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mushroomates · 3 months ago

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the fellowship bbq:

gandalf: arrives last (a wizard is never late), brings the most bizarre things with him. seven hot dogs buns (the exact number needed), a pepper shaker, (they ran out of pepper mid bbq) and fourteen napkins (there was a spill)

gimli: brings the beers. he has a giant ass cooler covers in rock (ha) band stickers as well as national parks. brings like,,., artisanal, local shit. unheard of brands and always fantastic. also brings homemade lemonade which is unironically the best shit ever. (the secret is he adds a pinch salt. the second secret is that the salt is “home grown”

legolas: oh boy legolas. really doing his best to master the art of pasta salad and it’s not going great. has brought: loose, uncooked penne mixed in with oak leaves, a ziplock bag of wet spaghetti and a separate ziplock bag of ranch dressing, three and a half raviolis on a bed of lettuce, and most recently, four different boxes of mac’n’cheese, unopened, and arranged artfully in a stand mixer bowl.

frodo: brings jello. every time. box-ready, red dye 40, un-name brand, jello. it’s the only thing he can reliably make and bring. it’s weirdly a hit every time. mostly because legolas and pippin play a game where they see how much random shit they can stick in it before the jello collapses.

sam: would love to bring the pasta salad but legolas says he has that covered. instead, brings potato salad and fruit salad. also brings the plates, forks, table cloth, condiments, seasonings and fly-covers. also bakes brownies with sprinkles themed per season.

merry: also brings brownies. do not eat merry’s brownies if you are driving or plan to drive within the next three days. pays sam like 20-50 bucks cash (whatever he can grab from his parents before he arrives to the function) because he wants to contribute more but hasn’t figured out how.

pippin: well,,, pippin. if you’re lucky with a giant ass watermelon, uncut. now your job to prep it as you see fit. also has a basket of loose produce he picked from his neighbors garden. there’s like,,,, sixteen cherry tomatoes and a fist full of mint.

boromir: is very protective of his grill. this does not stop merry and pippin from sneaking bites of of the cooking meat. has various “kiss the cook” aprons he cycles through. has a smoker and a grill, separate, brings both if not hosting. serves everyone else first. makes his patties from scratch.

aragorn: (?????) jerky. deer, probably. trail mix, fruit leather, mushrooms. all home made and foraged. sometimes brings baskets of wild blackberries. is more suited to picnics than barbecues. would like to one day man the grill- he can cook meat decently- but boromir won’t let him because he’s to light handed with the seasoning.

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charlotteking23 · 6 months ago

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My Makeup Tester - MV33/1

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: you and Max go to a makeup store to test some products out on him.

“Hmm, Maxie which color do you like better?”, you said holding up two shades of pink lipsticks.

Max looked up from his phone putting it away in his pocket, the other hand holding a basket full of makeup products.

“Umm, the one on the left”, he said inspecting the shades closer, satisfied with his choice.

You hold up the lipsticks again before putting the one Max wanted into the basket.

We walked around the store until you saw some Korean lip tints.

“Look Maxie they have those viral lip tints here”, you said excitedly pulling him over to the area.

You look between the shades option trying to see which one is better.

“Maxie I need your help”, you said turning to Max with a pout on your face.

“ What is it liefje”, Max said squishing your cheeks together, grinning softly at your adorableness.

“Can I put this lip tint on your lips?”, batting your eyelashes.

“Why can't you put it on your lips?”, Max asks confusingly.

“I already have lipstick on my face so it won’t show and it’s hard to get my lipstick off," you pouted, bringing your hand up to Max’s lips.

Max just nodded in acceptance not wanting to see you sad.

Max saw you grabbing the lip tint and carefully putting it on his lips. To him time seemed to slow down when you were doing it.

Slowing he wrapped his arms around your waist, enjoyed looking at your concentrated face seeing a small pout form on your face at the color you don’t like.

Finally, after a few minutes, you reached a verdict on the color that would be perfect.

“Hey, why are you putting it on your skin, when you just tried it on me?”, Max said looking at you swiping the color on your wrist.

“I have to test the color theory to make sure it also looks good on my skin”, you said holding up your wrist.

But instead, Max takes your wrist kissing the inside of it.

The action made you blush in embarrassment, looking like a tomato.

“Awww, my red tomato”, Max said teasing you.

“Noooo Maxie, that’s a horrible nickname and I hate tomatoes”, you said pulling his arm toward the checkout line to pay.

“Hmm, what about my Cherry, he whispered.

“Cherry…”you whispered, testing it out on your tongue.

You liked cherries a whole lot better than tomatoes.

“Alright, my sweet Cherry”, Max said paying for your items before walking out holding your hand, and the other holding your shopping bag.

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heathermason6060 · 4 months ago

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.4

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: Daryl starts changing, and Beth brings up the embarrassing memory of your kiss with Daryl back at the farm. The Governer has his final attack, and you crash at a church.

Notes: Starts with Beth at the prison, flashback to super awkward kiss with Daryl, ends with Beth at the hospital. ):

The change was subtle at first, but that doesn't mean you didn't notice it. You just ignored it in the desperate hopes that it wouldn't get any worse.

You had quite a few months of peace. Maybe half a year? You couldn't be sure at that point, but you did know that spring had turned to fall, and with it the idea of permanently residing in the prison becoming something you were content with. You still kept to yourself and Daryl, but you did pick up some extra chores. Instead of the bare minimum you chose jobs you could do outside, or jobs Daryl had taken. If you weren't tending to the gardens, you were with him in the woods, hunting or scavenging, even foraging on the occasion when prey was scarce.

“Are you and Daryl together?’ Beth had asked so bluntly that you didn't have the mental capability to laugh or curse her out. You stopped picking cherry tomatoes and furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Why would you ask me that?”

Beth had a tight and timid smile, shrugging her shoulders and placing another cucumber in her basket. “You two are always around each other, that's all.”

You shook off the feeling of vulnerability and sucked your teeth. “No. He's just the only one around here who I can stand.”

“Can you stand me?”

You looked at her over the row of chest high plants, seeing her hesitant expression. “Yes. I wouldn't’ve let you join me if that wasn't the case.” It wasn't a lie, you didn't mind being around Beth, even if you think she was the one of the weakest and most naive. Eventually you'd come to the realization that you had her all wrong, in fact, she was stronger than you. At least in the sense of emotional capability.

Later that week she would end up giving you unwanted advice. She claimed that building walls and keeping everyone out besides yourself would kill you one day, much like the real world, you needed to allow yourself to rely on and trust others. You'd grow angry at her then, lashing out and telling her to mind her own business, you didn't need a therapist. She soon managed to turn into the first person you would apologize to and seek forgiveness from.

Her questioning of the relationship between you and Daryl had your mind wandering to that night back at her fathers farm.

It was late. Daryl was still recovering from his gunshot wound but he wanted out of that damn house, so he settled for the next best thing to his tent, the back of the RV. Carol insisted he stay nearby, which you agreed to silently, and he begrudgingly accepted.

You brought him a plate of dinner and sat in the chair next to him, sliding it over before taking one of the small boiled potatoes and popping it in your mouth.

“The hell you wearin’?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Both pairs of pants were dirty and i didnt feel like walking around camp with my ass out.” You glanced down at the modest dress you’d been leant. You didn't mind it all that much, it was scratchy and tight, but it was kind of pretty. It was a warm yellow dress that ended below your knees with little white flowers and dots. You never really got to wear dresses growing up.

“Huh.” Daryl muttered and raised an eyebrow at the imagery, raising his fork of chicken and carrots to his mouth. “Yeah. Don’t need another reason to knock Shane on his ass.”

“Shane? He hates me.” You snorted. “Would probably put a bullet in my skull if he could get away with it.”

“He’s still a man. Don’t matter how you feel about a woman, s’all the same seein’ her naked.”

“Ew, Daryl.”

“S’true.”

“Yeah? What about you? You wouldn’t see me that way.”

Daryl’s eyes shot up from his plate. He was silent, and that alone had your heart racing, your lips parting, your mind swimming in hundreds of different thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak.

“I ain’t no pillow biter.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Means I’m not a homosexual. Course I’d… can ya jus’ shut up?”

“I wasn't even speaking.” You tried not to laugh at the way Daryl said the word homosexual, like it was some exotic foreign mystery to him. It wasn’t hateful or disgusted in the way his brother would refer to them.

It was quiet for a moment before you noticed he was wincing when he’d chew.

“You hurting?” You asked, already reaching in your side pouch for the small baggie of painkillers Hershel had given you to give to Daryl when needed.

“Nah. M’fine. Quit worryin’ so much.”

You scooted around the table until you could squeeze in beside him. He grunted in annoyance and slid over to give you more room, his eyes on the hem of your dress at your knees.

“Surprised you haven't scratched that thing off already.” You snorted and reached out to gently peel the bottom of his bandage up after he gave you a nod of approval. “Lookin’ good. Another surprise.”

“Ain’t no damn dog, haven’t been touchin’ it.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the way your thigh pressed against his. After all these years of knowing you, feeling perfectly comfortable snuggled all up with you in the same tent, now was the time his body chose to acknowledge the fact that you were a woman?

He begrudgingly took the two small white pills from your hand and crunched them up in his mouth. He was eager for the painkillers to hopefully kill what little libido he had in him.

It did its job, taking away the aching and throbbing from his skull, warming his body and reminding him why Merle used to love those things. He was suddenly optimistic, relaxed, filled with a fuzzy warm feeling of euphoria. Daryl cleared his throat and drug his eyes up to your face, watching as you snuck a stolen blueberry past your lips.

He acted without thinking and kissed you. It was clumsy, weird, awkward, all the things you’d expect from a boy's first kiss. You didn't move at first, your eyes wide and your hand hanging midair. You were too stunned to move.

Daryl pulled back as if he’d been slapped. He muttered something, his face hot and red, waving his hand to signal you to leave. You were still too stunned to move. It took him raising his voice for you to snap out of it, dozens of thoughts and emotions flooding you all at once, fear, regret, hope, a stomach full of butterflies and your heart stuck in your tight throat. You muttered an apology before leaving.

Life loves giving you the shit end of the stick.

That was another one of your problems, due to your near constant state of being a real victim growing up. Life had groomed you into an unhealthy behavior of always thinking you were the one who had it the worst, no matter what. In reality you had it pretty good. After the Governors final attack you weren't one of the unlucky many that went through further trauma. You found a church after a while of being by yourself and broke into it.

It was just your luck that the only human inside of it was a cowardly priest. He was thrilled to have someone like you with him after being alone so long, even though he didn't show it, you were a skilled hunter and offered food and protection in exchange for secure shelter. He also appreciated that you didn't speak much, and never questioned the suspicious markings and scratches around the exterior of all the windows.

He'd complained once about your use of language in the church, and you responded by a snarky middle finger.

You could've used a good wake up call, as sick as it was to say. Maybe if you'd been in Daryl's place, growing close to a girl such as Beth and then losing her, maybe you would've changed. Or if you were in Michonne's place, forced to watch the boy you'd come to love dance a hair away from one of the worst fates possible. Shit, maybe even Maggie, maybe if you were the one who had to go through hell and back to find your husband, maybe then you'd go through the emotional torture you so desperately needed for positive character growth.

Life didn't work that way though, and you had it easy. So easy that the boredom was quick to become your hardship.

“You got any booze here?” You asked as you laid on your back beside him in the pews, sharpening your clip point knife on Daryl's borrowed whetstone.

“No.” He answered quickly, not looking up from the Bible in his hands.

“Cigarettes? I'll be out soon.”

“I don't smoke.”

“Any of your old prescriptions? I know your type, I bet your bathroom cabinet was full of valium.” You took a jab at his timid and nervous personality.

“I'm sorry, no… I don't like taking pills. I don't even take Advil for headaches-”

“Do you have anything here that'll keep me from blowing my brains out?”

Gabriel looked up then, holding a look of surprise and distaste that he didn't even try to hide. “I… I may have some games from the children's Sunday school classes.”

To the shock of both of you, you nodded after thinking it over for a moment. Gabriel hadn't expected that answer, but he got up and led you to the room anyway.

Neither of you believed that night would be the night that you started to like each other. The boredom had grown so unbearable that those stupid little games he had seemed like playing San Andreas on your father's PlayStation 2 for the first time all over again. It wasn't just the first time Gabriel saw you laugh, it was the first time you'd actually laughed in a long time, and it wasn't at the expense of others, you genuinely had fun.

“I could teach you.” He had said after you made a joke about going to the darkest depths of hell after smoking and swearing in church.

“Teach me what?” You snorted, flicking ash from your cigarette.

“About the Bible. How to change.”

You laughed then, shaking your head. “I don't know, father. Don't think so. But, if you'll let me, I can teach you how to make meth.”

His eyes widened. “W-what? You know how to do that? No, I- no, what?”

“Just a joke. I'd hate to see you on crystal. You're already so jittery and anxious.”

He grinned sheepishly then and you had a good night. A great night.

All it took was reuniting with Daryl to snap you back to reality.

You'd searched for him as long as you had daylight every single day since arriving at the church. Even though the first few days most of your time outside was spent hunting, searching for signs of Daryl or his group was your main priority. Catching rabbits and squirrels was just lucky for Gabriel.

It was off putting having Gabriel return with nearly the entire inner group on your doorstep. Your arms were covered in squirrel blood and you had twigs all in your hair, swinging open the church doors with your boot, a cigarette hanging between your lips. The skinned squirrel dropped from your grasp as you saw them, over a dozen faces all turned to you, all at once.

Daryl hugged you with an exhausted yet relieved grin on his lips. You remained frozen, too confused and shocked by their sudden arrival. He ended up having to move your body out of the doorway so everyone could enter.

“Was starting to think I lost you for good.” You commented as you stabbed a plastic fork into your hot can of peaches, stretching your legs in front of the campfire.

“Nah. I told ya, I ain't leavin’.”

“So, what happened? You all get on the bus and leave my sorry ass?” You teased, enjoying the sweet taste of fruit, even if it was canned.

Daryl gave you the rundown, about Beth, the group he stuck with, going to Terminus, and the new members who claimed their guy was a big shot fancy scientist who had a cure.

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it.” You tried to ignore the gnawing in your chest at the information that Beth had been taken. That was just another sick and uncomfortable reminder that Daryl was truly it for you. Everyone would leave, but not Daryl. Never Daryl.

“I dunno. Seems pretty legit.” Daryl grunted, finishing one of the squirrels you'd caught earlier that day. “So what happened?”

“What happened?”

“Yeah, after the shit show. What happened?”

You sighed, impaling your last peach slice. “I walked for a real long time looking for you. Found the church and busted in, this guy was cowering in the back with his ass half way through the floorboards.” You pointed over your shoulder at Gabriel, who was so nervous speaking to Rick you could see his fingers twitching.

“And I never left. Used it as a place to sleep without bugs crawling up my nose or walkers nibbling my feet.”

Daryl snorted, staring off into the flames of the campfire before asking another question. “You look for me?”

“I tried.” You chose to leave out the part where you ‘tried’ twelve hours a day, seven days a week. “Couldn't find a damn thing. No human tracks besides ole boy. Needs a little less Bible preaching and a little more stealth training.” You paused then, looking at Daryl, who was still staring off into the flames. “Did you look for me?”

“For a while, yeah. Me and Beth.” It took him a moment before he went on. “Lotta shit happened after that. But I kept lookin’. Was lucky we ran into your friend there surrounded by walkers. Made lookin' a lot easier.” He chuckled dryly and you nodded. You suddenly thought about Daryl back in Atlanta, back at the farm. The way he looked for Sophia, day and night, subconsciously using her as his redemption for not being able to find Merle. Did he look for you the same way? Or was it a more of a ‘keep an eye out’ type of search?

Deep down you knew the answer. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

You didn't have Daryl back long before he was gone again. He came back a while later with yet another new human, some scrawny kid claiming he knew where Beth was.

It was surprising to you that Rick didn't suggest you just stay back at the church. He actually insisted you accompany them on their search for Beth. That was until you realized Carl and Judith would both be left behind with Gabriel, which would have left you as one of the only adults. That pissed you off a little, giving you the impression that he thought of you as some psychotic loose cannon, or that you weren't capable of protecting them. After you cooled down you accepted the fact that you wouldn't trust someone like you either to watch your only two children, the last thing he had of his late wife.

Rick had come to slightly regret bringing you when you tormented one of the ‘cops’ they were keeping hostage, blowing cigarette smoke in his face while he was immobile and randomly smacking a handkerchief against his face to annoy him. Rick must've said something to Daryl because instead of thinking your antics were absolutely hilarious, he discreetly pulled you aside and told you to ‘leave the damn man alone’.

Blowing a little smoke in someone's face was nothing compared to what you wanted to do when you watched Beth get shot in front of you.

It had only hit you that day when you finally saw your sweet pain in the ass again, you felt optimistic, relieved, her positive attitude was something you deeply needed. It was quickly replaced by feral anger, hissing, spitting, biting, clawing, the feeling of arms belonging to Tyreese wrapping around your torso to drag you away from the bloody mess you'd made of the nearest cop.

You were grateful for your rage, it was so strong and numbing that you weren't able to cry.

Oh, but how Daryl cried.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

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doubledaybooks · 20 days ago

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Read an Excerpt of WHEN WOMEN WERE DRAGONS by Kelly Barnhill

I was four years old when I first met a dragon. I never told my mother. I didn’t think she’d understand.

(I was wrong, obviously. But I was wrong about a lot of things when it came to her. This is not particularly unusual. I think, perhaps, none of us ever know our mothers, not really. Or at least, not until it’s too late.)

The day I met a dragon, was, for me, a day of loss, set in a time of instability. My mother had been gone for over two months. My father, whose face had become as empty and expressionless as a hand in a glove, gave me no explanation. My auntie Marla, who had come to stay with us to take care of me while my mother was gone, was similarly blank. Neither spoke of my mother’s status or whereabouts. They did not tell me when she would be back. I was a child, and was therefore given no information, no frame of reference, and no means by which I might ask a question. They told me to be a good girl. They hoped I would forget.

There was, back then, a little old lady who lived across our alley. She had a garden and a beautiful shed and several chickens who lived in a small coop with a faux owl perched on top. Sometimes, when I wandered into her yard to say hello, she would give me a bundle of carrots. Sometimes she would hand me an egg. Or a cookie. Or a basket full of strawberries. I loved her. She was, for me, the one sensible thing in a too-often senseless world. She spoke with a heavy accent—Polish, I learned much later—and called me her little żabko, as I was always jumping about like a frog, and then would put me to work picking ground-cherries or early tomatoes or nasturtiums or sweet peas. And then, after a bit, she would take my hand and walk me home, admonishing my mother (before her disappearance) or my aunt (during those long months of mother-missing). “You must keep your eyes on this one,” she’d scold, “or one day she’ll sprout wings and fly away.”

It was the very end of July when I met the dragon, on an oppressively hot and humid afternoon. One of those days when thunderstorms linger just at the edge of the sky, hulking in raggedy murmurs for hours, waiting to bring in their whirlwinds of opposites—making the light dark, howling at silences, and wringing all the wetness out of the air like a great, soaked sponge. At this moment, though, the storm had not yet hit, and the whole world simply waited. The air was so damp and warm that it was nearly solid. My scalp sweated into my braids, and my smocked dress had become crinkled with my grubby handprints.

I remember the staccato barking of a neighborhood dog.

I remember the far-off rumble of a revving engine. This was likely my aunt, fixing yet another neighbor’s car. My aunt was a mechanic, and people said she had magic hands. She could take any broken machine and make it live again.

I remember the strange, electric hum of cicadas calling to one another from tree to tree to tree.

I remember the floating motes of dust and pollen hanging in the air, glinting in the slant of light.

I remember a series of sounds from my neighbor’s backyard. A man’s roar. A woman’s scream. A panicked gasping. A scrabble and a thud. And then, a quiet, awestruck Oh!

Excerpted from When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill. Copyright © 2022 by Kelly Barnhill. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

#books #book excerpt #fiction #ya books #kelly barnhill #when women were dragons

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chimchiri · 11 months ago

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Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 06 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the lovely writing! <3

Previous Poll:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tall, willowy woman sits crouched on her knees, tending to a fruiting garden with her back to AJ. Her long pink hair is tied up in a thoughtless knot, though the green ribbon holding it together makes it elegant. A basket sits beside her, half-full with newly harvested veggies, flowers, mushrooms, and greens. As she works, the tune she hums floats across the yard, accompanied by birdsong that chirps along, and the occasional chatter from a chipmunk joining in.

As usual, Fluttershy is surrounded by a sundry of critters. Today there are butterflies flitting around her shoulders, beetles dancing at her knees, a wild doe that rests beside her with its long legs tucked under its body, a tortoise that munches on the kale from her basket, and a roundup of squirrels chattering away as they help her find ripe cherry tomatoes. And of course, Angel—the mischievous bunny that can get away with nearly anything, because he’s Fluttershy’s darling boy. For now, he sits directly behind her, scratching idly at his neck with his hind leg. Bodyguard duty.

A tiny, bright blue flash approaches Flutters and hovers in the air beside her, a delicate flower in tow. Flutters looks over to the proffered gift, removes a glove and holds out her hand out to let the hummingbird drop the flower into her palm. She places it in her hair before letting the bird land on her finger.

“Thank you, Hummingway,” she chimes, bringing the microscopic bird up to nuzzle at her cheek with a soft laugh.

For a moment, AJ can only watch in awe. Fluttershy’s uncanny ability to commune with nature never gets old. A grin breaks out on her face. She’s glad she decided to stop here first; she can feel her stress melting away.

“Fluttershy,” AJ calls from the pathway leading to Fluttershy’s front door, and the woman in the garden yelps, shoulders tensing in a defensive pose. Applejack cringes as Flutters turns to face her, eyes wide.

“Oh—goodness,” she says, a hand to her chest, “Applejack, you startled me.”

“Sorry—sorry,” AJ says with a sheepish smile, stepping over to grab the basket and offering Flutters a hand.

Fluttershy stands, brushing the grass and dirt from her pants and tucking her gloves into a pocket before bending down to scoop Angel up into her arms, bidding farewell to the other critters retreating from their garden duties—the ones that didn’t flee when Applejack broke their peaceful moment.

“Well, it’s good to see you, AJ,” Flutters says in that soft voice of hers, reaching a hand out for the basket in AJ’s hand. But the farmer gives a little shake of her head, insisting she carry it as they step out of the garden patch and over to the cobblestone pathway.

“Um, you really don’t have to carry it for me…but thank you,” she says, stroking at one of Angel’s fuzzy ears, to busy her anxious hands, “Come in, I was going to make tea.”

So AJ follows Fluttershy into her charming little bungalow, locked in a staring contest with Angel, who looks at her over Fluttershy’s shoulder like he would maim AJ if he had sharper teeth. Setting the harvest basket on a bench by the door, AJ watches the timid woman put a kettle on to boil and then putter about the open floor plan of the downstairs as she fusses with putting her veggies in the sink and tidying whatever she deems out of place. As they wait for the water to boil, they make idle small talk—the weather’s been nice, Twilight (yes, Twilight) is planning a surprise party for Pinkie Pie, how are the horses?

Once Fluttershy pours tea into cups on a tray and leads them to the den, she takes a timid sip before looking to AJ. “It’s always nice to see you, Applejack. Did you need me to help with something? Is Winona doing okay?” A look of panic flashes across her face and her eyes go wide. “She didn’t get into the horse feed again, did she? Oh dear…I told her only to eat her own food….”

Her brows pull up in concern as she meets AJ’s gaze, who shakes her head with a chuckle. “No, Winona’s alright—she loves the new food”—(“Oh, thank goodness…”)—“I’m actually…I’m here because I had a favor to ask.”

Applejack rubs the back of her neck. Shit, she’s nervous. Thinking about consulting her friends is one thing, but actually doing it is something else entirely.

“Oh?”

AJ grabs her tiny teacup from the tray and blows on the tea, unable to look at Fluttershy. “Uh, yeah—I, uh. I’m goin’ on a date. And I need some advice.”

“A date!” exclaims Flutters, louder than her usual delicate tone as she flashes a grin, her soft blue eyes glittering. “That’s wonderful.”

AJ can feel her ears turning ten shades of pink. “Heh, thanks. I’m stuck on a few things but I think you can help me out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark @colourswirlcannibal

#ayeeee it's timeee #Honestly love this chapter/segment...#polls #poll adventure: rarijack dinner #rarijack #applejack #fluttershy #mlp #my art

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