#she loves love and rainbows and joy and laughter and friendship and she is the sun in everyones lives

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

I believe in friends and laughter and the wonders love can do~

[luxurychristmaspudding]

On Call | On Call

part ii

summary: sometimes, frankie wonders what he'd do without you. without your help, your laughter, your friendship, the lunches you pack him. and sometimes, when he's alone, he wonders what he'd do with you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. if that’s a problem for you, keep scrolling. fluff, plenty smutty thoughts, f&m masturbation. mentions of grief/dead parent, heartbreak, and biphobia/homophobia. brief competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). drinking.

reader is a teacher, has hair, and there are some descriptions of outfits, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

wc: 13.1k (normal length fic, my ass)

an: eternal love to @schnarfer for being a constant guiding light and the most wonderful friend. and further eternal love to @din-jarring and @toomanytookas who each make every day a little sunnier.

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

She said call me now baby and I'd come a running If you'd call me now baby I'd come running

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

When Frankie gets home Thursday night, weeks later, you’re working at his dining table.

He checks his watch as he closes the front door gently behind him, looking back at the glimpse of you in the kitchen, brows furrowed. It’s late. Surely you should be in front of the TV, fighting sleep.

His footsteps are quiet down the hall, and he pauses in the doorway. You glance up at his soft hey, and he can feel how tired you are.

‘Hey, buddy.’

Your smile is quiet, kind. You watch as he moves to the sink, collecting two glasses, filling them with water.

‘How’d it go?’

You say it at the same time, and it breaks some of the stillness, both pairs of lips lifting in mirrored grins. 

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

He moves closer and takes a sip from his water, placing yours next to you, gesturing for you to go next.

‘Fine. Totally fine. She was out like a light after the second read. Best kid ever.’

You take a gulp of your water as he raises his eyebrows.

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

‘Magic touch,’ you whisper, ‘Plenty of practice reading kids to sleep.’

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mm. I’m sure my ninth graders would disagree.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, sitting down heavily next to you. He rubs his face, huffs a deep yawn as he slouches further down into the seat. You try not to stare, but he just looks so soft. You want to wrap him up in a blanket and lead him up to bed. Lay him down and press kisses to his cheeks.

‘She drew this,’ you say, pulling out a sheet of paper from beneath your piles of books. ‘Personally, I think it’s a good likeness.’

He laughs, properly, as he takes in the flourish of crayon across the page. It’s obvious where you’ve helped her - sketching the outlines of people, houses - and obvious where she took over - a mess of scribbles, rainbows of colour. The two houses, the fence, him and Lucia - Papi and me - and then the colourful tangle of you next door - Bug.

He traces the lines with his finger, gaze softening, heart swelling in his chest.

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

You smile at him, shaking your head. You fumble below the books again, pulling out a second sheet.

‘No. Looked so cute I drew one myself.’

You watch Frankie’s eyes light as he takes in your drawing. His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass. A tidier version of Lucia’s, one where you’re stood closer together. Like a family. 

He bites his lip, a sparkling swell of joy flooding his chest.

‘Masterpiece.’ He says. You shake your head at him, bashful. ‘Wanna put it on my fridge.’

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

He holds your drawing away from you, pushing Luc’s over your papers.

‘Put Luc’s on your fridge,’ he says, ‘And I’ll keep this one. Deal?’

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

He stands from the table, moving further into the kitchen. When he reaches the fridge, he takes an alligator magnet and pins your drawing to the metal. He steps back, folding his arms. You watch him.

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

‘You’re a soft bastard, Frankie Morales.’

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

You hold out your pinky, and he links it with his.

‘Promise.’

The heat from his hand, so close to yours, is almost irresistible. Your chest heats, and you want to pull him closer, see if he’s that warm everywhere. 

You drop his hand, standing on heavy legs. Your I should get going is muffled through a yawn, and he nods, helping you to gather your things. When you’re ready, he follows you to the door. 

This time, he pulls you into his chest. And he is warm, warm all over, and you could sleep here, suddenly, wrapped in his arms.

‘Goodnight, baby.’ he says, as you step out of his house.

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet. Baby, baby, baby running through your head as you make your way across the grass, smiling to yourself, still smiling when you turn on your porch, facing him stood on his own. Half of his body dimly lit by the glow within his house, shadows across his face as he makes sure you unlock the door and turn the light on safely. You raise an arm to him, and he does the same. You turn it into a flash of your middle finger, and he does the same - grinning to himself at the sound of your giggle across the lawn, cut off only as you close your door behind you. Goodnight, baby.

It still echoes in your mind as you’re pulled from the silken depths of sleep on Saturday morning by the whirring of a lawn mower. You huff, grumble, roll onto your back and press your forearm against your eyes. You have no idea what time it is, but you know for sure that it is too early for whatever this shit is.

Through the dim light behind your arm, you grimace. Your toes are a little cold, body achy like it needs to be stretched out. All fixed with more time spent asleep, except the buzz from outside comes louder now, more incessant. You roll yourself sideways, squinting in the sharper light coming from the window, mumbling to yourself as you sit and push up off the mattress. When you shuffle to the window and pull the curtain aside, you’re surprised. Frankie is up and out already - his front lawn cut into neat stripes - and now he’s gliding up and down yours doing the same. T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

 And there’s something about the way he does it, how easy he makes it look. The stripes, the handling of the machine. How he changes the oil of your car, how he can change the tire on his. The way he drives, hand at your headrest when reversing. How he lifts Lucia, how he chops and slices while cooking. So goddamn easy, brow barely even knotted, just his thick fingers working through any problem they come across.

Heat stirs in your cunt.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it. Him. It’s just that doing so feels… weird. You try not to have detailed fantasies about your best friend next door, feeling disingenuous when you call your good mornings, but certain flashes of thoughts just aren’t so easy to ignore. Stupid ones, like licking his skin when he’s covered in grease, him eating you out over the bed of your truck. Stupid ones like him knocking on your door when he’s done with the grass, coming in to find you reaching for something at the perfect angle in a little summer dress. Thoughts like him bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid, sweat mixing on your skin, the smell of grass flooding your head, tits bouncing in his hands.

Idle thoughts. 

Ones that have you flopped back onto your bed, legs spread, one hand between your slick folds as you work yourself. Moaning and gasping into the heat of the morning, brief flashes of Frankie bursting behind your eyelids. The glimpse of skin and coarse hair you’ve seen when he reaches up to lift something, the shy look he gives you from below his lashes. How soft his mouth looks - what it would feel like on yours, what it would feel like to have him whisper against your thighs right now, telling you how pretty you look, watching your hands before he catches them in his and replaces them with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cresting in an easy, all-consuming orgasm. Your back arches against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and pulses, fresh slick gushing from between your fingers. Your thighs twitch as your circles ease, heart beat slowing in its thrumming as you swallow and pant. The mower is still whirring outside. He must be nearly done.

Frankie cuts the machine as he trims the very last patch of your grass to a lighter shade of green.

He peels his shirt away from his skin, flapping it in an effort to cool down. The cap comes off next, one hand swiped across his forehead, the other running air through his damp curls.

It’s warm. Unseasonably warm, and if he had any sense he wouldn’t have cut any grass today. But this Saturday suited him, and once he’s done his lawn, he may as well do yours. You don’t accept nearly as much as you should for looking after Lucia, so he’s taken to sneaking in more favours when he can. An oil change, lightbulbs you can’t reach, an Ikea chair you couldn’t find the time to set up. He knows you’ve noticed. Scowling slightly at how you can’t say no, quick to find a way to repay him. It’s become a welcome game of tag over the last six weeks. You won’t be outdone. In fact, if Frankie was a betting man -

‘Gotcha something.’

When he turns his gaze from the street, squinting slightly, he finds you bounding towards him. Barefoot, glowing with the remnants of sleep, and fucking poured into the most sinful sundress he’s ever seen. Like a teenager, he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, and he scolds himself for it.

‘It’s hot out.’ You grin, holding out a tall glass of something clinking with ice. His own answering smile speaks something of his relief, his gratitude.

‘Sure is.’

He takes the glass from you, giving it a sniff. You roll your eyes.

‘It’s lemonade. I’m not trying to poison you.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Yet, anyway.’

He nods, as though you’ve confirmed what he’s long suspected.

‘’S the thought that counts. I don’t get a straw?’

You smack his bicep with the back of your hand as he takes a sip.

‘Dick,’ you grin, ‘I’ll piss in it next time.’

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to swallow without spluttering it all over you. He considers for a moment, clearing his throat.

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

You giggle, spinning on your toes like a schoolgirl. He laughs with you, sipping the lemonade, eyes crinkly and affectionate, tracing your lips, the hem of your skirt.

You look up and down the lawn, impressed with his craft. Quiet satisfaction blooms in Frankie’s gut.

‘Looks great,’ you say, pressing his arm. ‘Thank you. You know, you don’t have to do this.’ 

He shrugs.

‘Was out here anyway. Just helping my favourite neighbour.’

You chuckle.

‘Whatever. But you still don’t have to.’

‘Fine,’ he says, pulling a face. ‘I’ll never, ever do it again. I’ll leave you to mow your own lawn, build your own furniture, set your car on fire…’

‘I’m not that bad,’ you laugh, giddy as you step around him. 

‘Bug,’ he says, fixing you in place with a firm hand on each of your shoulders. ‘Baby. I’m not convinced you even know what a wrench is.’

You gasp, genuinely offended this time, and he laughs.

‘Of course I know what a fucking wrench is, asshole. I’ll give you a fucking wrench.’

He laughs harder, and you reach up to swipe his sweaty cap from his head. Before he can grab at it, you’re off, flying in circles across the lawn. He sets his glass down and chases after you, hands slipping through the fabric of your dress. He’s not looking at the plush flesh of your thighs revealed at each stride. Not noticing the way your chest moves, definitely doesn’t see a peek of your ass as you whirl in front of him. He doesn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. Certainly not on purpose. 

He blames the heat, his earlier exertion for why he can’t catch you. Can’t even try to grab you when you zoom by and scoop up his empty glass, when you round the curve of his fence and wait for him to follow you. He’s barely jogging now, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He’s almost at you, cap almost within reach, and then you plant the hand with it in on one of the pickets of the fence, jump, and swing your legs over.

‘That is playing so fucking dirty!’ He pouts, and you cackle at him. 

If there’s one thing you’ve mastered over the last year, it’s hopping the dividing fence. If there's one thing Frankie swears he will not do, it’s swing himself over. Something about his joints, something about his back. Yada, yada as far as you’re concerned.

‘What’d they teach you in Delta Force?’ You tease, ‘Surely it can’t have been any harder than that.’

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

‘You learn to do that in college? How many fences were you jumping?’

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.’

‘Weather boy?’ He wheezes, shaking his head. ‘Not even gonna ask. Christ, you make me feel old.’

You snicker at him again, hopping from foot to foot. He holds out his empty hand.

‘Good game.’

You step forwards, full of faux-graciousness. You take his hand, opening your mouth to snipe something back, but he’s pulling you in too fast for you to process.

And god, he’s wet. Slimy and gross and warm -

‘Get off me, Frankie!’ You howl, and he chuckles, nuzzling his soaked cheek against your forehead.

‘Come over for dinner tonight,’ he says as you squirm in his arms, ‘We’re making pizza.’

You jerk yourself free, and he lets you go, so fucking pleased with himself. You shake your limbs out, trying to erase the sweaty feeling of him.

‘Only if you have a shower first. You fucking stink, dude.’

He begins to back towards his house, and you do the same.

‘I’ll have a shower,’ he says, ‘If you bring a wrench.’

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

‘Fuck you, Fish. I ain’t bringing a wrench. And get your goddamn mower off my grass.’

He giggles, a boyish sound so unlike the burly man it comes from. It makes you giggle, too. 

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

You never do produce a wrench, but Frankie is always thrilled by the other magic tricks you have up your sleeve. He looks forward to the surprise when he comes home from flying - whole Lego cities in his living room, wonky origami in the kitchen, hama beads you’ve dug up from God knows where. The hama beads, he decides, he could live without. He found one in his sock the other day. 

He’s home from work earlier than he thought he'd be tonight. Lucia tucked up in bed, he’d tiptoed upstairs to crack her bedroom door open, watching the rise and fall of her back before stepping in and pressing a kiss to her plump, toasty cheek.

He’s just finishing making coffee when he glances across the kitchen to a mixing bowl that hadn’t been out this morning. Curious as the coffee brews, he moves closer to the pale blob inside, and pulls back the clingwrap. He sniffs the dough-like mass, but comes up empty for clues. 

He pokes a finger into it, grimacing at the damp sponginess before covering it again and wiping the digit on his jeans. He pours the coffee, adding creamer and sugar, before shouting over his shoulder.

‘Bug,’ he calls, ‘Were you making bread today?’

‘What?’ he hears you answer from the living room, and he smiles as he carries the coffee through to you.

‘I said, were you making bread?’

You’re still where he left you, tucked up on the sofa. You reach for the mug he offers with greedy hands, and he laughs.

‘Bread?’ you ask, taking it, brow furrowing before the confusion clears and you beam up at him. ‘Oh! No. I made playdough.’

‘Made playdough?’ He says, plopping down beside you.

‘Hell yeah, baby. Easy as fuck. Do you know it’s edible?’

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

‘Obviously not. You’re a regular comedian, you know that?’

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

He hums at your answer, swinging your legs onto his lap and squeezing your calf.

‘What you watching?’ he asks. You shrug.

‘Some movie. This guy’s a detective tryna take down a drug ring. She,’ you say, flapping a pointed finger at the screen, ‘Is like, a burlesque dancer who’s actually an undercover agent, and he just found out. He’s feeling some type of way about it because he thought he was saving her from some kind of terrible fate, but it turns out she’s totally fine and is actually saving his ass.’

Frankie grins at you, and when you turn your head and catch his eye, you grin back.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

You snort at him. He turns his attention back to the TV.

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

‘Oh! You’ll love this. He’s the gang leader. Everyone understands what he’s saying apart from the detective and this one guy who thinks he’s having the worst trip of his life.’

He belly laughs this time, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and you watch, eyes sparkling, as the hoots of laughter leave his mouth. You lean forward and smack his arm, giggling too.

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, still snickering, ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god. If there was ever a movie written for you, it’d be this one.’

You gasp.

‘I know. It’s insane. And the soundtrack is amazing. So many cool songs. And -’ you pause, waiting for the actress to pop back up on screen, ‘She wrote some for it. Can’t remember what her name is right now, but she’s in a band in real life.’

Frankie watches as the woman welcomes the detective into her dark apartment - pin boards full of pictures and maps, a wall that falls away to reveal all kinds of hidden weapons. She turns to face the other actor, and Frankie cocks his head.

‘She kinda looks like you,’ he says, and you make a noncommittal noise. ‘Sure you don’t have a long-lost sister?’

You chuckle, and the camera pans back to the man.

‘I don’t think so. But he looks like you. Just - maybe… a few years older.’

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

‘Yeah, Fish. Don’t worry. Old age comes for us all.’

He makes a hurt noise, fingers scrabbling for the bottom of your feet, and you shriek, holding your coffee far away from you as he tickles.

‘Stop!’ you cry, ‘Stop! Okay, I’m sorry! You’re so much younger than him. You barely even look thirty.’

‘Barely - even - thirty -’ he laughs, wrestling with you as he tries to stop from spilling his own drink. ‘Not only did you call me old, you’re a liar, too.’ he stops only briefly to put his coffee down, and you manage to do the same before he launches at you with renewed vigour. His hands are all over you now, finding any sensitive spot he can. You grab and dig your nails into his arms, kicking your legs against his lap, planting a foot against his belly to hold him away.

You speak only in squeaks, hacking coughs and muffled laughter. There’s a pressure building in your bladder, and it only makes your movements more desperate, more uncoordinated. You’re begging, pleading, almost in tears through your yelping, and then your heel digs lower than it should. Frankie’s movements cease as he doubles over your legs, grunting out a pained noise as you whip your feet away from him.

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

You try to suck your laughter back through your teeth, but it’s futile. You lean forwards towards him, your palm firm on his back.

‘I’m sorry,’ you wheeze, ‘God, I really - I swear I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he groans, cradling his crotch, ‘There was feeling behind it.’

You snort, pulling his shoulder back so he relaxes into the couch.

‘Come on. It was barely a tap. Lucia could still have a brother or sister.’

He groans anew.

‘I’m in no fit shape for any of that now.’

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate, the same heat flashing through your cheeks. Your mouth works to find some kind of joke, something to take it back with, but you flounder. 

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

A ha! escapes your lips, and Frankie manages a bashful smile, a shake of his head. But your heart is lumbering in your chest, stomach gooey, and the tips of his ears are glowing. 

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

So he says something stupid about the monkey, and you say something stupid back. Layers on layers of silliness until the giggles return and the nerves are tucked away.

You love this kid. You really do. But it’s been a shitty fucking day.

You’ve not cried in the staff toilets since your training, but today every vibe was off, as the kids say. You’d been about ready to head home, forget about any work you needed to do, pull on your pyjamas and crawl into bed. Instead, you’re trying to blink back stupid tears on your way to the elementary school across town.

You’re not mad at Frankie, not even upset. When he’d called to say there’d been a fire at work and he needed to stay to provide first aid, your stomach had dropped through the floor. Your are you okay? felt clumsy, rushed, pushed against his panicked panting through the line. But he was just as quick to reassure you - he wasn’t even close, but one guy had burns and they might need him to cover the last flight out.

And it wasn’t a problem - isn’t a problem. You love spending time with Lucia, want to be as much help as possible, but man. You just wish it wasn’t today.

When you pull up to the school gates, Lucia is waiting for you. Her tiny backpack clutched in her fists, bright smile as she chatters away to her teacher stood beside her. Miss Lopez, Frankie had texted you, just in case.

The car door is barely open before the curly-haired whirlwind is launching herself in your direction with an excited squeal, crashing into your legs. You laugh, squeezing her shoulders before dropping down to her level. 

‘Hey, baby bean!’

‘Papi said you’d come!’ She beams as you stroke her hair back from her face.

‘He sure did. You gonna come and hang out with me ‘til he gets home?’

She nods like her head’s on springs, and over her shoulder you look to Miss Lopez. She has the sweetest face, a lovely smile. You straighten out and offer her your hand. She takes it, palm soft and dry.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ You offer, and she shakes her head.

‘Not at all. You must be Mrs Morales.’ She says.

You choke on a laugh.

‘Oh - I - I’m not, actually. Family friend.’

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

‘Of course,’ she says, ‘The office did tell me. I’m so sorry. It’s just been one of those days.’

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

‘I know the feeling.’ You smile, and she smiles back. Miss Lopez crouches to Luc's level and gives her a gentle boop on the nose.

‘Be good, be safe.’ She says, and Lucia giggles, starting to pull you back to your car. Her teacher waves to you. ‘See you soon!’

You make sure to return it, ushering Luc to the car.

When she’s buckled in, she gently tugs the chain of your necklace.

‘I missed you.’ She says, eyes wide and earnest. Heat pricks behind your eyes again.

‘Missed you too, bean.’

It’s been a shitty fucking day, so you make cookies. 

It’s easy to do, and mostly for you, but Luc is fucking delighted. You make sure to dig out her little chef’s hat, and she whizzes around the lower cupboards grabbing a mixing bowl for you. She loves it, more than anything. She’s a star with shaping, mixing, tasting. On the same page as you about eating the dough, and very content to sit by the oven door to watch them melt and bake in front of her. Easy entertainment, and she’s in your sights as you grade your essays at Frankie's kitchen table. 

You know you’re not being fun. Not mustering the same kind of sunshine you usually do so effortlessly for her, not that she seems to notice. You try to keep a smile going when the cookies are done, packing a small box of them into your bag and eating two each before dinner. She might not finish the whole meal, but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

When you settle down to watch Frozen again later, her head starts to bob half an hour in. You let her fall asleep cuddled up next to you, and when another half hour passes, you extract yourself, gather her tiny body in your arms, and carry her to bed. 

You set her down gently, pull the covers up to her chin, and watch her snuggle down in the blankets, nuzzling into their softness. You feel so weak, so goddamn tired, so disappointed in yourself for not playing like you usually do, for not encouraging her to sing and dance with you, for not reading her her usual bedtime story. It’s important for development at her age, a nasty little voice reminds you, and it just feels like something else you’ve failed at. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn on her nightlight, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her skin is so warm, so soft. You gently swipe the curls from her face.

‘Night night, little love.’

You’re still marking your essays when Frankie comes home. 

You know you shouldn’t be. You know you should have curled up on the sofa or in the guest room like he’s told you to before. Know you should be asleep, barely managing to keep your eyes open, but you feel so fucking miserable, and you’ll be damned if Frankie comes home to you crying wrapped in his duvet.

Your coffee is cold, and a sip of its chill only serves to spark irritation in your stomach. You begin gulping it down, wishing it gone, before spilling some on the sheet of paper in front of you. You curse quietly just as you hear his keys in the door, dabbing at the blotch on the page as he toes off his boots in the hall. Your pressing only seems to be making it worse, little flakes of paper coming off on your sleeve as he enters the kitchen. 

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

You give up, leaning back in your chair to look at him. 

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

‘Okay. Dylan has some burns and Eddie is pretty shaken up, but they’ll both be okay. Ended up taking Dylan’s last flight.’ 

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

You know it’s one of his usual quips. You know he’s not trying to be smart, not trying to rile you up. But you can feel it happening, all the same. 

‘Are you okay?’

He looks at you, assessing. It’s not like you to not snipe something back, not like you to not take the joke further. 

‘I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen worse.’

You nod. He frowns. He doesn’t like it when you’re quiet. 

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

It hangs in the air for a moment. You clench your teeth, frustrated at yourself for the undeserved irritation. 

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

He’s staring at you. You can feel it as you lean forwards again, pen in your hand. The words in front of you blur. 

‘Whatcha reading?’

You should go. You should really pack up before this ridiculous anger bubbles over. It’s not Frankie who deserves it, not the kids who deserve it. You should sleep on it, get some perspective. Fuck, do some mindfulness or something. 

Frankie drums his fingers on the wood when you make no reply, and you glower at him as he moves around the table, eyes fixed on your pile of marked essays. He thumbs the corners, and you bristle.

‘Oof,’ he says, picking up the last paper you graded. ‘F for Fail?’

‘No,’ you bite, ‘F for fuck off, Frankie.’

His eyes flick to yours, surprised, and he’s greeted with a wall of fury which he’s never seen before. It shocks him enough to put him on the back foot. Show his belly. He whistles lowly, dropping the paper back onto the pile, and is rewarded with something akin to the gnashing of teeth. The pieces slot together in his head. The bags under your eyes. How short you’re being. 

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ You hiss, and it’s like you’re an open book for him to read. The flame in your stomach roars to life at the look he gives you. You need to take a nap.

He pulls the rest of the papers away from you, and you try to claw them back, outraged. He grabs your hands, holding them away from your work, and your wrists twist in his grip.

‘Frankie,’ you seethe, ‘Let me go. I’m not fucking around.’ 

But he doesn’t. He’s seen you worked up before, knows you better than you think. Knows this isn’t just the result of a few bad essays, knows this is because of something more. Knows how to make you feel better. ‘Francisco Morales,’ you start, ‘Get your fucking hands off me -’ 

He tightens his fingers again and tugs you up off the chair. It squeaks across the floor as you stand. Something about your attitude sparks a flame south of Frankie’s stomach, and he swallows sharply. Nothing a good hard fuck couldn’t fix, and he blinks at himself, surprised. He drops your hands. Where the fuck did that come from?

‘Get off -’ you growl, and he points at you.

‘Sit your ass on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.’

You set your jaw and glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. He watches as your mouth twists into a scowl before you turn on your heel and stomp through to the living room.

He takes his cap off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and exhaling through his nose before adjusting himself in his jeans. He tidies your papers, puts pens and markers back into your pencil case, closes your laptop, packs your bag. Moves to the cupboard for two mugs, busying himself with tea and coffee as he tries to push thoughts of your furious eyes from his mind. How he could kiss the frown from your forehead, the scowl from your lips, how he could take you apart with his mouth, his cock, make you forget, make you feel better -

When he steps into the living room, you’re sat with your back to him, crowded into a corner of the couch. He places your tea on the table behind you, and his coffee on the other at his end. He lowers himself onto the cushions, relaxing against the leather, watching you. Your shoulders are almost up to your ears, fingers picking at the skin around your nails, eyes on your lap. He waits, chewing his cheek, hands twitching at the way your nails dig into skin.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Your voice is small, quiet. He rubs his eyes and sighs.

‘It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it,’ he pauses. ‘I’m sorry for - manhandling you.’

You huff a breath through your nose, scratch at your knuckle. Frankie feels the worried pit in his stomach start to yawn.

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

You wipe your hands over your thighs, and Frankie wonders whether it’s him. Something he’s said or done. He knows he’s not been looking hard enough for another sitter - maybe you’ve just had enough. His gut twists.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

Frankie waits again, resisting the urge to move closer to you. You need a moment, though everything in his body wants you near right now. The scratching at your knuckle is incessant, and Frankie observes the movement with his own growing anxiety. You clear your throat.

‘All my lessons were shit. Everything was shit. I forgot reports and data drops, and the kids wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I yelled at my favourite class, and almost everyone in my tenth grade group failed their assignment, and I just - couldn’t smile enough, wasn’t good enough for Lucia, and I’m so tired,’ you rush out, pressure building behind your eyes and at the back of your throat. ‘I’m tired, Frankie.’ You whisper.

He’s nodding, hands clasping and unclasping over his lap. 

‘Bug, baby,’ he says, so gentle, ‘Please don’t worry about Luc. Don’t ever worry about not being good enough. You know she thinks the sun shines out your ass,’ he pauses, but there’s no giggle. ‘And I bet your lessons weren’t shit. You had a bad day - that’s all. That does not make them shit.’ He can see your head quirk minutely, hear the thought as though you’d spoken it aloud. Wrong. He keeps going. ‘And things get forgotten, but they’ll get done. Did anyone say anything?’

You shake your head.

‘No. Helen just said they need to be done as soon as possible.’

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

‘So it’s fine. You won’t be the only one, bug. And kids never shut the fuck up. It’s annoying as fuck. You know how long I’d last in that classroom?’

‘Five minutes?’ You say, a tiny curl of amusement in your words.

‘Twenty fucking seconds. You’re a saint.’

He hears it, though faint. A small huh of a laugh. He continues, smiling a little.

‘And fuck the tenth graders. If they shut the fuck up, they’d have done it properly. They wouldn’t have fucked it up. They wouldn’t be making my best pal upset, here on my couch.’

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

‘Maybe they found it hard, though. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job of explaining it all -’

‘Ah,’ Frankie interrupts, ‘Maybe. But were they concentrating when you explained it? Or were they talking football teams and weekend plans?’

The scratching stops. Frankie counts the seconds by the tick of his heart beat as you pop your knuckles and sigh again. You still haven’t looked at him. 

You suck air through your teeth.

‘Football teams and weekend plans. But they still - the results are awful, Frankie. They’re gonna think I can’t do my job.’

‘They’re not gonna think that. They’re not. This is one bad day, one bad result. You’re doing all you can. But you can only do so much, bug. Today was just not your day.’

Your body is vibrating with tension. You link your fingers together, watching the way the skin shifts between the joints.

‘It just - it wouldn’t be so hard if they fucking listened to me,’ you say, still quiet, but angry again now. Upset in a way that makes Frankie’s chest swell. ‘And then I get to thinking - maybe it is me. Maybe I’m just shit at my job and nobody’s bothered to tell me yet -’

‘Enough. You’re not doing this. Of course someone would have told you. Bug, they’re kids. They don’t even listen to their parents when they’re told to defrost the chicken when they get home from school. You’re not doing anything wrong.’

In the low light, Frankie can see you bite your lip, chin wobbling.

‘Hey,’ he says, softly. ‘Hey. Don’t cry. If anyone should be crying, it’s them. You’re doing your best. The least they could do is meet you halfway.’

‘But it’s my job, Frankie. And I care.’

‘I know you do, baby,’ he says, finally leaning forward, squeezing your thigh, ‘I know you do. So - what can we do? You’re tired. Lots of sleep. Long lie in on the weekend. But there’ll be lots of things you can do to turn things around. What can you do for tenth grade?’

You look up, finally. He gets a glimpse of your eyes, panicked, worried, before you turn them away again. You swallow, nod.

‘I guess I could… break it down for them. When I give their marks back. We could write an answer together. And Lucy showed me a really good feedback grid I can print for them all so they know what to work on.’ 

‘Good. That’s good. Make ‘em write it again?’

You twist your fingers.

‘Yeah. I guess so. There’s time. And they could do with the practice.’

Frankie squeezes your thigh again, stroking his thumb against your pants. You huff.

‘There. See? Already fixin’ it. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.’

You quirk your head.

‘You’d think. More like - fuckin’ - difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.’

A slow smile spreads across his lips, despite himself. And when you look up, catch it, you fight to keep your mouth from doing the same.

‘You can laugh, bug,’ he says, ‘That was funny.’

A small giggle floats from between your lips, but it’s still watery. He can taste the salt in the air.

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

Your eyes are back down on your hands, fingers twisting, twisting, twisting.

Frankie holds his breath, heart aching in his chest. He can feel it radiating off of you, something deeper, painful.

‘I just - it made me think maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be, and -’ you cut yourself off, throat tight. You swallow, and Frankie leans towards you. One of his huge hands reaches out to yours, and he gently pries his fingers between your palms, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The tears come without you realising, hot and quick, so many of them you’re startled. ‘And maybe - not as good as dad said I would be.’ You shrug again, wounded, vulnerable. Frankie shifts, the arm closest to you wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Your voice catches, fear and guilt straining against sound. ‘That was the worst part. I felt like I was letting him down.’

‘Letting him down?’ He says into your hair. You feel his lips against your scalp as he speaks. ‘My god, bug. How could you ever think that?’ He squeezes you tighter, and you fight the sobs clawing up your throat. ‘Every day, you go in there and you kill it. No one in that school has ever said a bad thing against you. And you come home with notes, drawings, emails from kids and staff and parents who tell you that you’re making a difference. That you’re helping them learn, you’re making them feel safe, feel like they’re worth the time you give them. Do you know how special that is? Do you know how many of those kids come to you for that?’

A broken noise escapes your mouth, and Frankie begins to rock you gently. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he says, ‘And I know if I’m proud of you, your dad is watching you with his heart about to burst. You could never let him down. Look at you. You are so special.’

You hiccup against him, and Frankie nuzzles his face into your hair. Your tears are hot, damp through his t-shirt, but you can’t stop. You hold to his arms, breathing him in as holds you close. Your legs are going numb, head aching, and you don’t know how long you sit there like that with him holding you. He soothes you with quiet whispers, waves rushing in and out, and once your breathing is back to normal you pull away from him with a great sniff. You laugh at yourself, wiping at your face. He smiles gently back, little crow's feet ceasing the corners of his eyes. 

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

‘Yeah. Just gross. Need to blow my nose.’

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

You shift on the sofa, stretching and popping your joints before hauling yourself up to go to the bathroom. 

‘Do you want anything?’ You ask shyly. He shakes his head. 

‘Nope. Take your time.’

You shut the door quietly behind you in the bathroom, stepping to press your head against the cool tile. You try to empty your mind, but your chest is heavy. Everything that Frankie said, everything that was so easy to share with him. You’d thanked your lucky stars many a time over the last year that he’d bounded out his front door the evening you’d moved in, but now there was something more to it. You roll your head against the cool ceramic and press your fists to your chest. Your dad was a man who believed in fate, in things happening for a reason. Here, in the quiet calm of Frankie’s house, you have a feeling that he pulled some strings. That he knew who you’d need. 

Lips almost pressed to the tile, you whisper to him. 

‘Thanks, dad.’

The words hang in the air, slung out the universe, met with warm silence. Your throat tightens again, and if you close your eyes tight, you’d swear he was at your shoulder. Like you could turn around and he’d be there. 

When the tightness passes, you inhale deeply and turn to the sink. You splash your face with cold water, blow your nose, and make your way back to Frankie. 

He’s right where you left him, the TV on quietly. You flop down into your usual position, and he makes motions for you. You swing your legs onto his lap, and he runs his hands up your shins. Gentle, tender care again. You tip your head back and speak to the ceiling. 

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

‘You should know. You should know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.’

You blink at the lights and shadows above you. How easily that slipped off your tongue. It’s never been difficult for you to tell your friends you love them. Hell, you even said it to the lady who served you at the store the other day. But something about saying it to Frankie feels… different. 

Your breath gets caught in your chest, and then Frankie’s thumbs dig into the flesh of your calves. 

‘Love you too, bug.’

You inflate your lungs at the same time as he kneads a particularly tense spot on your leg, and you loose a quiet groan. You’re not sure if you imagine the minute pause of Frankie’s hands before he thumbs the same spot again. 

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

This time, he does pause. He pauses and prays you don’t feel the way his cock twitched. 

‘Does that hurt?’

You pull your head back up and find him watching you with dark eyes. 

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

He nods, studying your face at the next pass of his fingers. Your wince at the tension, but the relief that follows makes your eyes close. This time, he runs his knuckles over your muscles, and you bite your lip, eyes flickering open to meet his. You sigh. 

‘That good?’ He asks. 

You can’t say anything, nothing that wouldn’t betray the flood of warmth sparking in your cunt. 

Mhm. 

He nods, kneading further down your leg. Your head flops backwards again, lip clamped between your teeth, brow furrowed as you will your body not to betray you. You almost have it, almost, fingers flexing against the couch cushions, until he presses his thumbs into the arch of your foot and you moan. You fucking moan. 

You freeze, teeth releasing your lip as you gasp, but he keeps going. Running his thumbs over and over the sore muscles as you let out quiet little gasps, squirming against the couch, soaking your panties. 

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

You are not fine. Every synapse in your body is firing, every nerve ending alight. You begin to panic, begin to wonder whether you could come from a foot massage alone. Your eyes find his face again, and he turns his head slowly to look back at you, digging firmly into a particularly sore spot. You whine, more pain than pleasure this time, and he presses harder. Hot hurt shoots up your spine, and you whip your foot away from him, breathing heavily. Like dawn breaking, Frankie’s face clears.

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

‘’S okay,’ you murmur, trying not to pant, ‘Just a little too deep.’

You can’t look at him. You’re so sure that this man does everything from the good of his heart, with the express intention of making you feel better, but you can’t ignore how your body is buzzing. He can’t possibly know how turned on you are right now. Just a friend comforting a friend. Just a friend. Jesus Christ.

You glance at your watch and curse, all but leaping off the sofa. Frankie stares after you, panicked.

‘Bug -’

You whirl around to smile at him, realising just how wet you are with your thighs pressed together.

‘It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. I should just - I should really get going.’

He hasn’t moved from the couch, hands crossed in his lap like he’s afraid to move.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers.��

‘Don’t be,’ you say - too brightly, too quickly. ‘Don’t be. I - thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you’re gone. Bag grabbed, barefoot, shoes in hand, flying out the front door, across your lawns, into your own house. Dumping the shoes and peeling off your clothes in the safety of your bedroom. You flick the bedside lamp on and yank open your bedside draw, rummaging around for your vibrator, pressing it to your throbbing clit before you’re even on your bed. 

Your body jerks at the sensation, knees giving out as you moan, long and loud, free hand fisting the sheets as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. Something clatters through your mind, something confusing and guilty, some mix of emotions that stirs in your chest and in your gut, something that tells you you shouldn’t be doing this - again. Shouldn’t be this close to coming already, shouldn’t be so wet, shouldn’t be shaking this hard. Shouldn’t be moaning so loud, so desperately, shouldn’t be thinking of the way Frankie’s dark eyes bored into yours, the way he worked his fingers over your sore muscles, how he’d held you there so you couldn’t escape. What he’d think of you dripping all over his couch from just touching you through clothes. 

You tilt your ass up further, resting your forehead on your arm, feeling sweat gather on your hairline. In your mind, Frankie’s hands are climbing up further than they were before, kneading up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing, all the way until his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. You can imagine how his eyes would get darker as he felt the slick there, so wet it made the closest press of your thighs damp through the fabric. How you’d hold your breath and his gaze as he slipped two fingers beneath the gusset, how he’d sweep them through the wetness there, just spreading it, teasing, enjoying how wet and ready for him you were before slipping both digits inside, easy, so easy -

You clench your teeth against the cry that seeks to force its way past your lips, breath stuttering in your lungs as your body seizes and pulls, cunt clenching and pulsing with your orgasm. Your head slips off your forearm onto the sheets and you curse quietly, betrayed by how easy it had been to come. 

You stand on shaky legs, turning the vibrator off with a click before leaving it on the duvet. You kneel and survey your room, the unread books, the pile of laundry, the freshly ironed shirt ready to wear tomorrow. The window across from you, bare of curtains, looking straight through to - fuck. For fuck’s sake.

Frankie’s bathroom light is on across the dark expanse of midnight grass. You freeze, naked, terrified for a moment that you will see him step into frame and catch you red handed. As if he’d know. As if he’d be able to tell, just from the look on your face, that you’d come so quickly, so easily, to the thought of him slipping his hand beneath your panties. 

But he doesn’t. With an arm over your chest, you whip the curtains over the gaping glass, and get ready for bed. 

Frankie can taste blood.

He barely even registers it, lip clamped between his teeth as he fists his dripping cock in the bathroom mirror. 

He’d sat for a few minutes on the couch after you’d left, trying to will his arousal away, terrified you might have forgotten something and come flying back through the door. Terrified Lucia might be rattled awake and find him to ask what the noise was about. 

When neither had happened, he’d unzipped his fly to relieve some of the aching pressure. He’d turned off the TV and all the lights, something swelling in his chest at the sight of the plate of cookies on the counter, piled high, and hauled his ass upstairs. The movement had made it worse. 

The friction against his cock at every step of his tired feet made him ache fiercely, and he’d forgone his bed, heading straight to the en-suite, where he’d  whipped his t-shirt off and pulled himself out. 

He’s trying to be quiet. Trying so hard as he draws his fist over his tip, spreading the precum down his length, as he twists and tightens his hand. His heart is racing, body thrumming with desire. He’s trying not to think of them, but those sweet, desperate little sounds you made are flooding his mind. He’s fucked. So fucked. 

And he’s weak. 

Weak at the knees at the thought of you laid out on his couch. At the thought of his hands drifting higher, at maybe finding your panties soaked. With his eyes closed, he can imagine your face - shocked, desperate, aching for him the way he is for you. He’d swipe his fingers along your slick slit, and he’d taste them - fuck, he’d give anything to know what you taste like. And when you begged, he’d strip you down and spread you out. He’d lower himself between your legs and kiss every inch of skin he could find. He’d breathe in the scent of you, nose the crease between your thigh and cunt, and he’d eat you. He wants to know what other sounds you make as he takes you apart, wants to lick you from your hole to your clit. Wants to hold you down as you squirm, wants his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. And he wants to make you come. Wants to drink you down as he feels you twitch and pulse beneath him, and then he wants to fill you with his cock. 

He tightens his fist again, barely muffling his groan. He wants to feel you stretched out, gasping as he pushes in. Wants to lean his forehead against yours as he whispers how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, letting him take care of you like this. Wants to see you cry for a different reason, wants to taste the salt on your skin and know it’s him who’s making you feel this good, that it’s only him who can fuck you like this.  

Wants to make you his, wants to feel you come around him, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head - 

He moans as he spills into his fist, cock kicking and jerking with every spurt of milky release that escapes him. Blood roars in his ears and he strokes himself until he whimpers at the sensitivity, panting hotly. 

His mouth is bloody and raw in the glass, eyes wide and guilty. He turns from his reflection in shame, ripping toilet paper and cleaning himself gently, trying not to think of your hands, your mouth, how you might look with his spend leaking from between your legs. 

He throws the paper in the toilet, tucking himself in and pushing the lever. 

He turns after flushing the evidence of his fantasies away, and is fixed with the disapproving eyes of the Star Wars duck on the edge of the bathtub. He pulls a face at it and flips it off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I bet you do it when she’s not watching, too.’ He says, pointing to the sparkly gold one beside it. 

The duck glares back at him, accusatory, and he sticks his tongue out at it as he swings the door open, flicking off the light before stepping out. He closes the door firmly behind him, and leaves the ducks to their domestic.

Frankie snoozes his alarm the next morning, eyelids fluttering against his pillow as he wraps his arms around his tangle of duvet. He’s warm, limbs languid, still in the haze of a sweet dream, a familiar scent hiding behind the edges of sleep. 

He’s almost passed out again when he jerks awake, adrenaline flashing through his veins as he stumbles out of bed and into Lucia’s room. She’s asleep still, groggy as he gently stirs her, mumbling into her teddy about not wanting to go to school. And despite his best efforts, they’re both sluggish, slow, running late as he dresses her and then himself, as he makes breakfast, as he packs her bag, as he reaches into the refrigerator to grab her lunch - 

Shit. Her lunch. 

He throws a frantic glance at the clock, muttering a fuck too quiet for his daughter to hear as she waits behind him with her shoes, ready for him to put them on. He turns and kneels in front of her, placing one foot on his thigh so he can finish getting her ready. He makes a calculation that includes stopping to get her something from the store on the way to school, but there’s just not enough time -

He whips the door open so quickly it startles you, your hand flying from where it was about to knock. Your stomach is churning, heat crawling up your spine with how fucking weird you must have been last night. 

Frankie looks just as surprised to see you as you are him. 

‘Bug?’ He says, paused in the doorway with Lucia hitched on his hip. 

‘Bug!’ She crows, delighted with the early morning visit, oblivious to her father’s rush. You beam back at her, greeting her with a mornin’, mini Morales, before looking back at Frankie. Something in his chest goes gooey. 

‘I made lunch for you both,’ you say shyly, quickly. Frankie’s eyes drop to the two bags you have held out. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time last night. And I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to give you shi- a hard time when you got home. And I’m sorry I ran out so fast.’

Frankie sucks a breath through his teeth, heart rate settling. 

‘You’re a goddamn angel,’ he says, ‘You know that?’

You chuckle a little, looking down at your feet. His heart swoops, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows he won’t, but he wants to ask. 

He wants to ask you why you flew out the way you did. Wants to know why your bedroom light was on so late. Wants to know if there’s some wild possibility you were caught up the same way he was. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls you in for a one armed hug, and with all the gratefulness he can muster, says -

‘Thank you, baby. Luc, what do you say?’

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

‘I packed you extra cookies.’ You whisper conspiratorially, and Luc claps her tiny hands. 

You smile up at her, and she reaches out for the bags. You make sure she’s got them handled before turning your smile to Frankie, and he’s sure his heart stops. There’s worry in your eyes still, and it takes everything in him to not swipe a thumb along your cheek, to not press the fullness of his mouth against yours. 

‘We’re going to the beach on Sunday,’ he says, ‘Do you wanna come?’

Your smile brightens, widens. Relief washes over your features. 

‘Please!’ Lucia joins, ‘Pleasecometothebeach - we're gonna build sand castles and bury Papi and swim and eat ice cream -’

Frankie clasps his hand over her mouth, and she cackles against it, legs swinging against his hip.

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

From the moment you’d felt the silky sand brushing between your toes, it was like the stress of the week had melted away. 

Lucia had grabbed your hand as soon as Frankie had dropped the cooler in the best spot he could find, squealing and running all the way to the ocean with you beside her. Frankie had laughed as he ran to catch up, hitting the waves just after you, sweeping Lucia up in his arms as she shrieked with laughter, swooping her low so her toes swept through the water. You swam and paddled together for a while, Frankie only leaving to grab a ball so you could play piggy in the middle in the shallowest shallows.

Now, laid out on the blanket you’d brought, with the sun warming your skin, you close your eyes. 

Everything feels slow - the tick of your heart, the carousel of your thoughts, the way you drag your fingers through the sand at your side. You’re drifting into the arms of sleep when there’s the soft snick-crack-fizz of a can beside you, and then you’re suddenly thirsty.

You peek through one eye at Frankie beside you, and like he feels it, his eyes flick to yours. He offers you the open soda before reaching into the cooler for another. You sit up, groaning a little, twisting to look for Lucia.

She’s still slumped on the sand throne you and Frankie had built her, now fast asleep. Legs planted, arms settled on the armrests like a stately little Lord. Her head tilted back, tiny sunglasses and flowery sun hat on. You can’t look at her for too long before you get the giggles, it’s so fucking cute.

Frankie follows your eyes, mouth lifting in amusement, raising his eyebrows at you.

‘We should take a picture. One for her 18th.’ 

You giggle, and he takes a sip of his drink before flopping down beside you. You take a long pull from your own can before doing the same, turning on your side to face him. Frankies fights to keep his gaze steady, something he’s been trying to do all day. Trying to avoid the skin that had been revealed to him today, trying to avoid how soft you look, how comfortable, how gorgeous. How your skin would taste, how it would feel against his. He closes his eyes.

You watch him. The strong sweep of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. The scruff of his beard, the bare heart-shaped patch before the line of his jaw. Your eyes sweep lower - the wide expanse of his chest, golden skin that seems to go on for miles and miles. It makes your mouth run dry. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before in the hot Florida summer, but up this close, it’s different. The soft band of his belly, the smattering of hair above the waistband of his trunks. The silvery bud of a scar above his hip. 

When you glance back to his face, he’s watching you. Your eyes dart down again.

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

You nod, and reach out your hand. Slowly, softly. Frankie holds his breath, stomach tensing.

You run the tip of your finger along the puckered edge of the scar, and he shudders. You pause, untacking your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

It doesn’t hurt. It does tickle. And there’s a burst of heat beneath his skin where your fingers graze him.

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

You hum quietly, swiping your thumb against it tenderly. He watches you, mouth parted, heart burning. It doesn’t look like a scratch, but you’re not one to pry.

The moment is broken by a soft coo behind you, and Frankie’s eyes lift to it. You roll onto your back.

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, gesturing to Lucia, ‘She just looks so cute.’

You smile breathlessly, a little flustered. She’s gorgeous. So tan and smiley and stunning.

‘Gets all her looks from me.’ Frankie jokes, and you roll your eyes. The woman smiles.

‘I think you mean her mama.’ She says, nodding to you before continuing on her stroll. You’re still too taken aback to correct her, trying to loosen your tongue before Frankie takes any offence. He laughs beside you, and you roll back to him to apologise -

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

It’s not what you were expecting, and the shock of it makes you laugh, too. You land a soft punch to his arm, a grumbled shut up shot from where you bury your face in the sandy blanket.. But it feels good, the ease at which the jokes come. 

To think, there’d been a night on your porch not long after you’d moved in when you’d mentioned the name Annie and clammed up, panicking about what questions would follow next. The name of your ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancee - had been something which only really existed in your mind at the time. Known, of course, to the friends you’d left back home; friends who had loved her, loved the two of you together. But soured by the reaction of your extended family, the people who had voiced their disgust at who you'd loved, who had been so quick to turn their backs in the face of your happiness, the first you’d found since your dad’s passing. It had made your stomach twist. 

You’d been worried about Frankie’s reaction, couldn’t bear to think of the first friend you’d made - your neighbour - having the same look of distaste - or worse - intense curiosity. 

But he’d done neither of those things. Had marked it with a quiet oh before asking what she was like, where she was, what had happened. You’d told him how you met in college but weren’t brave enough to ask her out until after graduation. How she was an engineer on the east coast - kind and funny and eager to watch you succeed. 

You’d been sparing with the details about how it ended. The breakup had still been a raw nerve, something you had no real desire to discuss. Something which you only found to be the case more and more the longer you spent around Frankie. And then he gave you further reason to be less afraid of what he’d think, whether he had the want to judge.

‘Sounds like my ex,’ he’d said, ‘We were friends first, too. Benny.’

You’re snapped back to the present by Frankie rustling around in the cooler.

‘Have something to eat,’ he says, ‘You’re looking a little shaky.’

You’ve been asleep for most of the way home. 

Hair blowing in the wind of the journey, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, and something about this - the three of you in Frankie’s truck, Lucia babbling to herself in the back - feels so right.

He’s loathe to wake you. Wishes he could bottle this moment; the sand still clinging to your skin, Luc’s bright smile in the rearview mirror, but you stir all the same when he slows and pulls into his driveway. 

You stretch your arms and yawn, smiling sleepily at him before twisting to look back at Lucia.

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

‘You were asleep!’ She chirps back, and Frankie chuckles.

‘Sure was,’ you grin, ‘Can’t keep up with you.’

You insist on carrying the cooler into his house while Frankie unbuckles her. He holds her hand around the side of the car before she pulls free of him, clattering into the house after you in her sparkling sandals. She passes him in the hall, arms full of toys as she speeds back out to the grass out front, and you smirk at him around the doorway of the kitchen. He shakes his head at you.

‘I don’t know how she does it.’ He says. You grin.

‘She’s four. Give her a few more years.’

He chuckles as he swoops in behind you, pinning your body between his and the counter. He digs in the cooler as you close your eyes against his body heat.

‘Want a beer?’ He says against your neck before pulling away.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

When you’re settled on his porch, Lucia mimicking the sounds of the dinosaurs she has splayed across the lawn, Frankie bumps your shoulder.

‘You should have asked for her number.’ He grins. You turn to him, still a little sleepy.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

You roll your eyes at him despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

‘They’ll get stuck like that, you know.’ He says.

You nudge him back, a little harder.

‘You should’ve asked,’ you chuckle. ‘Gets all her looks from me.’

He snorts.

‘Nah. I wasn’t even on the field. Think you mean her mama.’

‘Should have given her the old I’m the babysitter line.’

He laughs. 

‘God. Imagine. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to tell the guys the next time they ask if I’m seeing someone.’

Your blood heats, a soft pounding in your ears. Imagine. Imagine.

You roll your head on your shoulders.

‘Are you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘Seeing anyone, I mean.’

Frankie shrugs beside you like it’s no big deal.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I kind of… swore that all off after Benny. Didn’t wanna go through it all again. Wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for her,’ he says, gesturing towards where Lucia is playing on the grass. He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Getting my heart broken again.’

You know how it ended - before it had really begun. A tentative feeling between friends; Frankie falling hard, Benny unsure about the new step. Caught up with the nerves you remember so well in the new turn of discovering himself, scared by the ripples caused within the tight knot of their group of friends. It had been hard on Frankie. Not made difficult by his brothers in arms, who, to all intents and purposes, had seen it coming - but because he was so clearly a man who loved hard. With all the goodness in his heart. It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

You watch him as he speaks. The soft sunlight illuminating his curls, turning them golden, chocolate brown, little streaks of grey peaking through. His eyes are bright and flecked with hazel, his lips soft and full. When he talks, they are shaped with sound, with emotion. Expressive and beautiful, moving with the crinkles at his eyes, the frown lines on his forehead. Something pulls in your chest, and you reach out to hold his wrist just above his beer bottle. He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

You can’t ever imagine breaking Frankie’s heart.

He licks his lips, eyes flitting to your parted mouth before resting back on yours.

‘Are you?’ He asks.

You breathe a laugh, something breathless in the sound. You retract your hand and look away from him, back to Lucia, watching her toddle around with her dinosaurs. He studies you, and it makes something spike at the back of your throat. You hate when he gets you like this; like he can see you better than anyone else ever has. 

‘No,’ you say. When you look back at him, his brows curve in a furrow at the sight of your sparkling eyes. You offer him a small smile, take a deep breath. ‘Think I’m the same as you,’ you shrug, ‘Not built to get my heart broken again.’

Frankie dares an arm across your back, squeezing the shoulder furthest away from him. He pulls you into his chest, palm pressing your bicep in comforting sweeps.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

‘Don’t be,’ you reassure him, ‘I’m not - cut up about it like I was.’ You sniff and pull away from him a little to look in his eyes. ‘It just stays with you, like you said before. The hurt and the shock. Everything you had planned. I think it’s just… hard to remember you won’t have that. Hard to not have that future, hard to feel like you’re enough again.’ You smile softly, and he answers with his own. He knows, he understands. ‘Just… really thought I was gonna marry her,’ you whisper, looking down at your hands. ‘Day I asked her, every time I saw that ring on her finger, thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. And it made me so… happy.’ Frankie swallows thickly beside you. The feeling of it, of what you’re telling him, so painful, so raw for both of you. ‘And when it happened, when it fell apart… it wasn’t big. She just told me - real kind, real patient about it - that she didn’t love me anymore.’ Frankie breathes deeply when he hears the catch in your voice, the sting of it. 

Your eyes are on Lucia, but you’re so far away that it worries him. He wants you here, safe, having beers with him on his porch, giggling on the steps.

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

You quirk your head, sighing. ‘Spent a long time tryna figure out what I did wrong, but there was never an answer,’ you shrug. ‘I’m glad she ended it, though. Despite it all. I’d have never forgiven her if she’d stayed.’

A strained hum pulls itself from Frankie’s throat as he watches you lean forward to pick at the grass by your feet. He clears his throat, studies your profile carefully.

‘Do you still love her?’ He asks, voice low and hoarse. He finds, to his surprise, that he’s terrified of the answer.

You frown, slowing your pulling.

‘No,’ you say. ‘I have love for her, but we don’t speak. I don’t want her in my life, but I wish her the best. I just found it… hard to rebuild.’

He thinks back to the day you moved in next door, the bright smile that he hadn’t realised didn’t quite reach your eyes, how you’d been a little thinner, looked so tired. How you’ve changed over the year since, so warm, so full of love and light and energy. How you tear around the lawn with Lucia, how you laugh at his kitchen table, how you fit into his side when you’re watching movies. 

Something swoops in his gut, something so huge and unbalancing that his breath comes shallow, that his ears buzz and his vision blurs. A feeling that makes so much - too much - sense.

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

When he turns to look at you again, it’s with a heart that knows - really knows. He sees everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you will be. Knows you for all your good days and bad days, has seen you at all hours, could hold every piece of your fractured heart in his hands and meld it back together again if you let him.

Your eyes find his. He watches your brows raise a fraction at his expression, watches them push together in a question. 

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

Your eyes don’t leave his.There’s a pressure behind them, a pull in your gut, a skip of your heart. Something on the tip of your tongue. 

Frankie’s eyes slip to your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat, and the world stills. The sounds of the evening, Lucia playing, fade to almost nothing.

If you tip your head, you think he might kiss you. 

A small, wild ball of energy crashes into Frankie’s chest, and the moment slips through your fingers. Frankie lets out a quiet oof, wrapping his arms around his daughter. A giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and he grins at you, but his eyes linger. Lucia turns her tiny face up to him, and Frankie rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

‘Strawberry laces.’ She whispers, and you both laugh.

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

‘Alright,’ he says, shifting her out of the clutch of his arms and onto the step beside you, ‘Sit tight, mi amor. I’ll be back in a minute.’

The front door isn’t even closed behind him before Lucia is crawling her way into your lap, wrapping her arms around you. You tuck your hands against her back, pulling away to look at her.

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

‘The dinosaurs.’ She says, gravely. You nod, just as serious, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘That’s good. Bugs have a lot going for them.’

She leans back to consider you for a moment, her face scrunching up in the low lying sun.

‘Miss Lopez called you Mrs Morales the other day,’ she says, ‘Does that mean you and Papi are married now?’

Your heart lurches in your chest, head spinning a little. You laugh, disbelieving. From the mouths of babes.

‘No, baby,’ you say softly, and her face falls. 

‘Why not?’

You can feel your heartbeat in your toes. You pray Frankie is struggling to find those strawberry laces.

‘We’re - we’re just friends, Luc. People who get married are usually a bit more than friends.’

Lucia frowns.

‘But you are more than friends,’ she insists, ‘You’re best friends. And you love each other.’

Jesus Christ. You squeak out a hm, trying to remain noncommittal. Lucia begins to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

‘How do you get married?’

‘Well,’ you swallow, ‘Usually you have a big party. With lots of friends and family there. And you have to ask each other first.’

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

You choke out a laugh. Frankie’s eyes on yours, on your mouth. The moment caught in time.

Idle thoughts.

‘He could. But I don’t think he wants to.’

Her wide, brown eyes shoot to yours, hands stilling on the chain of your necklace. A feeling creeps up the back of your neck.

‘He does,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re his favourite person, apart from me. He told me s- Papi!’

She cuts herself off in an excitable screech, and you scrunch your face at it. Luc is wriggling in your lap, lips open wide in a toothy grin. Her hands reach out in fists as Frankie rounds your shoulder, the plastic packet of strawberry laces crinkling in his hand. 

‘Open your hand,’ he says, and Lucia obeys, her fists flattening to palms face up. Frankie drops a small handful of the sweets onto them, and she dances on top of your thighs, shoving two in her mouth at once so she can chew them up like snakes disappearing between her teeth.

She flashes you another grin, red blended with white, and wriggles backwards, running off back to her dinosaurs. 

Frankie settles next to you again, offering you the packet. You take it, fingers scrabbling for sugar as the two of you watch her. For a second, it’s like you’re a family. Like you can feel the weight of a ring on your finger, a ring that was supposed to be there some time in the last six months. You shake your head. A silly thought.

Frankie licks his fingers beside you, and you turn to watch him. The sound of the pop as he releases them from his mouth, the smile that dances across his lips as he watches Lucia, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. An involuntary smile crawls across your own lips.

‘Got another favour you can do for me,’ you say, still chewing. 

‘Hm?’

‘Sink’s a little leaky. Think you can take a look?’

You hold the packet of strawberry laces out to him, and he takes one, lowering it into his mouth. You giggle at the way his tongue curls around it. He grins back at you.

‘Sure can, baby. Luc is at a sleepover Friday night. That work for you?’

‘I think it might, Morales. I think it might.’

[aca-4]

So... back in spring 2019 I wanted to make "evil" versions of the mane six. But unlike the discordant and mean six versions of the show, where they became the opposite of their element of harmony, I wanted to simply push their good traits far enough until they became something bad. I called them the "Corrupted Elements" (very original, I know)

I still like the concept and decided to revamp it a little. Here they are:

Magic -> Power / Friendship -> Worship: Friendship is an important part over every pony's life - something Twilight Sparkle isn't very interested in. She knows that if she studies hard, she'll get praised and her teachers will like her, and isn't that just like friendship? She doesn't need to make friends by getting to know or spending time with them. If she becomes a powerful enough unicorn, everypony will want to be her friend. Surely this must be what Celestia had in mind when she sent her to Ponyville...

Loyalty -> Obsession: Rainbow Dash is the most dedicated friend you'll ever have. She'll be by your side, look out for you and never ever leave you. E V E R.

Generosity -> Sacrifice: Rarity is always willing to lend a helping hoof. If you're ever in trouble, she'll drop whatever she's working on for you. She's also quite willing to give up a thing or two if you ask her often enough. What a gentlemare, always looking to please others!

Honesty -> Bluntness: To Applejack, honesty is the most important thing. After all, you shouldn't spread mean lies about ponies and always admit when you've made a mistake - just how you shouldn't sugarcoat the harsh truth, regardless of whose feelings you're hurting, and always answer a question, even if it means spilling a secret that wasn't yours to tell.

Kindness -> Naivety: According to Fluttershy, you should always be kind to those around you. That's probably how the poor thing always gets herself in trouble, looking danger in the eye with a warm smile and forgiving anyone, no matter how heinous their crimes are. She just can't help but believe in the good in everyone and thinks she can bring that out by simply being nice to them.

Laughter -> Schadenfreude*: Pinkie Pie loves having fun and making others laugh. Sometimes others even help her spread that laughter by humiliating themselves for the crowd to mock! She can make a joke out of any dark situation, sometimes by laughing at the situation itself. She doesn't care if it's "inappropriate" or "offensive" - it's all just in good fun, she insists.

(*german loanword that refers to the joy one feels at another person's misery)

----

MLP:FiM and its characters belong to Hasbro

I only own these concepts, but feel free to add your own ideas onto them

I changed some of the ideas from the original a bit. Here they are as well:

Also found these old notes I drew on paper:

[mayamidnightmelody]

In the enchanting realm of Moonlit Meadows, where the whispers of the wind danced through the tall grasses and the moon cast its silvery glow upon the earth, there existed a bond so pure and tender it transcended the boundaries of ordinary friendship.

Within this mystical land lived two young maidens named Elara and Seraphina. Elara, with her cascading rainbow-hued hair that shimmered like the aurora borealis, was known for her gentle spirit and compassionate heart. Seraphina, with her midnight-blue locks that framed her delicate features like a veil of stardust, possessed a fiery passion and unwavering courage.

Their friendship blossomed beneath the ancient oak trees and beside the babbling brooks of Moonlit Meadows, where they shared secrets, dreams, and laughter that echoed across the valley. But as time passed, their bond deepened, evolving into something beyond mere friendship.

One evening, beneath the silver glow of the full moon, Elara and Seraphina found themselves drawn to the edge of a tranquil pond, its surface rippling with reflections of the starlit sky. As they sat side by side, their hands brushed against each other, sending shivers of anticipation down their spines.

With a soft smile, Elara turned to Seraphina, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing. "Seraphina," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath of wind, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you."

Seraphina's gaze met Elara's, her eyes reflecting the depths of her emotions. "What is it, Elara?" she asked, her voice filled with tenderness.

Drawing closer, Elara cupped Seraphina's cheek in her hand, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken yearning. "I… I think I love you," she confessed, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Seraphina gazed into Elara's eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. Then, with a soft sigh, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them until their lips met in a tender kiss.

In that fleeting moment, as their lips brushed against each other, the world around them faded away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the gentle rhythm of their hearts beating as one. It was a kiss filled with the sweetness of first love, the kind that ignited a flame within their souls and bound them together in a bond that could never be broken.

As they pulled away, their eyes met once more, shimmering with tears of joy and the promise of a love that would endure for eternity. In that sacred moment beneath the moonlit sky, Elara and Seraphina knew that they had found something truly magical—a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space, and would forever illuminate their path through the enchanting realm of Moonlit Meadows.

[onethousandwords]

God's Fingerprints in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic itself does not make any mention of God, but it is a good show, especially for children and even for some adults, to learn about various issues in relationships (friendships in particular) and how to handle them. It also has bad guys which are defeated by the power of friendship and Elements of Harmony. Some of those bad guys are also later redeemed through forgiveness and learning their own friendship lessons. I believe that behavior is distinctly Christ-like because Jesus died on the cross for our sins and is faithful to forgive us if we confess to Him.

Even if you don't know anything or much about the show, you can see just from the outset that it is conveying messages that would be pleasing to God - messages involving friendship, hope, forgiveness, and how to make peace when there's a conflict among friends. But it goes even further than that: Each pony possesses a different Element of Harmony (which take the shape of a magical artifact in the show) according to how they persevere best. There are six total, and most of them correspond to the fruits of the Spirit Paul talked about or to something else that God would highly value.

For a refresher, the fruits of the Spirit according to Galatians 5:22-23 are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. The Elements of Harmony meanwhile are Honesty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Loyalty, and Magic. You can see that the kindness and generosity elements are directly related to the fruits of the Spirit, but I believe the others can be related as well.

For instance, Laughter corresponds to Joy, and the pony in possession of it is Pinkie Pie who could be considered a very joyful pony - she even has a song called "Smile, Smile, Smile." The fact that this is repeated three times is even more delightful since the number three puts one in mind of the Triune God - three in one.

Then, there's Loyalty which can correspond to Faithfulness. The pony in possession of this element is Rainbow Dash who has a strong loyalty to her friends, doesn't know how to give up, and pursues her dreams without wavering. Of course, Faithfulness being the fruit of the Spirit, we're called to be loyal to our God above all else - even above our own family and friends. That can be a difficult concept to grapple with, but it is important that we do grapple with that.

Then, there's the element of magic - which would seem not to correspond to any of the fruits of the Spirit. Buuuuuuut.... Remember, in the title, "Friendship is Magic." So, technically, the element of magic is also the element of friendship. Friendship is a form of love which is a fruit of the spirit. Additionally, the pony who wields the element of magic is known for doing her best to keep the peace with all of her friends. So, it can technically correspond to two fruits of the Spirit: love and peace.

The last element I'll talk about is the element of Honesty which doesn't seem to correspond to any of the fruits of the Spirit that Paul specifically wrote about, but it's still a vital component to the Christian faith. The element of Honesty is possessed by a pony named Applejack. And I think it's a little funny that Applejack actually runs an apple orchard farm with her family, and we're talking about the fruits of the Spirit.

But as I said, Honesty is important. We can trust in God's words to be truth, and Christians are called to live a life embodying that truth and do our best to be truthful. Jesus is the Truth, the Way, and the Life. And maybe, just maybe, He likes colorful ponies who have friendship lessons and adventures with each other.

[dark-twist-fairytales]

I have.. Thoughts. About MLP: A New Generation (or My Little Pony Gen 6). Below underneath the cut is what I think.

Sure, Izzy Moonbow is being pushed to be Pinkie Pie, in a way, but she's not. She's more of a Rarity vibe. Because of her place in the harmony. If we're going based on the core 5 rather than the mane 6, things change. Izzy is Rarity. They're both generous, giving anything they have to help others in need. Rarity, episode two, tore off her own tail to help the mane 6 cross a river. Izzy offered her home and supplies to help her group to not get caught, putting herself in the mix of them even if it meant potential harm to her.

Edit: Fixed the gen numbers. Oops.

They're not bad thoughts, but I think they're pushing a vibe that isn't right? Or it's being misinterpreted. Anyways, if being compared to Gen 4 (which is honestly unfair, to a degree, it feels like its own deal, but keeping with it for right now), the compare between characters just feels wrong.

Sunny Starscout was trying hard to be portrayed as the next Twilight, but honestly? She's Pinkie Pie. Now, the push of Twilight isn't wrong, but she's laughter. Happiness. They both try to bring joy to others and spread laughter and happiness around (to success, majority of the time, but lack of leads to a lost of hope), and generally try to be uplifting in times that may seem unfitting.

Hitch Trailerblazer. My boy Hitch. Although showing signs of wanting to be more Fluttershy, he's Rainbow Dash. They're both fiercely loyal, to a fault! Hitch loves his friendship with Sunny, if he didn't, he wouldn't have hunted after her with her trotting with their supposed enemy. Sure, it was to throw her in jail, but to quote him: "I'm not going to bail her out this time!", meaning that he has, in fact, jailed and bailed her. Rainbow Dash gave up on a possible dream opportunity to help her friends out, again, two episodes in!

Zephyrina "Zipp" Storm! She's Applejack, despite the try to be Rainbow Dash, she is brutally honest and tries to be nice about it, but let's be honest: when you have to be, you have to be. Sure, she doesn't exactly tell the full truth sometimes, but it needs to happen. Again, much like Applejack does. Hell, she convinces Pipp to trust her and it works! Pipp wouldn't trust her without backing or dishonesty before, sister relationship aside!

Speaking of: Pipp Petals is Fluttershy, very much the element of kindness. She could have completely LEFT the others in that alleyway to get caught and save herself, but she didn't. She may be more preppy like Rarity, but the kindness in her heart is very much there. Whether she heard Hitch's comment about agreeing with a pegasus is up for debate, or she might even just ignored it, she had been nothing but kind to Sunny and helped her out hen she needed it most while dancing! Again, back to Fluttershy with her being kind, while being shown with animals, it's not limited to animals.

It isn't fair to compare them to gen 4, as characters, but as the elements? Honestly? It works.

Also, as odd as the Skyrim horse tracking is for them, it's fitting. I dig the forward looking, but there are things I agree with that could be better (cutie mark on boths sides rather than one, the manes being dealt a bit better). And this is only going off the knowledge of watching the movie, not either shows (yet), approximately one season of Gen 4, and a bit from previous generations of My Little Pony, so I am FAR from the best or perfect person to talk about this. These are my opinions, you can agree or disagree as you please, that's the beauty of a complex thought process. And opinions can change, including my own.

Anyways, thank you for joining my ramblings.

[whatsthisascianbullshit]

Cute Interactions: Winking at Each Other

Thank you for @yloiseconeillants​ for the prompt that grew legs to get to the actual prompt part. ^^;

The other half of the prompt ask is here

Muireann has two hands. Hien would like for her to stop being in denial that she’s still in love with her girlfriend.

Around 600 words

Cute interactions prompts

Muireann’s bright laughter rang across the courtyard and Hien’s heart fluttered. It was the final nail in the coffin of the report before him. He would, of course, return to it after a brief break when he could give it his full attention.

He slipped out the door, greeting Hakuro with a nod as Muireann waved off the children leaving for their newly rebuilt school – rough though it may yet be around the edges. The white of her high-collared coat was near blinding in the sun, she had claimed that her Scholar attire was more suited to the research she was carrying out, though Hien believed its talent for hiding her blush was a larger factor than she cared to admit.

Muireann turned towards the docks, “Twas an amusing joke! Of an adventure in Revenant’s Toll, I believe you were speaking with Mater Matoya to convince her…” Hien leaned against the pillar, watching her call out an explanation to no one, knowing that at any second the Archon Y’shtola would round the corner.

When she does, Muireann’s smile – even concealed by her ‘appropriate research coat’ – is dazzling.

His heart ached in the way it always did when he was not on the receiving end of such a smile, but more so did it swell with joy. It had been an awkward start to their research endeavour with the two hiding smiles and stealing glances. Y’shtola too, had been just as bad concealing her longing sigh as she described the prismatic rainbow that made up Muireann’s aether after he had given in to curiosity.

Twas plain to anyone that the women still loved each other deeply. They had had their difficulties, of course, but Muireann defied death itself to bring Y’shtola back. A rather dramatic act for one who claims to have fallen out of love. Unfortunately for him and everyone else in their vicinity, the two refused to acknowledge any of their lingering feelings.

Muireann buried her face in Y’shtola’s hair a moment too long as they embraced in greeting.

Y’shtola’s tail stopped short of curling around Muireann’s leg.

Hakuro and Hien exchanged a very tired look. He had tried to broach the subject of multiple partners before but each time Muireann had skirted the topic. The same panic she had admitting her feelings before the assault on the castle filled her eyes whenever anything beyond the immediate future of their relationship was even implied. He understood, and quite honestly, was much of the same mind. The long term could wait – there was too much to resolve in the present. Countries to rebuild, people to relocate, a continent-spanning front line to defend.

The two women eventually broke apart and headed towards the foodstalls, very deliberately not holding hands. Amusing and frustrating though it may be, he did at least understand why they were both going through this careful dance. Neither wished to lose the other again, and there had been too many close calls on their lives to warrant risking their friendship.

“They will be out of ear shot soon, my lord, unless you intended to merely hide and look at them across the courtyard like –”

“Try to leave some sweets for the rest of us!” Hien called across as he closed some of the distance, cutting off Hakruo’s quiet suggestion, “I look forward to hearing your reports, Archon Y’shtola, Lady Uais.”

He winked as Muireann caught his eye and proceeded to turn a delightful shade of purple, her mouth moving in a response he couldn’t hear before turning and ducking behind the first stall she passed.

“Did you catch that, Hakuro?”

“Lady Uais looks forward to dining with you this evening, my lord.”

[thursdaygarbageday]

**Title: The Neighbors of Harmony Lane****Chapter 1: The Unconventional Trio**

In a vibrant little neighborhood known as Harmony Lane, there lived two and a half neighbors: Max, a bubbly artist; Lucy, a sharp-witted librarian; and their pet parrot, Quibble, who, well, couldn’t quite be counted as a full neighbor but made up for it with his colorful antics.

The three resided in a cozy cottage adorned with a blue door and bursting with flowers, where laughter seemed to seep from every crack and crevice. Their bond was forged in the fires of friendship and an unshakeable belief that life could be a delightful dance of humor and companionship.

One sunny morning, as Max set up his easel in the front yard, he called out to Lucy, flitting around with a book in hand. “Hey, Lucy! What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

“A what?” she asked, looking curious.

“An investi-gator!” he grinned, splattering his canvas with vibrant colors.

Quibble perched nearby, ruffled his feathers, and squawked, “Get it? Investi-gator! Heh, heh!”

---

**Chapter 2: Society of Laughs**

The charm of Harmony Lane extended beyond their cottage into the neighborhood. The residents believed that laughter could heal the soul and strengthen community ties. Inspired by this ethos, Max, Lucy, and Quibble began hosting a weekly “Joke Night” in their backyard, inviting everyone to share their quirkiest jokes and quotes.

On one such evening, as twinkling fairy lights hung overhead, the neighbors gathered around. Max kicked off the festivities: “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”

Lucy chimed in, “I don’t know, what?”

“A carrot!” Max laughed heartily.

And with that, the laughter flowed like a bubbling brook. Each punchline danced through the air, creating a symphony of joy. Lucy shared her favorite Joe Pesci quote: “You’re gonna mess with me? You’re messing with my whole family!” The crowd erupted, loving the energy of camaraderie it inspired.

---

**Chapter 3: A Community United**

As the weeks rolled by, the neighborhood bond deepened, and the Joke Night became a cherished tradition. People would gather not only to share their humor but also to discuss the challenges they faced. It wasn’t long before they decided to address a pressing issue: the park had fallen into disrepair.

Sitting around the picnic table one evening, Lucy suggested, “What if we combine our efforts to fix it up? We can call it ‘Harmony Park’ and make it a place for everyone to enjoy!”

Max nodded enthusiastically, “And we can decorate it with art! Imagine a mural that showcases our community spirit!”

Quibble flapped his wings, chirping, “And add a sign with jokes!”

With laughter fueling their plans, the neighbors banded together. They organized workdays where everyone pitched in, painting benches, planting flowers, and even installing a small stage for performances.

---

**Chapter 4: The Heart of Harmony**

On the day of the grand reopening of Harmony Park, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. The community members filled the park, sharing laughter, joy, and stories. Max unveiled a mural depicting their neighborhood’s history with whimsical elements and jokes woven throughout.

Just before the official ceremony, Lucy stepped up, holding a microphone. “Welcome to Harmony Park! Remember, folks, laughter is the shortest distance between two people. So let’s keep that going!”

As Quibble perched on her shoulder, he added, “Heh! And remember, when it rains, look for rainbows; when it’s dark, look for stars!”

A wave of laughter washed through the crowd, and amidst the smiles, the neighbors realized they had created more than just a park—they had nurtured a home where love, joy, and humor thrived.

---

**Epilogue: Living in Harmony**

Years passed, but the spirit of Harmony Lane never waned. The cottage with the bright blue door remained a beacon of friendship, humor, and togetherness. Max continued to paint, Lucy wrote stories that brought smiles to all, and Quibble learned new jokes to entertain them every day.

As Joe Pesci once humorously put it, “I’m not saying I’m the best, but I’m pretty darn good.” And that’s exactly how they felt about their little harmony—a blend of love, laughter, and community that made every day brighter than the last.

And so, on Happenstance Lane, the neighbors thrived, proving that with a sprinkle of humor and a dash of love, anything was possible.

[claricezillerauthor]

A Grand Adventure Where Wonder and Self-Discovery Collide 

"Giovanna Hart: The Call of Laniwai"

Imagine a world where shimmering rivers sparkle with jewel-toned stones, their names whispered on the wind – emerald, ruby, sapphire. This isn't a dream; it's the reality Giovanna finds herself in after stepping through a magical rainbow named Tomé. "Giovanna Hart: The Call of Laniwai" by Clarice Ziller isn't just a story; it's an invitation to escape the ordinary and embark on a delightful adventure unlike any other.

Giovanna, a spirited 10-year-old, embodies the struggles many children face – the sting of isolation, the monotony of routine. But all that changes with the arrival of Tomé, a vibrant rainbow that whisks her away to Laniwai, a land brimming with fantastical creatures and exhilarating experiences. This isn't your average vacation destination; it's a playground for the imagination, a world where the extraordinary becomes commonplace.

Following the Call of Laniwai, Giovanna sheds her boredom and loneliness like an old cloak. Gone is the sadness that clung to her during the pandemic's isolation. In its place, a sense of wonder takes root as she explores shimmering rivers and encounters creatures from a storybook. Remember those childhood moments spent crafting fantastical worlds in your backyard? Laniwai embodies that spirit of imagination, transforming make-believe into a tangible reality.

This adventure, however, isn't just about frolicking in rivers of gemstones. Laniwai isn't for the faint of heart. It's a world that demands courage and resourcefulness. Giovanna, now known as Nannah in this fantastical realm, faces challenges that test her newfound spirit. Remember the thrill of deciphering a secret map or conquering a backyard obstacle course? Laniwai offers a thrilling escalation of those childhood adventures, pushing Nannah to confront her fears and discover a wellspring of inner strength.

But fear not, for Nannah doesn't face these challenges alone. Along the way, she encounters a vibrant cast of characters – mischievous pixies, wise old giants – each bringing their own unique personality to the story. These friendships become a source of support and laughter, a reminder that even the most daring adventures are best shared with companions.

The real magic of "Giovanna Hart" lies in its ability to capture the essence of a ten-year-old's imagination. The story is infused with a sense of lighthearted fun, a reminder that life is meant to be an exciting adventure, not a monotonous slog. As you journey with Nannah, you'll find yourself reminiscing about those childhood days when every day held the potential for discovery, when the world seemed boundless and brimming with possibilities.

"Giovanna Hart: The Call of Laniwai" transcends the boundaries of a children's book. It's a story that resonates with readers of all ages. It is a book that will remind us to embrace the wonder in the world around us. It's a call to break free from the mundane and rediscover the joy of exploration, the thrill of the unknown. 

So, step through the shimmering portal of Tomé alongside Nannah and let the magic of Laniwai reignite your sense of wonder, love, hope, and courage. 

Remember, life is supposed to be light and fun, and sometimes, the greatest adventures begin with a single, curious step into the extraordinary. 

So, are you ready to take a leap? Get your copy of Giovanna’s adventure from Amazon!

About the book:

In this first book of a trilogy, Meet Giovanna, a spirit 10-year-old stuck at home who is whisked away to Laniwai, a land of adventures, by a magical rainbow. On this quest to Pearl City, she faces fantastical creatures and unlocks courage she never knew she had. This heartwarming story teaches us all about the magic of childhood and the value of discovering and believing in ourselves.

[thefanficmonster]

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn

[eemoo1o-mlpoo]

A New Generation’s Elements of Harmony (Headcanon)

In the name of spoilers, I've added a readmore.

I haven't seen this be done yet (in other words, I'm sorry if it's been discussed), and this is purely an instalment of inspiration.

This subject is a tricky one. We haven't been told about the Elements of Harmony in this new storyline, and the only thing remotely similar is the Crystal of Friendship, or whatever the buck that thing is called.

See? I'm already censoring myself with horse-related puns.

It's also tricky because we've now got five mane characters instead of six. And, last we all checked, the Elements ended up fusing with the Tree of Harmony (who's spirit I'm still convinced is a Draconequus, but whatever, I'm totally over it).

So, I'm ruling out the Element of Magic. Why? Because it's the odd one out in the 'concepts of friendship' doohickey. I mean- to be nicer about it: the 'characteristics of friendship'.

We've heard 'friendship is magic' a multitude of times, but never 'friendship is kindness' or 'friendship is generosity', yaddi-yadda.

Thus: the mane five of generation five (ohh, I see what they did there) all represent the Element of Magic. They brought friendship back, after all, did they not?

Stereotypically, Pipp - as the Rarity of the group - would be generosity, Sunny - Twilight - would be Magic, Zipp - Rainbow Dash - would be loyalty, and Izzy - Pinkie Pie - would be laughter, because they're the 'carbon copies' of the Mane Six from generation four.

In addition to this, I call horsecrap. The only one I agree with is Izzy as laughter. She's eager to make friends - like Pinkie Pie - and finds joy in most things, in contrast to what the magicless unicorns were (like the rest of the Pie Family).

Let's start with Sunny, though: she was unwilling to give up on the idea of friendship with the other two species. This could put her in Twilight's shoes, but here's one much more fitting:

Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Rarity and Pinkie Pie tried to fight the manticore in the Everfree back in the second episode. It wasn't until Fluttershy - who hadn't been participating in such - screamed out that they stopped.

The 'screaming out' in generation five is Sunny reuniting the species with her new friends. The 'attacking' is, well, the war that Sprout had prepared, and the 'not participating' is not giving into the nasty rumours that had been spread.

Abbreviated: Sunny is the Element of Kindness.

Now, for Hitch (who I was actually pretty surprised about not being Sunny's brother. I mean, was that just me? They look more like siblings than Applejack and her siblings ever did, or Zipp and Pipp when their mother isn't present. Like, come on, that would have worked so well!).

He's the sheriff - which could put him in line to be Applejack's counterpart. He was pretty blunt with Sunny about her antics at the mall. But, so was Rainbow Dash. I mean, there was a whole thing in the fandom about her and Applejack not deserving their own Elements, but each other's.

Hitch and Zipp could fill those roles perfectly. But, more on her later.

You could put this down to duty, but as her friend, Hitch never gave up on Sunny, even as his and the town's patience began wearing thin. Plus, wasn't his first-or-second line the cutest thing ever "Don't worry, Sunny, we can play the game your way, I don't mind.", basically showing that he was sticking by Sunny when she got upset because of Sprout's own antics.

And, when he eventually found her in Zephyr Heights (which I so desperately want to be connected to Zephyr Breeze, as well as Zipp's full name 'Zephyrina', even if it is just for a joke) and saw that she needed his companionship more than ever, he stuck by her side, even eventually discarding his own beliefs in the process.

First of all: friendship goals. Secondly: if the writers make one of our leading mares a love interest to him I'll... probably keep watching, but still. (I could tell they were trying to set up some sort of chemistry/dynamic between him and Pipp and him and Izzy, sort of making an Edward-Jacob scenario, and I don't quite know how I feel, yet. I mean, if you're going to ship him with anypony, let it be Sprout!).

Thirdly, this would place Hitch in the loyalty division, and to be frank, I think it fits!

Now, for Pipp Petals. Like Izzy, I think she could shimmy into her counterpart's hooves well. She - although first being portrayed as rather neutral about the whole unicorn-and-earth-pony-ordeal - inevitably gave up her shining spotlight to help her sister, Sunny, and Izzy escape the hullabaloo the revealed wires had caused, even after Zipp had left her quite literally hanging there (which kicked Zipp out of the spot as the Element of Loyalty quite easily) in a similar fashion to how Rarity had cut off her tail for Steven Magnet.

Abbreviation: Pipp stays in the generosity slot.

Now, for Zipp:

She gave up almost everything to reveal the truth. Multiple times, she said that she hated living a lie. She wanted to fly, and if deliberately disobeying her mother and revealing the truth was the way to do that, then so be it.

I mean, the sheer pain on her face when she was looking at that Wonderbolts' poster was just... wow. She faced the truth - she told it - despite how much it hurt her.

It reminds me of Discord's spell over Applejack in generation four's second season premiere. Well, in reverse that is.

You could tell that flying was her passion (like Rainbow Dash, but that doesn't make her a complete carbon copy and place her into the role as the Element of Loyalty), and she often ran to the neighbouring mountain range to play out the closest thing she'd get to actually flying: parkour!.

I could be nitpicking, but I recall Applejack facing the truth after running to a far away cherry farm. It was a problem she overcame, like Zipp had to.

In conclusion: the mane five all represent the Element of Magic - as Friendship - with respective Elements of their own. Izzy Moonbow is the Element of Laughter, Sunny Starscout is the Element of Kindness, Hitch Trailblazer is the Element of Loyalty, Pipp Petals is the Element of Generosity, and Zipp Storm is the Element of Honesty.

What do you think? Did I miss anything?

Do you have any alterations you would like to add? I'd love to hear them if you do.

Oh, and Sprout is Starlight Glimmer. Think about it; he totally is.

[freckleslikestars]

prompt: mulder & scully at a carnival :)

Thank you so much!

Fun fact: growing up I hated going to the carnival my village held each year - it was too busy and too loud and I'd always have to be on one of the parade floats and the straw bales we had to sit on were always itchy. I don't enjoy fairground rides because I don't like heights and I get motion sick. I dreaded it every year. However, I love the concept and aesthetic of carnivals and funfairs.

1155 words, read here on AO3

‘Come on, Scully, it will be fun!’

‘Mulder, no. We’ve got an early flight in the morning and it’s been a long week. We should go back to the motel, pack our bags, and get some sleep.’

Mulder pouted, face lit by the strings of rainbow bulbs hung everywhere in the dusk, ‘y’know, we’re never going to be able to sleep with this music. You can hear it halfway across town. Just half an hour, Scully? Please?’

She sighed, rolled her eyes. If she said no he’d just dig his heels in, go alone and walk back to the motel, calling her when he got lost. And he was right, the music was obnoxiously loud.

The carnival had popped up overnight, making their missing persons case harder to work as they navigated around streets closed for the parade and sought out witnesses and suspects when the whole town had apparently been joining in with the festivities.

Ellingbrow wasn’t a big place, a small farming community in west Ohio of 2,978 residents, and every single one of them could, at one point or another throughout the day, have been found at the funfair or taking part in the parade.

‘Fine,’ she huffed, shaking her head, ‘half an hour. But only half an hour.’

In truth, part of her was relieved they weren’t going straight back to the muggy heat of their unairconditioned motel rooms, and she watched as her partner shed his jacket, swallowing thickly as he loosened his tie and undid his top buttons.

Averting her eyes and shucking off her own blazer, she tried to cool the heat in her cheeks. Briefcases and outerwear were deposited in their rental.

‘So,’ she cleared her throat, ‘what first?’

‘First, cotton candy!’ a grin split across his face, eyes lighting up as he grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the field crowded full of attractions and people, weaving in and out between laughing teenagers and drunk twenty-somethings to find the stall and join the short queue, releasing her hand.

‘You know this is pure sugar, don’t you, Mulder?’ she grinned when he handed her a stick of candy floss, accepting one for himself and handing over a couple of dollars.

‘That’s what makes it so good,’ he took a bite, looked around over the heads of others, gasping with joy, ‘there’s a ghost train over there! We’re going on it, come on!’ his hand found hers again as if it were second nature for them to be linked. If she weren’t being rushed through throngs of people by her long-legged partner, she would have taken the time to contemplate just how comfortable he seemed holding her hand.

One ghost train ride later, he was crowing with laughter and she was smiling indulgently up at him. Whilst she wouldn’t admit it on a later date, she was enjoying herself, if only through watching Mulder enjoy himself. Another thing she wouldn’t admit at a later date was how deep she was realising her feelings for her partner really went. Since the discovery and loss of her daughter, since her remission, since maybe even before her cancer diagnosis, she’d found herself falling more and more for him, and what had started as curiosity and lust had evolved to friendship, admiration and love. Time away from him was spent thinking about him. And when she was close to him, she felt it; wanted to be closer.

‘...wheel?’

‘Hmm?’ she blinked up at him, shaking herself out of her reverie.

He laughed, shook his head and nodded over to the Ferris wheel, ‘wanna see the entire town?’

She smirked as he guided her over to it, ‘that’s not exactly hard.’

‘What is it you don’t like about small-town America, Scully?’

‘Who says I don’t like small-town America?’

He smiled and shrugged, holding out the carriage door for Scully to step into, ‘it’s just something I’ve noticed over the years, you never seem happy out in the sticks. I wondered why that is.’

‘I dunno. I guess I grew up a navy brat, so we always lived in base housing that...it was like we were in this isolated community. It wasn’t bad or anything, I just...as soon as I went to college, moved to the city-proper I decided that was what I wanted, where I wanted to live. I don’t like the idea of everyone knowing you, everyone knowing your business, you know? There’s an anonymity to the city that I like.’

‘I can understand that,’ he nodded slowly.

‘So, why do you like them?’

‘I like the sense of community. The idea that there’s always someone watching out for you, always someone to lend a jug of milk or a bag of flour.’

‘You taking up baking, Mulder?’

‘No, but you know what I mean.’

Scully nodded, rested her head on his shoulder as they looked out across the lights of the town, ‘I do know what you mean. I think that’s probably a myth, though. I mean, how many towns like this have we had cases in? Terrible, horrible cases?’

‘Point taken. But then, how many more towns never have even so much as a case of joyriding.’

‘I know you, Mulder. You’d get bored, restless.’

‘Hmm, maybe. Maybe not.’

By the time they disembarked, the speakers had dropped in volume just slightly and were now playing slow, soft Elvis.

‘Dance, Scully?’

‘Why not?’ she smiled, noticing his hand already in her own, trying to remember when exactly he had taken ahold of it again.

They stood out, somewhat, dancing slowly in their suits amongst the crowds of people in denim cutoffs and flannel shirts and graphic tees. But then, when didn’t they stand out?

‘When we were kids, living in San Diego, Missy and I used to catch a bus down to the boardwalk in the evenings sometimes. We’d spend the month saving up all the loose change we could for those evenings. We’d eat fairground food and both pretend not to like it, we’d go on the Ferris wheel and hang out in the arcade. She’d find a booth to get my palm read, or my cards, whatever there was. She was into that sort of stuff.’

‘I know. She had a lot of healing crystals with her when you were returned. Where’d she pick that up from?’

Scully shrugged, laid her head against his chest, ‘I don’t know. She was always the believer. When we were kids she believed in fairies and monsters and dragons. I never did.’

‘No. No, I don’t imagine you ever did,’ he smiled and pressed his lips to her crown. ‘You know I wouldn’t want you any other way though, right?’

‘You don’t wish I believed things more readily?’

‘Sometimes, in the moment, I do. But mostly? No. No, you wouldn’t be Scully if you didn’t challenge me.’

‘Mulder?’

‘Mm?’

‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For tonight. And...for everything.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

[lowslore]

Manuscript Search Tag Game

Yet another from @akindofmagictoo !! Thank you!

My words are: joy, just, journey, join

Joy (Grey Blinds and Sunflowers)

As she leaned back on Jacob’s chest, Liesl sighed contentedly. This man was her world, her everything, and she felt so happy being around him. He gave her warm glowy feelings in her chest, wrapping over her heart. He made her serotonin flow. She loved being around him, he made her happy. He reminded her of flowers, of hot chocolate on snowy days, of cold spring mornings when the air was fresh and clean, of crunching through autumn leaves, of those songs that you can’t help but dance to, of flower crowns and laughter and friendship. Her heart leapt with boundless fun when she was around him, and she felt playful, filled with a kind of childish joy. Being with him took her back to simpler times, before friends left, before things got complicated before the world revealed its imperfections. She felt as though she were watching a Disney movie whenever she interacted with him, and she knew that he felt the same as she did about so many things.

Just (Grey Blinds and Sunflowers)

What we weren’t prepared for was them. Because as soon as we started building our dreams, standing with pride, stardust became just plain dust. Rainbows became grey. Flowers wilted, died and became ash. What we were made of stopped being wonderful, stopped being encouraging, stopped being incredible. We had squandered the opportunities given us by taking them, we had ruined the dreams they gave us by fulfilling them, we had defied our own inherent self by being who we were. By being ourselves, by having our own dreams, rather than building the dreams they tried to force on us all along while still telling us that we could be anything, we betrayed them. And while systematically bulldozing our dreams, setting up impossible barriers between us and those dreams, barriers which, even if you managed to climb over, left you broken, burnt, left your mind crippled so that sometimes it felt useless, while burning our gardens and stopping us from fighting, or placing stronger and stronger opponents in front of us, while doing all of this, still they told us we could dream and that it would come true. Still they told us we could be anything. Just not that.

Journey (Grey Blinds and Sunflowers)

She turned down various streets, hardly thinking about her route. She knew her city like the back of her hand, and as she entered town, she smiled up at the illuminations brightening up her journey. She remembered the way she used to dance through those like a spotlight, the time she’d spun around and around under a star and nearly thrown up, the time she’d eaten fish and chips at 2am and watched them flicker off. Now she wondered whether she’d ever see them again.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She had to move on. She knew her plan would work, and she knew it was the only way to push through this mission was to do this. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and she was determined to make them. She would show them how she could do anything she wanted to, when she put her mind to it.

Join (Grey Blinds and Sunflowers)

He was getting off topic. Darren’s conflict is what he was thinking about, not his own. So it was either a problem with trying to save a dustie and potentially the person who created the dusties, or it was a distaste for working against the Hawk’s. Joe knew that Darren had tried to join the Hawks a long time ago, and even though his opinions on the Giver and on society as a whole had changed, Joe knew that Darren hadn’t been able to shake his idolisation of the Hawks as an institution. He still believed that deep down in their hearts they were quitessentially good, and that the Giver himself was the problem, the one who corrupted and twisted their good intentions. Joe himself didn’t really know what to believe – he didn’t want to form an opinion until all relevant information was collected, and he felt that so little was known about the Hawks that he couldn’t accurately say whether he supported them or not.

I'm gonna tag @druidx, @reininginthefirewriting and anyone else who wants to! Your words are: sorrow, solely, sleep, single

[cuppasunu]

something new ⋮ changmin

synopsis: where you and changmin can’t last a day without arguing.. until you do.

pairing: changmin x fem reader

warnings: none

genre: fluff | oneshot

w/c: 1.2k words

a/n: this is my first tbz fic yay~ dancing machine ji changmin and his temper hm .. who’s a sucker for enemies to lovers ?

— masterlist

»»————————-««

The clock hasn’t even hit noon but you are currently having your third argument of the day with your dance partner, Changmin.

“Are you guys arguing again?”

“okay well she started it!”

“-he started it!”

A chorus of groans emerges from the crew after having to deal with the same old routine between you two.

“Started what, exactly?”

Embarrassed, you don’t even remember the root of your argument because it was probably something insignificant.

“See! You don’t even remember why you’re fighting in the first place. Why do you guys hate each other so much?”

“I don’t hate Changmin. I think he’s a great dancer, and he’s a very valuable member of this company.. I just find him disagreeable. sometimes.”

“Oh come on, disagreeable, hate. same thing!”

You roll your eyes to the rest of the crew as they keep on discussing the ridiculous reasons why you and Changmin fight: how to learn dance routines, which routines to learn, when to learn them, etc.. the smallest disagreements drag on and on.

The people around you get too tense once you start arguing with each other.

“It’s not like I don’t try to be nice. I have made an effort once, obviously it didn’t work..” 

“No, you’re just childish.”

Your jaw drops after hearing such a comment that triggers a wave of laughter in agreement with the group.

“I have also made an effort to be nicer but it hasn’t worked very well,” Changmin adds.

Sangyeon steps in and starts his lecture on how you should be nicer to each other, 

“y/n. Changmin. You know better. The two of you aren’t kids that need to be taught how to be considerate of other people’s feelings. Right now, we have intentionally made you partners for the next showcase to learn how to work your differences out because that’s what professional dancers have to do,” you both groan in response, “I believe you have received adequate training and experience on how to deal with petty disagreements such as this,” 

Changmin apologizes to everyone and walks away to take a break. Before he heads out, Sangyeon calls him back in, “So, I have an idea.”

He quickly leaves and comes back with two small boxes in hand, it looked like a mail drop off box with an envelope slot on top and a keyhole, whose keys were also given to both you and Changmin.

“To promote a more positive light to shine in your friendship, you are going to write a compliment for each other at least once a day,”

Changmin and you look at each other in confusion and disbelief. A compliment? It’s already obvious that you deliberately fail at treating each other with decency, so a compliment each day seems like such a bizarre and unusual thing to start.

“It doesn’t have to be all flowery and rainbows and stuff. But just one rule. It has to be positive and you must write one everyday.”

Hesitantly taking the boxes in hand, you think through how you can pull this off, “Okay?”

“Read them when you want to, or feel like you need to. Sooner or later, you’ll discover how much you two have in common instead of arguing every single day. It’s tiresome,”

Everyone leaves the room, leaving you and Changmin alone awkwardly trying to avoid each other and take your break.

It was no surprise that you would talk about something so surface level.

[Y/N:] i like ur hairstyle

[CHANGMIN:] i like your shoes 

This is going to be a long month.

-

Disagreements still happen from time to time but now you also share more about your life, your days, frustration and joys, finding more things to talk and write about. Instead of just complimenting the outfits you two wear or the dance move you particularly do the best, you both start talking about each other’s patience, sense of humor, thoughtfulness, even shared interests that you learn about one another. Slowly but surely, everyone notices how different you two act nowadays, that some days even pass by without a single fight.

Ever since being partnered up for the next showcase, you and Changmin have spent so much more time together. And now since the compliment thing is in the picture, you unknowingly pay extra attention to really look for something genuine to write for each other.

You start noticing how he hands you water before you even ask and reminds you to hydrate during the most tiring parts of the day. He starts noticing the way you cook and bring extra food for the both of you to share.

One day you wonder if you’re the only one writing deeper compliments, so you decided to read some of the notes he has dropped for your box.

“thank you for teaching me how to be patient with learning routines, i don’t know how you do it”

“i see you laugh more nowadays and i noticed that hearing it makes me smile too”

“your eyes might actually be my favorite color”

There were a few notes you haven’t read but you can’t get yourself to open more. Your heart starts pounding so intensely, and that scares you.

-

In the next rehearsal, you can’t even look at him in the eye. You would have never imagined to see his mere words of compliments affect you this much. For some weird reason, Changmin suggested you practice on the rooftop tonight.

“Why are we suddenly coming up here?”

He just grins and takes your hand into his, leading the way up the stairs.

“I’m bored with practicing inside that room all day. at least here we have some fresh air,”while you are totally freaking out about the fact that you re alone with him in a slightly romantic setting

The rehearsal is going really well. After finishing the first two routines, you wait for the next track to play.

But after the song started playing, it glitched a couple of seconds in and played another pair’s performance song, a slow love song made for contemporary dance choreography.

You face Changmin to ask him what’s going on only to be startled to see him already looking at you. Breaking the eye contact, you start walking towards the computer.  

“Hold on, let me check what’s wron-” 

“-wait,” he interrupts as he gently grasps your arm and stops you from walking away. He smiles bashfully and looks down to the ground, chuckling to himself, while you’re standing there confused. Changmin tugs on the sleeves of your sweater to pull you in closer, as he leans in to teasingly, before he quickly makes his way up to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Hear me out, y/n. I don’t know when it started, how it started, or why.. but all I know is that I want to see you every day. It’s hard to believe now, I know. I didn’t believe it at first either, but I want to do something about it, about us,”

Before he starts nervously rambling, you tell him how you truly feel, “I feel the same way too,”

Changmin swiftly cups your face and kisses you the moment he hears your confession. The kiss was short and sweet, but it meant like a million words that explained it all.

The love song is still playing in the background—a sweet addition to this special moment. Butterflies in your stomach was an understatement to what you’re currently feeling. There must be a whole zoo in there. Staying in each other’s arms and slowly swaying back and forth, rehearsal was long forgotten.

You don’t really know what’s in it for you two after this, but it all feels like everything is where it needs to be.

»»————————-««

— masterlist

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Fan-Headcanon Theory: The True Elements Of Harmony (In EQG-World And Possibly In Equestria World)

okay we know that in Equestria Girls,

Sunset Shimmer Is Empathy, and her new magic ends up being some form of empath, like when she touches someone she can see their memories and feel what they are feeling.

also after thinking about the movie where Sci-Twi ends up going to Sunset and the rest of the girl’s school for the friendship games.

I started to see some similarities to how the Human Counterparts were acting in the movie, like Rarity made outfits for her friends, Applejack helping Sci-Twi,

Fluttershy making Sci-Twi feel better, Rainbow Dash’s speech and actions.

Pinkie Pie bringing joy and happiness to the party for both schools.

this kind of thing, even showed in the first episodes, when Nightmare Moon returned....

Rainbow Dash Is The Element Of Gallantry

Applejack Is The Element Of Reassurance

Fluttershy Is The Element Of Solace

Pinkie Pie Is The Element Of Cheer

Rarity Is The Element Of Selflessness.

Rarity selflessness to give to Steven, was generous but she did it out of selflessness, regardless that it would leave her with a short tail for a while.

not everyone has to agree to this, but I believe it is true.

I also believe that there is a possibility the book that Princess Twilight read in the very start of the MLPFIM series, could of been full of half truths and lies.

meaning it gave only part of the truth, but was also full of lies.

I also believe that Sci-Twi Is The Element Of Trustworthy.

Celestia trusted Twilight Sparkle with tasks and obligations that has to do with checking on the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration.

as well as trusting her to go out and try to make some friends.

even if Loyalty, Honesty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity and Magic

is perhaps still elements of harmony, but that is not the truest part of both the human counterparts that make up The Rainbooms.

I’m not sure if I am the only one who had just realized this,

or if other MLPFIM/EQG Fans have come to this realization as well.

we know that Midnight Sparkle wanted all the magic,

and there is a possibility that she was cleaved out of Sci-Twi when Sunset got through to her.

Midnight Sparkle might of been sent to Equestria, and is able to visit Sci-Twi when she is sleeping, and it wasn’t just a Dream-Midnight Sparkle.

I also believe that the tacky cloud of purple smoke, might of been Midnight Sparkle.

who when she left Sci-Twi’s body, she was flung into the past....

like at the start of the first episodes of Season 1 of MLPFIM.

and she takes the form of Nightmare Moon, to get The Mane Six to go looking for the Elements of Harmony.

the idea to turn into the Shadowbolts, is memory from the EQG World.

and she even made the pony versions repeat the same actions their human counterparts did that cause them to Pony-Up.

well I still believe that Human-Pinkie Pie is the Real Pinkie Pie,

and before she left, she made another clone to take her place, so she can leave for the other world, and this clone ended up with all of Pinkie Pie’s memories and felt the same sadness and rejection that she felt, which means that the last clone she possibly made, was a Perfect Clone.

the last clones that Pinkie Pie made, was out of trying to please all her friends for a bit of selfish reasons, that wasn’t helping herself or her friends.

but once she used the pool correctly, and possibly wishing for a version of herself that would want to stay with her friends and not wanting to part from them, then the Perfect Clone came out of the pool.

but instead of being all fun happy and being really destructive,

the clone ends up feeling what the Original Pinkie was feeling.

but it could turn out the the reason why Pinkie made that last clone,

was to replace her, so she could leave to go to the EQG World.

the two Pinkie Pies still keep in touch, and the Original Pinkie will even hear about how her clone found love with somepony named Cheese Sandwich.

the pool might make a perfect clone with all of the original’s memories,

if the creature or person, is using it for true selflessness,

and the pool could possibly be able to read someone’s heart,

and it making destructive clones with no memories that belong to Pinkie Pie,

was it giving her a punishment for misusing it’s magic.

but once Pinkie Pie felt regret for the mess she caused by creating those first dozen clones, the pool could read this in both her heart...

and so ends up making the last clone, which ends up taking the test with the other clones, while the Original Pinkie went through a portal to the EQG World.

there could be evidence in the first Equestria Girls Movie that the Human Pinkie Pie, was from Equestria and was the Original Pinkie.

and she found out that Twilight was her old friend from the Pony Magical Creature World, thanks to her surviving clone.

who had to tell her that their friend Twilight, became a Princess, and if she doesn’t get her crown tonight, she wont be able to go home for a very VERY long time.

The Original Pinkie even tells Pinkie II in Equestria,

about the Human-Flash and the other info that the Other Pinkie tells Twilight,

but how would she know this...?

the reason why Original Pinkie who now lives in Equestria,

might of thought in the world she now calls home now,

Twilight must have a twin sister and had two dogs who are named Spike.

during her stay in that new world, she possibly wanted to see how the Human version of Twilight was doing, and found out that she lived in the city and had a dog named Spike.

but she ends up realizing that Twilight isn’t a twin, and the Twilight she asked if she had a twin sister that lived in the city, was in fact her old friend from the world she left behind after the Pinkie Pie Clone Incident.

and the one who possibly made her realize this, was her clone that she had take her place when she left Equestria.

  Pinkie Pie’s Full Name Is Pinkamena Diane Pie,

so what if to tell the two apart, we refer to the last surviving clone

as “Diana” like it is a real name, but it could also be seen as a way to take the “na” part of Pinkamena and the “Dia” part of Diane,

and making it into Diana.

she would be Rose Quartz Diana Pie, the Clone of Pinkamena Diane Pie.

who can secretly go by the nickname, Rosie Pie.

and it could turn out the only ones who know about the whole Pinkie and Rosie,

might be the Pie Family, and could see both Pinkies as their family even if one is the original and the other is a clone.

I still believe that Sunset could find out the elements of harmony in the world she (and Pinkie) live in now, have different names and they are called:

Empathy, Gallantry, Reassurance, Solace, Cheer, Selflessness and Trustworthy.

it could turn out that she might of also realized this might be the same for Equestria, but before she could go through the portal to tell the current ruler Princess Twilight Sparkle of her discovery, she finds out the portal is once again closed.

and she might of wrote in her journal, about the message and even said she was going to go to Equestria to spread this info.

but someone didn’t want that kind of info to get out, so the one who read that message, took the book that powers the portal in the mirror, and cut off the portal between the two worlds, and get rid of the evidence in Sunset’s last entry.

and no I don’t believe that it was Starlight, and it sure wasn’t Cozy or Chrysalis or even Tirek.           

it might of been Midnight Sparkle, we know that the element of magic

is what transformed Sunset into a She-Demon, but the dark magic was coming from the element itself and it fed off of the negative feelings on Sunset, and went as far as use it’s dark magic to transform her into a She-Demon.

the magical residue leftover from the element of magic touching the portal, caused the portal to be tainted with the dark magic residue from Twilight’s Element.

and when Sci-Twi touched it, some of the dark magic residue infected her.

so when she touched the device she was making, the dark magic that infected her, fully went to the device and fully infected it.

the dark magic would then end up sucking the magic out of Sunset’s friends when they showed the truest part of themselves, their true elements.

the dark magic would then end up influencing Sci-Twi into releasing it,

so it could fully infect and transform her.

the sparkle in Sci-Twi’s eye, wasn’t just out of wanting to get back at those who have wronged her....

but it was because the dark magic that was inside the device she created,

was influencing her.

Midnight Sparkle ends up in Equestria, because of the last crack in reality that was below both herself and Daydream Shimmer.

when Midnight left Sci-Twi’s mind and body, she ends up falling into Equestria, Sunset and Pinkie’s Original Home.

but even if she was in that world now, she could still go into Sci-Twi’s dream and tell her that she is a part of her and that she wont stop until she has all the magic.

it’s possible that what causes magic to leave Equestria in the future of My Little Pony New Generation, might of been Midnight Sparkle.     

 even if the magic being sent to another world by Cozy Glow, would of been a bad thing, but the magic leftover might regenerate, and without very powerful magic, it would of left Midnight Sparkle without a reason to be there.

no one has to agree about this, but it’s possible that Midnight Sparkle had placed herself in Princess Twilight’s subconscious when she went into Equestria in some point in it’s past.

and hearing about Nightmare Moon from the book that Twilight was reading,

Midnight Sparkle gets the idea to take the form of Nightmare Moon,

but she had to leave her current vessel Twilight Sparkle first.

but once she takes both Twilight and the elements to where the Real Nightmare Moon is (who just got there.), Midnight turns into a puff of purple smoke and returned into Twilight Sparkle’s mind.

it’s okay that not everyone agrees about this, but it is what I see as fan headcanon.

the one who causes Earth Pony, Pegasi and Unicorns to lose all their magic, was Midnight Sparkle.

she even used a memory stone to make everyone forget the bonds of friendship they all shared, and even spread lies.

still being linked to Sci-Twi, and knowing stuff she knows, she knows about Sunset being able to see other’s memories through touch.

so she twisted that, and made every Earth Pony and Pegasi

into believing that Unicorns can Read Your Minds by using their horn.

the memory stone that Midnight uses, could be a copy of the original,

and she had recreated it.

Midnight Sparkle might of not used a memory stone at all,

and just used her abilities that she used on Rainbow Dash before, to try to abandon her friends for her dreams.

she could of split herself into different type of ponies,

and used the unicorn and earth pony doubles of herself,

and made it look like the unicorn was reading the earth pony’s mind.

Midnight Sparkle could of done this when all of Princess Twilight’s friends (even the clone of Pinkie Pie that became her friend, who she has no clue isn’t the original Pinkie) were all long gone and no longer among the living.

the heartache of losing Pinkie Pie (The Clone), Rainbow Dash, Rarity,

Fluttershy and Applejack, was enough to give Midnight full control of her body and send Princess Twilight Sparkle in a prison inside her own mind.

those who figured out what was going on, ended up creating the Earth Pony Crystal, Pegasus Crystal and Unicorn Crystal.

even if it might not be canon, but it would be interesting if it did turn out that the Equestria Girls World was in the same world as the one Sunny, Izzy, Hitch, Sprout, Zipp and Pipp live in.

like what if the EQG World was a distant future, where half of humans had evolved from ponies (and possibly other creatures, because the proof might be the Diamond Dogs.), while the other half stayed as ponies.

and Sunny’s dad had ended up going to the other world to Princess Twilight’s home version of Equestria, and he brought what he learned from there, about Twilight and her friends to the world he lives now.

it could turn out the world that Sunset calls home, is a Alternate Timeline where another version of Twilight Sparkle who ended up becoming consume by negative emotions and the dark magic, became Midnight Sparkle.

or it was the Original Time Traveling Twilight Sparkle, who tried to warn Twilight of a unknown disaster, but it wasn’t to not worry so much.

it was to keep herself from doing something that would change Equine History Forever.

it could turn out that Future-Twilight, could of found out about Humans, like Megan...

and she ends up using a spell, that made it so that half of the equine had stayed as ponies while the other half evolved into “Humane beings”

some might get the pun, because Future-Twilight messed with the timeline, she also ended up causing a temporal copy of herself to be born, which is Sci-Twi.

Future-Twilight ends up staying as a Unicorn, and ends up staying in some point in the past, and even ends up becoming the founder CHS.

which might explain why her cutie mark is on the chairs in the cafeteria,

and even in front of the school.

Future-Twilight messed with magic she shouldn’t, and she tried to fix her mistake by trying to look for a way to go back in time, and how she learns about the spell, might be thanks to Starlight who used the time travel spell and ends up in that timeline, and meets the unicorn Twilight and ends up telling her where the spell was, cause Future-Twilight asked.

and after finding out, she asked Starlight to take her to where the scroll was and take her back there so she can use it to fix the world she had broken.

then when Starlight finally agrees, and leaves with that version of Twilight,

at the same time some humans and ponies walked past where they last stood.

the spell that Future-Twilight used, to cause a change to the past and make equines evolve differently, like ones still being ponies and the others ending up evolving into humans.

might of been done without her going into the past, but she learned a spell that can be used to send a spell to the past, like a evolution spell.

but when she did it, it caused all her friends to change into humans in the current timeline she lives in, so she tried to fix it.

but she ends up going to the time and place where she discovered the two spells, to open a small portal through time and sending the evolution spell through it.

she stops her past self from using the two spells, but also she caused a type of Alternate Timeline Paradox...?

it stops that version of Twilight Sparkle who would later become a Princess,

from using two spells that would of changed her timeline.

the portals that allows not just travel to Alternate Worlds, but Alternate Timelines.

the other world where King Sombra becomes a kind ruler, and who Celestia fell in love with, was from a Alternate Timeline, where he didn’t fall into the same path as his other self in the main stream timeline.

everyone can have different theories that involve their favorite series, either it be a video game or show or comic or movie series.

and sometimes, fans end up predicting the canon of the series.

Kris from Deltarune, really eating the Pie, was one of the best accidentally fan predication of ever.

of course it was someone else who ended up accidentally predicting that,

even what is shown in Paper Trail AU, shows the same elements in Chapter 2.

which also means, that there is a possibility that the Ralsei we see in Chapter 2, isn’t the original one that we meet in Chapter 1.

I mean I had suspected that already,

because the Ralsei in Chapter 2, is taller than Kris,

while Ralsei in Chapter 1 is the same height as  Kris.

when Ralsei in Chapter 1, takes off his hat, you will notice that his horns are slightly smaller than the horns that Ralsei from Chapter 2 has.

the Original Ralsei, might be trapped in the dark world that was originally the home of Lancer and everyone else who originally lived there.

the Other Ralsei wanted to make sure that Ralsei didn’t leave that place,

so he had both the doors, in the dark and light worlds, locked.

that Other Ralsei, knew about the unused classroom, because he was there before, and he was the one that locked the closet door, to keep the Original Ralsei trapped.

well that is what I believe, I can’t be the only one who thinks Ralsei in Chapter 2, acts suspicious.

we know we had theories about Ralsei being secretly evil or being a pawn and being tricked by the true bad guy in the game.

but we had that theory when it was just Chapter 1.

maybe the Ralsei that was suppose to end up being the true “Evil-Ralsei”

is the one that appears in Chapter 2, and who had possibly appeared in Chapter 1, and had switched places with the Real Ralsei

when Kris and Susie were distracted by King.

we don’t see Ralsei, until after King is defeated, either by Susie using that sleep spell, or Lancer and everyone The Fun Gang’s shown mercy to, comes in at the right time to overthrow Lancer’s Dad.

I’m not sure if the rumors about the other chapters coming soon,

are true or not.

but I know that each chapter is gonna be worth the wait.

I hope Toby and everyone on the team, do their best and make sure to take breaks to rest,relax and make sure to get eat and stays safe.

 also it’s okay that not everyone agrees about my Element Theory.

but besides it showing in that Equestria Girls Movie, where it shows the Friendship Games....and also the first episodes of MLPFIM.

it could also show in the stories that the Mane Six told about how they got their Cutie Marks.

it’s okay that not everyone agrees about this theory, and it’s okay that I am the only one who believes it.

anyway, thanks for listening to the Element of Harmony’s True Names Theory,

as well as the possibility that the world that Sunset lives in now, was a Alternate Timeline, that was changed by the Future-Twilight that had went to stop her Past-Twilight self from using the two spells, but ended up causing a misunderstanding with that version of herself, and in the end, that Twilight ends up thinking that the thing her future self was trying to warn her about, was to not to worry so much.

and it causes a type of Butterfly Effect.

very crazy theory I guess, but I believe that the Future-Twilight Sparkle from that one episode, was trying to warn her past self of something else, and it wasn’t to warn herself to not worry so much.   

[thursdaygarbageday]

Once upon a time in the magical kingdom of Sparklesh, there lived two unlikely friends Princess Isabella and Prince Oliver, also known as Primo. Despite coming from different worlds—Isabella from the royal castle and Oliver from the bustling market—they shared a bond like no other.

One sunny day, Princess Isabella decided to throw a grand celebration in the royal gardens to honor the friendship between the royals and the common folk. The theme of the party? Fabulous Poop! It was an unconventional choice, but everyone in Sparkleshire knew that this princess had a knack for turning the ordinary into extraordinary.

As the guests arrived at the party, they were greeted by a rainbow of decorations, shimmering lights, and colorful confetti. There were poop-themed games and activities that brought joy and laughter to all who attended. Princess Isabella and Prince Oliver danced under the twinkling stars, their laughter echoing through the gardens.

Amidst the festivities, a sense of love, peace, and unity filled the air. The barriers between social classes melted away as everyone came together to celebrate the magic of friendship and acceptance. The kingdom of Sparkleshire had never seen such harmony and happiness.

At the stroke of midnight, as the party drew to a close, Princess Isabella stood before her guests and made a heartfelt speech about the true treasures in life. She spoke of the importance of love, the power of peace, the value of friendship, and how happiness could not be bought with money but found in the simple moments shared with those we cherish.

And so, as the stars twinkled overhead and the moonlight bathed the gardens in a soft glow, the people of Sparkleshire departed with full hearts and renewed spirits, carrying with them the lessons of the night: that in a world where love reigns, peace prevails, and happiness is abundant, anything is possible.

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