post on here. i don't typically use tumblr, and i don't typically write fanfiction ! but i love to write, and i figured i would rather write stuff that others will want to read than write stuff that will collect dust in my folders. constructive feedback is much appreciated :)

Summary: A humanized MLP:FiM alternate universe set in the 90s where Rarity- a now famous fashion designer living in Canterlot- visits Ponyville for a reunion with her friends. Centers on the Rarity x Applejack ship. Lots of fluff, only involves the mane 6, very wholesome.

enjoy ♡

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Under the warm lamp light of the Canterlot Carousel’s tailor shop fervorously work the delicate and nimble fingers of Equestria’s greatest designer. It is well past close, the streets just beyond the doors of the boutique are desolate, yet Rarity is intent on completing her remaining custom orders. Through her rubied cat eye frames this artist fixates on the precise stitching of her sewing machine. The fabric of the garment being constructed is ethereal, it possesses an otherworldly luster that practically lights up what is an otherwise pitch-black room. Nights like these, where this lady of refined elegance works her magic for hours on end, are what have gotten her so far in such a cutthroat industry. They are also, however, what tends to be the blockage between her and a healthy social life.

Under the obnoxiously loud whirring of Rarity’s sewing machine approaches the faint sound of heels clicking against the boutique’s shiny marble floors. She doesn’t hear the voice calling her name, too stuck in her trance-like state of work. It takes the sewing machine being turned off mid-seam for her to finally look up. “What do you think you are doing, Sassy?! I am in a time crunch here!”

In front of the dramatic damsel stood Rarity’s store manager, Sassy Saddles, with the unplugged cord to the sewing machine in hand. She had a partially amused, mostly concerned expression. “I was closing up the boutique when I heard you back here. You’ve been sewing for a while, Rarity. I haven’t seen you step away from your desk all day.”

She gave her manager an unamused expression. “Time crunch, darling. Pay attention. Now plug the machine back in, will you?” Rarity instinctively bent back into position, expecting Sassy to obey and the machine to resume.

Sassy sighed. She knew there was no use in arguing, not with Rarity of all women. “Before you continue, I came to give you this.” From her skirt pocket, she pulls a wax-sealed envelope addressed to Rarity.

This got her attention. “Oh? Give it here.” She held her hand out and received the letter. Searching for something on her desk to open it with, she glanced up briefly to her manager. “Who’s it from?”

“I believe your old friends from Ponyville. It has the Princess’s logo on the seal- see?” A well-manicured finger reached over the sewing machine and tapped on the crimson wax holding the envelope together. It did indeed have the insignia of their nation’s beloved princess pressed into it.

Rarity took her embroidery shears and sliced the parcel open. The letter inside contained the iconic calligraphy of a royal friend from a lifetime ago, she would recognize it anywhere. If the wax seal and the regal writing didn’t already give away the author of such a letter, it was the words themselves. Nobody else in all of Equestria wrote with such intellectual grace. The same level of attention to detail in each sentence could be achieved by no one other than the Princess of Friendship herself; Twilight Sparkle. Seeing the penmanship of a friend from her girlhood brought a smile to Rarity’s face. It sometimes still felt like it was only yesterday that they were having sleepovers together in her quaint library, giving each other facials and sharing the local gossip. That was back when she was still a small-town girl, running her first and only boutique with a head full of dreams and a heart full of passion. The more she reminisced, the older she began to feel. The gray hairs on her head were probably multiplying with each memory. She should just read the letter already.

As her boss read, Sassy discreetly began to wrap up the sewing machine’s cord and hook it onto the side of the desk. She loved when the boutique had plenty of business, but she also knew from past experience that an overworked Rarity could lead to catastrophic things. A sigh of disappointment from the tired designer came once she finished reading. Sassy looked up, quickly folding her hands in front of her to hide her crime. “What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

”Nothing is wrong… Twilight is hosting a reunion.” Rarity set the letter aside.

Sassy smiled, yet still held that look of worry in her brows. “Well, that’s wonderful!… Is it not?”

”It’s all the way back in Ponyville. That’s a trip I simply do not have the time to take, I will have to decline the invitation.” She began searching around her desk for a pen and paper to write with.

”Now hold on, Rarity!” Sassy stepped around the desk to face Rarity, mostly so they could stop talking over the sewing machine. “You have been working yourself to the tips of your cuticles. There is not another lady in Canterlot more deserving of a break than you. Speaking as both your manager and your friend, you would be mad not to accept this invite.”

Rarity paused her searching. Sassy wasn’t a stranger to dramatic speeches, nor was she, yet it was surprising to hear her actively protest like this. “How deserving I am of a break doesn’t matter when we have New York Fashion Week rapidly approaching. My schedule is absolutely full! I have to go back up to Manehattan on Monday to fit the models for the line, and then down to Fillydelphia on Wednesday for a meeting with the design team coming from Milan, and next Saturday I am flying out to Las Pegasus for the opening of the Carousel Boutique on the strip.” She had begun to spiral into one of her fast-paced, extra-dramatic rants. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Rarity looked up at Sassy and took her glasses off. “Tell me, where am I meant to fit a trip to Ponyville in all of that?” The name of her hometown was spat out with a coat of contemptment, like it wasn’t good enough to be considered on her roster of Equestria’s top fashion cities.

Sassy sighed quietly, she never knew how to calm Rarity down. “I’m not sure, but you are great at making things work. When is the party?”

Rarity put her glasses back on and pulled the letter over again. “…This weekend it seems.” Well that invalidated most of her argument, and Sassy was quick to pick up on it.

”Perfect, you could leave for Manehattan straight from Ponyville. If you think about it, a relaxing trip home before your busy week would be a fantastic reset. We both know that you can’t avoid burnout.”

Holding the paper, Rarity chewed the corner of her lip as she stared at the date written down. She took a moment to think. “I’d have to book my train tickets first thing tomorrow…” It seemed she was genuinely considering this trip.

“I would be happy to do that for you,” she replied with a smile.

Rarity’s brow furrowed in deep contemplation. “I… will think about it. Thank you, Sassy. You can go home now.”

Satisfied with that answer, Sassy nodded and turned to head out. “Good night, Rarity. I will see you tomorrow.” Her heel clicks followed her out the door, with the ring of the storefront bell signaling her exit.

It was a few more minutes of silent thinking before Rarity sighed and set the letter down once more. The decision seemed obvious, Sassy was right in saying she needed a break, yet something in the back of her mind still worried about falling behind. The days before New York Fashion Week were always ruthless, yet if one managed to stay on top of it all it could boost their reputation tremendously. If they fell behind, the consequences could be dire. Rarity had worked too hard to build a name for herself just to let big opportunities slip away.

This was a choice that could be made tomorrow, she had orders to fulfill now. Getting back into sewing position, she tried to start the machine. When it didn’t start, Rarity finally noticed that Sassy had wrapped up the cord. “What- Oh, for Celestia’s sake!” She groaned and leaned back in her chair, defeatedly. Her persistent assistant had won. It was too late to continue, anyways.

Rarity took off her glasses, leaning back even further to stretch out her stiff spine. The silence of her studio consumed her. She stopped bringing Opalescence to work with her recently, the boutique gets overwhelmingly busy and she’s an old kitty now, little lady needs her rest. Ever since then, nights like these bring a strange sense of loneliness to Rarity. When she’s not working, work is all she has to think about. She is living her dream, so where is the fulfillment that was meant to come with it? Ever since permanently moving out of Ponyville, this lonely feeling has haunted her relentlessly… Perhaps this reunion will do her good.

She gets up and turns the lamp off, leaving everything as it is to be resumed in the morning.

—

Celestia’s Sun had yet to begin its rise over Sweet Apple Acres on the day of the reunion, yet Ponyville’s hard-working orchardist was already starting her day. As was usual, the farm was quiet in the morning. Only the songs of the earliest birds could be heard. By noon, the crickets and cicadas would join them. It didn’t get much louder than that around here, not since Apple Bloom went off to college. Big McIntosh and Sugar Belle had their second kid not so long before that, and they decided it was too much work to raise their family while living on the farm. Now, it’s just Applejack and Winona left.

While it was still the quietest it would be all day, AJ ran herself a refreshing shower. “Freezing” might be the more accurate word, or at least the word most would use, but there was nothing like a shot of ice-cold water at 4 AM to wake a gal up. Purified and straight from the same rivers that ran through the orchards, the water trickled down her long, golden locks. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes and running her fingers through her hair. No one would be able to tell, not with the naked eye, but AJ had grown plenty of grays amidst all those blonde strands. The stress of managing the farm without Big Mac to help her had probably only doubled them by now, she wasn’t the same spry and young girl she used to be.

A hearty breakfast is typically in order after her rinse-off. Three eggs sunny side up, four bacon strips, two sausages, and a slice of toast. All accompanied by a shiny red apple, plucked straight from a tree in her backyard. One doesn’t acquire the muscles she has by simply working on a farm, a diet full of protein is a must. Although, coming from a long line of farmers on both sides of the family, AJ’s natural 6 '1 stature did attribute to her well-toned physique.

Today, she would be needing this protein-filled breakfast. Not that she didn’t need it every day. The reunion Twilight was throwing would be held at her barn- a good old-fashioned hoedown. Her friends were meant to arrive this evening, so she had the whole day to get her daily chores done and set up for the party. It would be a bit of a crunch to fit all that into one day, but it was worth it for her friends. The only real social interaction she got these days was on her weekly trips into town to sell her apples. It would be great to chill for a night and catch up with her gals.

Mid-apple crunch, an unexpected knock came from the porch door. Winona started barking relentlessly without hesitation. Well shit, she wasn’t presentable in the slightest. Her hair was still wet from the shower, sitting on top of the towel draped over her broad shoulders. Aside from her not-so-fashionable accessory, AJ was in just a tank and shorts. The door had to be answered regardless! She set the half-eaten fruit down and got up. If she could make a list of the least expected guests to be showing up on her doorstep before 5 AM on a weekend, this girl would be dead last. AJ had to do a double take when she opened her door. “Rarity?? Huh! Well, I’ll be!”

The plum-haired beauty smiled up to her old friend. “Applejack, darling! Good morning, dear. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She was carrying Opal in her mini bejeweled feline carrier, no bigger than a fashionable purse.

”Only breakfast. Come on in, gal!” AJ pulls Rarity in for a warm hug before stepping aside.

Their embrace, which was probably the first real hug either of them have experienced in some time, lasts enough time for their bodies to melt into one another, as if in an attempt to make up for all the time spent apart. It also lasts long enough for their pets to start bickering, with Opal hissing down at Winona from her carrier.

Rarity laughs apologetically, scolding her cat on the way into AJ’s house. “Bad kitty! This is not how we behave. You’ve known Winona for years, quit it!”

AJ chuckles, quieting down Winona as well as she follows Rarity inside. “I must say, I’m surprised as all get out to see you up so early. Are you finally past the point of beauty sleep?” She said this with an obvious joking tone, always loving to tease her “girly” obsessions.

Joining her host for a seat at the dining table, Rarity playfully scoffed. “One doesn’t simply stop needing beauty sleep, darling. Honestly, I would rather be getting said sleep now… My assistant- Sassy Saddles, you remember her right? Well, she booked the earliest train from Canterlot. Too early, in my opinion! So, here I am.” She smiled and pulled Opalescence out of her carrier and began stroking her fluffy white fur in her lap.

AJ couldn’t help but smile as she listened to the most elegant woman she knew speak her mind. It had been too long since they had spoken, her ears wanted to soak up every word she said. There was just something in Rarity’s voice, her cadence and tone and choice of words, that could hypnotize a girl like Applejack in seconds. “Well boy howdy it sure is good to see you again, girl. But, uhh… Why’d you come to my place? The party ain’t for ten hours.”

Rarity sheepishly giggled. “Who else in all of Ponyville is going to be up at sunrise on a Saturday?”

She got her there. AJ laughed wholeheartedly. “Y’ain’t wrong about that! Can I get you some breakfast? The trains serve nothin’ good.” Getting up from the table, she opens the cupboards like she already has an idea in mind of what to make.

“Oh, I’m quite alright. Thank you, dear. I will take a tea or coffee if you have any.” Rarity looked around the kitchen. It was amazing, hardly anything had changed. The only notable difference was the new pictures here and there. Their most recent family photo caught her eye. “Heavens! Is little Apple Bloom really that grown up?” She set Opal down to get up and look at the frame on the wall.

AJ, already brewing a pot of coffee, smiled to herself at the mention of her little sister. “Crazy, right? Feels like yesterday she was still runnin’ around in my old treehouse with their little crusader club… How’s Sweetie Belle?”

It took Rarity a moment to respond, still in shock at how much the Apple family had changed. “Oh, she’s just fine. I believe she’s coming home for winter break. Perhaps we could stop by to catch up with you and Apple Bloom when the time comes.” The bell on Opal’s collar jingled as she rubbed herself against Rarity’s ankles, purring at her to be picked up. Still examining the pictures, she bent down and scooped her kitty up to be held.

Sunlight had finally made its way over the hills and in through the kitchen window, streaking amber rays across the walls. The light bounced off floating dust particles, it reflected on the glass over hanging pictures, danced across the kitchen’s cutlery and crockery. Most notably, it illuminated Applejack in an enchanting halo. She turned around with a smile as bright as this early morning sunrise, pouring Rarity’s cup of coffee as she spoke. “That’d be mighty swell! Here ya’ are, darlin’.” She set the mug down and slid it across the kitchen island with a smooth wink.

Something caught Rarity in a trance. She seemed to be frozen, holding Opal in her arms and staring at AJ. The way her hair, all dewy from what she could only assume was a shower, was highlighted by the sun rays. Her gorgeously toned muscles had a glowing golden aura, as did every lash, freckle, and mark on her face. Her friend had suddenly transformed from the town farmer to a goddess sculpted by the sun. How come she had never noticed the beauty in all her chiseled features before? Sure, AJ was always a strong and tall lady, but she’s aged like a fine apple cider. She couldn’t help but continue to stare… for an uncomfortably long time.

”Uh… Rarity? Somethin’ wrong?” Applejack chuckled nervously.

”H- Huh?? Oh! Pardon me, nothing is wrong, darling. Thank you for the drink.” She set Opal back down and stepped over to pick up the coffee. One could tell from just the scent that it was as fresh as it gets, the beans were most likely hand-ground by AJ herself today. Everything on Sweet Apple Acres had that realness to it, that pure authenticity that the Apple family stood by. It could be tasted from the first sip Rarity took, rich and dense in flavor. “Mmm, it’s lovely.”

Applejack smiled, feeling the self-consciousness of being stared at wash away. “Oh! Glad to hear it.” She lifted the towel from her shoulders and wrung out her hair one last time before tossing it over the side of the sink. “So, what’ve you been up to lately? I heard the Canterlot Carousel’s doin’ swell.” In a small town like Ponyville, news of any resident’s success travels quick, doesn’t matter if they still live there or not. She walks back over to the dining table to sit with Rarity and chat.

Sipping her coffee and sitting down as well, she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Ohhh busy busy busy… I have just been eternally busy with my boutiques.”

”Wait- Boutiques plural? I thought your business in Canterlot was the only one you’ve got! Not since the Carousel Boutique closed…” Rarity’s first store location had closed not too long ago. Now it just serves as her home when she comes to visit.

She nodded, understanding the confusion. “I opened a second store in Manehattan when I closed that one. It has proven to be most successful, and I'm looking at real estate in Las Pegasus for a third store! My goal is to have one location in all of Equestria’s major fashion cities.”

Again, AJ couldn’t help her smile as Rarity spoke. “Well that’s fantastic! Congrats, Rare. Figures that a star-studded gal like you would make it so big, ain’t nobody in this town who had more passion and talent than yourself…”

While AJ had no intentions with such a compliment other than to speak the truth, it left Rarity pink in the cheeks. “Awh! Wh- why thank you, Applejack! How about you? The farm looks marvelous, I must say. Walking through the orchards on my way up here was absolutely scenic.”

She chuckled. “Scenic, huh? I appreciate it, but what you see ‘round here really is what you get these days. Those trees out front are the majority of what I have now. Had to cut a lotta acres since Big Mac moved out, it’s just too much work to handle all by my lonesome.” Applejack went quiet for a moment, looking out the window as the sun continued to rise. “Truth be told, I don’t want to lose the farm, but it just ain’t what it used to be. I ain’t what I used to be. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it an awful lot recently. That maybe I’d keep workin’ for a few more years, just enough to get Apple Bloom through college, and then sell it all once she’s settled…” Realizing she had gone on a little tangent, she scratched the back of her neck and laughed. “Pardon me, Rarity. That’s stuff that only Winona usually hears.”

The little border collie who was curled up under the table stuck her head up upon hearing her name. AJ bent down and petted her head as a painfully tense silence sifted between them. It took Rarity a bit to find her words. “…I’m… I’m terribly sorry, Applejack. That’s quite the burden to be carrying, especially for just one girl.” She reached out and placed her hand on top of AJ’s.

The difference in their skin was apparent not just visually, but even more so tactilely. One’s hand was tanned from the sun, calloused by years of hard work, muscular even down to the tips of the fingers. The other’s was soft, feminine, had a beautiful manicure, and only calloused where sewing needles prick. Yet, despite the polarity of their physical makeups, each one standing on the opposite ends of what society deems to be a woman, the intimate connection sparking between the colliding cells of their separate beings was undeniable.

Tender affection like this had been absent from Applejack’s life for longer than she could remember. The feeling of Rarity’s gentle skin on hers, the calming words of comfort she could give, they quickly made this a moment to savor. An urge somewhere inside herself began to crave more of this. She hadn’t even realized there was an absence of anything in her life, and a subtle taste of what she had been missing ignited a desire for more. Carefully, Applejack supinated her hand so that their palms were facing one another, and she held Rarity’s dainty fingers with her own. “Thank you, Rare. Sorry to toss all this on you, I know it’s kinda heavy.”

Rarity squeezed AJ’s hand back. “And yet you’ve been carrying it all by yourself… Both metaphorically and physically, my dear. I mean, good Celestia! You’ve really been running Sweet Apple Acres all alone? Not even a farmhand to help you?”

AJ chuckled and shook her head. “Nope, just Winona and I. But I could say the same about you! You’ve been runnin’ all these fancy stores across the country by yourself? No business partner or nothin’?”

”Oh don’t flatter me, a boutique is hardly comparable to a farm. And I have managers, assistants and such. As strong as you are, darling, you’re carrying the load of three… Have you discussed any of this with your brother?”

Talking wasn’t something she and her brother did much of recently. There wasn’t any animosity, they had a great relationship. Life had just gotten in the way. “Ah, he’s got his kids to deal with… We did have a long talk before they decided to move out, and he was worried about just this. In the end, we chalked it up to “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” And, uh…” AJ chuckled in a defeated manner. “I’ve gotten to that bridge. Now I just ain’t sure…”

Rarity also wasn’t sure. She hated seeing one of her closest friends in such a tough situation, but she was also in no position to give advice. What she could do was set her coffee down, let go of Applejack’s hand, and lean in for a hug. “I am not sure how much weight my words hold, but I am sure that whatever you decide to do will be the right choice, Applejack.”

Those words held more weight than she could carry, enough weight to knock some of the unbearable pressure off her shoulders. AJ returned the hug with a smile, squeezing Rarity gently in her arms. “Thank you…”

—

The barn at Sweet Apple Acres was lit up and lively that night. Atmospheric lighting emitted by the lanterns that hung from every pole post created a cozy environment, perfect for a long night of reconnecting with one another. Applejack and Rarity had spent the day cleaning the space up, shoveling hay out of the way and setting up tables. In between that, Rarity assisted with some of the farmwork that needed to be done. As per usual, all of the decorations credit goes to Pinkie Pie, who showed up around noon with a truckload of party supplies.

By sunset, everyone had arrived. The organizer of this party was the last to show up, as she got caught up with royal duties before she could leave. When she finally made her appearance, it was in an official royal motorcade. She embarrassedly had to command her guards to leave her there, not wanting tonight to be any different than the hangouts they all used to have in the past. If it were up to her, which it should be, she would have driven herself up here. Alas, official procedures say otherwise.

Still dressed in her formal blazer with her hair wound in a tight bun, Princess Twilight Sparkle joined her friends inside the barn. Only now, she wasn’t a princess. She was just Twilight. Almost instantly, she was wrapped in a hug of 10 arms and squeals from her 5 favorite girls.

“Thank you all for coming!! It’s so great to see you girls again.” There was a shared wave of ease that washed over the group as they were all together for the first time in years.

Attempts had been made at group reunions like this in the past, at least once a year. It was almost impossible for everyone to be free at the same time, someone always had to decline. That someone had typically been Rarity. Her surprise presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it was quick to be pointed out. They all moved to the lounge pit made of hay bales to chat.

“I was starting to think you hated us, Rare!” Rainbow Dash leaned over and elbowed Rarity playfully. “Your fancy Canterlot life too good for us?”

Rarity nervously laughed, pushing Rainbow off of her in an equally playful fashion. “Of course not! You know I love you girls.”

“Then how come you’ve missed our last, like, three hangouts!!” Pinkie Pie giggled from across the pit, sitting criss-crossed on her hay bale and sipping some cider.

She knew this was just friendly fire, but a part of her felt bad for being so absent. This invitation would’ve also been declined if it wasn’t for her assistant’s insistence. “The fashion industry is ruthless, darlings. Free time is nonexistent! Not if you want to survive...” Rarity was extra dramatic with this delivery, which got everyone laughing.

The ever-quiet Fluttershy took her own shot at Rarity. “Twilight is the ruler of Equestria and she can make time for us, that’s no excuse.” Everyone “oohed” at Rarity after that.

Twilight laughed this off, not wanting to draw attention to herself. “Hey now, it’s not her fault if she has a busy schedule! Besides, Canterlot is a far trip from Ponyville.”

Applejack chimes in, this time making a jab at Twilight. “Yeah, we can’t all travel in a limousine with a motorcade.” The whole group laughed, and it felt just like old times again.

The hours passed quickly, and the sky went from a peachy array of pinks and oranges to midnight hues of blue and black. The girls drank cider fresh from the orchards, snacked on pastries from the Sugarcube Corner, told stories from their lives over the past years, and laughed at jokes as old as their friendships. At some point in between all of the drinking and laughing, Applejack had snuck out of the barn. Rarity was the first to notice. She excused herself as well to go find where the party’s host had gone.

Just beyond the barn doors, under the spread of twinkling stars and Luna’s moon was a hard at work Applejack. The thud of her axe rang out through the silent field as it came down, splitting a log in two. She grabbed the fallen pieces and put them back together, taking another hard swing to split it into quarters.

Rarity cautiously stepped over to AJ, partially amused at this late-night wood cutting. “Needed some fresh air, did we?” She stopped far enough away that no stray wood chips would come flying at her.

Applejack turned and smiled at Rarity as she tossed another log onto her stump. “You think everyone would be up for a bonfire? It’s a beauty of a night out here, perfect weather for one.” She raises her axe once more and brings it down with a slight grunt, continuing to repeat the process from before. “I wish I had the idea for one earlier, woulda been convenient to do this before sundown.”

”That sounds like a lovely idea!.. Can I help you?” She asks this hesitantly, very aware of her lack of bonfire-making skills.

As the fresh quarters of wood topple over around the chopping block, AJ puts the head of her axe on the ground and leans on the handle. She wipes some sweat from her forehead with her arm as she turns to Rarity. “…You… You wanna help chop wood?…” Her words ended with a quiet chuckle. Who is this girl, and what has she done with the helpless damsel Rarity?

Taking offense to this, she crosses her arms and pouts. “Is that not what I just said?? I don’t understand what’s funny.” Actually, she does indeed see the humor in this. Normally she would pull up a chair and watch the hard work be done for her. Maybe it was all of the cleaning they did together earlier, the feeling of accomplishment a hard day’s work gave her that was incentivizing her to do more. Or maybe it was just the idea of being around Applejack.

Adjusting her leather Stetson hat to brush some blonde strands out of her face, AJ chuckled again before nodding to Rarity. She beckoned her over with two fingers. “Alright, gal. But I gotta teach you how to properly handle this thing first.” The axe handle was carved from an apple tree grown on the orchard, sanded and polished by AJ herself. She grabs a smaller, more easily choppable log and throws it on the stump.

“That’s fine! Looks easy enough. You just grab and swing, no?” She tries to take the axe from AJ, but it quickly gets pulled back.

”Whoa-ho-ho! Slow your roll there, sugar. You could pull a tendon or send this here axe flying buck wild without proper form, and I’m not tryna have any ladies hurtin’ on my farm tonight.” The axe gets placed up against the stump while Rarity gets her schooling in wood chopping. Placing her hands on her shoulders from behind, AJ guides her into position.

That same rosy pink blush from sunup today had found its way back to Rarity’s cheeks. AJ’s grip was firm yet gentle, and just one of her hands covered the entirety of her shoulder. The heat of her palms also felt nice on her skin in contrast with the crisp night air. More than anything, it was the way she effortlessly moved her to where she wanted. She couldn’t have tried to resist even if she wanted to, though she knows AJ would never actually use force on her in such a way. Regardless, the mere potential of being restrained by Applejack’s sheer strength… it made something deep within Rarity double over.

Maneuvering Rarity to the right distance from the stump, AJ then bends down behind her. She keeps one hand resting on Rarity’s waist while the other gently pushes on her thigh, manually shaping her stance. Although unusually flustered, Rarity lets herself be posed like one of her fashion mannequins. Her hand migrates from the top of her thigh to the back of her knee, using just enough pressure to force a bend. It’s taking Rarity more and more strength to stay standing, this is more touching than she expected wood splitting to warrant.

 Once AJ is satisfied with the stance, she gets up and grabs the axe, placing it in Rarity’s hands. It’s much heavier than she expected. ”Alright, now grip your left hand at the base of the helve like this… And then start with your right near the head…” As she explains, she places her hands on top of Rarity’s to guide them accordingly. AJ’s body is pressed right up against Rarity’s in doing this, with her head peering over her shoulder. A sewing needle couldn’t wriggle its way between them.

At last, this designer has been molded into the image of a lumberjack, with just an additional farmer hanging off her behind. AJ turns her head slightly towards Rarity’s and smiles. “You ready, gal?”

Still profusely blushing, Rarity nervously swallows and nods. She doesn’t feel ready at all, but she also doesn’t know how much more manhandling she can take.

Applejack, still guiding Rarity’s hands, steadily raises the axe above their heads. She then swiftly brings it down onto the little log. It splits with ease, tumbling off either side of the block. Rarity couldn’t help but smile. She got a rush of excitement at the power that chop had, even though it was almost entirely AJ’s doing.

They separated, and AJ finally let Rarity hold the axe by herself. She had the proudest grin on and gave her a pat on the back. “Well done!! Think you can handle one by yourself?” She grabbed another easy log.

Rarity nodded eagerly, readying her stance now that she knew what to do. She took a swing at the log and partially split it. AJ came over and helped unstick the head. “That swing wasn’t half bad! Give it one more go, you got it.” Her tone was encouraging in an almost motherly way. It was internally strengthening to receive praise and assurance from someone who knows what she’s talking about.

She took another swing, this time with a power-packed grunt. The log split on the second strike, sending the halves toppling to the dirt. She cheered, doing as much of a celebratory jump as she could while still gripping the axe.

AJ cheered with her, grabbing the log she split and assembling it again for a quarter split. “Hoo-Wee! That’s a clean chop, Rare! Didn’t think you packed such a punch.” That’s a lie, everyone knows Rarity is capable of going off the rails when she wants to. “Go at ‘er one more time, and we’ll have some good kindlin’ for the fire.”

”Oh no, thank you, darling, but I’ve had quite enough.” She gently sets the axe down on the stump and steps away, wiping her hands off. “I’ll give you motivational support from over here!”

Back to the same old same old. AJ chuckles and takes over, splitting the log again in one fluid motion. “Well, I appreciate the help. And I commend you for still tryin’ new things at our age. You’re always full of surprises, sugar.”

A few more split logs later and Applejack had gotten a roaring fire going. Everyone migrated outside, sitting down on whatever plank, bale, or barrel they could find. Faces were hot from the radiating heat of the fire, and backs were chilly from the cool air of Luna’s hour.

Pinkie Pie plucked an apple from the nearest tree and managed to skewer it. “I bet this will taste just like warm, sugary apple pie!” she giggled in excitement.

“I… don’t believe that’s how it works-” Twilight hesitantly watched, nervous about the fruit going up in flames.

Rainbow cackled from across the fire as she toasted a marshmallow. “You’re lacking a few ingredients, Pie.” Her mallow then proceeded to catch fire, to which she frowned and tossed it into the pit to watch disintegrate.

“No I’m not! See?” Miraculously, Pinkie held up a pie tin, already lined with crust dough. The rest of the girls took a moment to process her antics… and then all burst into laughter.

Toads chirped their song from the grass and trees, the cindering logs crackled harmoniously, and these six soulmates laughed with each other until their lungs were void of oxygen. Their riotous joy soon simmered into a quiet appreciation of each other’s company, watching the fire under the moonlit sky. Pinkie Pie shared slices of her freshly fire-baked pastry while Rainbow Dash munched on her first successful s’more, and Applejack brought her guitar over to play for everyone. It felt like an almost ceremonious closing to their reunion.

She sat on the haybale next to Rarity with her guitar, angling the neck away so as not to hit her with it. As she carefully checked the tuning of the strings, she quietly leaned into Rarity with a question. “What song should I play?”

Had she been more awake, perhaps Rarity would have gotten slightly flustered at yet another intimate moment with her shockingly gorgeous, strong, kind-hearted friend. But it was late, and the fire was cozy. Even the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering their way to sleep. She thought about the question for a moment. “...What’s that one slow song by Elvis? It’s the only thing coming to mind at the moment.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

AJ thought for a moment, a small smile curling at her lips. “I think I know which one ya mean… Does it go like this?...” She begins lightly picking the strings, and the song is instantly recognizable after just a few chords. It perks up the other sleepy heads sitting around the fire, as their attention is all directed to the music.

Rarity nods, her eyelids slowly growing heavy. “Mhm… That’s the one…”

“Alright, doll.” Applejack begins playing, gaining an audience of all her friends. The flames, dying down now, dance in a way that nearly matches the song’s rhythm.

The sweetness of her music quickly lulls Rarity into the sleep that has been prodding at her. As AJ begins softly singing the lyrics, Rarity lays her head on her shoulder and closes her eyes. The blush that had been haunting her all day transferred at the touch of their bodies, it was finally AJ’s turn. Her cheeks grew rosy, but she didn’t stop her playing. A smile brighter than the fire in front of them could be heard through her words as she sang…

“… Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?...”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

ending song reference:

thank you all for reading, even my friends who i begged to. chapter 2 will come if enough people enjoyed this one ! ( ˘ ³˘ )♡

[anna-hawk]

Writer's Block Solution

BJ Rose x implied f!Reader

Summary: You write fanfiction and BJ helps with your writer's block in a very unexpected way.

Rating: E 🔞 // WC: 3,2k

Tags and Warnings: PWP, friends to lovers, very slight Dom/sub undertones, sweet guy turns dominant, unprotected sex, minor angst

A/N: So, I'm sick with the flu and that's when my brain gives me the weirdest ideas. I based this on a trend I saw a while ago on IG and just went with it. If you know the trend, you'll know what I mean while reading. If you don't, that's also fine, as it's a bit embarrassing anyway. In any case, it's silly and maybe BJ is a bit OOC, but who knows how he actually is in the bedroom, right? Right…

Read it on AO3

Reading through your latest paragraph, you huffed angrily, before you selected the whole thing and hit the back button. You drummed your fingers over the space next to the touchpad on your laptop as you thought, before sighing and starting a new paragraph. Again. Ten minutes later, and you were repeating the same process you had over the entire last hour and a half. 

“What’s got you this upset?”

Blowing out a loud breath through your lips, you lifted your eyes to your friend, staring at his tall form over the lid of the laptop. BJ was leaning against the door frame, one foot crossed lazily over the other as he looked at you, a dishtowel in one hand. He looked so domestic in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, added to the soft smile and that stupid dishtowel. He was nothing like the man you were trying your hardest to write about in your story. However, people were waiting for the next part, the smutty part, and your brain refused to come up with anything worthwhile. Any positioning you thought of came out wrong, the way the man was talking and seducing his partner felt off. They were supposed to kiss in an intense way before anything more happened, but you couldn’t even get that on paper. On screen. Whatever. 

“Writer’s block,” you muttered unhappily, going as far as crossing your arms in front of you like a sulking kid. 

Which was ironic, considering that you’d spent the afternoon over at BJ’s looking after Trey while BJ was out training his team. Since you worked from home, you had come with your laptop, and you’d spent the afternoon playing games with Trey or working while he did his own thing. Twenty minutes after BJ had come back, Trey’s best friend had pulled up with his dad to pick him up for a sleepover. Which had led to BJ inviting you to stay over for dinner. While he’d been in the kitchen, you’d excused yourself and sat back down on the living room couch with your story, hit by a bout of inspiration. Which had been kicked out the proverbial window as soon as you’d started writing. 

“Anything I can help you with?” BJ asked kindly, throwing the dishtowel over his shoulder. 

You stared at him and shrugged. BJ knew what kind of stories you wrote, something that had amused him to no end the first time you’d told him after he’d found your open laptop on your kitchen counter, a very explicit scene staring back at him. 

“Dinner’s ready, otherwise, so,” he elongated the last word and clapped his thigh. 

“Yeah, I … I don’t know. I’m just so close to getting it right.” You held your index and thumb close together to indicate that you only needed a little push. 

BJ observed you for a moment and nodded. 

“What’s it about? Are we getting to the good part?” he laughed softly and lifted his eyebrows meaningfully a few times.

You pursed your lips despite his try at humor, and nodded aggressively, which had BJ snorting. 

“‘kay, and what’s happening?” 

“Well…” you began, only to trail off with some wild hand gestures. “I want the moment to like, really build, you know? Make it intense. And…” You looked at BJ again, and tilted your head to the side thoughtfully. “Actually, they’re…”

You slid the laptop off your thighs and put it onto the couch next to you before you got up and walked over to BJ. He watched you approach with a curious expression, his shoulder still against the door frame. 

“Maybe if I get the right perspective, I could write about it better?” you commented thoughtfully, as you stopped in front of him. 

“Okay?” He said slowly, waiting you out. 

“Right, so, um, basically, what’s happening is that the main character is about to leave the room, but the guy blocks the way. They’re both a bit angry at each other because — never mind why — they just are, and…” you moved closer to BJ, like you wanted to cage him in, with your hand going to the wood behind his head. “He does something like that?” You explained awkwardly, feeling ridiculous and not as sexy as how you had envisioned the moment. 

BJ blinked at you for a beat, before he licked his bottom lip consideringly and nodded. A second later, he swiftly moved forward, forcing you back until you were the one hitting the door frame on the other side. One of his hands moved over your head, while the other one went into the pocket of his sweats. He was looming over you. BJ Rose, this kind and sweet dad of a man, was looming over you, his expression intense, his face only a few inches away from yours, as was the rest of his body. 

“Like this?” he asked softly. And when had his voice turned so husky? 

“Um,” you got out, your eyes wide as you realized how absolutely stupid you had been for asking BJ to act out such a scene with you. 

Because while BJ was nothing like the man you were writing about, you didn’t need him to be for you to have developed a giant crush months ago. Since then, you had never let on how you felt about him, since BJ probably only saw you as a friend, no matter how much time you spent together.  

“Does he do anything else? Or what happens next?” 

You locked eyes with him, but were unable to know what he was thinking. One thing was sure, he wasn’t laughing it off and was actually taking your situation seriously. 

“Well, the — um — the main character tries to — um — pull away. But he stops the movement and — and — you know — goes like this?” You tentatively lifted your hand and cupped the back of his head, his skin warm and the short hair at the base of his head feeling soft under your fingers. “But — you know — stronger?” You withdrew your hand, but were still unable to look away from his eyes. 

“‘kay, so let’s try?” he suggested far too calmly.

You blinked. Blinked again a few times and… Oh. Really? Well… It would be stupid to stop now, right? This could actually help you write later. Right? Swallowing, you nodded and moved into action. You pushed against his chest with both hands, sending him backwards a couple of steps, visibly catching him by surprise as you hadn’t told him exactly how the character pulled away. BJ was only thrown for a moment because his eyes sharpened, and he was back on you a fraction of a second later. You actually gasped as your back met wood again. What followed was the feeling of BJ’s hands on you, one going to your hip, while the other one went to the back of your neck like you had explained to him. His grip was strong and secure, letting you know that you had nowhere else to go. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your hands had gone to grip onto the sides of his sweatshirt, your fingers clenched tight in the material, while your breaths came in short pants. Your next breath caught in your chest as the hand that BJ had over your nape, slid towards your jaw to tilt your head towards his, his lips now barely an inch away from yours. You were completely unable to move, not knowing what was acting and what was the truth. The way BJ was looking at you was so intense that you felt your stomach tighten in anticipation. He didn’t ask what came next, nor did you think that you would have been able to answer him if he had. As you briefly glanced at his lips, almost as if on reflex since they were so close, you saw BJ’s eyes fill with something that had you suddenly moving again. It only took your head leaning forward an inch to be able to press your lips to his. A moment later, BJ was pressing his whole body against yours as he kissed you back with an intensity and want that you hadn’t expected. Your arms went from his sides to around his neck, as his tongue slipped between your parted lips to slide against yours in a hot caress. The hand on your hip moved fully around your waist to pull you closer, while he pressed a knee between your legs. A high-pitched moan escaped you as he had you riding his thigh, while one of his hands vanished inside your pants to grab a fistful of your ass. Your mind was spinning at the way he was touching you, showing a more passionate side of him that surprised you but that you found you really enjoyed all the same. 

“That okay with you?” he then asked against your jaw, which had you bursting into a short and surprised laugh. 

There he was, the sweet and considerate guy that you had fallen for, still present underneath these more aggressive layers of need and lust. 

“Yes,” you breathed vehemently, before you moaned again as he kept you moving over his thigh and got a satisfied hum from him. 

“Wanna tell me what happens next in your story?”

You stared back at him, panting roughly just like he was, and licked your lips. 

“You tell me.” You decided then, knowing that whatever you’d had in mind until now, wouldn’t compete with what BJ might be thinking of. He had already surprised you quite a bit tonight. 

He gave you a thoughtful stare that only lasted for a second, before he smirked and had you facing the door frame an instant later. You caught yourself with your hands and gasped as BJ pulled and tugged at your clothes until you were standing fully naked in front of him, your bare back facing him. You didn’t have time to feel cold, since he pressed his front against your back, his erection pushing against you. His mouth landed on your shoulder and trailed all the way over to the other one, before it moved up your nape and finally down your spine. All the way down your spine. He pulled your hips back and started sucking and nipping at your ass as he ran a hand between your legs to reach for your entrance. He hummed against your skin at the wetness he found there and pushed two fingers inside you. Your hands tightened on the wood as you gasped and cried out, not having expected the move. With his fingers still inside you, BJ rose to his feet again to begin kissing along the side of your neck. As he withdrew his fingers from you and stroked over your sensitive flesh, his other hand moved to your front and found one of your nipples to gently pull at it. 

“BJ,” you breathed on a short gasp, your head thrown back. 

As if saying his name had triggered something in him, BJ grabbed you by the waist and turned you back to face him. He pushed you against the living room wall this time and cupped your face to kiss you deeply. You had barely taken a hold of his sweatshirt, when he fell to his knees before you and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. Your mind didn’t have the time to process what was going on before BJ had his head between your legs and was taking you apart with his mouth and tongue. Your head thumped hard against the wall as it flew back from the intensity of the pleasure suddenly coursing through you. With a string of distorted expletives, you curled over him and sank your fingers into the longer hair at the top of his head. Between the whole surreal situation, his fingers on you just before and now his mouth, the leg still holding you up was already starting to tremble with an incoming orgasm. You repeated his name a few times on tiny breaths as your body was wrecked by tremors, but instead of sending you over the edge, BJ stopped altogether and stood again. You stared at him through heavy lidded eyes as you panted deeply, your eyes falling to his shiny lips.  

“Not like this,” he whispered roughly against your lips, only leaving a small kiss there before he had you moving again. 

Curling an arm around your waist, BJ pulled you further into the living room with a few short steps and made you sit on the edge of the sectional couch. BJ followed you down, one hand holding him up at the side of your head, while the other vanished between your bodies as he kissed you. Your legs wrapped around his hips on instinct, and a moment later, you felt his length pressing against your entrance. You moaned loudly into his mouth as your fingers gripped tightly onto his shoulders as he began to slip inside. As soon as he was fully settled, BJ pulled back and began thrusting his hips into yours again and again, never stopping as he drew short gasps and cries of pleasure out of you. 

After the shortest amount of time, your entire body began feeling overstimulated in all the best ways. You clung to him with everything you had as his powerful thrusts and his large body lying over yours had you finally reaching your climax. Your eyes shut tightly while your arms and legs squeezed BJ to you, which got a long grunt out of him as his hips kept moving sporadically. 

“Is this what you had in mind?” he rasped into your ear after your grip on him became less strong. 

“No,” you groaned, grabbing his hair as he frowned. “So much better.” You kissed him hard to show him just how much this meant to you.  

BJ smiled against your lips and slid you further up the couch so he could put a knee on it as he picked the pace up again. You kept kissing as he sunk into you over and over, until he had to break the kiss as he neared his own release, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the pleasure. You took the opportunity to watch him, how his brow furrowed, and his mouth parted on a long groan. Coming here today, you had been light years from thinking that you would be ending the day like this. 

You both breathed quietly for a minute, before BJ gently pulled away and stood at your side. Your heart sank as you realized that BJ was suddenly failing to make eye contact as he turned around to fix his clothes. You gingerly sat up, hoping to avoid making too much of a mess, and watched BJ heading towards the door leading to the hallway, where he retrieved your clothes and the dishtowel that had fallen to the floor at some point. 

“I’ll — uh — go check if everything’s still warm while you — um — yeah,” he said awkwardly, as he handed you the clothes before he went to check on dinner. 

Feeling like an idiot, you balled your clothes into your arms and quickly made it to the bathroom. You hurried through cleaning up and were back in the living room and in front of your laptop in a few minutes. The sounds of pans and cutlery came from the kitchen, and you glanced in its direction as you put your things away into the bag you’d brought with you earlier. You had a mind to simply bolt without saying anything, but what good would that be since you were neighbors? Never come out of your house again? Move away? With a fortifying intake of breath, you walked through the hallway and into the kitchen, where the island had been set for two. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You hadn’t meant to be that straightforward, but better rip the band-aid off quickly, right? 

BJ, who’d had his back to you, startled faintly and turned around. 

“No!” he said immediately, his eyes finally meeting yours again, before he sighed and started over at a lower volume. “No.”

“Listen, BJ, if you want us to pretend like this never happened, just say the word, okay? I didn’t mean to start anything when I asked for your help, but,” you stalled for a moment. “But you need to know that I didn’t just go with it because we were playing out a scene. I kissed you because… well… because it was you and… maybe…” you sighed and looked at your hands. “Anyway, you decide, okay?” 

You pulled the chair out from under the island and sat in front of your plate, waiting for BJ to do the same. 

“I don’t wanna pretend like nothing happened,” BJ started softly, remaining where he was. “I just thought I maybe went too far with everything.”

You lifted your eyes to him and saw him looking back with a troubled expression as he leaned against the stove. 

“Did I give you the impression that you did? Or that I wasn’t into everything you did a hundred percent?” you smiled faintly, between perplexed and amused by the difference between the BJ who’d known exactly what he wanted and how to push your buttons, and the BJ standing in front of you right now, back to his sweet self.

A small smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, which had you laughing in earnest. 

“Yeah, yeah, you go ahead and be smug.” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Now, what about dinner? I had someone make me work up an appetite here.” 

BJ barked out a laugh and did as asked before taking the seat across from you. 

A while later, as you finished eating, BJ stared at the laptop sticking out of the bag you’d placed on the chair next to you.

“So… you think you have enough… footage to write this scene?”

The fork that you were in the midst of putting down, stopped briefly in its course at the question before you finally placed it on the plate. 

“Well.” You sat back against the chair and put on an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “I think I’ve got enough for this one, yeah… But, you know… I have several other stories planned. With more intense looming going on and arguments to be settled with make-up sex and… other things like that. Who knows… maybe I might need your help again… After all, I strive to be as accurate as possible.” 

BJ watched you with a smile that kept growing as you talked, his tongue peeking from between his teeth as he held back his laugh. His eyebrows dipped for a second in a would be serious expression. 

“That so, huh?” He got up and walked around the island, putting a hand on the back of your chair as he leaned over you. Loomed over you. “The things you’d do for your writing.”

Your teasing smile broke into an actual full on bright smile at his behavior. “Only the best for my audience,” you shrugged, before BJ leaned all the way down for a long kiss. 

Little mutal tags for @darlingshane @lucy-sky and @slavic-empress since this is a lesser known character and I know you guys appreciate him.

[elslittlestories]

The year after - Hunter (The Bad Batch)

Third and last part of "The morning after" (part 1 - part 2 or read on AO3), a short story toying around the idea of an asexual Hunter with sensory issues.

Gender neutral reader

1k words, some allusion to sex but nothing explicit.

⚠️Updated version available under the title:

You stand by your couch, a mug of caff in one hand, the over, covering your mouth as you yawn. In front of you, Hunter is yawning too. He rubs the sleep off his eyes and takes the mug with a thanks. You sit next to him, legs hug tight against your chest, and pull the blanket over you. It’s warm from Hunter’s body heat, smells like him.

He spreads out an arm over the couch behind you, props his foot, socks askew, on the low table and sips his caff in silence. From an open window, the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing fill the room. If you listen closely, you can also hear the fisherman coming back from their night out and unloading at the port.

You rest your chin on your covered knees, enjoying Hunter’s presence. You’re not sure how this became a habit, but every time he finds himself alone at home, he comes crashing at your place. You walk, grad dinner, watch movies and he sleeps on the couch.

The peaceful moment in interrupted by Hunter’s commlink buzzing from the little pile of things he dropped on the low table yesterday evening before settling on the couch. A set of keys, a small wallet where he keeps his change and a couple of pictures and, of course, the ever-lasting vibroblade.

Hunter grunts and pushes himself up to grad the commlink. His hand grazes over your shoulder.

“What is it Tech?” he asks, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Morning Hunter. Is Omega awake? She isn’t answering her com.”

“She’s having a sleepover at Lyana’s. Why?”

“Oh, right. Never mind then.”

Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Tech, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. If this is another treasure quest with Phee, you need to consult me first, then Omega.”

“Right, right. I’ll send you the briefing and see that we reschedule departure for later today.”

Hunter sighs.

“No. You’re not.”

“You could at least wait to read-”, starts Tech without hiding his annoyance.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s got school tomorrow, so unless you can guarantee you’ll be back by 8 sharp, she’s not going.”

Before Tech can argue, Hunter ends the communication and flops back against you. You pat him on the thigh, suppressing a laugh.

“You’ve got this, Daddy!”

He shoots you a tired glare but the corner of his mouth hints the beginning of a smile. You fight against the urge to lean over and kiss him. A few months back, the frustration would have made you get up and busy yourself in the kitchen. You’re getting better at this. You want to. This friendship is the best thing you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you have plans for today,” asks Hunter after he emptied his mug and put it on the table.

“Nothing special.”

He turns to you with a full smile.

“I’m thinking of taking Omega and Lyana at sea. Crosshair found a spot where those green rays like to gather, if you wanna join…”

He stands up and stretch. He’s still uneasy when asking you out, but if the girls are here, it’ll feel less like a date.

“Sure!”

You plan your day over a breakfast that Hunter helped you set up and you agree to meet him at the port on an hour.

“Unless you want to come pick up the girls with me,” he adds tentatively.

“I’d love that,” you hear yourself answering too loudly. “It’s on my way if I am to get some take away for lunch at Polly’s anyway. Then, we can all choose what we want to eat.”

Hunter flashes you an earnest smile, heart beating loud. This is all he ever wanted. A simple domestic life.

“Just give me time to shower and change,” he says. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready.”

You nod and before you can stop yourself you add:

“You know, you could leave a change of clothes here, and I can make room in the refresher for…”

Your voice trails off, heat coming up your face. You can’t read the look on Hunter’s.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I don’t mean to push you.”

He reaches you to put his hands on each of your arms. He’s awfully aware the two of you are walking on a tightrope, careful not to tip over.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes too high.”

“I know,” you mutter.

He hesitates for a split second and pulls you into a hug. You sigh and lean against him.

“I like having you here,” you say.

“I like being here.”

In your head, he lifts your chin and gives you a passionate kiss. Your loins tingle.

“But I can’t give you everything you want,” he says, breaking the charm.

You bit your lips, squeeze yourself tighter on his chest until it feels like his heart is beating in yours. The tingle comes back. A reminder of what he’s asking you to let go. Bet then you never had trouble taking care of yourself. It’s hardly like you weren’t single for a long time before you met Hunter and you’d be doing him no harm entertaining your fantasies while he’s out getting a shower.

You take a step back, find his eyes and utter:

“I still want to give it a try.”

The smile that stretches his lips is shy at first, but it grows wider as his eyes get shinier. He takes your wrist up and bends over to kiss the back of your hand. His voice shivers when he says “Thank you.”

 You pull him into another hug, short but tight, then usher him outside. Hunter stays on your porch a little longer, staring in the far, still smiling. Content. Maybe you two can make it work after all…Then he remembers he needs to snatch Omega before Tech or Phee get the chance to enroll her in their treasure hunt and he sprints home.

***

Unless it's hatefull, any sort of feedback are greatly appreciated here :)

Even if it was a bit messy and poorly edited, I hope this little story found resonance in some of you at least...

On my side, a happy Hunter is all I ever asked for ;)

[onecentwriter]

Today is the first day of December and I’m thinking about the new year. I’m thinking about what I want to change about myself and I don’t want to sound pessimistic but if I wrote all this down I think I’d run out of paper. So I’ll just say it out loud and no one will ever have to think about this or me ever again. I realized it’s weird because I don’t know how to love anyone. My sister doesn’t call anymore because I never pick up and I guess I feel a little sad about that. But sometimes I remember being twelve years old and I’m tired and I’m scared and there’s a childproof bottle of ibuprofen on my bedside table that I can open in the dark and my sister is knocking at my door asking to play stuffies. We are only two and a half years apart but I am unimaginably older and it makes my heart cave in on itself.

I remember staying up for hours into the night because it was the only thing that gave me any sense of freedom. I was tired all the time and hungry and I ate too much and I had too much fat around my middle and my parents told me I needed to fix my diet. I have nice eyes and nice legs and nice hair sometimes and I guess that’s it. My friend had the perfect stomach and she used to do planks in my room while we watched TV. I don’t think she meant to be mean but I still think about it. She was the same friend I thought about kissing sometimes. She wasn’t my gay awakening but she was probably the first person I ever loved. We had every class together in high school. At sleepovers we would sprawl on her bed and pour our souls out. Souls are a lot heavier when you’re holding someone else’s and you always feel like you have to put it away before you do something stupid like stab it through the middle. Her eyes were the most terrible shade of blue because they were the same shade of blue as the sky. I look up and I can still smell her hair and her skin and I can still feel her heartbeat next to my ears. We said we’d go to college together and I haven’t spoken with her in six years.

I remember a lot of things now. I remember being a teenager curled around my phone reading fanfiction at two in the morning because maybe I can escape this world if I just try hard enough. Maybe it can all fade away. Maybe I can revolve my entire life around media so I don’t revolve it around myself because that’s selfish and I don’t want to think about myself anyways. I remember standing outside the door of my high school’s therapist with my hand against the wood and I remember walking away because I didn’t have the fucking time in my life to go the therapy. I remember being fourteen and failing my first test and thinking of ending it all. Do you think I am dramatic. Do you think it was not a big deal. What nobody will ever know is that my entire sense of self worth is balanced precariously on a pile of textbooks I have never opened. My whole life I’ve been smart enough to get by and god knows when the day comes I don’t know the answer to the question is the day I bury myself alive. Because what am I if not the smartest person in the room? The funniest? It’s awkward when nobody is laughing and when it gets awkward everyone can look at me a little closer. They can crawl under my skin and pick apart my bones and really, really understand me and that can’t happen. Because once I am seen nobody will actually love me anymore. They’ll see that I don’t know how to love. That I’m pretending. I tried to fake it till I made it but I haven’t made it yet and my head hurts. I still haven’t made it. It’s December and my dogs are getting older and my grades keep getting worse and there is less and less sun each day. It’s December and we’re going to Europe this Christmas and I can’t find it within myself to be excited and I think my mom knows and she definitely thinks I’m ungrateful. It’s December and I’m in six discord servers full of people I don’t know and I still dream of meeting my idols and having them tell me they’re proud of me and did you know parasocial sounds like parasitical and both of those words are tattooed on my skin by now. It’s December and I’ve realized I don’t really have a single friend who knows me. It’s December and I still haven’t made it. I still haven’t made it.

[arc-of-smiles]

Gongenzaka for the char ask

General opinion/How much I care about them:

OH MY GOD I LOVE GONGENZAKA SO VERY MUCH HELLO???? he's super underrated, and he needed def needed more duels. in my humble opinion, he should've dueled yugo, yuto, and yuri (at different times ofc). i think it would've created a very interesting moment in the show for gongenzaka to duel yuya's other counterparts.

also him dueling with yuzu??? HELLO I LOVE!!! i don't care if this makes sense plot wise, but he should've had that moment with serena, rin, and ruri too. again, him being the best friend character and having those duels? i think it would've created such interests moments of characters... and angst too. god, i love gongenzaka.

he's one of the most slept on best friend characters in yugioh, and it makes me genuinely sad. he's so amazing, and sweet.

A ship I love:

i don't know how popular this is but... gongenzaka x sawatari.... I THINK IT WOULD BE VERY CUTE!!! i think sawatari ending up with yuya's best friend just sounds so sweet, and he would protect sawatari very much. i just... they seem so sweet together, and i just wefjhbweJHWEFJBH i think they're cute okay???

A non-romantic relationship that I love:

dennis/gongenzaka!!! i know back when arc-v was first coming out, a lot of people shipped them together. but for me i always saw them as friends!! i think dennis would bring out a more extroverted part of gongenzaka, and he would teach dennis to be less... outward loud public displays of chaos. i think they would balance each other out.

also i think they should fist fight as friend, and gongenzaka would win.

The NOTP:

i can't think of one LMAO.

My biggest headcanon about them:

i think gongenzaka would sleep like a corpse. he doesn't move when he sleeps, and he's very still. he doesn't even snore!! he will wake up if anything alarming happens, or when he's needed... but other than that??? he's not getting up.

he would lay right on his back, arms to the side.... and just sleep. when he has sleepovers with yuya, yoko always thinks he might be dead. but yuya will point at gongenzaka's nose and be like: "mom look! his nose is twitching, he's breathing! he's fine."

yoko doesn't believe him... she checks his pulse every time. gongenzaka is very flattered for the concern, but yuya finds it mad funny.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: (if I have none in my WIPs I'll make one up on the spot!)

i would def would wanna write a post arc-v fic with sawatari x gongenzaka... married.... and they're just talking about their past... and the ghosts of them too.

Something that makes me think of them: (a song, a character in another fandom, an animal, anything)

the fucking meme(s) of the buff guys on laptops.

one two three (the nerd would be yuya tbh)

[ohworm-writes]

APOTHECARY, n. The physician's accomplice, undertaker's benefactor and grave worm's provide 

: AMBROSE BIERCE

Well, would you look at that. Granted, I thought today was my one year anniversary, but it seems that way was on the 28th of February. Whoops! Anyhow, one year, ey! That’s... quite a long time, is it not? I hadn’t really thought I would have ever gone this far. I mean, I was- what? A sophomore in highschool when I started this? I had nothing to do during my classes so, hey! Why not make a writing blog because, 1. you can write, and 2. you love reading fanfiction, so why not add what I want to read?

And then BOOM! Here we are over a year later with nearly (20 or so off, give or take) 1000 followers? Me? That’s insane. Compared to the people I’ve met through this website, I don’t think I hold a candle to them. Truly, and that’s not some way to try and gain compliments to boost my ego or anything like that. The people I’ve met here are so f*cking talented and I am in awe every time I see them on my dash. And the fact that many follow me back and enjoy what I write? Hello? It’s... wild to me that I can say I’m mutuals and even friends with these people.

Now, I didn’t really have much planned to celebrate my one year. Again, I didn’t even realize it was actually a month ago, but hey! This has to count for something, right?

So, in commemoration of such an event, I thought: Hey. You still have most of the prompts from your 700 follower event that haven’t been done, and you’re creative enough so, surely you can whip up a writing event, yeah?

So, without further ado...

Worm’s One Year/ 1000 Follower Writing Event!

The guidelines for this event are simple! Any writer, no matter the fandom, writing experience, or any other related factor, is able to participate! This will be an event for you to write about whatever you want, so long as it covers the stated prompt(s)! 

The rules are as follow:

No explicit NSFW! You can elude to such things if you want, but please keep it SFW. Additionally, the work can be either platonic or romantic (or both).

There is a limit of three (3) people per prompt! While I don’t expect many to go in head first and take up prompts in participation, please keep this in mind.

Similarly, you can choose as many prompts as you like!

You must post the completed work on your account (and tag me) so that I’ll both be able to see/ read it, as well as be able to reblog it.

You can write in whatever format you wish! Whether it be headcannons, a full fic, or whatever else! I just want to see what you come up with.

Send me a DM or an ask to tell me which prompt(s) you are choosing and wish to write for!

The deadline for this event will be MAY 1, 2022, so please make sure to write and upload it before then! The prompts are listed below.

PROMPTS

1. “Come lay with me?”

@flxffyclvuds with Venti (Genshin Impact)

2. “You missed. Your lips are supposed to touch mine, you idiot.”

3. “A sleepover? What are you, eight years old?” “Just let me in”

@wilczachannn with p!cc!Tommy (McYT)

@wldflvrs with cc!Quackity (McYT)

4. “Is this okay?”

5. “You looked like you could use a hug.”

6. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud but, yes. I love you.”

7. “You are ridiculously comfortable.”

8. "Take a small break, for me?"

9. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

10. "This... isn't doing work. But I don't think I mind."

11. “When was the last time you said you loved me and meant it?”

12. “What is it about me that isn’t good enough?”

13. I can’t lose you.” “You already did.”

@sunniewrites with c!Wilbur (McYT)

14. “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!”

15. “For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.”

@god1ngs with c!Sam (McYT)

16. “Don’t call me that, you lost that privilege a long time ago.”

@unhonest-iago with c!Fundy (McYT)

17. “I loved you! You were everything to me, and I was nothing to you.”

18. “Oh, so now you love me?”

19. “Can I hug you? Just one last time?”

20. “Even if I die here, I know that someday I’ll see you again.”

21. “There wasn’t even a moment when you smiled at me like that.”

22. “Please don’t leave me.”

23. “Can’t you listen for one second?”

24. “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

25. “Because it’s my job, and it’s important.” “And I’m not?”

Tagging mutuals who may want to join or just take a look at the event!

@jschllatt @krabmeat @wldflvrs @maybeshroom @lakifaki @sarahwasfound​ @valoinnit @simpoot @sushisoot @piggyjeans @sunniewrites @angstyx @wilczachannn @beepbopbee @earthtooz @arcademoss @mitzimania​ @ttakinou​ @mentally-unavailable​ @anarchiststories​ @god1ngs​ @dreamwvrld​ 

[hazzabeeforlou]

It’s Easter and I’ve just read part 2 of The Garden and it was genuinely a spiritual experience. I was raised Catholic and as I’m sure you know, God is terrifying. As a scared child in church I found a lot of comfort in Mary, Mary Magdalene and Jesus as humans, but various factors including living as a queer person have made me isolated from my faith for a few years now. I used to dream about Jesus in the Garden and feel so much empathy for him but He’s been made into such a cold judging figure by the church, I couldn’t understand why no one else saw how lonely He was. It’s so stupid because it’s a fanfiction about a boyband but I feel closer to Jesus than I have done in over 10 years. I can’t even begin to articulate how I’m feeling, this whole ask doesn’t do it justice, but I feel like He’s been properly honoured by your fic.

PHEW nony! I had to pull out my laptop for this one, and forgive the novel in advance. I saw this and immediately started crying. It just so happens I’ve been thinking of these very things incessantly, rolling them over in my mind for weeks now, and (stay with me) that’s to do with the fact that I’ve been learning about folk magic.

A bit of backstory; as a child I loved ‘God,’ but he seemed so very different from Jesus to me. Catholics and Evangelicals both agree on the concept of the trinity, so I was supposed to think of Jesus and God as one, only God seemed cruel at times, and Jesus was kind and more approachable. I was only allowed to read Narnia as a child; those were the only ‘good magic’ books, so naturally I adopted the blatant metaphor of Aslan as Jesus and named my most treasured stuffed Lion Aslan (PITS readers, yes that’s where the lion’s name came from). I also invoked the name of Jesus constantly at night in the dark, because once, while at a sleepover, I was told that just saying that name out loud would scatter the demons that played tricks on my mind in the dark. Understand that I’ve been seeing things since I was little, and the only explanation I was ever given for this was that demons were trying to scare me. I was petrified of the dark, but the name of Jesus seemed to work.

Even before my revelations during college, my turn with atheism, and my rejection of my conservative/fundamentalist brainwashing, I distrusted the church and the power figures in it. Due to a minor scandal in my church when I was 9, my family switched churches and everyone I’d grown up thinking was perfect and blameless became tainted. I understood how churches made people come in to get money. Maybe it was a gut instinct, maybe it was providence, but I felt god more in the wind, in the treetops, in a rainstorm, not sitting on a pew wearing dresses baggy enough to hide my boobs. There was always this part of me that divorced the idea of Jesus and god from the church.

But when my college-age ‘religion is the opiate of the masses’ faze came, the baby got thrown out with the bath water; how could I reject the dogma of fundamentalism yet not the deities they worshiped? So I tried going full atheist. There is nothing out there, we are alone, this life is it. And you know what? I fucking FELT alone. I hated it. I would cry myself to sleep begging god to show himself if he was real. This went on for YEARS. It was only after my surgery that things began to change. I think… even though this is super traumatic to accept, I think I was put through all the pain of that surgery and (ongoing, chronic) recovery because I’d spent all those nights crying out for a revelation. And this was the way it had to come.

I found myself trying everything to get rid of my pain. This led me to a ‘visceral therapist,’ L, who had her home covered in walls of crystals. I had been warned about New Age people while in the church, so I had every doubt about her. But after one session, for a brief few hours, I had NO PAIN. It was the first time in six months I’d stood without agony. She had angel pictures everywhere and talked about God’s white light, and I tried not to think too much about that.

I started finding crystals next. The first one I found proved to be the most important. I was holding it out on its chain one night when it started moving. I fucking freaked out and threw it down; I’d seen L do dowsing before, but I was terrified of doing it myself. Where did this power come from? Did that mean there were powers out there? Demons? This was witchcraft, and I only knew about that practice in the context of Wicca/New Age. I was also very wary of delving into ANY established practice/religion, or listening to any one way of thinking, because how could I trust that it was true? How could I know it wouldn’t just be like the lies of the church all over again?

I plodded on for a few years, using crystals to help my pain, placing them in the moonlight, burning scraps of paper with intentions on them and bits of old hair. I started to see things, and I freaked myself out and decided that maybe I was just crazy. Maybe atheists were right; maybe this was all a hyperactive brain. So I went on those pain meds I’ve mentioned before, and for two years, I saw nothing. I could still dowse, but it’s like one part of my brain had shut off. This of course reinforced the idea that I was just insane, and I still struggle with that. But I’ve come to peace with several realizations and they are as follows:

Humanity as a whole, every single indigenous culture, has practiced worship. Not magic, not religion, as we have defined these words for a western gaze, but worship. Of nature. Of deities. Of spirits. They have had wise people and seers and healers and this wasn’t a separate thing removed to brick buildings with pews, it was how they lived and breathed and belonged in community together. I think it’s naive to discount the entire experience of humans because these ‘beliefs’ can’t be given a mathematical equation. So I made peace with the fact that MORE exists. I also made peace with the idea that deities, spirits, they don’t just have one name, and I think, though this revelation was new to me, it was implanted very early in my mind by the Last Battle (and as problematic as Narnia is, it’s also so VERY pagan, so much so the Christianity in it only really serves to bring it past the threshold of fundamentalist houses lol). And this explanation also helps me to understand how colonized people both adopted the religions forced on them but still worshiped their own gods? And here’s where I get to folk magic. I’m still learning about it, but basically it’s specific to cultural heritage. So Germanic folk magic would be a mixture of pre-Christian paganism and Catholicism, the blending of the two, the veneration of saints that used to be Demi-gods, etc. The names change, but that doesn’t matter. The Virgin Mary is the Mother. Jesus…who knows who he was in every culture, every name, but that’s how I know him, and he’s real to me. (There’s a whole other discussion of the individualism of Wicca/New Age types beliefs and the divorcing of them from any cultural root which lends them towards reinforcing anti-collectivist ideas and can lead to the alt-right/wellness/ws supremacy pipeline we saw happen during the pandemic’s early stages… but that’s another novel)

And here’s my point, at last; the Jesus I always knew, that comforted me, that took the fear from the darkness, he was always good and kind and beautiful and I knew him by this name and I’m sure he has many others, but I can know him now, free of the church, free of fundamentalism. So your asks makes SO much sense to me. This Jesus has always been there for you. No church or religion own the deity you have loved and called by this name, and I’m so fucking thrilled my fic has helped you feel closer to that divinity, that spirit. I don’t have any of the answers by far and I know this was an entire fucking novel but does that make sense? I hope it does. Hugs to you nony and have a wonderful night <3

[seeker-of-the-stars]

Okay, this is the most important request of all - what if, somehow, some bots ended up in YOUR house? You, as in, the one writing all these awesome drabbles.

"Annnnd done," I laid back in bed with my hands behind my head, staring at my computer screen and reading over the drabble I just finished. It was a simple request; one where Starscream and Knock Out went out on a date and confessed their love to one another.

"Starscream, I just wanted to say... I love you. I loved you from the very beginning. Nothing gets my engine running like your gorgeous finish."

"Oh Knock Out," Starscream blushed. "I've been waiting so long to hear you say that. I ask, no, I beg for you to take me right here and now under the stars."

"But what if Megatron should catch us?"

"Shh," Starscream put a digit to his lips. "You let me worry about that, my love."

"Yes, this is definitely one of my best stories so far," I said to myself, smiling. "I can't wait for everyone to read it."

As I was basking in the brilliance of my masterfully written fanfic, I heard a loud ripping noise above me.

"What the hell-" I screamed as I looked up and saw the face of none other than Knock Out, who had just ripped the ceiling off of my apartment. Ignoring my cries of shock, the red medic reached down and picked me up, holding me up to his face.

"Ugh, how are you fleshies so loud? Such small bodies shouldn't be capable of making so much noise."

"You're... Y-You're-"

"Yes, yes, I'm Knock Out, medic extraordinaire and the most gorgeous face to ever grace your backwater planet. But you already knew all that, didn't you?"

"You... giant robot... my house..."

"You are capable of speaking more than two words at a time, I hope? If not, then this was a huge waste of my time, and I do not appreciate my time being wasted." He narrowed his optic ridges, causing me to gulp.

"S-Sorry," I apologized. "What do you want with me?"

"You're seeker of the stars on Tumblr, correct?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-" I instantly turned red, thinking of all the stories I've written along with all the times I had thirsted over the bot in front of me.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," an evil grin appeared on Knock Out's face. "Me and a few of my friends want to have a little chat with you about your content. Let's go meet them, shall we?"

"Look, I don't know what you saw, but-"

"Save it. You'll have plenty of time to talk about your depravities with the Autobots."

***

"Knock Out," Ratchet rubbed the space between his optics. "How many times do we have to tell you not to kidnap humans?"

"Hey, you don't know what she wrote! She writes stories about me dating Starscream of all people, it's pure slander! Look at this slag she was writing when I found her!" He handed Ratchet the tiny laptop in the palm of his servo.

"Hey! It's called fanfiction and it is art!" I defended. A second too late, I realized what Knock Out had given Ratchet, and my heart stopped.

"...Which you absolutely shouldn't read." I tried to wiggle out of Knock Out's grasp and reach for my laptop. "Give it back! I don't go through your stuff, do I?"

"No, you just write about our romantic lives and post them for strangers to read online instead," Knock Out quipped.

Ratchet squinted at the too small screen. "Ugh, this is hurting my optics, let me put it up on the main computer."

"Wait, you don't have to do that-"

A moment later, my story was up on a screen over two stories tall, for all optics in the room to see.

"Oh god," I groaned as both bots read over the fic.

"Well, this is... certainly something," Ratchet said. "Humans do come up with the strangest things."

"There's a few stories about you and Wheeljack on her blog too. Here, let me show you."

"Why do you hate me?" I glared at Knock Out.

"Because I don't like fleshies writing about me doing... things with my mortal enemies."

"Hey guys, what's going on? And who's the human?"

"Wheeljack!" Knock Out said, turning toward the newcomer. "Come in, mon ami. This human here has written some interesting things about you and Ratchet and she would love to show you them."

"No I wouldn't!"

"No she doesn't!" Ratchet said.

"Written things, huh? Is she some kind of undercover reporter trying to expose us?"

"See for yourself," Knock Out smirked.

"It's fine, Wheeljack." Ratchet said, standing in front of the screen. "Just kids goofing around, nothing you need to worry about."

"Hey, I'm in my twenties!"

Ratchet shot me a glare. "Do I look like I care?"

"C'mon Doc, just show me the damn thing."

Ratchet sighed. "Fine, but if you speak a word about it to anyone, I will take away your lab privileges."

"As if that's ever stopped me," Wheeljack chuckled. He stopped as his optics scanned over the words, barely raising his optic ridges.

"Well, I don't see what all the fuss is about," he said. "Unless you're afraid that people will start to think that you have a crush on me."

"I absolutely do not have a "crush" on you! What do you think I am, some school bot?"

"I think we all know you haven't been a school bot since the Predacons roamed Cybertron."

"I hate you," Ratchet groaned. "I hate all of you."

"What should we do about the human?" Knock Out asked. "I vote that we squish her like a bug."

"Wow, rude," I glared up at him.

"Knock Out shut up," Ratched sighed. "Wheeljack, take her home. We really don't need abduction charges on our heads and I don't trust this one to take her back in one peace."

"There's one problem with that," I said. "Knock Out kind of tore the roof off of my apartment."

"You what?!" Ratchet turned on the red medic.

"Well, how else was I supposed to get to her? Walk through the front door?"

"No, you're not supposed to kidnap people in the first place!" Ratchet turned to me with exhaustion in his optics. "You can stay with us until your apartment is fixed. Just as long as you let any family members and friends you have know that you are not being held against your will and that there's no reason to involve the police."

I grinned at the Autobot medic. "So, what you're saying is... we're having a sleepover?"

"... if you want to put it that way, then fine."

I grinned, a bubble of excitement welling up in me. "This is officially, the best day of my life."

[littlegayteaboy]

My problem with the 'there was only one bed' trope in fanfics is just. they're so unfunny compared to real life. Where's the chaos???

As someone who routinely shares a bed with my best friend who I'm technically dating??? (QPR), it's like 1000x more likely to wake up because one of us just fell off the fucking bed than to wake up cuddling and yeah, that's cute as hell, but soooo overdone.

So take this list and make your fics better, please, I'm begging you,,

- One of them is a kicker and just kicked all the blankets off the bed and now the other is Freezing™ and Angry™

- The bed is really creaky when one rolled over and they both woke up

- Impromptu midnight pillow fight. Straight up one was just adjusting the pillows and accidentally threw one onto the other's face, who retaliated with smashing them with a pillow and now its war

- Someone snores. Really loudly.

- Alternatively, sleep talking. Not the angsty kind, I know I can't trust fanfiction writers with that. Just like, weird dream logic stuff that makes no sense and Character 1 is trying to hold in their laughter so they don't wake Character 2 up.

- One got bored and is now reading fanfiction or watching tiktoks and the other just wants to sleep, can you please turn off the phone it's too bright/loud!!!

- Midnight snacks!!

- One is scared of the dark and can't sleep without a nightlight, but the other can't sleep unless it's completely dark.

- One has a really long and intricate skin care routine (my best friend) while the other just uses water and that's it (me). So Character 1 makes them do a face mask with them and gently bullies them the whole time.

- They're having a sleepover because they're bleaching, dying and cutting each other's hair. It's a disaster but they both come out looking 10x hotter after lmao.

- They don't even sleep that night because they're too busy ranting about things or messing around on a guitar and singing horribly or whatever. Then they hear the first birds or see the light outside, look each other dead in the eyes and realise they fucked up.

This'll probably flop but in case it doesnt feel free to add!!

[ficsforeren]

I loved this chapter so, so much so buckle up for a LONG review.

"Yes, but he looks like that now" ...yeah mom, that's the source of all my problems 😭

I love the song! Not to mention that if eren started singing to me I would combust Rockstar! Eren stop worming your way into my heart, I never told you you could do that Oh wait this was THE song! but whyyyy did he lie 😭 and the reader too...why?! Eren Jaeger loves you and you want to stay friends? This chapter has enough miscommunication to fill a rom-com's whole plot. But it finally happened! I loved everything about it, even though Eren can be so dense at times! It was obvious that it was her first time! Can you imagine losing your virginity to Eren? I would get addicted and he would ruin all men for me. I'm still waiting for him to confess but in the meantime...

THE RULES (because Porco and Pieck make me laugh a lot)

#1: fuck AT LEAST 3 times every day

#2: sleep together because you're too exhausted

#3: mumble in your sleep how much you love the other

#4: die of embarassment or finally confess

But I guess I'll have to wait at least a few chapters...

Anyway...no matter which fic, you make me fall in love with him more and more. Can a heart feel fuller than this? You should win an award, really (are there fanfiction awards? Well they should exist)

JAMIEEEEEEE AHHHHHH YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY

thank you SO MUCH for reading again and for spending some time writing this review to me, aaaah you don't know how happy this makes me

yes it was THE song! well he was too shy back then to admit that it was about her. he's gonna write more love songs about her in the future, and although he won't state it out loud that these songs are about her but he will try his best to make her realize that yes, every love song i wrote is about you

but then again, like what I said in the other ask, they already know how they feel about each other. they're just too afraid to take the risk because they cherish their friendship too much.

at where I'm writing right now, y/n has come up with eighteen different rules. yes, you read that right, eighteen.

I'll give you a sneak peek:

Rule #1: No eye contact. SERIOUSLY. NO EYE CONTACT.

Rule #2: No pet names. No ‘baby’. No ‘sweetheart’. NO ‘MY LITTLE KITTEN’.

Rule #3: Fuck me, NOT make love to me.

Rule #4: Condoms are lifesafers. I’m taking birth control pills now, so be grateful.

Rule #5: No sleepovers. You can stay but NO CUDDLES.

these rules are considered to be pretty basic, but the rest of them are a little... hardcore lol

[fangirlingincamouflage]

Blind Hope Chapter Six

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: ??? (I can’t remember) Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer:  I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals. I make no money from this fanfiction. TW/CW: Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

You Are Here

Chapter 7

Looking back, it was easy to ignore his messages for the first two weeks. You had work to get lost in and pain meds to dull everything. Between your cracked ribs, the stitches in your head, and fielding calls from people who meant well but took up too much energy to talk to, it was pretty easy to act like you had every intention of responding to Nick, without ever actually getting around to doing it.

"I'm awake," his first message said. "They said you already were released. What happened? Are you okay?"

It hurt. It hurt to read. It hurt even more not to respond. But you did it. You told yourself it was for the best. Being with you is what got him hurt in the first place. Sure, you could blame bigotry, and you'd be right, but that doesn't erase what happened, and that you were at the core.

"I know what happened was scary. Please, just talk to me." Another message says. "I just want to know you are safe."

You don't respond to that one either. You know what you'll say. You will tell him that you are perfectly okay. That it's fine. Just a scratch. Sure, your head got busted open and you are on some impressive pain killers. And yeah, you have to change the bandage twice a day because stitches are no joke, especially those on the head. And sure a chunk of hair is missing from where they shaved it to put said stitches in place. But does any of that really compare to what he went through?

"I'm okay if that's what you're worried about. It looked worse than it was."

You know exactly how bad it was. It wasn't like you just gathered your stuff and left after Nick's mother stopped in and delivered her bomb of truth. In fact, once the shock of her words had worn off you'd gotten yourself pretty riled up with a lot of thoughts that centered on how-dare-she. You'd gathered up[ all of your things, and stormed up to the Intensive Care Unit, you'd argued with a nurse, you'd begged and pleaded until they let you in to see him. And, if you are being honest, compared to Nick all you had was a scratch. Tubes were shoved up his nose, forcing him to keep breathing while needles fed him medication and hydration. The natural blue splotches on his skin did their best to hide the bruising, but it was too easy to see that the damage had been done. Gone was the coppery vest, all he wore was an ugly hospital gown and medical tape. One eye was swollen shut, one hand looked like it had seen the wrong side of a hammer. Or, more likely, a boot. He'd whimpered when you'd touched him, in pain despite being pumped full of who knew what.

That's when you had decided that Elizabeth Jakoby had been right. Being with Nick would have been selfish. Yes, he made you happy. Yes, his kisses made you light up. But was any of that worth the pain it put him through? No. Of course not. You needed to leave. And you needed to cut the relationship off. He'd get over you. He'd find a nice orc woman to settle down with. He'd be happy with his garden and his badge. He didn't need you. And he certainly didn't need another trip to the hospital.

So you called June and let her mother you into bed, and promised yourself that no matter what messages Nick Jakoby sent, you'd just ignore them. Sure, you knew it was bad form to ghost him. But you also knew that if you tried to actually break it off, it would kill something inside of you. Some tiny glimmer of hope that there were still good people in the world.

Those first two weeks were easy. They came before the new flower delivery, and the card that only had "I'm sorry," written in his hasty, blocky script. And then came the uber eats driver delivering from the Indian place you'd had your very first date. And then came the movie tickets and a little notecard saying "I'll be here, at seven this Friday. I hope you will be too."

You made yourself sick throwing the ticket in the garbage. You'd even poured week-old leftovers on top of it to keep yourself from digging it out. That night you invited June and her wife over and the three of you watched cheesy movies until dawn, if only to keep you from dwelling on where you rather would have been.

You got your stitches out. You were given a clean bill of health. Your hair grew back. Two weeks turned into two months, and then into half a year.

You went on dates. Some weren't too bad. Somewhere horrible. But no matter how nice the date was, or where you went, all you could think about was sharing a loaded waffle with a guy who saw the greatness in the universe. All you could do was reach up and feel that scar on your forehead and wonder 'what if?'.

"This is ridiculous." June flopped herself down on the couch. She was wearing her favorite orange and yellow pajama set. She had a plate of chocolate cake in one hand, and a fork in the other. She was eating her feeling since the love of her life was out to sea again. It made for a good excuse to buy a cake and have a sleepover. You are pretty glad that you have a best friend who still likes sleepovers. "You should call him."

"Listen, June, I know you thought we were perfect for each other but-"

June's demielf eyes narrow to cat-like slits. "Oh please."

"June, it was just two dates."

"And?"

"How much can you really know about a person in two dates?"

"You know when I decided I was gonna marry Em?" she asks.

"Well, you proposed on-"

"Date one."

You pause. "What?"

"I knew before the end of date one that she was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I knew it like I know the sky is blue and Versace does bold prints." She waves her hand through the air.

"That's not possible."

"Oh, it is. I realized I was doing everything I could to make her laugh because the sound of it was the best music I'd ever heard."

You can't help but remember Nick's laugh, and the way it came out too loud and honest. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

"And I wanted to keep ordering food, just so we could stay there longer," June continues.

After your first date, you and Nick just walked, walked until the only place you could go was home. You'd never wanted the night to end.

"But what really sealed the deal was how bad I wanted to see her again, even when we'd just said goodnight."

"But," you say, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest. "Couldn't it have just been an infatuation? Wasn't it just potential? Time and effort are what made it love, not your first date."

June shrugs. "Sounds to me like you are trying to convince someone in this room, and I'm pretty sure it's not me."

You lapse into silence as the words ring in your ears. Who are you trying to convince? You know that you had an amazing time with Nick. You know exactly what it felt like to laugh with him, run your hands across his shoulders, kiss him. You know that it was the exact mix of easy and heart tingling. You know that if ever there had been potential for something great, it existed in those two nights with Nick Jakoby.

"It doesn't matter," you say. "I wont get him hurt again."

June sets her plate aside and takes your hand in hers. "Sweetie, I get that. I do. But..." She takes a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know if you are ready to hear this but I'm going to go ahead and say it anyway."

She shifts her place on the couch until she is facing you, your hands cupped gently in her own. The look she gives you is one of kindness, but no-nonsense. It's a mother's look.

"I feel like you are about to ground me for doing something dumb," you say, trying to be light-hearted.

"Kind of. I mean, I do think you did something stupid."

You start to pull away. "June-"

She takes your hands again, more firmly. "You did. You did do something dumb. I love you, hun. I really do but this time? This time I think you screwed up."

"How? By protecting him? By making sure he never has to be in that hospital bed again? June, you didn't see him it was...it was-" You can't even bring yourself to say how bad it was.

June's hands tighten ever so slightly. "I know, sweetie. I know. It sucked. I know how seeing you hurt made me feel, and I can only imagine that it was worse seeing Nick like that. And I can only imagine how guilty it made you feel. But honestly? None of that matters."

"Why not?"

She blows out a soft breath. You can see a hard line of tension in her shoulders. She closes her eyes and when she opens them they are filled with a steady resolve. "Because you didn't even give him a choice. And hun, that was shitty." Since you rarely ever hear June curse, you know exactly how much she must mean this. "I know why you did it. I get it, but I don't really agree with it. You hurt yourself, which was your choice. But you hurt him too. You didn't give him an explanation, and you didn't give him closure." She holds up a hand before you can interrupt. "I'm not saying every person you go on a date with deserves a point by point explanation for why you don't want to see them again. But we both know that Nick wasn't just some date."

"I knew he'd try to talk me out of it."

June shrugs. "Maybe. Probably. But after getting hurt the way that he did, don't you think that he deserved the chance to try?"

Guilt drags at your stomach. You shake your head and pull your hands out of her grip. She lets you.

"I don't know that I'd have been strong enough to tell him no."

June shrugs. "Maybe because you shouldn't have."

You make a sound in the back of your throat and reach for the remote. "Come on, the show is-"

The words you were going to say die in your throat. The screen is filled with a news broadcast. A pretty woman you barely notice is talking about a fire downtown. The words Bright, officers down, possible magical terrorism hang like an ugly miasma in your ears. A picture of Nick superimposes itself over the fire.

You don't even remember getting up. You don't remember grabbing your coat. All you hear is the jingle of keys as you head to the hospital you ought never to have left him at.

[rosedavid]

fic prompt: “send your cutest delivery boy” also i love your writing! thanks!

“No way, I am not doing that!” Cyrus protests in vain. 

“May I remind you that you’re the one who said, not moments ago, that, and I quote ‘I can totally handle dares! In fact, give me one right now, I won’t back out this time no matter what’,” Buffy imitates pointedly. 

Cyrus groans, knowing that his attempts are futile but not quite willing to give in yet. He flops backward, head bouncing against one of the many fluffy pillows encasing the three of them within their homemade sleepover fort. He looks toward Andi pleadingly, but she offers him a slightly apologetic look.

Andi agrees, “That is what you said…”

“Ugh, I just thought you’d give me a less mortifying dare, like ‘Cyrus, go walk outside in the snow barefoot’ or ‘Cyrus, lick the floor’–”

“You think licking the floor is less mortifying than this?!” Buffy interrupts. 

“–The point is, this is absolutely terrifying!”

Sighing, Buffy scoots closer to him, propping him back up so they can talk. “You don’t have to do this dare you know.”

Cyrus tucks his knees into his chest. “Yeah, I know. But I want to, I need to actually fulfill one dare in Truth or Dare in my entire life, and this is it.”

“Sometimes they ignore silly requests, you know,” Andi attempts to comfort him. 

Cyrus nods, trying to convince himself of the same thing. “Yeah, no, you’re right. It will be fine. It will be totally, completely, 100% fine.” He lets out a deep breath and holds out his hand. “Ok, I’m ready.”

Truth or Dare has been a long tradition during Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus’s monthly sleepovers. They’ll always start with a movie with buttery popcorn and sodas before moving into a chain of gossiping and catching up. Then, it eventually leads silly party games such as Truth or Dare that lead to even more confessions and deep feelings. Of course, Cyrus being Cyrus, he never wants to pick dare. The rare times he has, he’s chickened out. This time, though, he’s determined not to, despite the potential embarrassing result of Buffy’s dare. Out of all the things she had to dare him, it had to be ordering a pizza and requesting them to send their cutest delivery boy. 

At least he’d be guaranteed a pizza out of it to drown his sorrows in afterwards. 

Hands shaking, Cyrus types in all the information before finally getting to the special requests section. His fingers hesitate over the keyboard before he finally types in, “Send you’re cutest delivery boy.”

Before he can change his mind, Cyrus quickly confirms his order, therefore sending the message along with it. Andi and Buffy squeal, hugging him on both sides. 

“You did it! You completed your first dare,” Andi celebrates, shaking his shoulder. “How does it feel?!”

“Nerve-wracking,” Cyrus laughs. “But also, I think I feel more energetic? More confident, almost.”

“That’s called adrenaline,” Buffy teases. “But you’re not quite done with the dare yet, you know. You still have to answer the door when it comes.”

Cyrus balks, not having thought so far ahead. He drops his head into his hands with a resonating groan. “This is going to be so embarrassing!”

“Hey, who knows, maybe it will be like your Prince Charming waiting at your doorstep.”

They all descend into snickers. Despite Cyrus’s anxiousness about the dare, he also feels lighter knowing that he was able to accomplish this. These sleepovers are certainly places where the three of them get to know each other better than they could have impossibly imagined as well as themselves. So many things have become reality because of sleepover nights. Cyrus first realized he was gay at one of their sleepover nights when Buffy and Andi told him about the girl who had such an obvious crush on him who should have been attractive to any boy. Later, his thoughts were only confirmed as they watched a movie and the only person he could pay attention to was the young male actor. Buffy figured out she was going to be team captain of the basket-ball team at their high school at one of their slumber parties, leading to endless squealing and celebrating. Even Andi learned of her acceptance of one of her art pieces into a local gallery for the month. In other words, their slumber parties tended to be revolutionary. 

Too soon, Cyrus hears the telltale sign of a car pulling into the driveway and headlights flashing through the windows. A few seconds later, there’s a patterned knock on the door. Cyrus gulps, delaying the inevitable as long as possible before finally getting his wallet and standing up with a few pushes from his friends. 

He’s not sure what to expect when he opens the front door, but it definitely isn’t the gorgeous blonde boy standing before him. He expected that they would send someone attractive sure, but this boy is more than that. He’s absolutely radiant, with floppy hair hanging every which way, a long, slender jawline, vibrant green eyes, and a crooked smile with the cutest dimples. Unfortunately, Cyrus’s mouth moves faster than his brain, as he can’t stop the next words that come out of his mouth:

“You really are cute,” he stammers with wide eyes and a parted mouth. Then, as his mind catches up, he blushes so bright that he worries it’s permanently stained into his skin. “Wait, I-I didn’t mean to say that out loud, oh my god--I’m so sorry--”

“I didn’t expect someone as cute as you, either,” the delivery boy responds boldly. 

Cyrus vaguely registers his friends whispering excitedly to themselves in the background, but all his focus is on the boy in front of him holding the box of pizza with a dazzling smile. 

“W-wait, what? Y-you think I’m cute?” 

The boy smiles, “Cyrus, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“It was on your order,” the boy explains with an unwavering smile. 

Cyrus blushes even brighter red, if possible. “Oh, duh, of course.”

The boy gets out a pen from his front pocket, scribbling something down quickly before handing Cyrus the box and his receipt. Cyrus takes it, too overwhelmed to say anything intelligent. 

“I hope you enjoy the pizza,” he smiles, getting ready to head back out to his car. 

“Wait! Your tip!” Cyrus calls out before he gets too far. 

The boy shakes his head. “Meeting you was enough for me.”

Then, without another word, he hops into his car and heads down the street. Meanwhile, Cyrus is stuck on his front porch, trying to register the encounter that he just had. The second Andi and Buffy hear the car drive away, they run out to him with matching grins. 

“Cyrus! I can’t believe that just happened,” Andi gasps. 

“Trust me, I know.”

Suddenly, scribbles of blue ink on his receipt taped to the pizza box catches his attention. He squints, looking at it under the dimly lit porch lights. It says: Call Me, with a phone number and a signature. TJ.

Cyrus beams, finger running over the smudged letters. Maybe dares aren’t so bad after all. 

Read more of my tyrus fanfiction here!

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2020: Day 4 - Drunk

Summary: After a crappy post-college first year, Laxus jumped at the opportunity to leave town for a week for a road trip with his friends. He intended it just to be a week away with his friends, but when he meets an unfamiliar stranger, the vacation turns into something much more. [Fraxus Multichapter]

This is the fourth part of my Fraxus Week admissions, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. This year I’ve made the prompts into a single multi-chapter fic. You can see all the chapters in the Masterpost linked below. Hope you enjoy.

You can read this on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, and under the cut. Read the other chapters from this masterlist.

Chapter Four – Out of the Rain

The contrast between the two days was ridiculous.

Laxus almost couldn't believe that it had been a day since he was lounging in the hot summer sun, whereas now he was narrowing his eyes as he drove the RV through the onslaught of rain. The storm had come from nowhere and according to the weather forecast, it would be sticking around for the rest of the night. The clouds were thick and covering the stars, meaning it was almost pitch black on the empty roads.

Unlike the day before, everyone was still awake as evening turned to night. They had spent the entire day driving, trying to catch up for the time they'd used at the water park. Bickslow had driven through the morning and early afternoon, and then had switched with Laxus.

At that moment, Laxus was fighting off sleep. They needed to find somewhere to park soon.

Not that they'd have a good night's sleep, though. The sound of rain battering down on the RV echoed loudly, and Laxus knew that it would sway and creak in the wind. It would be safe, but not anywhere near easy to sleep in. All he could do was hope that the forecast was wrong, and that the storm would end a lot quicker than they had stated.

He also hoped that he didn't fall asleep at the wheel.

"We have some money left over from renting the van, don't we?" Evergreen asked Bickslow, looking up from her phone.

"Yeah, a little over a hundred dollars. Why?" Bickslow asked, yawning into the thermos of coffee he was drinking.

"Well, there's nowhere close that'll let us park up and stay in the truck," Evergreen said, and Laxus cussed under his breath. "But there is a motel at the next rest stop. We should be able to get two double rooms with that."

"Sounds good," Laxus nodded. "Nobody's got a problem with that?"

When everyone agreed it was the best use of their spare money, Laxus got the directions from Evergreen and started to drive towards the motel. It was clearly a good choice, as soon after they made it lightning and thunder started splitting apart the sky, with even heavier rain following it. With his tired state, Laxus knew that it was best to get off the roads as soon as they could. It was certainly the safest thing to do.

Eventually they pulled off the highway and followed the illuminated signs to the motel. It was a nice enough looking place, which probably was a lot more welcoming in the day and when it wasn't a storm. It would certainly better than staying in the RV though the night.

Bickslow, who still had the money saved for the RV in his account, was the one who went to the reception. It took him a short while, but he eventually returned to them all with two keys from two double rooms, soaking wet with the water dripping off him. As he dried himself off with a beach towel they had brought yesterday, he claimed that he wished to share a room with Evergreen for the night.

"Why, exactly?" Freed asked, packing the clothes he would need for the night into a bag.

"Because I've had sleepovers with the two of you and you're both really boring," Bickslow claimed. "Evergreen lets me paint her nails and we gossip. You two just like sleeping."

Laxus was almost certain that it wasn't the real reason as to why he wanted to share his room with Evergreen. Given that both of them knew that Laxus had developed a crush on Freed, it seemed likely that this was some way for them to torture him by making him sleep in a room with him and nobody else. If the room they shared only had one bed, he was going to kill the bastard.

"It is appalling how we want to sleep at a sleepover," Freed commented, and Laxus sniggered.

"And that's the kind of boring attitude that makes me and Evergreen the best friends and you two the boring people on the side-lines," Bickslow grinned as he tossed a room key towards Freed, who managed to catch them without difficulty. It was an annoyingly attractive feat. "Room 203. Top floor."

Apparently leaving no room for argument, Bickslow turned is back and started to pack an impromptu overnight bag. Laxus and Freed shared a glance before picking up their own bags. They opened the door to the RV and winced at the rain they needed to walk to.

Despite the fact it had taken less than a minute to get under the protection of the building's veranda, both men had been drenched by the heavy rain. They quickly found their room and unlocked it, and Laxus let out a small breath when he realised that there were indeed two beds waiting for them. It was a nice enough room, with a small kitchenette – if a coffee machine, mini fridge, sink and microwave could be considered that – and a large enough TV mounted onto the wall. The large beds were rather appealing, given how Laxus had been curled up as he slept since they'd left Magnolia.

"It's better than I thought it'd be," Laxus commented, placing his bag at the foot of the nearest bed. "Kinda nice actually."

"It is," Freed agreed, walking to the bathroom and looking into it. "And a shower that might actually fit you inside of it."

Laxus grinned, mainly at the teasing tone in Freed's voice, and glanced into the bathroom to see that there was indeed a large shower. He reached over Freed and picked up one of the towel's hanging up. He started to dry himself off as Freed shucked off his jacket.

"I think I might have a shower before I go to sleep," Freed commented. "I need to wash my hair, might as well do it now."

"Sure," Laxus nodded, then he chuckled. "I get what Bickslow meant when he said we're boring."

"So do I," Freed said thoughtfully. "It's quite annoying that we're proving him right, isn't it," He sighed, and Laxus couldn't help but smirk. Freed really was quite a competitive person; Laxus enjoyed seeing it. "Why don't we try and prove him wrong instead?"

"How d'you suppose we do that?" Laxus asked with furrowed brows. He expected Freed wouldn't want to prove Bickslow wrong in any way Laxus was thinking.

"Well, our judgemental friend payed for this on his card, and all charges from the room will be his to pay," Freed commented absently as he walked towards the small kitchenette, and opened one of the cupboards. "And this place has a rather well stocked mini bar."

Laxus grinned when Freed pulled out a bottle of tequila.

"Sounds like fun."

~~~

"Oh come on," Laxus proclaimed with a slight slur in his voice. "That's bullshit."

"I told you, she's vicious," Freed said with a tipsy laugh. "It's why she always wins her fights."

They had gotten drunk. Well, maybe not drunk. But they had passed tipsy.

After they'd taken shots of the tequila, something that Laxus hadn't done since he was in college, they had both finished bottle of high percentage beer each. That was when they had turned on the TV, looking for something to watch to put off sleeping. That was how they had gotten where they were: sitting side by side on Freed's bed, a bowl of hot nuts, chips, and chocolate between them, watching The Real Housewives of… somewhere.

"She threw a plate at the guys face," Laxus argued. "It's bullshit."

"It's what she's paid to do, be stupidly annoying and start fights with people. It was probably staged anyway, so I wouldn't worry about it," Freed argued, reaching into the bowl of food between them. His head snapped up when the woman on the screen threw a champagne glass at the man she was arguing with.

"Bet that hurt," Laxus said with a grin. He was winning this argument.

"You can't be sure," Freed said indignantly.

"I can throw a mug at your face and we can see if it hurts ya," Laxus threatened with a grin.

Apparently, the alcohol in Freed's body had made the false threat hilarious, as he let out a loud and boisterous laugh. Laxus joined in, watching the shorter man as he almost doubled over as he laughed, the handful of food dropping onto his bedsheets.

"How often do you watch this crap," Laxus asked with a grin.

"Ever makes me watch it. Every night we went to one of our dorms common areas and watched something. Ever got obsessed with it, and then got Bickslow into it too," Freed laughed, shifting himself so he was sitting up again. "I would have complained about it, but Bickslow used to make me watch awful kids' films, so this is better."

Again, Freed started to laugh, and Laxus found himself unable to resist the charm of it and joined in too.

That was how they spent quite a lot of the night, eating the snacks that Bickslow would be overcharged for while watching crappy reality TV. They got a little bit more sober as time went on, as the only thing left in the minibar was champagne and they weren't going to be so cruel as to make Bickslow pay for that as well.

Part way through the night, Laxus had taken note of how close they were to each other. Their sides were pushed together, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. In his drunken state, Freed also seemed to be just a little bit more physical. He gesticulated a lot more, and Laxus often found himself with the other man's hand on his shoulder when he was making a point. At one point, Freed had even grabbed Laxus' wrist to get his attention, and it sent a thrill through Laxus that set his blood on fire.

On their third episode of rich people fighting, Laxus found his gaze on the man beside him. He was watching the show with contentment, a tipsy smile on his face as he made comments about the people on screen. It was endearing, and Laxus was left with an equally happy smile.

His smile faltered when Freed's did.

For a second, Laxus had thought that the other man had noticed him looking and was uncomfortable with it. But he didn't move away and Laxus realised he was now almost glaring at the TV. Laxus looked towards it to see that they were on the 'next time' part of the show. One of the women was shouting at a man, and it took a moment for him to realise that she was accusing him of cheating.

"He cheated on me," Freed commented, with a smile that was most likely sad. "My ex, not the man on the screen."

"Oh," Laxus mumbled, not sure of what else to say. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Freed sighed, closing his eyes. "I shouldn't be sad about it; I don't understand why I am. I wasn't in love with him, I'm not even sure if I particularly liked him by the end of the relationship. I was actually going to leave him, for heaven's sake. So I shouldn't feel bad that he found someone else, but I do."

"Well," Laxus began again, not sober enough to think of anything eloquent to say. "He cheated on ya. It's a shitty thing to do. You get to be pissed off at that."

"I suppose so," Freed sighed, almost as if he was disappointed in himself. "What does annoy me is how it happened, though. I didn't walk in on him, or find out myself. He just told me," He laughed bitterly at that. "Just sat me down, said he was seeing someone else and that we weren't together. I didn't get to be a dick about it, really. I didn't yell, or really react at all. It just sort of ended, and then I came back home again."

"Should have punched the fucker," Laxus commented indignantly. "Sent him to the other guy with a black eye."

"It wouldn't have been productive," Freed waved the idea off, eyes still closed. "It's a tempting thought though, I must admit."

"You can punch me if you wanna. Get it out of yer system, y'know," Laxus suggested, and it was clear the booze in his blood had made him suggest that. Freed looked to him with a small smile.

"You're far too good a man to be compared to him," Freed commented.

Laxus blushed a little at the compliment, even if it wasn't much. He looked down at the man, who was watching the TV and clearly trying to act like he wasn't affected by what he had just said. But even drunk, Laxus could tell that the man had lost his easy posture and his hands were clenched at his sides. Laxus frowned at this, reached for the remote and muted the show they were watching. Freed frowned and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry the bastard cheated on ya," Laxus said with as much seriousness in his tone as he could show. "I know that you said you wanted to leave him, and that ya think it's stupid you feel bad about it, but the guy betrayed ya. And you didn't deserve to feel like that, or to be treated like that. So, I'm sorry."

"As I said, you don't need to worry about it," Freed said with a sigh. "It's not your fault, and I'll get over it."

"But you shouldn't have t' get over it because you shouldn't have been cheated on," Laxus said with an insistent tone in his voice. "I mean if I were dating a guy like you, I wouldn't even think about looking at other guys. I mean who fucking would. Yer hot, you're and interesting, and know how to make a guy enjoy himself. Who wouldn't want that?"

"Well, it seems that my ex disagrees with you."

"Then he's stupid," Laxus said firmly. "Seriously, this guy is clearly a dick head. Because if he looks at you and thinks he wants something more, or different, then he's an idiot. Cause you're fucking… just look at yourself. Can't think of anything I'd change."

"Oh," Freed said, a little shocked. Was he blushing as well? Probably not. "Well, thank you. That… that's nice of you to say. I appreciate it."

Freed turned and looked towards him, and only then did Laxus realise just how close they were to each other. Their noses were almost touching, and Laxus' mind screamed to him that it would be easy to close the gap and press their lips together.

"Well, I mean it," Laxus shrugged.

With the booze flowing through him, and his good sense all but gone, Laxus listened to the voice in his head. He pushed his face forward, cupped Freed's face, and kissed him.

[har-rison-s]

pretty

request: Can I get a Stan Uris request? Reader is Bill’s older sister, maybe 15 while The Losers are 13, and the boys have a sleepover at the Denbrough house. She’s taking a shower and she forgets her towel so she yells for Bill to fetch her one but Stan is the one to hear her, so he gives her the towel. She notices he’s blushing and asks him what’s wrong, and he’s never seen her in a towel before and he blurts out that she’s pretty and it’s all cute and she’s like “you’re pretty, too, Stan”

A/N: What a cliché title.... Hi. Risky, risky, eheheheheh. Anyways, let's do this. An interesting and realistic, actually, request. At least I think so. I expect this to be a short one, but that's not bad. While this age difference made me squint a little, it's okay. Not if you're older, alright? I do not promote underage/of-age relationships. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

main masterlist

gif credit goes to owner!

Coca Cola cans, chip packets, crackers, water, jelly beans and bears, sour candy, slices of watermelon. Video games, cartoon series, board games, card games, television programs and films. Pyramids of cups, smelly socks, hats, pillows and plates. The perfect combo of a teenage boys' slumber party. 

A perfect weekend for the boys. The Denbrough kids' mother decided to let their kids have fun alone, do whatever they want, for a weekend. She and her husband drove up state to visit her parents. They warned the kids not to burn the house down, and, boy, did Bill's friends try.

Y/N was already used to Bill's friends causing chaos everywhere they went, always being loud and quite annoying, she must admit. Especially trash-mouth Richie. She couldn't stand him. But, like said, she had gotten used to them and their loudness. At least there were only four of them, and they were younger.

“Don't tell me Brooke Shields is home, too.” Richie begs his friend. They've been playing board games for hours, the MTV channel serving as background noise and when they switched channels, they heard music coming from upstairs. The Losers Club immediately looked at Bill.

“Sh-sh-she doesn't mind us being here.” Bill says, innocently.

“But it's weird. She hears everything.” Eddie states. Stanley sighs.

“She has music on, dumbass.” He tells his friend, eyes narrowed.

“Or rather, we can hear everything.” Richie says with a thick essence of mischief in his voice.

“Beep-beep, Rich.” Stan says, sighing along with the other two. 

“Say, Bill, does she have a boyfriend? Maybe he's coming over tonight?” Richie keeps pestering his best friend.

“Shut up, R-R-Richie.” Bill responds, careless to go any further with this stupid conversation. Richie snickers and looks at Eddie, waiting for him to join in laughing, but he doesn't.

“Bill, do you have Monopoly?” Stanley asks and Bill nods.

“In m-my room, up-upstairs.” He tells Stan.

“I'll get it, then.” The boy decides and walks to the living room's door to get to the stairs. 

“We all know what he's gonna do up there. And it ain't gonna be Monopoly.” Richie comments, which earns him a nasty glare from Stanley and a punch to his side from Bill himself. 

“Th-that's my-my sister you're talk-talking about.” Stanley hears Bill say to Richie.

Y/N decided to hop into a shower before she settles for watching a movie in her parents room and then going to bed. It is ten pm on a Friday night already, and she's got her friends coming over tomorrow, so she needs to have a good night's sleep. Even with her brother's never resting friends in the house.

She left the music in her room on while showering, but she also left her clean towel in the downstairs washing room. She realised it only when she was done showering - that there were no towels in her bathroom. Shit. She hopes Bill can hear her, she did hear him coming up the stairs.

“Billy!” She yells as loud as she can. 

Stan almost falls off the stool he uses to get to the top shelf from hearing Bill's sister yelling. Bill has a bad habit of putting board games on the highest shelf in his room. And she definitely has a loud voice. 

“Bill!” She yells again when there's no response. Not more than half a minute later there's a knock on her door. 

“It's Stan, not Bill.” The boy says through the door. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh, hi, Stan. Come in, the door is open and I'm in the shower.” She simply says. Stanley hesitates, but creaks open the door. “I'm in quite a crisis. My towel is in the downstairs bathroom, the blue one in a red basket.”

“Need me to bring it?” He concludes.

“If you'd be so kind.” She says shyly. 

“Right. I'll be right back.” Stan tells her and, after slowly and carefully closing the bathroom door behind him, rushes downstairs for the towel she asked for. She would be freezing soon. 

“What's the matter, Stanley? Saw something you shouldn't have?” Richie teases and Stan only groans, rolling his eyes at Richie. He makes for the bathroom of the first floor, which is right through the kitchen in the Denbrough's house.

Although Bill ignores Richie's snide question, he is curious why Stan jogged down the stairs without the Monopoly and went into the kitchen. It is his sister, after all. But he also knows Stan. Stan's very polite and reserved.

Stan fetches the towel from the red basket and holds it close to him, folding it over his arm. He goes back up the stairs in the same speed he came down them. He finds Y/N's room and bathroom again and knocks on the door, to warn her it's him.

“Please, open the door in as wide a slit as the towel is thick. Catch my drift?” Y/N's voice comes from inside the room.

“Uh-huh.” Stan confirms. He creaks the door open and squeezes the towel through the slit, her hand taking it once it's through. Stan shuts the door and sighs. He tried to keep his eyes semi-closed while giving her the towel, and it's quite self-explanatory why he did.

He walks back to the door of her room, heading for Bill's bedroom again. But Y/N stops him once again from getting to the Monopoly. “Thanks so much, Stanley.” Her sweet voice thanks him and he can tell that she's come out of the bathroom. 

“You're welcome, Y/N.” He responds with his back still to the bathroom door and her. 

She chuckles. “You can turn around, silly.” She encourages him. Stan gives her a chuckle of nervousness and hesitantly turns around to face her. He doesn't like to admit it, but it's some sort of new teenage experience. His cheeks blush immediately upon looking at her in only her towel and wet hair. “What's wrong? Is something on me, my towel?” She fusses quietly.

“No, no, you're very pretty.” He suddenly blurts out, without thinking. Once he realises what he's said, he wants the ground to swallow him right up. Great going! Why did you have to say that from all things, Stanley? Why?!

Now Y/N blushes. And she smiles. She can tell he's gone full panic mode - his eyes are wide and cheeks redder than before. “You're pretty, too, Stan.” She says after all. 

The boy gets even more flustered. He doesn't know what to say back. One thing only comes to mind. Come on, nothing can be worse than you already said. “Do you want to play Monopoly with us?” Stan asks and looks at her again, regaining his posture and the little amount of confidence he carries in himself.

“I'm not sure that your friends would like that.” Y/N admits. Stanley shakes his head. 

“Screw what they like or not. If you want to, come play with us.” He tells her and she chuckles. “If you don't, that's okay, have a good night—”

“No, no, I'll play.” She convinces him otherwise. “Just let me change first.” Y/N states, smiling wide. 

“We'll be—Well you know where we will be.” Stanley says and Y/N laughs. He even smiles at her, breaking out of his flustered state. He leaves her room and again walks into Bill's bedroom to actually get the board game they so much want to play.

Hope you like this!

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Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g

[redwoodwrites]

Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568

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A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text.  Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.

“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.

Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”

A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.

It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.

“Look out!”

Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.

A few days earlier...

The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.

Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.

Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.

“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.

“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”

“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”

Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.

“I think I saw a diner around here...”

“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.

“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”

Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.

There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.

The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”

They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.

“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”

A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”

“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”

They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.

The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.

The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.

But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.

The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.

A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch.  A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.

“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.

“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”

“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”

They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.

The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.

Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”

“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.

“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”

“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”

“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”

The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”

“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”

Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.

“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”

Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.

The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.

Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.

Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.

“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”

“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.

This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.

“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”

“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”

“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”

“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”

Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.

“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”

The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.

“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.

“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.

“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.

“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”

He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.

“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.

He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”

“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”

“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.

“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.

She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.

“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”

Clang.

Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.

WHIIRRRR!

Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.

Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.

Ford hurried over.

The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.

The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?

He opened the book.

The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.

“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”

Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!

He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.

“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”

“HELLO!”

“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.

Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”

“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.

“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.

He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.

Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.

“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.

He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”

“Whoa, shut up!”

“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.

“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.

“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”

Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”

“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.

Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.

He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”

“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.

“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”

A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”

“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”

“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.

Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.

“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”

The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.

“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”

“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”

“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”

Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.

Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.

He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.

Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.

He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.

He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”

Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.

“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.

“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”

Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.

He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.

“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.

He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”

“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “Zero.”

She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”

Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.

“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”

“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.

She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”

Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.

Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.

A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.

It was time to collect some evidence!

“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”

Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”

“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”

Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”

“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.

Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...

He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!

“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”

They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.

Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.

“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”

“WAGH!”

Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.

Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”

Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”

Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”

“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”

Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”

Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.

Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.

Aaand that sounded wrong.

“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”

Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.

He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”

“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”

“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.

“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”

Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.

Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”

Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.

Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”

“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”

Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”

Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”

“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.

“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”

Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”

Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.

Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.

Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”

On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –

“Wait. WHAT!?”

He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!

“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”

He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.

“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. “'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”

One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.

“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”

She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.

“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”

Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”

“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”

TWANG.

The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!

A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.

“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”

Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.

He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?

“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.

“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.

“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.

“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.

“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.

“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”

“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”

“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”

“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?

He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.

So why would Norman just...?

He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”

The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.

Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!

“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”

“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”

Stan blinked again, stunned.  “There's more?”

“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”

Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”

“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

Next

[keremidi-2ra-upotreba]

Soo.... This is the second time I wrote like me in this blog... Hey! @brokutoforever tagged me so I shall answer your questions. If you want to see the original question you need to go check out her blog. I'll just say them as a part of the answer. (also be ready for some bad jokes because my humour is half of my personality... Tho I am not mad lol) (Also I do cuss so I'm sorry)

1. One thing I'll never do again.... Hmmm. I don't do that much that is outside of my comfort zone so this is a really difficult question for me. This is going to sound so weird. Just go with it. I'll never not drink enough water. I was really stressed at school and shit and I didn't drink water for 3 days strait. Yes I know that you get most of your water through food but it is important to drink it also. I learned it the hard way. I felt so fatigued and I don't know why I didn't think I need to drink water. It was just awful. I won't go into detail why I finally decided to drink water because it wasn't pretty at all. 😅 Drink water people.

2. Something that always cheers me up when I think about it. So let's get the weebish answer out of the way: Sugawara. Like. I. LOVE. HIM. Idk what it is about him but every time I think about him it makes me happy. He is my ideal tipe of boy.

And the normal answer. My family and friends when they are happy. I would do anything for them to be happy and healthy so when I think about it I am the happiest in the world! Love them so much. ❤️❤️❤️

3. That is right up my alley. The best way to spend a rainy day would be

1. Just me, wrapped up in my blanket, with my phone (or laptop), food, and anime or a fanfiction. That's what the laptop is for. My eyes would hate me if I read on my phone. I wear glasses and have some really bad eyesight (-3.75 and - 5.50 for European people. Idk what it is for Americans. Sorry🥺). I don't want it to get worse.

2. At home with my friends, food and just doing stupid shit. It would be epic. 👌😂

4. Something I'll say I'll do but will never actually do it. Maybe going myself on a trip that is out of town. I was like "I'll go abroad and live and study there" but who am I kidding. I have anxiety going to school and it is just 30 mins away from my home. Recently tho I came clear and said that "I'll stay here in *my country*. I'll not be going anywhere lol"

5. The perfect day... It will be just me and my best friends (LY btw❤️) (Yes we are planning on doing that if the quarantine ends before summer) We will go out at like 4 am to wait for sunrise. We will just stay around and do whatever for the rest of the day and we will stay outside till like 23 (11 pm) and then maybe we will have a sleepover. It will be so much fun. 👌

6. If I had to choose one character it will ether be Chuuya from Bungou stray dogs or Hinata. Chuuya because he is awesome and his ability is really cool (He can control gravity for those who don't know) and Hinata because he can befriend people easily and he is very athletic. I need some of that to be honest.

7. What is the clumsyest thing I've done? Honestly... I don't remember. There are so many. Maybe the time I almost got my first major injury while going down some stairs. I couldn't walk properly for 2 weeks. Stairs are just no.

8. What makes me laugh the most is memes. Good memes. Just I love them. And also a runner up would be the shit me or my friends say. It's the best fucking thing in the world. And one I don't really want to admit but also dark humor. Oh God sometimes I question myself why I laugh at this stuff.

9. I do collect things. I collect manga. I don't have that much options here so I'll soon be going to the internet.

10. My "and it got worse story". So... I don't remember the details because I was so embarrassed. I tend to forget the details of negative things. I'm just built that way. What I remember tho - Me and my best friends went to the mall. One of them had to go home early so we walked her to the exit and said goodbye. Then I and my other friend went to Costa coffee. She got milk with honey and cinnamon or tea. I didn't get anything because I spent my money earlyer. So we are talking about fanfiction and stuff and I didn't realize I am talking too loud and everyone is hearing me talking about Fanfics. I got kind of embarrassed and said sorry. "And then it got worse". We continue talking and got to the topic of "Character x reader" fanfiction. And I was talking away and was like "I need to read one more of them '*my best friend's name* x reader' fa-" before I realized my face is as red as a tomato and I don't think I have apologized more to anyone in my entire life. The mishap here was because I was thinking of Kuroo, who is her favorite character, the fact that my friend's name also starts with a K and fatigue produced the thing that I am most embarrassed about for my *my age*-year-old-life. At least I wasn't taking loudly anymore. It may seem like not a big deal but I kind of stay 176363729191 meter away from embarrassing situations so I don't have to feel the feeling of embarrasment. It is one of the feelings I hate the most.

Now I guess I have to ask questions:

1. What is something that changed your life for the better?

2. Is there something you want to change about yourself?

3. If you could write an anime/ a manga what would it be about?

4. Do you play any sports?

5. What is something unforgettable to you? It could be good or bad?

6. What is the meaning of li- I mean, what would you like to learn the most?

7. Where would you like to travel to?

8. What do you look for in a person? Not just about a partner but a friend.

9. Can you describe yourself in 3 words?

10. What makes you happy?

So I have one person to tag:

@bakazaiii

But other than that you can just do it for yourself. If you want you can answer my question or the questions I answered. Also if you want you can tag me so I can see your answers. Now enough from me here is a pic because that is what this blog is about: