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ribinapan · 3 years

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meteorgazing

hello everybody here is an original piece of writing i was kinda proud of bc im trying to post on social media more.

prompt - aliens receive signals from Us (as in the US)

they are from proxima b and i will give more worldbuilding info if yall interested ok here we go :’)

one - meteorgazing

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notes -

opi - (two earth days)

rings - (eleven earth days)

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We get a lot of meteors.

Reason 50678 the surface isn’t safe-- no atmosphere means no pushback. Rocks hurtling from the sky aren’t quite uncommon. There’s not much damage to anything but what they hit. Of course, while it’s scary to watch, it doesn’t do much but cause a roofquake-- a rumbling beginning from the Seeing Dome to the rest of the tunnels. There’s been some incidents, some injuries and some deaths- like everything, it’s something swept away as a horrible- but normal- natural disaster, and most of the time it’s not much more than a little shiver. Really. People in the city at the time tend to gather just to watch. There’s something memorizing about watching a hurtling ball of rock slam into the face of our planet at high speeds while completely ablaze.

Even with the commonplace activity of gathering in the center of the city to watch space rocks fall dangerously close to our Seeing Dome, however, I never thought we would go so far as to make a surface dome just to watch one of the biggest showers yet to date. It was dangerous enough as is-- really, it was-- so I wasn’t particularly interested to watch in any case- yes, a little bit curious about it, but the feeling was quickly stomped out by fear and replaced with a sense of resignation. There was always Holowatch-- a projected hologram from your home holodevice to show you the news-- mostly surface stuff, or from City Twenty, where the biggest political station we had throughout the cluster of cities was placed.

But then there was Ama. Ama, with his bright eyes and his huge grin, practically shivering with excitement as he rushed me in line to get a ticket. We didn’t have enough money for the usual, so he entered us into contests basically any chance he got-- I wasn’t worried, and no way by all the gods would they curse me so much by--

“Elli! I got it-- look, I got two!” Tickets waved in the air for the first ever surface dome built specifically for watching meteor showers in our tunnel, I felt my heart sink as I made eye contact with Ama, beaming more than I had ever seen before.

There was something about Ama and his excitement that just pulled you in and shoved away your rationality. The way he smiled made you feel like you had to do anything to preserve it-- maybe because it was so hard to get him like this, maybe because love blinds you to even the stupidest of ideas. I flattened my sweatshirt against my chest nervously and grinned back, taking my ticket out of his hand. Three rings until disaster and we had free tickets to watch.

For the next three rings, every opi I woke up to a message about strange noises coming from a sector we call Terra, holding a planet that astronomers deemed safest and most habitable for intelligent life like us. Or about giant meteor showers. Or about how rare we are to get huge rocks falling from the sky hurtling at the surface in a desperate attempt to show us the way to our doom and them staying the size they do. And it was adorable, really. Usually it was me, and usually it was seventy messages about something boring from me, and so with a sense of duty I read everything Ama sent and poured as much excitement into a response as I could.

We’re going to die! Screamed my brain, but by the sun god was I dumb enough to be happy to go along with it.

We weren’t the only tunnel with a surface dome ready for the watching, either. City Twenty had the biggest, and far on the other side of the Habitation Line was 9296- the longest lasting surface dome with even a small bit of surface travellers living on it. Of course, they had underground homes to sleep in, but they spent most of their waking hours up on the surface. Everyone knew about it, and Ama swore he wanted to be one of them one day. I wondered how it’d feel to be watching this from there-- normal? Did they see meteor showers all the time? Were they afraid it might hit the dome every time they saw one screeching towards them faster than an Aquatrain? Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, I closed my eyes to sleep before we went up to our tunnel’s first surface dome with only one thought, an absolute certainty: oh my gods, we’re going to die.

When I woke up, I found myself wandering to Ama’s home with an even stronger sense of resignation and a desire to not be alone with it. Immediately upon arrival, I was met with the most excited four-eyed gaze I’ve ever been locked in-- and there it went again, I knew I was going to do this and be just fine with it.

His chatter continued, rising as the time got closer to head up to the surface dome, and often I found myself opening my mouth to share a fact just to keep him going.

“Did you know space tastes like rubusberries?” I heard myself saying, “Do you think the rocks taste like that, too?” He stopped for a moment, frozen on the sidewalk on our way to the train to the surface dome just to stare at me. Bubbling up with laughter, he tossed his head forward in a snort,

“Are you planning to taste the meteor, Elli?” My face heated up in embarrassment, but I bit my tongue and then shot back a response. “Maybe! I mean, it’s good research! A lot of things can be identified through taste!” “Local child just up and dies because they went outside to taste a space-rock.” “At least I’d know if it tasted like rubusberries!”

Rubusberries stayed the topic for a bit longer, the topic clinging to our tongues until it faded away into excited shivering as we stepped in line for the train. It hit me like a solar flare, making me bubble with anticipation that I really was excited, too- I wanted to see it, and I wanted to see Ama see it. The voice screaming ‘we’re going to die!’ finally dulled down to a whisper in the back of my mind.

Hey, at least it’ll be interesting.

Once on the aquatrain, I watched the train-tunnel fill with water as Ama listened to the rest of the train’s quiet, excited chatter. My hands gripped the edges of my seat as I watched it slowly bubble up above my window, bracing myself for the kickback of the train shooting through the water. It was interesting technology, really, but the amount of malfunctions I’d read about had me uneasy every time I was on one. One glance at Ama told me he didn’t as much as I did- if at all- so I bit my tongue and watched as the train suddenly lurched forward, shooting through the water and up towards the surface.

Here we go.

Suddenly, there was a chaotic ball of energy at my shoulder, pressing his hand against the window as we watched ourselves shoot up towards the danger, up towards new experiences and life on the surface yet to come.

“It’s funny we’re going full circle. Surface to underground to surface.” I murmured.

“Now we know what we’re doing. We hadn’t evolved enough before. The sun god knew we’d kill ourselves up there.” He replied simply, and the casual tone of his voice made me choke on laughter.

“Then why are we going up there now?” “To prove him wrong out of spite!” Cheered Ama, leaning over me to press both hands against the window. “Look, there it is!”

Look I did, and like he said, there it was. A giant, metallic door that looked unopenable by any number of Centaurians, and yet it slid open and let the water slosh to the side as the train pressed forward and through it, coming to land and slide against the top of the tunnel as we made our way to the surface dome entrance.

I won’t lie. I screamed.

“Elli. Elli, we’re fine! This is how trains work! Elli!” Climbing the rest of the way to the entrance was much less scary, as there were stairs and stairs are solid and won’t explode under too much water pressure, certainly since there’s no water. A muffled voice boomed over speakers we couldn’t see, giving us directions we couldn’t hear-- and then the crowd started moving, so we followed. Metallic doors that looked a little more manageable by Centaurian hands slid open with a slow, painful screech in front of us- and there it was, above the slope we were climbing: another Seeing Dome. This one above the tunnels.

Ama basically squealed-- and as I was jerked away from the line by excited hands, we pushed our way to the front as Ama stared at the stars above us. Closer than ever now, our feet hit red dust and we looked up to see the sky now only separated by a dome and not red rock all around us. It felt scarily empty-- up here, there were no tall walls or caves all around us. From every angle, there was sky.

“This is literally amazing.” He breathed beside me. “Yeah.” I said back with much less air, absolutely slammed by a feeling of sheer surrealism. You could see so far-- the dark line and the light line, where the heat and cold gods warred from afar. The horizon was much more beautiful in person than in pictures.

“Elli, look!” We were now the only people standing by the entrance, the others wandering to the edges of the Seeing Dome to get a better look. To my absolute dismay, however, what should’ve been the safest spot to stand-- right beside the exit-- was where a small meteor was heading, sending itself straight at us.

Ama watched it with wide eyes. I watched it with a wince. It was beautiful-- it really was, watching them streak the sky, and the surface, and our Safety Dome, but watching it hit with a Clank! still gave me a shiver.

Wait.

Wrinkling my nose as I squinted up at it, I tugged Ama’s hand as my feet began to move on their own. Following it as the burning ball of-- well, whatever it was, slid towards an unoccupied side of the Dome, Ama stumbled behind me. “Elli, where are we going? We’re going to miss the rest of it!” “It shouldn’t have made that noise.” I said back, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Elli, you’re nuts.” “It was metallic. It clanked. Ama, it clanked. That’s not a meteor. That’s something someone made.”

And suddenly we were both speeding towards it, Ama whooping and me with my head spinning, stumbling and hitting the side of the dome as we stared down at a mess of melted metal and a white substance bearing a strange, rectangular logo-- red stripes and a blue corner, with what looked like misshapen stars decorating the blue bit. Strange text in bold letters sat above it, smeared and burnt as the capsule remained aflame.

“ALIENS!” Ama shrieked, jumping up and down. He punched my shoulder. “Take that, everybody! ALIENS!!!”

We weren’t the only ones who found something.

Holowatch was projected all over the city as capsules popped up all over the planet. 9296 got two. City Twenty got one. Another surface dome found half of one. Cities were rushing to build more or get Centaurians on the surface to find more. They came with garbled audio-- messages we couldn’t understand. But what sent everyone reeling was the one we found-- it was the sound of another animal, not the intelligent life that kept trying to talk to us. Something big-- something that sounded like our own creatures, a series of clicks, whistles and pulsed calls. Biologists rushed to identify it-- but it was soon determined not to be one of our own, just something close. It was big, most likely lived underwater, but used the same noises ours did to get around-- they used sound for navigation.

There was no doubt about it, there was life on Terran.

“We discovered aliens.” Ama wouldn’t stop saying. “Not us.” “We found it first!” “9296 found theirs thirty-two blinks before we found ours.”

“Second! We discovered aliens second!” “...Fine. Second.” “Aliens, Elli!”

“I hear you, Ama.” I said with fake exasperation, watching him pace around his room.

“We found it. We should get to see what they do with it.” “We are literally children, they weren’t going to let us help.” I said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously as he stopped walking across the room. He looked up at me and grinned.

“Am-- no. No, absolutely not. Whatever you’re thinking is a big, fat, nope.”

He continued grinning, taking a step towards me as his expression melted into something akin to affection mixed with excitement. The mischief was there-- I could see it. Feel it. But rationality slipped away as he grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s just try to sneak around. It’s not like we’ll even get anywhere with it!”

I let out a heavy sigh as I quietly threw my life into ruin. I unleash the sun god upon you, aliens. Why do you do this to me?

“...Fine.”

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transform-or-treat · 4 years

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Treat from Anonymous!

Treat for @synthesizeher! Your gifter wanted to remain anonymous but they really hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: "G1 Dinobots and the Technobots, Halloween Fun, Grimlock tries to take the Technobots out for their first trick or treat, cue disastrous costumes and jumpscares and candy trading" for @synthesizeher on Tumblr.

"They're asleep," Grimlock said, coming to sit beside his conjunx. Misfire sighed and draped himself across the Dinobot's lap, wings twitching with exhaustion. Grimlock rumbled in amusement and started rubbing his back. "I've been thinking…," he said softly. "Mhm?" Misfire asked, optics closed in bliss, giving him however much time he needed to order his words. "I want them to have more Earth culture. I am from there." "Did you have anything specific in mind?" Grimlock tilted his head, considering. "There are so many festivals." "You could ask the Witwickys." Grimlock grinned behind his mask and leaned down to nuzzle the back of his conjunx' neck. "You have the best ideas." "Halloween!" Daniel cheered. "I'm going to be Lance from Voltron." Grimlock made an inquisitive noise. "Halloween is when you dress up as other people and go knock on people's doors and ask for candy by saying 'trick or treat!'," Daniel explained, grinning. "The better your costume, the more candy you get." Lightspeed shared an excited look with Afterburner. "I call Buzz Lightyear!" Wheeljack laughed and stood from the seat where he had been lounging. "Guess I'll be dusting off the old tools of the trade." "You don't have to do that, Ri," Grimlock protested. Misfire nodded. "We'll just use temp paint." Wheeljack spluttered. "Nonsense! You have to really get into the spirit of the holiday! Alright, kiddos, give me your requests!" The Technobots all started babbling over each other in excitement. Very carefully, Scattershot approached his grandcreator and tugged on his arm. Wheeljack leaned down, tilting his audial as the Technobot leader whispered. His optics crinkled at the corners as he grinned. "You got it, kiddo." "Okay, hold still," Wheeljack said, as he carefully pinned the steel wool he had lovingly spun and woven into the kind of fabric Cybertron hadn't seen since the Golden Age. "How come you know all this stuff?" Nosecone asked, staying indeed extremely still. "I used to live on a cybersheep farm," Wheeljack said, his fins flashing cheerfully. "It was my great-great-great-grandsire's farm. We had sheep and zap-ponies and mineral fields and an energon distillery." "Can you teach me?" "Maybe. I don't know, I still like science better. But I am the only one who still knows this stuff, as far as I'm aware, so I probably should pass it on." "It's okay," Nosecone said. "You don't have to decide right now." Wheeljack chuckled and patted his hand. "I appreciate that, kiddo. Alright," he said, rocking back, "that ought to do it. Just gotta get it all sewn together, and then all the costumes are ready." Nosecone grinned as Wheeljack helped him out of his costume. "Did you get to make the visor?" "Yep, but no lasers, okay? It's a safety risk." Nosecone nodded solemnly. "I understand." Grimlock chuckled as he watched his creations file out of Wheeljack's back room. Lightspeed zoomed out the door, shouting "To infinity - and beyond!" Strafe followed at a slightly more sedate speed, but that was due to the long "mustache" that reached almost to his feet and the giant oversized hat that was nearly as tall as he was than anything else. He swung toy pistols from his hips. "Pew, pew, pew! I'm the fastest gun north, south, east, and west of Ibex! Pew, pew!" Grimlock smiled and nudged Misfire over their bond. He's a better shot than you. Misfire collapsed into giggles, losing it even more as a suction cupped foam dart hit him between the optics. Strafe grinned sheepishly. "Oops." "Raaaarrrr!" Afterburner screeched, jumping out, completely enclosed in some kind of monster costume. "Radiation breath! Radiation breath!" Grimlock laughed. "See, I told you the radiation breath could be invisible and still work!" Nosecone called, adjusting the yellow sash over his blue jumpsuit. "I don't have any eye lasers cause that would be a safety risk." Misfire and Grimlock nodded solemnly, then waited for Scattershot to make his appearance. There was a crash from the workshop. "Everything alright?" Grimlock shouted. "Fine!" Wheeljack called back. "Just forgot a very important costume element!" Another few minutes passed, and then Scattershot burst out of the door, dressed in silver, red, and yellow, and waving an orange sword in the air. "Me Grimlock, King!" Grimlock's jaw nearly hit the floor, and Misfire's optics just about bulged out of his faceplates. Scattershot yelped as the Tyrannosaurus Rex head on top of his helm slid down, covering his vision. He pushed it back up and grinned sheepishly. "Do you like it?" Grimlock laughed and scooped his creation up into his arms. "I love it!" He looked up as his creator walked out, hands still covered in various shades of orange paint. "You did a good job, Ri. What do we say, sparklings?" "Thank you, Grand-carrier!" the Technobots chorused. "Are we ready to go trick or treating?" Grimlock asked. The excited yells that earned him were nearly deafening. They met the Witwickys outside the Earth embassy. "Here!" Daniel called, waving. "I made a list of everybody I know for sure will give us candy. We've got to get these guys first so we have something to snack on." Nosecone rushed over to review the list and come up with a plan of attack. "Are you ready for your first Halloween as parents?" Carly asked, eyes sparkling. Grimlock crouched down to greet her and made a non-committal hum. "As much as we can be." Carly laughed. "Sounds about right." "How long are we staying out for?" Misfire asked, putting a hand on Grimlock's back as he straightened. Spike shrugged. "A joor maybe? We want the kids to have fun but not get overtired. At the very least, we'll be able to hit everyone on Daniel's list. First I think is Rodimus." He raised his voice to carry over the sound of excited younglings. "Everyone ready to go?" A chorus of affirmatives rang out, and the party slowly moved down the broad street that ran in front of the embassy. They didn't head to the Primal Palace or the Senate Hall like most would to meet the Prime, instead with the privilege granted to them as friends, they strolled leisurely to a nondescript apartment in what was decidedly a middle-class neighborhood. Bluestreak answered the door and promptly fell over himself laughing. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled, pointing at the giggling Praxian. "No!" Bluestreak yelled, clutching his spark. "Not radiation breath! I'm dying - I'm melting - tell Rodimus… I love him. Blergh!" Afterburner stared in shock, then glanced at his creators, completely out of his depth. "Trick - Trick or treat?" "A trick!" Bluestreak sat up with a shout and grabbed Afterburner, fingers diving for ticklish seams. The Technobot collapsed in fits of laughter, pouring sheer delight down the bond with his brothers. Rodimus stepped out into the doorway and laughed at what he found. "Alright, alright," he said, patting his Conjunx Potentia on the head. "Who wants candy?" He made quick work of passing out energon goodies, chocolate, and compliments on the children's costumes and then dragged Bluestreak back inside. "They're trying to have a baby," Daniel said when everyone looked confused at the normally affable Prime's hurry. "Rodimus told me cause he wants me to be an uncle." The parents exchanged knowing glances. "Oh," Scattershot said, as if that explained everything. "Well who's next on the list?" Ultra Magnus turned out to be next, peering out at the Technobots through a comically large door. He gave each sparkling precisely two goodies, and Daniel precisely two goodie-sized chocolate bars. "An excellent choice of costume," he congratulated Lightspeed and Nosecone. "Peacekeepers are always noteworthy." "Especially when they're corrupt," Misfire interjected, smiling saccharinely. "Then you have to watch them to make sure they don't hurt you or your friends." Ultra Magnus stared at him for a moment, then wisely chose not to engage any further. "As you say," he said, and then closed the door. "Why don't you hurry on ahead?" Grimlock asked, putting a hand on his conjunx' lower back. Carly nodded and she and Spike gathered the children together and started walking. Grimlock waited until they were out of sight before dragging him into an alley. "We will never let what happened to Cybertron before happen to our children," he promised. "You weren't there," Misfire snapped, attempting a rare dig at his partner's age. "Stop that," Grimlock chided him. "That doesn't mean I don't know it was wrong. It just means I don't know what it was like to live it." Misfire sighed and shuttered his optics, burying his face in Grimlock's chestplates. They caught up to the others just outside of Jazz and Prowl's hab, and the Technobots immediately swarmed Misfire with hugs. Grimlock eyed the walkway suspiciously, something off about the serene look to it - tall crystal trees and soft tingrass, a path made of Earthen bricks that cracked beneath Cybertronian feet. "Everything alright?" Spike asked. Grimlock huffed and shook his head. "Yes," he answered. But he couldn't help but be on edge as they walked up to the door. He did have to admit the brick was an effective early warning system. Out of curiosity, he started counting the number of footsteps he could hear, tapping out the number on his fingertips. One, two, three, five, seven, the humans made barely a sound but they were there, and eleven. Wait. He stopped, turned around, sword drawn. With a yell, Scattershot ran back and started attacking something with his own little sword, leaving streaks of orange paint on - "Argh! I have been vanquished by a ferocious beast!" Mirage's electrodisruptor cut out as he fell to the path, pretending at a mortal wound. Scattershot huffed and pushed up the slipping dinosaur head. "I'm not a ferocious beast! I'm sa! Afterburner's a ferocious beast!" "Radiation breath!" the sparkling in question screeched as he pounced on the former spy, followed quickly by the rest of his brothers. "What are you doing?" a voice called from the door. Mirage was too busy wrestling the sparklings to answer, so Misfire opened his mouth to step in. "It was my idea, Prowler." Misfire shrieked and turned around, unsubspacing a gun to shoot the enemy that had appeared out of thin air. True to form, he missed, the bolt being absorbed by a crystal instead. Prowl surveyed the disheveled party and sighed. "Well, come get your candy." The Technobots shouted with joy and quickly abandoned Mirage for the treats. Jazz reached down to help his former second to his feet and grinned. "You look good covered in younglings." Mirage smiled and put his haughty airs back on like a cloak, patting Jazz' cheek affectionately. "You're getting ahead of yourself, darling." The human adults stared open-mouthed as Mirage sauntered up to the door and greeted Prowl with a kiss before sashaying inside, then turned to Jazz for an explanation, much more shocked at the idea of him and Prowl and Mirage than the idea of three. Jazz simply grinned and shrugged. "Towers courting. What can you do?" "Look!" Lightspeed called, running up with a small toy car. "We get one of these, too!" "Did you say thank you?" Grimlock asked. Lightspeed darted back away to do exactly that. Jazz patted Misfire's arm sheepishly. "Sorry about the scare, man." Misfire did what any Scavenger in their right mind would do and bolted for the goodie bowl. Grimlock chuckled at his conjunx, glad to see he was back to himself. Kup was next on Daniel's list, and he laughed at Scattershot's costume, patting the dino head. "You're gonna grow up to be just like your creator, huh?" "I hope so!" Scattershot said, grabbing handfuls of goodies out of Kup's bowl. Grimlock beamed at his eldest and leaned down for helm pats from Kup for himself, sneaking a goodie or two for himself while he was at it. Springer and Arcee were last on the list, and the Amica pair were waiting out on the stoop of their townhouse, dressed up in costumes themselves, though not as well-made as the ones from Wheeljack. Springer leapt to his feet and pointed imperiously at Afterburner as they walked up. "There can be only one!" Afterburner gave a mighty battle cry, and then the two Godzillas were dueling for supremacy. Grimlock was pleased to notice Afterburner was winning. Arcee laughed as she bounded over, spinning so her skirts flared out. "Isn't this fun, Grim?" Grimlock beamed under his mask at his friend. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the gauzy fabric. "Just some princess," Arcee said, waving her hand. "She routinely gets captured by a giant lizard, but Springer didn't want to be that giant lizard." She grinned. "She kicks aft in the PVP games, though." Grimlock nodded, not having a clue what she was on about. "Suits you." Misfire grinned at her, bowing playfully. "You do look excellent, m'lady." Arcee giggled. It was disturbingly similar to the slightly maniacal cackle she gave in the middle of combat. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled at the very top of his volume threshold. Springer cried out in mock pain and fell to the ground, defeated. Afterburner put a foot on his back and put his arms up in victory. "I am the one true Godzilla-aaaaa!" Grimlock chuckled, but then gestured the Technobots nearer. "Last stop," he said, "get your candy and give Auntie hugs, and then it's time for bed." There was a chorus of disappointed groans. "That's okay, guys!" Daniel said. "We still get to do this again next year!" Mollified, the Technobots formed an orderly line for goodies and hugs from Arcee, and then trooped on home. "Can I keep my costume on?" Scattershot asked. "Me, too!" Afterburner piped up from where he was trading candy with Nosecone and Lightspeed. Strafe had already shucked off his giant mustache and was working on the boots. Grimlock and Misfire shared a look and then shrugged in unison. "Sure, why not?" Scattershot bounded over to wrap his arms around Grimlock's knees. "Love you." Grimlock smiled and squeezed his creation back before tapping him gently on the shoulder. "Two goodies and then time for recharge." The Technobots rushed to consume their chosen treats and finish up their trading, and then they filed orderly into berth, already pleasantly exhausted by the outing. Grimlock and Misfire each took an end of the row of berths and started giving last hugs and kisses of the night. Meeting back at the door, they looked back over their creations. Grimlock turned off the light and closed the door, and then he pulled his conjunx close for a kiss. "Thank you."

Costumes: Scattershot - Grimlock Strafe - Yosemite Sam Lightspeed - Buzz Lightyear Afterburner - Godzilla Nosecone - Cyclops (X-MEN) Arcee - Princess Peach Springer - Godzilla

#treats #transform or treat 2020 #fic #halloween

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seanshumblehome · 4 years

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The Secret Trio in:The Sons of Liberty (Part 5 - The depth’s).

Tensions where high in the elevator as the boy’s watched the levels go by, wondering when or where they would stop.Suddenly the elevator jerked as it came to a stop, they prepared themselves, ready to fight whatever was on the other side of the elevator doors.When the doors slid open Randy threw a mix of smoke and flash bombs, Danny and Jake then rushed in with Randy following in behind.Once the smoke settled the boy’s where slightly embarrassed to notice that the room was empty.While Randy checked for traps, Jake covered the doors while Danny used the computer at the desk to find out where they where.After making no progress Danny sighed then stepped away from the computer.

“Got anything Danny?” Randy asked as he approached the desk.

“No, we’re just going to have to walk around and hope we find a map that’ll lead us to something important.” Danny said as he walked away from the desk.

“Unless we ask somebody.” Jake suggested as he pointed down the hallway to an unsuspecting guard.

“Good idea Jake,” Danny said as he patted him on the shoulder, “I’ll go ask him if he knows where we are.” Danny continued with a smirk.

Randy and Jake watched as Danny sneaked up to the guard and wrapped his arm around his neck, Danny then slammed the guard into the cold metal floor with a thud.

“Ah who?” The soldier growled in contempt.

“Hush, I’m asking the questions, where are we?” Danny asked as he tightened his grip on the guards neck.

“Hmph, you’re on sub-level nine.” The guard answered.

“Where would you guy’s keep your plans, you know important information guy’s like me ain’t supposed to know about?” Danny asked smugly.

“Mission control is on level ten, you couldn’t miss it.” the guard grumbled

“Thanks, now how would my friends and I get to this places power supply?” Danny asked.

“Through sub-level eleven. the geothermal reactor is there.” The guard answered.

Content with the information he had gotten Danny punched the guard knocking him unconscious.

“So what’s the plan now?” Randy asked.

“Same as always, we find out what they’re doing here, then set the place to blow on are way out the door.” Danny answered with a smirk as they began walking down the hallway.

“Then let’s go man, I don’t like being underground for too long.” Jake said as he made his way towards a door.

The trio quickly began making their way through the mountain facilities hallways and corridors, knocking out any guards they came across, time was of the essences.At any moment the guards trapped outside the facility would bust in and warn the base to the trio’s presence.After a few moments the trio now stood before to large automatic doors with the words mission control center over the doors.The doors slid open to an empty room filled with computers and a large screen that took up most of the wall.

“This must be the place.” Jake said as he looked around.

“Yeah, alright guys get searching, there’s gotta be something here that’ll tell us what’s going on her.“ Danny said as they entered the room.

The trio wasted no time ransacking the place for any info they could find, flies, computers, didn’t matter, they began sifting through as much as they could. As Randy and Jake searched the giant screen come on filling the room with a soft blue light, as they turned their attention to it they noticed Danny standing at a computer that was in front of the large screen.On the screen a 3D graphic of what looked like an air craft carrier with jet engines on it’s sides sat in the center of the large screen.

“Uh Danny I don’t think this the time for games.” Randy joked, earning a glare from Danny.

“It’s not a game, it’s what they’re building,” Danny answered, “Watch this.” Danny said before pressing a small red button.

The trio watched as a map of the United States appeared on screen followed by an icon of the airship flying over Washington, then it began to launch missiles and striking multiple States.Randy and Jake watched in horror as the simulation showed Norrisville and New York being struck.

“Those are nukes, aren’t they?” Randy asked with a whimper, Danny only responded with a nod.

“Yo no way am I letting a bunch of chumps blow up my city, not on my watch!” Jake shouted as he slammed his fist down on the table.

“Is that why they’re selling nukes, as a contingency?” Randy asked as he turned to Danny.

“No from what I gathered, they’re a diversion for their main event, the hostile take over of the government.” Danny answered.

“But we got time to stop this right?” Jake asked as he turned to Danny.

“The airship is in an underground hanger close by, if we destroy the reactor that should keep it form getting air born.” Danny answered.

“Then let’s go stomp these fools out.” Jake growled as he cracked his knuckles.

The boy’s rushed out of mission control and began running towards a stairwell, as the trio made their way to sub-level eleven a loud alarm suddenly went off through out the base.

“Guess they know we’re here now.” Randy shouted as they ran down the stair’s.

“Then we need to hurry, move it!“ Danny ordered.

The trio rushed to sub level eleven, hearing the sound of boots run following them, then they saw it, the entrance to sub-level eleven.Danny quickly opened the door allowing Jake and Randy to run straight through, after closing and looking the door behind them Danny turned to see a large machine in the center of the room.The machine hummed as red hot magma was pumped through the machine, it’s near limitless energy powering the base.

“Jeez how are we destroying that?“ Randy asked in awe at the machine’s size.

“It would take a dump truck full of bombs to even put a dent in that thing.” Jake said as he ran a claw against the machine’s metal, leaving no scratch.

“There’s gotta be a way, Randy put bombs on anything that looks like a support structure, Jake just try and break anything, I’ll see if there’s a computer or a control console that I can mess with.” Danny ordered before taking of towards what looked like a control room.

Quickly they all went to work, Randy stuck ninja bombs to anything that looked weak, Jake went from cable to pipe attempting to smash or pull apart anything that he was strong enough to break, while Danny just mashed buttons in the control room.Warning lights blinked, alarms cried, the reactor itself chugged, hissed, shook and rumbled as the trio ran a muck.Soon the boys regrouped at the bottom of the machine.

“You think that did it?” Jake asked.

“I think so, we’ll know when it blows up.” Danny answered

“Then let’s get out of here before that-” Randy was silenced when bullets began flying past them.

The trio took cover where ever they could as the soldiers fired upon them. Randy then throw a smoke bomb at the soldiers blinding them and momentarily halting their fire.The trio rushed out from behind cover, pushing past the soldiers and flying up the stairwell.

“Oh I hope these stairs all the way up!” Jake shouted in concern.

“Less talk more fly!” Randy shouted as he spurred Jake in the side causing him to fly faster.

“We’ll make it just keep going up!” Danny shouted.

As they flew up the stairwell, a loud explosion came from beneath them, looking down Randy watched as a massive pillar of fire raced up after them. With every second they got closer and closer to the top, the intense heat engulfed them as the fire got closer and closer.Once at the top the trio reached the top, ran through the door and leaped for cover as fire erupted out of the door.

“You guy’s alright?” Danny said as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think so.” Jake said rubbing his head.

“A little crispy around the edges but I’m good.” Randy said with a chuckle.

Then as if on cue the ground beneath them began to rumble, the boy’s watched as soldiers bolted from a room that looked like it was engulfed in flame. Explosions could be heard through out the base over the sound of blaring alarms and soldiers yelling.The trio got to their feet and made their way towards what looked like a small underground hanger.Upon entering it they watched as multiple shoebills took off through the open hanger doors, some struggling to get off the ground while others flew out effortlessly.The trio followed in the shoebills example and flew out through the open hanger doors.The feeling of immense relief filled the trio as they watched the scattered soldiers flee in seemingly all directions.

“Man those guy’s didn’t know what hit ‘em!” Jake shouted confidently.

“I don’t think these shoob’s are ever coming back from that!” Randy shouted joyfully as he bumped fists with Jake’s.

Danny couldn’t help but feel proud of his small team, they had taken down a force that out numbered them ten to one but against all odds, they still beat them, sure they would still have to deal with the small squads but they could be easily dealt with, Danny sighed and smiled enjoying the victory...but that feeling was short lived when he suddenly felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. Looking down he saw it, a long fleshy tentacle tipped with a long, jagged blade that was sticking out of his chest.Randy and Jake watched as the tentacle was violently ripped out causing Danny to plummet to the ground.Danny slammed into the ground so hard he bounced and landed on his chest,Randy and Jake raced to the ground, landing next to him Randy leaped off of Jake’s back and quickly used his art of healing on his wound, Jake turned to face their attacker and upon seeing him he felt a cold chill run down his spine.There stood Sigma, with his blood covered whip arm, he then watched as the arm formed into a long, sharp,blade that was almost as tall as he was.Jake then looked at Danny, his wound was partially healed but he would need more healing somewhere safer.

“Is he gonna be alright?“ Jake asked, concerned.

“He’ll live,” Randy answered wrapped his scarf tight around Danny’s wound covering it, “But he’ll need to get out of here right now.“ He continued as he tied a knot and severed the end of his scarf that was connected to the knot.

“I’ll fight him, buy you guy’s some time to get out of here.” Jake said as he tired his best not to look afraid.

“No, you take him,” Randy said as he stepped in front of Jake, “You can fly and you can carry him longer than I a can cause of the whole, dragon thing.” He continued as he pulled out his sword.

Jake didn’t want to leave Randy here to fight that monster, but Danny was barely hanging onto to life, he sighed and he slumped his shoulder’s before picking up Danny.

“I’ll come back as soon as he’s safe, just try not to die till I get back.” Jake said before taking to the air.

Sigma watched as Jake flew off, carrying Danny in his arm’s, Sigma then looked back at Randy and began approaching him.

“It would’ve been smarter to run.” Sigma said in a stern tone.

“Maybe, but you and I got unfinished business.” Randy said as he approached.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Sigma asked in stern tone.

Randy and Sigma rushed towards each other, once he was close Sigma swung his blade arm towards Randy but Randy slid under his attack, Randy then drove his sword deep into Sigma’s side causing him to growl in pain. Randy leaped back as Sigma swung his blade arm at him once again, Randy countered by swing his sword at his chest, slicing through his kevlar vest. Sigma leaped back and transformed his arm into a bladed whip, Sigma swung his arm towards Randy but he countered by ducking it and cutting his arm off. Sigma grew increasingly more impatient with Randy, voiding all of his attacks but still landing attacks on him, it infuriated him.The ground rumbled beneath them as the underground base destroyed itself, suddenly pillars of fire erupted from the ground around them.As they fought the ground beneath them gave way causing them to fall into a underground hanger, Sigma and Randy landed a catwalk that hung above a raging oil fire beneath them.Sigma rushed towards Randy, violently swinging his blade arm at him, Randy blocked and dodged his attacks, Randy leaped over Sigma then cut off his blade arm, causing him to roar in agony and turn his other arm into a blade.Randy ducked his attack, ignited his blade and pierced Sigma straight through his heart causing him to roar in pain.Randy then ripped out his sword and kicked Sigma away, before Sigma could counter he was struck in the chest with a fireball that carried him over the railing of the catwalk and straight into the oil fire, Sigma roared and began incoherently shouting as he burned alive.Randy barely escaped the hanger as it collapsed, burying the hanger in dirt and rock.Randy looked around seeing that he was alone, even with the onset of exhaustion Randy knew that standing around waiting for Jake seeing as there still could be soldiers in the area, so he did his best to remember which direction Jake had flown towards. After figuring it out he then began walking in that direction.

“Meanwhile“

With Danny in his arms Jake flew as fast as he could towards San Fransokyo but as he flew Danny began to awaken.Dazed, he looked around for a moment taking in his situation and surroundings, he then noticed the makeshift bandage wrapped around his chest along with the pain.

“Jake...where are we going?” Danny asked weakly.

“Back to the city, you got hit bad by that monster dude Sigma.” Jake answered.

“Where’s Randy?” Danny asked with concern.

“He...stayed to fight him.” Jake answered shamefully.

“He what!!!” Danny shouted before flinching in pain, “We need to go back, he can’t possible fight him alone.” Danny said as he attempted to pull himself out of Jake’s grasp.

Danny then phased through Jake and began flying back to save Randy. It only took moments to get back to the clearing.The clearing was ravaged, with a large hole in the middle and fire was scattered around the area.Then he saw him, Danny rushed to Randy who had found a tree to lean against.

“Randy!” Danny shouted as he approached, “Randy are you alright, can you walk?” Danny continued as he placed his hand on Randy’s shoulder.

“I’m fine just...exhausted.” Randy said pausing for a yawn.

“Heh I know that,” Danny said in agreement, “So where’s Sigma, he run of again?” Danny asked curious.

“I killed him, kicked him into a pit of fire.” Randy answered sternly.

“Well that’s one problem solved,” Danny said with chuckle.

Before Randy could respond the ground then began to violently shake. The sound of snapping trees, tumbling rocks, and sliding dirt filled the air as the boy’s watched what looked like a massive set of doors rising up from the ground. Then like a while breaching the surface a gigantic aircraft carrier-like airship fly into the air.The boy’s watched as the airship then turned to the west and headed towards Washington.Jake soon joined Danny and Randy watching the ship flew off into the distance.

“No!” Randy shouted as he forced himself to stand, “We blew up their wonking base, we turned it into a smoking hole in the ground!” Randy shouted again.

“How would we even stop that thing, it’s giant!” Jake said in shock.

“I don’t know,” Danny quietly mumbled.

“Well we need to think of something and quick.“ Randy said frantically.

Danny starred at the ground thinking as Jake and Randy shouted back and forth about what to do.He looked back at the ship which was a quickly disappearing into the clouds, he sighed then grabbed Randy by his shoulder, interrupting Randy and Jake’s argument.

“Randy do you know if there’s a military base near by?” Danny asked getting a puzzled look from Randy.

“No, what just because I knew where one base was means I know where every U.S. military base is.” Randy sarcastically replied.

“Well let’s find out cause we’re gonna need a shoebill to get on that ship.” Danny said startling Randy.

“Are you trying to get us killed, that thing defiantly has guns on it that’ll blow us out of the sky the moment we get close!” Randy shouted.

“I don’t even think I could get us close enough without getting shot.” Jake mentioned.

“I know, but I have an Idea I’ll explain once we figure out where to get a ride.” Danny said with a smirk.

After looking up where a military base was the boy’s then flew off towards the base.Whatever Danny’s plan was Randy and Jake hoped that they wouldn’t be to late.

To Be Continued in (Part 6).

#rc9gn #Danny Phantom #american dragon jake long #secret trio #the secret trio #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #randy cunningham #danny fenton #Jake Long

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redwoodwrites · 4 years

Text

Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

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

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

“AAAAAAAH!”

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

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

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

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

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

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

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

“Look out!”

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

A few days earlier...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

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

He stared at her. “Huh?”

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

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

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

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

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

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

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

Clang.

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

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

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

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

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

WHIIRRRR!

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

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

Ford hurried over.

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

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

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

He opened the book.

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

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

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

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

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

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

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

“HELLO!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa, shut up!”

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

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

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

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

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

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

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

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

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

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

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

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

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

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

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

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

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

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

He sighed. “Zero.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was time to collect some evidence!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WAGH!”

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

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

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

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

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

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

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

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

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

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

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

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

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

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

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

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

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

Aaand that sounded wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

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

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

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

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

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

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

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

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

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

“Wait. WHAT!?”

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

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

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

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

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

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

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

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

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

TWANG.

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

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

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

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

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

So why would Norman just...?

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

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

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

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. ��Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

#gravity falls #relativity falls #smoll stan #smoll ford #grauntie mabel #gnomes #schmebulock #tourist trap #ria #ria ramirez #boyish dan #mystery shack

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ificouldau · 4 years

Text

Section 4 Chapter 30

50% of you chose to stop at the city.

50% of you chose to wait until the final stop.

“I want to know if he’s safe,” You mumble, “but I want to find Hansol too… I don’t know…”

The three boys sitting nearby turn their attention to you, Wonwoo peering open his eyes to focus on yours. Both options prevail in your mind, leaving you no way of settling on one.

“We’re with you,” Seungkwan interjects suddenly, “Let’s go see him.”

“Mm.” Junhui silently agrees, nodding his head. Your eyes remain lowered, the concern for this nameless man overtaking your heart. Hansol may be dead just as much as he may be alive. Still, you need to see that stranger just one more time before anything happens...

“So, fuck me then?” Soonyoung’s voice booms from in front of you, grabbing the train’s attention. He’s sat, fully turned about, arms atop Junhui’s seat. Wonwoo pats the boy’s arm without even glancing in his direction. “Sit down properly. You’ll fall.”

“Hey, Seungcheol. Are you agreeing to this, too?” Soonyoung scoffs a bit before lowering his angered gaze, “What am I saying... of course you are.”

A hurt expression flashes across Seungcheol’s face, disappearing as fast as it appeared… just long enough for the twelve of you to notice.

“Soonyoung.” Jihoon warns, “Just because you’re upset doesn’t give you any excuse to yell.”

With a huff, Soonyoung decidedly turns back around in his seat. It surprises you that he’s mature enough to know when to stop. You notice Shua signaling you from the corner of your eye and quickly turn to meet his gaze. He’s sat with arms crossed, head rested in his palm. “You’re really set on seeing this guy, huh?”

You keep quiet, unsure if agreeing is the right thing to do at the moment. Before you can reply, however, Soonyoung’s back up out of his chair. “What are you guys on? Hansol could be dead and you wanna go visit some stranger just because this other stranger asked you t-”

The train hits a bump, knocking the angered kid backwards into his seat. Seokmin holds him steady, refusing to look him in the eye. “Please stop. Hansol’s alive. And we didn’t forget that he’s gone. We could never forget about that.”

Nobody dares say anything, twelve pairs of eyes glued to the small boy sitting next to Soonyoung. After an anxious beat, Mingyu leans forward and rests his hand comfortingly on Seokmin’s head. Soonyoung pats his shoulder, cooing as if Seokmin were just a child.

The rest of the ride is quiet. A unanimous stress invades your heads as the train rumbles to a slow and steady stop, cueing everyone to wake from their naps and fall into survival mode once again. You all clutch onto the few items you have, exiting the train as fast as possible in order to not be spotted.

Amongst the rush of people, you catch a figure hurrying in the opposite direction of you, boarding the train in an anxious rush. You instinctively lower your head and walk faster to join the others.

Your group separates from the small crowd, moving cautiously into a heavily shaded area. Seungcheol counts off one at a time as per usual, gaze strong in concentration. By now, this act of him counting heads has grown all too familiar. After finishing, you notice him hesitate, recounting a few more times.

He’s missing one. Realizing this, you tap the older boy softly on his arm. “Hansol.”

With this sudden reminder of the missing kid, Seungcheol silently drops his finger. The lost look on his face makes you feel guilty for ever bringing it up. He nods before walking forward, putting an end to his repetitive, nervous counting. You all follow along wordlessly, heads clouded with ominous worry.

The walk through the familiar city is slow, especially as you sneak along the walls and their shadows. You keep careful eyes out for the police, for cloaks and familiar faces. It seems the world is against you, and everyone has something to hide, but you don’t let the nerves catch up as you focus on finding the older man from before. Soon enough, you find yourself staring up at his familiar home, knot in your throat and stomach full of butterflies. It takes all of your energy not to run straight into the building.

You notice the front door slightly ajar, the lock seemingly broken in half. Your heart drops into your stomach. Terror consumes you into a frozen stance.

“Looks like they got here before us...” Seungkwan mumbles, putting his arm around your shoulder comfortingly. You fight back tears.

“I can’t hear anything, but...” Jeonghan steps back, “Maybe we should leave.”

“We can’t,” You say a bit sharply, stepping forward onto the doormat, “We’re already here.”

Coups looks determined, a strong look in his eyes as he turns to face the rest of the group. “Okay. We’ll go in, but be ready to run.”

Sticking closely together, you all enter through the front door. Your footsteps are light and all of you are on high guard. The inside of the house is a mess... just like at Uncle’s. Furniture is turned over, drawers are thrown open, and papers lay carelessly scattered across the floor.

You imagine the older man’s kind eyes, then note dark spots of blood trailing the floor. A streak of panic runs through your body, your feet moving out from under you faster than your brain can keep up with.

“Careful!” Seungkwan calls, reaching out to grab your arm. His hand misses your sleeve by less than an inch. Subconsciously, your steps take you straight into the master bedroom, and Seungkwan sticks by your side as the others look around the house in eerie silence. Everything in sight seems to blur and shake, every blink making your vision darker and muddier than it felt before. Panic consumes you as more blood comes into sight. You barely avoid crashing into the wall, your feet slipping out from under you.

Time seems to slow down as you hit the ground, eyes taking in the trashed bedroom. Personal items ripped apart, blankets askew, bloodied splatters covering the floor. The collision of your fall sends a loud thump throughout the home, making your head spin. The others’ hurried footsteps reach the bedroom door, the boys quickly rushing in to help.

“Are you okay?” “Holy shit!” “What happened?”

Seungkwan hurries to your aid. Numb to all noise, you let the boy pull you up.

“Sorry, I’m okay. I just fell, I...” Your voice trails off when a picture on the ground steals your attention. A black and white photograph, corners furled due to its old age. The image depicts two men, proudly smiling at the camera. Two strollers are parked directly in front of them. The photo’s weathering makes it hard to see the babies inside. The picture feels eerily familiar to you, as if you’d seen it before..

“Wait-” Seungcheol mumbles, interrupting your train of thought. Turning to him, you can tell that he’s counting heads again.

“What’s wrong?” Chan asks, concerned. The room is filled to the brim with nervous silence. You all watch as the boy recounts a few times before his head snaps up, eyes wide.

“Where’s Soonyoung?”

Everyone’s eyes darken in a split second. Dumbfounded, your heart skips a beat. Glancing around the room, you realize the boy is right. Soonyoung is nowhere to be found.

The other boys follow your lead in searching, though you look in vain. It doesn’t take long for panic to settle in on the group, the boys quickly jumping to the conclusion that he’d been taken.

“How did they get to him when we were next to him the entire time?” Seokmin asks, unnerved. Panicked, Seunghcheol starts babbling, “Shit. I knew I counted wrong… I kept counting over and over, I don’t know how I didn’t notice, I-”

“Cheol.” Minghao calls, composed, “How long has he been missing?”

“Uh- My first count was back at the station. We just got off and-” The older boy trails off as the rest of you stare at one another in disbelief.

“No way.” Mingyu starts.

“He…” Chan falters. Minghao nods, affirming everyone’s worst fear. “He must’ve gotten back on the train while we weren’t looking.”

The eleven of you exchange glances in complete shock, expressions consumed with fresh horror. You knew it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so indecisive, or if you’d even listened to the kid for once.

“Shit…” You begin shakily, “It’s my fau-”

“This is all my fault. I miscounted.” You look up to see Coups, hands balled shakily at his sides, “I knew someone was gone. Why didn’t I do anything?”

Minghao is quick to jump into the conversation. “Stop it. Soonyoung’s missing and no amount of your guilt will change that.”

“Alright.” Wonwoo says decidedly. “Let’s go. He must be at the next stop, if not close.”

The rest of you immediately prepare to leave, agreeing without the need to speak. As the group crosses the threshold, your focus latches onto a glint behind the leg of a nearby dresser. You freeze. Seungkwan stumbles, your sudden stop causing him to lose balance. He notices your dazed expression with a frown. ¨What’s wrong?¨

¨Hang on,¨ You say, straying from his side. ¨I think I see something.”

You breezily make your way over to the dresser. Leaning down to get a better look, it's obvious what the shiny object is. A pocket knife… Presumably belonging to the man that felt so familiar to you. You close the blade and turn it in your hand, examining the details.

¨Good find,¨ Seungkwan´s voice calls from the door.

You swiftly slip the knife into the pocket of your sweater. Your last connection with the man that took you in.

( You picked up an item: pocket knife )

On your way out, your eyes graze the old photo one last time. You all set off towards the next stop in an ominous quiet, dodging straight out of the city’s lights and finding your way back into the mountain´s snowy forest… the hell you’d fought with all your might to get away from.

A long while passes as you walk, or at least what seems to be. Time feels frozen while the twelve of you stumble on through the tall, snowy trees without a word.

As the sky darkens, hope seems to fall further from everyone in all senses. You keep dead silent... until a distant figure catches your eye.

“Who’s that?” You whisper to Seungkwan as the person approaches. Kwan furrows his brows, and soon everyone else has taken note of the faroff silhouette. “Stay back,” Coups warns the group, “We don’t-” “You fucking idiots,” Soonyoung’s distant voice calls, the group’s eyes widening at the sight of his shaky figure approaching. Everyone’s stomach drops at the realization.

“Soonyoung…?” Mingyu begins, only to stumble back in shock at the sight of Soonyoung doubling over and coughing blood painfully into the snow. The group rushes over to his aid without a moment to spare. You glance over in terror, watching the boy limp over as he leaves a thin trail of blood alongside his footprints.

¨What the fuck happened?¨ Cheol nearly shouts.

¨It's- One of those cloaked guys. I should've noticed him walk into the train with me...¨

¨Holy shit,” Seokmin winces, “Are you okay?¨

¨I’m lucky you caught up with me I wouldn't need to get back on the train if we just went straight to Hansol,¨ Soonyoung spits, glaring sideways at you with blatant hatred. If only you’d have taken the last stop… maybe the rest of you would be there to defend one another.

( -2 Health: Hoshi )

( -1 Reputation: Hoshi )

¨Soonyoung,” You start, nearly shocked to tears, “I-”

¨Whatever. I'm here now, so let's go.¨

¨Go where?” Seungcheol cuts in, “You’re hurt. Let's rest for a bit.¨

¨Tch. Yeah, okay. We already wasted this much time getting to Hansol... let's just take even longer.¨

You wince, Soonyoung´s words filling you with confliction. Maybe he's right…

¨Shut up. We´re not going any further with you beat up like that. And that's final.¨

You share one final look of pity Soonyoung’s way, not surprised to see a fiery glare in return. The sky darkens and the wind picks up quickly, but luckily Mingyu grabbed one of the bags before leaving, allowing you a couple of tattered tents at the very least. The thirteen of you quickly set up camp, settling in for the night. Time passes as the others talk and rest in the cold, quiet air, but you eventually find yourself sitting across from Soonyoung, the two of you pettily avoiding eye contact. You look over his wounds briefly, saddened at a narrow, bloody stab to the side, but he moves his arm to cover the thing before you can so much as comment.

After a while of angered silence, he briskly stands and begins walking in the direction of the trees.

¨Where are you going?¨ You ask softly. Huffing, he ignores your question and walks further on ahead. Minghao trots along after him, hurrying besides the boy and throwing an arm around his shoulder. You stand without a second thought, hurrying to catch up.

“Go rest, Hao,” You hear Soonyoung’s soft voice say, not noticing you behind him, “I just needed some time to think.”

“I’ll think with you, then,” Minghao replies. You stop in your tracks and listen for a second, thinking over their conversation. “I’m just having a hard time,” You hear Soonyoung mumble, “With her, and everyone, and… you know, just…” “I know… Trust me.” “Everything feels different.” “We’ll talk about it,” Minghao says, “And… and I’m sorry you feel like this.”

Conflicted, you stare helplessly as the two boys make their way further out of sight. With Minghao there, you might have a better chance at mending something... at apologizing and making things right. Still, will your friendly intentions cause more harm than good? You take a step forward, then hesitate, thinking over your actions twice… then three times, then four. The boys are almost gone now. You keep a steady eye on them from a distance.

- Go with Hoshi and The8.

- Stay with the group.

( Vote now on instagram.com/ificould_au. You have 24 hours. )

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officialleehadan · 5 years

Text

Prophesy Burning

“Dad?”

Cora swore and shoved Callen, ice-armor and all, out of the way as the few remaining men in the room opened fire.

If that was indeed Breton Tor, he was decidedly interested in killing his own son, or he figured on Callen being fast enough to get out of the way before he got shot.

Callen, for his part, stood stunned, eyes wide with horror and not a little fear.

There wasn’t much that scared him, but Cora had shared his bed. She had woken more than once to the sound of Rao soothing him back to sleep after a nightmare, in which his father was almost always featured.

Magic crackled across her skin and fizzed against her own null-magic. Most other things weren’t half so immune, and sparks flew as Callen’s raw power blasted through the smaller charms that littered the room, and the dead soldiers’ equipment.

When a mage of Callen’s caliber lost control, destruction followed.

“Look out!” Rao yelled to Cora, and she took refuge behind his large-and-flaming demonic body. He braced himself, but even so, he slid when wind exploded through the room. Everything not nailed down, and some that was, lifted off the ground and began to spin. Callen, ignoring the storm that was brewing around him, squared off against his father, eyes hard with fury.

Fury was good. Fury meant he was rallying to the shock, and bracing for a fight.

Breton Tor was a big man. Not as tall as Rao, but most humans weren’t, he stood well over six feet tall and had the muscle of someone who spent an unhealthy amount of time in the prison system, making good use of their equipment. He shared his steel-blue eyes and dark hair with Callen, but otherwise seemed to have given little in the way of looks to his son.

“I’ve been looking for you, boy,” he said as he advanced on them. Callen snarled wordlessly and gestured once. The storm of magic abruptly froze in place, a cloud of dagger-sharp broken glass suspended, ready to shoot forward at his command.

Cora really hoped Callen wasn’t about to murder his father, but this was a vital development of a caste that started with Breton Tor’s murder. She pulled out her phone and started recording around Rao’s side. Her superiors needed to see the man they thought was dead, walking and breathing.

“Whoever murdered you didn’t do a very good job,” Callen was saying. Breton, who knew a threat when he saw one, stilled. The vicious edge in his eyes didn’t fade, but Callen was going to kill him if he got any closer, father or no. “I saw the pictures. I got one framed. It makes me smile whenever I see you lying dead on the ground. How did you pull it off?”

Oh, her clever boyfriend. He knew she was recording, and he was getting his sire to spill before he caught on.

Or he was stalling until he got the right opportunity to deal with the man himself. Considering that Breton had just tried to kill them, Callen could make a pretty good case for self-defense at this point.

“Amazing what you can do with the right spells.”

“I saw your body. Not a trace of magic on it.”

“Oh, by the time we beat that poor bastard to death, the magic was done,” Breton told him, too smug to be at the disadvantage he seemed. His men were dead, and Callen was itching to kill him. There had to be something more at play. “Permanent shift and all. Nice way to dispose of a traitor. I’ll have to remember it.”

“You’re not gonna remember anything,” Rao rumbled as he stepped forward, eleven feet tall, with more in horns on top of that. Cora couldn’t see his face, but she knew what he looked like in full-demon form. “I’m gonna break your back an’ Cal’s gonna cut runes into you until you’re not useful anymore. Then I’m gonna kick your soul into Hell where it belongs.”

“Very intimidating,” Breton told him with an appraising once-over. “Not bad at all. But poor Lisette will have a bad time of it if I don’t check in within the next, oh, four minutes.”

Cora was just fast enough to grab Callen as he went to lunge forward, blind with rage. A blast of her own magic canceled out his, and the glass shattered on the floor. Her camera, still recording, stayed fixed on Breton, although he could see it now and fixed her with a sharp, calculating stare.

“You’re new,” he said appraisingly, and eyed his son. “You get a floozie?”

“Call me a floozie one more time and I’ll toss you in the deepest, darkest pit I can find,” Cora told him levelly. “You would do yourself a lot of favors if you told us where Lisette Tor is, right now.”

“I don’t know,” Breton told her innocently. “She was kidnapped from that nice French chalet. I just want my beloved son’s help in finding her.”

This time it took Rao to hold Callen back as his pact-mate spat curses that would turn a weaker man into a quivering puddle.

“What do you want?” he snarled as Rao locked an arm around his shoulders so he couldn’t get to murdering his own father properly. “If there is so much as a scratch on my sister when I get her back, I am going to peel you like a grape and stake you in the sun somewhere you’ll die slow, so you had better get to talking.”

“Three minutes,” Breton told him with a fake yawn of boredom as he looked at his expensive watch. “You still have the same phone number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll text you. Oh and boy, you sell me out to the badges and I won’t be responsible for what happens to your sweet little sister.”

With a cocky half-wave, he headed for the door, confident as only a man with a winning hand of cards could be. When he was gone, Callen flung his hands out, and a shockwave of pure destruction followed in a pulse of ice-white magic.

“I can’t refuse,” he said tightly, without looking at either of them. His phone chimed in his pocket, and he didn’t look at that either. “So you had better find her before he figures out I’m playing for time, or the next Tor body you find will be mine.”

“We’ll find her,” Cora promised. She sent the video to her superiors on the case, and then wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her tightly, tense as a wire. “Does he know you and Rao can share thoughts?”

“No,” Rao said, still as a statue and still watching the door. “But he knows I can track her, and he’s not gonna give me the chance if he can help it.”

“I’ll buy you as much time as I can,” Callen told them both, hard-edged hope hidden under the fury in his eyes. “But find her fast. He’s never been a patient man. She’s the only leverage he has on me, and he won’t hesitate to hurt her if he thinks I’m not moving fast enough.”

“We’ll find her,” Rao promised, hellfire wreathing around his arms. “And Cal, when we do…”

“As soon as my sister is safe,” Callen said, and snapped his fingers, summoning his magic back into his hands, “I’m going to make sure he can’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.”

Cora looked between them, and felt the hand of fate resting on her shoulder, tight and unshakable as the prophesy burned in her mind.

The Fire and the Soul were walking into danger, and it would be her Nothing Magic to defend them.

Her loyalty was set in stone. There was only one thing left to do.

“Where do we start?”

+++

Secondhand Souls:

Solving a murder is rarely easy, but a sorcerer with a vendetta and his half-demon best friend complicate things.

Cora still hasn’t decided whether or not to shoot them both and blame it on whoever happens to be handy.

Partnership of Flames

Barroom Brawl

Lox of Trouble

Attack on Blue

Busted Engine

Dragon Curry

Territory Negotiations (Free on Patreon)

Word Salad

Rumble and Roll (Subscriber-Only!)

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More Stories!

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 5 years

Photo

Chance Meeting

Chapter Eleven

Reader and the Turtles

The ambulance ride was way too long, the officer that had made his way into the vehicle was rattling off questions making your head spin. The sting of antiseptic made you hiss in pain when it touched the nasty slash on your cheek. You were ready for all of this to be over with.

“I don’t think it will need stitches, a few butterfly bandages should be sufficient. The others are superficial and don’t need anything to heal besides keeping them clean.” The EMT smiled as she finished cleaning your open wound.

You clutch the blanket they had given you to cover your tattered clothes tighter around you and nod. You were so over this day and wanted to go home and take a long hot shower. As the ambulance rolled into the hospital and stopped before the emergency entrance the door was swung open. Four nurses crawled in and ushered you to lie back and pulled your gurney from the vehicle.

After two hours of intense interrogation and medical care you and Luca were released. Rebecca Vincent herself showed up to give you a ride home. Opening the passenger door she helped you inside and got into the driver’s seat pulling away from the hospital.

After a few uncomfortable moments you broke the silence. “How is Luca?”

“She’s fine; she woke up in the ambulance. You were the one we were worried about; you took most of the abuse. She had a few scrapes, that’s all.”

Pulling a chunk of dried blood from your hair you turned in your seat to face the Chief of police better, “Did she um…. say anything…”

“About the turtles?” she cut you off knowing what you were going to ask. “No she was surprisingly mum on the subject to the EMT’s. When she woke up she requested my presence and I had a small discussion with her. She’s comfortable with the idea of four large turtles protecting the city and is very thankful to you and the four of them. She knows if it wasn’t for you she wouldn’t be here today so she’s hoping when you feel better you’d like to meet up for dinner. I told her I’d pass the message along.” At the last part of the massage the Chief let out a small chuckle.

Following her lead, you laughed absentmindedly touching the fresh bandage on your throbbing cheek. “Yeah I think that can be arranged.”

Rebecca cleared her throat adjusting in her seat uncomfortably, “Look I’m so sorry we weren’t able to get to you sooner when they broke out. I was s….”

It was your turn to cut her off, your hand came to her shoulder and squeezed urging her to stop, “There was nothing you could have done, they would have gotten me eventually. Just please stop them escaping next time. I don’t think I’ll be as lucky if they catch me again.” The thought made your blood chill.

“They won’t, I promise. They are going straight to a max prison upstate until their trial.”

“Good.”

Rebecca dropped you off at your apartment and watched as you slipped inside the secure entrance to safety. It took you a few seconds of shaky hands and fumbling keys to get inside the comfort of your apartment. After setting the locks and chain on your door you kicked off your shoes and set your purse that had somehow managed to be found by one of the police officers on the scene on the counter.

Resting your dirty hands on your kitchen counter you lowered your head staring at the veins running through the marble slab. Soon small droplets collided with the white surface and you realized tears had begun to fall from your tired eyes. You had been so out of it you didn’t even know they had let loose.

Flashes of the day’s events bombarded you suddenly taking the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t keep the onslaught of emotions bubbling up from within making you weak in the knees. Soon after, short heavy sobs racked your frame taking the remaining strength from your body.

Your knees gave out and you slipped to the floor bunching your knees up to your chest. There was no controlling it now as you sat in your kitchen expelling all the stress of your trauma unfolding in your head. You could have been raped today and killed along with Luca right beside you, witnessing the atrocity of that horrid gang. Somehow you had managed to hold on, managed to defend you both until they came. Those beautiful mutants you had been so happy to meet, that had given you the tools to stay alive.

Your blurry eye sight traveled over your battered and bruised body taking in the large amount of cuts. Those were going to sting in the shower. The tattered pants you had worn for the day were gone replaced by a pair of grey scrubs from the hospital. You were glad to be rid of them, you never wanted to see those pants again.

The dark smudges of grime and dirt coated your skin and dried blood caked small sections of your hair. You needed a long hot shower, preferably a temp that matched a raging volcano. Your hands reached for you cupboard handles to bare your weight, but your strength was gone and were unable to lift yourself up.

“Figures.” You cried to yourself in frustration, guess you needed to crawl to the bathroom now. God you wished someone was here to help you. You actually wanted one specific person to be here to help you. The pleasant vision of Leonardo flooded your mind, his gorgeous blue piercing eyes taking the very breath from your body. His strong arms around you, keeping your from breaking down. Why couldn’t he be here right now? “Leo.” You whispered under your breath wishing him to your apartment.

“Yes?” the deep familiar voice filled your ears.

Startled from the unexpected sound you sucked in a sharp intake of breath, great now you were hallucinating.Closing your eyes, you took a few deep breaths, this isn’t what you needed right now. He was back with his brothers at the lair.

When you opened your eyes you nearly jumped out of your skin. Without making a sound he was standing beside you his tall green muscled body hovering just above yours. He was here, Leo was here. You blinked up at him and fell apart yet again, hot tears streaming down your reddened cheeks. Leo was here standing a few inches from you.

You could see the concern in his face seeing you so broken, unable to get up from the floor exhausted to no end. With no words spoken he bent down scooping you up into his arms. Feeling the warmth from his body you curled up into him your hand hooking around his wide neck for comfort. Leo took you from your kitchen to the bathroom setting you down gently making your bare feet connect with the cold floor. Wavering on your feet you placed your palms on his plastron for support.

Keeping eye contact, he began to strip you of your clothes, peeling each lair carefully from your sore body. You could see the calm in his demeanor as he removed your bra placing a sweet kiss on your lips. Taking to one knee Leo pulled your pants and underwear down in one motion and you stepped from them never taking your eyes from his deep pools of serenity that were his eyes.

You were now completely laid bare before the mutant turtle trembling under his gaze. As if in slow motion Leo started to remove his clothes until he was just as naked and vulnerable as you were. Taking in a quick breath Leo took you back up into his arms bridal style. Pulling your shower door open Leo stepped inside closing it right behind you both.

Thankfully when you were looking for apartments in the big city you were adamant on a large shower stall so his massive shelled body and yours fit just fine within it’s confines. Soon the bathroom filled with steam when he found the right temperature before stepping into the hot stream of water with you still in his arms. There you sat letting the water pour over your naked bodies, the dirt from the canning factory slipping down the drain.

You could feel him move and your legs swung down connecting with the wet shower floor. Reaching behind you Leo grabbed your shampoo coiling out a small dollop into the palm of his green hand. Working the substance into a light lather he guided his three fingered hands through the long tresses of your hair working his fingertips into your scalp. Just the simple touch of his skilled fingers made you sway on your feet humming in satisfaction. Your hands gripped his green forearms swaying with his movements. The hard muscles flexed under his green skin as his fingers worked diligently into your scalp.

“Are you ok?” he rumbled softly into your ear working the suds down to the tip of your hair.

“Mmhm.” Was all you could manage through the relaxing massage.

Gently moving you back under the hot steady stream Leo rinsed the shampoo from your hair. When he was satisfied all the suds were rinsed free his hands cupped your face pulling you to him. Before pressing his lips to yours his mouth parted, “You are so brave.” He whispered as he pressed his warm lips to yours taking a quick heated kiss.

Pulling the loofa from the hanger on the shower wall he poured a coil of body wash onto it. Distributing the substance around Leo created a good lather and started with your neck washing away the grim and dirt. Gingerly the loofa moved south over your shoulders and out to your biceps. His large green hand took your wrists and lifted each arm to wash around your appendages and pressed tenderly into your armpits. The sensation of the turtle washing one of your most ticklish parts of your body made you giggle lightly but didn’t pull away from his care.

Leo finished with your arms and did his best to not to stare at your breasts while he swirled the soapy material around them. He wasn’t here for sex; he was here to take care of you, to ease the anxiety from the trauma that you had to endure today. He watched you close your eyes lost in the sensation of his touch humming softly in appreciation. Again he leaned forward taking another kiss this time sliding his tongue over your bottom lip.

“You are amazing.” Leo hummed against your lips. It took all his control to keep his quickly rising libido at bay. That was the last thing he wanted from you today. Quelling the thoughts quickly he continued to wash you moving south yet again. Over your stomach and around the back to your ass he took great care before kneeling down giving the same attention to your legs and feet.

Leo allowed you to wash between your legs, touching down there would have most definitely lead to something more. He blushed hearing you laugh at his chaste decision to leave your core alone.

Again reaching up to the shower head he pulled down the conditioner and lathered your hair in the white cream, leaving it sit for a few moments to do its work. Looking down at you he felt his heat swell, eyes closed leaning up against him a small warm smile on your lips. Parting his Leo slanted his mouth once more over yours taking a deep passionate kiss tasting your sweet flavor.

“I’m so proud of you.” Leaning you both back again into the spray, he rinsed the conditioner from you and turned to the water off, leaving you both incased in the warm steam of the shower. Not wanting to lose the heat from the shower Leo guided you from the shower; he pulled a towel off the rack and wrapped your body in the large fluffy fabric before taking one for himself.

Leo leaned down and took you back into his arms bridal style and strode into your bedroom and pulled the covers back setting you down. With all the worry drained from you by Leo’s tender care you looked up at him with heavy eyes. You didn’t want him to leave so you scooted over in the bed and beckoned him down to you. His brilliant smile warmed your soul when he took his towel off and crawled in next to you covering you both up with the blankets.

You immediately snuggled up to his plastron pressing warm we wet kisses into the hollow of his throat tangling your legs in his long muscled ones. “Thank you.” You whispered against his green pebbled skin. Closing your eyes it didn’t take long for sleep to take you and soon your steady rhythmic breathing let the leader in blue know you were sound asleep.

Leo pulled your closer to his chest trying to get as much of you pressed against his body as possible. He couldn’t get enough of you and wanted nothing more than to protect you for the rest of your lives. He would kill Hun or any of those Purple Dragons before they came anywhere near you again, and he knew his brothers felt the same way.

Being this close to you made him ache for more, to never let you go. The feeling was unfamiliar but he knew what it meant. It was funny for knowing you for such a small amount of time he knew without a doubt he was in love with you, unequivocally and most assuredly in love.

Chapter Ten

@blossom-skies

#TMNT #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt fanfiction #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #oneshot

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morningfears · 6 years

Text

Fighter

Rating: PG-13 (For blood, violence, abuse mentions)

Request: Not requested but it’s boxer!Ashton. There are obviously mentions of blood and violence. Also mentions of domestic abuse.

Word Count: 2.7k

PART TWO

The small, grungy gym is packed to the rafters. Large men with shifty eyes and one hand tucked firmly inside their pockets, women with anxious eyes and one hand placed firmly over their hearts, meek men with bruised skin and one hand clutching a betting slip because their lives depend on it; they’re all together, they’re all waiting. And you’re sitting there among them, one hand gripping the silver chain around your neck and the other clutching the black rope of the ring.

The copper tang of blood fills the air and mixes with the musk of men from fights past. You’re almost certain there’s a noxious cloud floating above the crowd from the cigarette smoke and the fumes from bottles scattered around the room. It’s a cesspool, filthy and disgusting, but you don’t dare move a muscle.

Members of the crowd are watching the entrances, eyes wild and hearts pounding, as they wait for the prize fighters to enter. The main event is all that’s left, all of the other men have bloodied their fists and earned their week’s salary. But your eyes are glued to the small blue stool in one corner of the ring right in front of you.

It’s the same thing every week. It’s always the same shifty men, the same anxious women, the same nervous gamblers, the same feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You should be used to it by now, you should be immune to the storm of emotions raging in the pit of your stomach, but you’re not. You’re just as nervous now as you’ve always been, your heart is still pounding in your throat, but you don’t have time to dwell on your feelings.

The announcer, a man you think vaguely resembles John Waters, steps into the center of the ring and announces that the final match is about to begin. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the final fight of the evening. These next two fighters will be battling it out for the belt. Whoever wins tonight will walk away with the title, the cash, and bragging rights for the next year. Now, let’s get ready to rumble!”

You can barely hear yourself think over the sound of the jeering crowd, of men booing and yelling obscenities, but you don’t let yourself turn around. You keep your eyes trained on the blue stool in front of you, your fingers clutching the canvas, and focus on keeping your breathing even as you wait for Ashton’s opponent to be announced.

He’d refused to tell you who he would be fighting, wouldn’t let any of your friends tell you, and had even attempted to keep you from attending the match altogether and it only served to make you that much more anxious. There are only a handful of fighters that would cause Ashton to react that way and you weren’t particularly looking forward to seeing him face any of them. But the one name you’re dreading hearing the most is the one that the announcer calls.

“In the red corner, standing at five feet, eleven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and eighty pounds, Noah “The Killer” Goode!”

Your grip on the canvas tightens and your heart sinks as you watch your ex-boyfriend, covered in more tattoos than the last time you saw him and looking every bit as vicious as you remember him being, climb into the ring. His eyes are trained on you as his trainer helps him with his gloves and the look in them makes you wish Ashton had tried harder to keep you from attending this particular match.

Although you try your hardest to look away, to focus your attention on anything else in the packed warehouse basement, you meet Noah’s eyes and find yourself unable to break free from his gaze as the announcer bellows, “And in the blue corner, standing at six feet tall and weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds, Ashton “The Punisher” Irwin!”

Cheers and jeers envelop the room as Ashton makes his way through the crowd. You don’t turn to look at him, you can’t look away from the unfiltered rage in Noah’s eyes, but you feel Ashton’s fingers brush your lower back as he passes you to climb into the ring. You can see him glancing at you from the corner of your eye but your heart is racing and your stomach is churning and you think that maybe, just maybe, if you keep your eyes on him, Noah won’t be able to hurt Ashton.

But as Calum helps Ashton with his gloves, Noah finally breaks eye contact to set his sights on him and the rage in his eyes turns into something that tells you that he’s out for blood. This isn’t about a title, it isn’t about money, it isn’t about bragging rights; this is personal. And you can’t help yourself as you reach out to grip Calum’s ankle.

“You can’t let him do this,” you almost shout to Calum as soon as Ashton has made his way to the center of the ring to receive further instruction from the referee. “Noah will kill him. I’m not exaggerating, Cal. Please, don’t let him do this.”

The look in Calum’s eyes tells you that he knows you’re telling the truth, he knows that this won’t end well, but he just shakes his head sadly. “I tried to stop him,” he informs you as he climbs back through the ropes to join you on the floor. “He knows. But he wouldn’t listen. Maybe this is for the best,” he tries to reason, “they’re going to fight one way or another. Better to have them do it here with witnesses.”

“This is borderline suicidal,” you breathe as you watch the referee beckon both men to the middle of the ring.

“He wants revenge,” Calum sighs as he reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Ash saw what he did to you. He picked up the pieces,” he reminds you before he hesitates. “He was the one to take you to the hospital after that asshole nearly killed you,” he points out quietly. “I know you’re afraid, I’m scared shitless, but this is Ash. He’s been training harder than he’s ever trained before. He’s motivated. It’s fucking stupid and dangerous but he’s not going to back down so I’m going to stand right here and wait.”

You don’t want to admit that Calum is right, don’t want to admit that Ashton has a score to settle and he won’t back down, so you keep your mouth shut as you watch Ashton reluctantly tap his gloves to Noah’s in a promise of a fair fight. You know that in this particular instance, Ashton is just as bloodthirsty as Noah ever thought about being. He fully understands how dangerous this fight is going to be, knows that having a referee and an audience won’t matter much when fists start flying, but you can see the fire in his eyes and it simultaneously makes your heart soar to the heavens and sink through the floor.

You know why Ashton is doing this. He’s seen you at the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. He was your best friend for years before he became your boyfriend and during that time, he was there for you through it all. He had disliked Noah from the beginning but tolerated him because he made you happy. However, the first time Noah hit you, Ashton’s dislike morphed into a burning hatred. The first time you ended up in Ashton’s apartment quietly asking him to stitch up the cut on your hand where Noah pushed you into a mirror, that burning hatred morphed into a murderous rage. And the night that you decided to end your relationship, to take Ashton’s offer of moving in with him and getting away from Noah, only to end up in the hospital with multiple broken bones and a broken heart; well, that’s the night that the murderous rage almost got Ashton thrown in jail.

He’d taken you to the hospital, sat by your side until the pain medicine knocked you out, and asked Calum to stay by your side while he returned to your apartment to gather your things. He’d expected Noah to still be at the police station, expected him to be sitting in a holding cell somewhere, but Noah was sitting in the living room with a beer in hand and your blood on his clothes. Ashton doesn’t remember much of what happened, always tells you that he flew into a blind rage and wanted Noah to pay for what he’d done to you, but he does remember the warning he gave Noah before he left him lying on the floor of your former apartment.

“Next time, I won’t stop.”

You’re afraid that he means that as you hear the bell signal the beginning of the match. Every other match of the night began almost timidly, as if the men were afraid to get hurt, but not this one. Both Ashton and Noah come out swinging and you grip Calum’s hand so tightly that he’s afraid you might break it.

Ashton makes the first move. He jabs at Noah and connects with his side. It’s far harsher than anything anyone was expecting and it sends Noah staggering and the crowd cheering as the floodgates open. No one expects the match to last all twelve rounds, no one expects it to last six, and as you watch them trade harsh blows, you’re beginning to believe that yourself.

After being bombarded by a rapid succession of blows from Ashton, Noah regains his footing and lands a punch straight to Ashton’s nose. It’s pouring blood, definitely broken, but it doesn’t even seem to register as he counters with his own blow to Noah’s face. And as the two trade harder and harder punches, you force yourself to look away and bury your face in Calum’s shoulder.

By the time you feel your desire to look overwhelm you, it’s the fourth round and the mat is a slick red. Ashton’s nose is still dripping blood, his lip is busted and will probably need stitches, his eyebrow has been split, his left eye is already starting to swell, and bruises are already blossoming on his chest. He’s staggering, the signs of a concussion clear, and you want to yell at him to stop.

But his gloves are covered in Noah’s blood and you know that Ashton won’t stop until Noah is face down on the mat.

One wrong step from either of them and the match is over, a new champion will be crowned but you know that unless something terrible happens, this fight won’t end in the ring. And the dread that fills the pit of your stomach only grows as the seventh round of the match starts.

That wrong step you’ve all been waiting for that ends the match for the time being comes in the second minute of the seventh round. Ashton is staggering, his concussion clearer than ever as he looks like he’s going to drop at any second, and Noah is throwing haymakers as the blood dripping from his forehead clouds his vision. The crowd is getting restless, you’re panicking as you watch Ashton begin fading, and Calum is whispering prayers under his breath. But Ashton manages to block Noah’s erratic swings and throws a final punch that hits him square on the jaw. Noah falters for a moment, staggers, before he falls and his body hits the mat with a resounding thud.

The entire warehouse basement is silent for a moment, no one really sure what just happened, but just as suddenly as it descended into silence, the crowd erupts in cheers. The referee counts Noah out and the match is over. He’s out cold and Ashton doesn’t look to far from it as the referee raises his arm and declares him the winner.

“And the winner, by knockout, is Ashton “The Punisher” Irwin!”

As they turn to show him off to the crowd, Ashton’s knees buckle and he falls, nearly taking the referee with him. No matter how hard he fought, Ashton never fell like that. And before you can think about it, you’re releasing Calum’s hand and scrambling through the ropes to get into the ring. Calum is hot on your heels and is pulling his phone from his pocket as you kneel beside Ashton’s head and reach for his pulse point.

“Ash,” you cry as you feel his weak pulse beneath your fingertips, “come on, open your eyes. Look at me.” When Ashton’s eyes remain closed, you turn your attention to Calum. “Something’s wrong. We need to get him to a hospital, Cal,” you breathe as you gently pat his cheeks in an effort to wake him up, “he got concussed in the fourth round and I’m sure that’s not the worst of it. He never goes down like that.”

“Luke and Michael are on their way in,” he informs you, the panic clear in his voice just as you look up to see the aforementioned boys shoving through the crowd. “Ride with us,” he tells you as he helps Michael and Luke lift him from the mat. “Sit in the back with Luke, keep his head up. He’s going to be okay, yeah? Just, hold on.”

You can’t breathe as you climb into the backseat of Calum’s car with Luke. Ashton is positioned between the two of you with his head on your lap. His breathing is labored, even in his unconscious state, and it makes your heart clench painfully in your chest as you press your fingers to his pulse point once again. His heartbeat is thready at best and you can’t help yourself as you repeat, “Something is wrong. Cal, please, hurry.”

Calum doesn’t reply but you know that he’s pushing his car as fast as it’ll go and racing the five of you to the nearest hospital. Your thoughts keep returning to the last time you were in a position similar to this, the time you were the one barely hanging on and lying cradled in Ashton’s arms, and you cry, “Please don’t leave me. I love you. I love you so much. Please, Ash.”

The closer you get to the hospital, the slower his pulse grows. You know that Noah’s blows must’ve hit something important, there has to be a massive injury somewhere, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as Calum stops in front of the emergency room door and each of the boys is scrambling out of the car to get Ashton inside. When the nurse at the desk sees the state he’s in, Ashton is taken back almost immediately. Because you’re not family, because you blurted out significant other because you could think about it, you’re gently pushed back into the waiting room and told that you’ll be given an update as soon as possible.

But as the minutes pass and the panic in your chest crushes your lungs, you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks. “I can’t lose him, Cal,” you whimper as Calum pulls you tight against his chest and rubs soothing circles across your back.

“You won’t,” Calum assures you although the words ring hollow even in his own ears, “he’ll be okay.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.

And when the doctor on call finally finds the four of you, a somber look on his face, any shred of hope you’d had left disappears.

“His injuries are quite extensive,” he informs the four of you after confirming that you were there for Ashton. He speaks to you directly as you were listed as Ashton’s emergency contact, “He’s being prepped for surgery as we speak. There is a good bit of internal damage and bleeding that needs to be stopped immediately. There is also a bit of swelling on the brain that we’re going to be monitoring. We’re going to do everything we can. If you all would like to move to the waiting room on the surgical wing, I’ll be sure to let them know where you’ll be.”

And as soon as he’s finished speaking, the four of you are crowding into the elevator and heading to the surgical wing of the hospital. You know that you’re in for a long night as you settle into an uncomfortable plastic chair and you can only hope beyond hope that this won’t be the night that your champion loses his fight.

Author’s Note: I want to do a series or something. Like, a fighter series. I dunno. We’ll see. I just wanted to write this.

#ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin imagine #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos preferences #5sos preference #5sos blurbs #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer preferences #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer preference #ashton irwin blurbs #mine

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dearophelia · 6 years

Text

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 2

Thirty years after the war, things are as close to normal as they’ll get. Garrus is the turian councilor and Olivia runs Galactic Affairs, helping the galaxy rebuild. They’ve happily settled into the life they’ve built. Their kids are grown, and out living their own lives.But something goes wrong on Nora’s latest mission. Very wrong.

chapter 02: we were born to break the doors down

In which we meet the team. (read on AO3)

Major thanks to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, etc., the first chapter of this! I’m really excited people are interested in reading about Nora. Additional gratitude to my cheerleaders @nightingaleseeking and @tarysande

A quick note: Alle is pronounced “Allie"

2214 - 23 years later

“Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT.”

“Use your words, Torrini,” Nora says, crouched behind a boulder. Her supply pylon whirs and drops an arc grenade. She snaps it onto her bandolier.

“Bad guys. Lots of guns. Chasing me. Fuck!” His voice pitches upward as he draws out the curse to three syllables.

“You did volunteer to play bait,” Micah reminds him. He sets his Black Widow on the boulder in front of him and peers through the scope. He looks at Nora on the opposite side of the creek, shakes his head, and sits down again.

“Not! Helping!” Carlos shouts, followed by a rapid bang of Mattock fire.

Movement catches Nora’s eye; she looks down by her feet, and instantly regrets it. An orange and black spider the size of her hand crawls up out of the grass onto her boulder. It starts to turn grey, camouflaging itself against the rock. Nora shudders and swallows back a gag: her armor these days is black with an orange stripe down the arm.

There’s a tiny splash, and she looks over at Micah.

“You okay?” he says off comms.

She grimaces and pushes stray pieces of hair out of her face. Her braid was intact this morning, and then she stepped out of the tent. “We need to get off this planet.” It’s not the worst place they’ve ever been, not even in the top ten, but it’s hot and humid and she’s covered in itchy mosquito bites. And it has large spiders that can camouflage themselves.

Something crawls up her neck and she slaps at it. She looks down at her gloved fingers: nothing. She rubs at her neck just to make sure, and brushes away any other sweat that’s about to drip. At least the mission’s been pretty simple.

A biotic boom thunders through the entire valley. The echo’s barely faded before another explosion follows, and then another, coming closer.

“About time Carter got here,” Micah says, shifting his weight so he can pop out of cover as soon as he’s needed. He collapses his Black Widow and exchanges it for his Typhoon.

Nora taps her omnitool, activating the external comm link and bringing their escape route into the conversation. “They’re on their way back, Starkhov. Get ready for extract.” She takes her sunglasses off the top of her head and slides them onto her face.

“On it. Approaching now, three minutes out.”

After her pylon drops a final grenade, she collapses it and attaches the small disc to her armor. This is her last pylon and she can’t afford to leave it anywhere, not until she makes it back to Tereshkova and can pick up the resupply package waiting for her.

The spider, not quite the right shade of grey to blend in perfectly, changes its mind and crawls back into the grass. She scoots as far to the other end of the boulder as she can and still stay in cover. Her boot splashes in the shallow creek and slides a little on an algae-covered rock. She holds her balance and glares down at the grass where she last saw the spider. It’s probably green now, and she’ll never find it again. Good. It can stay here.

The gunfire takes on a louder and sharper edge as the valley narrows and curves down with the river. Nora scopes into her teammates with her Valiant: Alle’s caught up with Carlos, and he’s setting off her annihilation field nearly as much as she is. Despite the force of near-constant biotic explosions, the raiders chasing them aren’t slowed by much. Alle yells to Carlos, and he turns around just in time to smash his omnishield into a raider. Carlos has the upper body strength of a raging bull and the guy goes flying, only to catch the edge of Alle’s biotic explosion and sail through the air like a ragdoll.

“Cover fire would not go unappreciated!” Alle shouts.

Nora and Micah both open fire. Nora ejects a spent thermal clip with one hand and flicks the pin out of a grenade with the other. “Fire in the hole!” she warns. Alle and Carlos sprint as hard as they can, and Nora hurls the grenade into the crowd behind them. It hits the ground with an angry electric crackle that shocks and stuns everyone within its range, giving her teammates half a moment to breathe.

Engines rumble overhead as Lucy flies into the valley. She sets the shuttle down, keeping it hovering for easier take off, a hundred yards behind Nora. The hatch opens and a combat drone flies out, speeding down the valley toward the stunned raiders.

Nora holsters her Valiant, exchanging it for her Locust, and shifts so she’s squatting. She throws another grenade, and so does Micah. As soon as the other two run past her boulder, she pushes off, sprinting for the shuttle with Micah right behind her. Lucy has the shuttle moving half a second after Micah has both feet in the shuttle, and takes off.

Micah hits the door control, silencing the wind and birds and gunfire of pissed off raiders outside.

Nora pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. “Did you get it?”

Breathing hard, Alle nods and pushes back her hood, then slips off her backpack. She unzips the main pouch and withdraws a small metal box. “One copy of classified Alliance ship schematics. It didn’t look like they’d transmitted them yet or made copies, but I uploaded Julian's obliteration virus to their server and any contacts from the last month. And destroyed their uplink for good measure.”

Carlos pops open a refrigerated storage compartment in the side of the shuttle. He tosses a bottle of water to each of the other three before unscrewing the cap on one for himself. “I am not playing bait next time,” he says, breathless, once he’s drained half the bottle.

Micah braces a large hand on the top of the shuttle. “You volunteered,” he says again.

“I am just saying,” he says. “I am not bait again.”

Nora opens her omnitool and sends off a quick message to Vega – mission a success, on our way back now – and takes a seat next to Alle. “I’ll be bait next time,” she says to silence the argument, and watches the valley grow smaller and smaller as they fly away.

***

Nora drops into a crouch behind a pile of tires. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters.

Alle nods in agreement from her spot behind a box a few feet away. “Not what I thought day one would look like.” She lifts up just a little to look over the box, and a bullet whizzes past. She ducks down again. “Two bogies, at eleven and three.”

A shot cracks across the field, followed immediately by a loud and emphatic “goddammit!” Both their omnitools light up – Chen, I. eliminated by Rabinowitz, M.

“Make that one bogey,” Alle says, swatting at a grasshopper jumping around in the tall weeds by her feet.

Nora slides the barrel of her Valiant through a tire and surveys the space in front of them. “Eleven o’clock’s still there; I think it’s one of the vanguards.” The red outline in her scope blinks out of existence, only to reappear fifty feet farther away next to another red outline. “No, it’s definitely one of the vanguards.” She waits, but the two outlines don’t move to attack each other. “Looks like they’ve just teamed up with someone.” She scans around the rest of the area in her range. “And we have someone else at two.”

“More like one-thirty,” a new voice says.

Nora spins on the balls of her feet and has her Locust withdrawn and aimed before she’s fully turned around. An impossibly-tall person in deep red armor stands in front of her, assault rifle pointed at her. A quick glance at Alle confirms her friend had the same thought process. She squints at him in the bright afternoon sun. “I rounded up.”

He taps a button and his helmet visor fades, revealing a dark-skinned man with a bright, kind smile. “Mind if I join up with you? You two look like you know what you’re doing.” He lowers his gun.

“We try,” Alle says, lowering her own gun. “Pick a spot.”

“I’m Micah Rabinowitz,” he says, setting up behind a broken Mako between them.

Nora quickly checks the group’s stats - she doesn’t know what Vega’s up to with this exercise, but she does know she doesn’t want to team up with someone who just got a lucky shot. No one gets into ICT based on lucky shots, but still. Some recruits are bound to be better than others.

Micah’s second on the scoreboard, ahead of both her and Alle, although, she notices with a slight spark of joy, she is beating him in headshots. “Nora Vakarian,” she says, holstering her Locust again. “That’s Alexandra Carter.”

Alle looks over at him. “Call me Alle or I will find a box to stand on and punch you in the face.”

Micah smiles. “Roger that.” He looks back at Nora. “Do we have a plan?”

Two biotic booms echo across the field, and their omnitools buzz in unison – Kennedy, C. eliminated by Deckard, O.; Starkhov, L. eliminated by Deckard, O.

“We hadn’t gotten much further than ‘die last,’” Nora admits. Her visor suddenly blares a low-shield warning. “What the hell?” She yanks her Valiant back from the tires and rapidly scopes in on the open area behind them. It’s a kill zone, and they’d assumed no one would be dumb enough to try to cross it in order to flank them. First Micah, and now this; she’s beginning to rethink that logic. Her scope catches someone crouched behind a low bush. “Alle can you deal with the asshole that stole my shields? Seven o’clock.”

With a twist of her hand, Alle pulls an annihilation field around her. “Gladly.” She glances up over the box, then dashes away from it, toward the bush.

Nora settles back in, covering one half of the courtyard. “What brings you to ICT, Rabinowitz?”

“A slight difficulty following mainstream protocol,” he says, a smile evident in his voice.

She glances over and watches him switch out his assault rifle for a sniper rifle. “As in ‘I don’t follow orders well’ or ‘I follow orders, just not how my CO intended’?”

“Second one.”

Smiling, Nora turns back to her rifle. Someone teleports straight into her scope and she takes the shot. Their glowing outline flickers out and, with a visibly-irritated sigh, she pulls off her helmet, nods in Nora’s general direction, and strolls off the field. Rahiri, I., eliminated by Vakarian, N.

“Okay, before you say anything,” Alle says.

Nora looks over her shoulder to see Alle crouched down behind her box again, with another new person beside her. She’d wondered why she hadn’t seen anything in the elimination feed yet. She gestures for Alle to continue.

“He made some very convincing points about us possibly needing a tech specialist.”

Whoever he is, he’s not wrong. And Vega never specified this was a battle royale to the last person standing – he just told them to gear up with target rounds and get the hell out of the shuttles. Three is better than two, but four’s even better. “And he is?”

“Carlos Torrini,” he says. “You got room for a fourth?”

Nora looks at him, and then glances around the pile of tires. She’d been eyeing an empty prefab structure about a hundred yards away, but the closest door is locked. All her decryption programs require direct physical access, and there is absolutely no cover by the door. “Sure. If you can get us into that building,” she points.

Carlos breaks into a wide, crooked grin and opens his omnitool. “Give me ninety seconds.”

***

Debriefed and showered, Nora walks out of the bathroom barefoot and rubs a towel at her hair. Three days of slogging through riverbed and muck made for an unfortunate olfactory experience when they all shed their armor in the locker room. Now, in her quarters, finally clean and in civilian clothing, she’s not quite so tired as she was when she got off the shuttle.

“Tell me you didn’t take all the hot water,” Alle says as she walks into the steamy bathroom.

“There’s still plenty,” she assures at her friend. She drapes the towel over the back of a chair and sits cross-legged on her bunk to check her messages.

Five from Quentus, all of which are memes and only two of which she understands. One from Nico, a funny bird video along with an update that he and his boyfriend have decided to move in together.

Twelve from various teammates, and those can wait until the morning. She sends all social media updates directly to spam and adds a to do list reminder to fix her spam filter.

Two article links from her dad, one titled Boom Tomorrow: Increasing the Effective Range of Hand Grenades from the very-classified Council Defense Research Department she’s finally credentialed enough to know about, and the other a hilariously-scathing review of the new Blasto movie with a suggestion that they go see it the next time she’s on the Citadel (he’ll buy the popcorn). And one message from her mom, just checking in.

She checks the time – 8:45pm on the Citadel, not a bad time to call her parents.

A message pops up: a meeting invite from Vega:

TO: ‘N3 Squad Leaders - Vega’ [Deckard, Ophelia; Vakarian, Nora; Wu, Jonah]

SUBJECT: Mission Briefing

LOCATION: Tereshkova Station, ICT Briefing Room

TIME: 1930, Sunday

DESCRIPTION: Next mission briefing. Deck, bring a notebook this time.

She sends it to her calendar, closes her email and dials a vidcall through to home.

***

The vidcall rings, a happy little tune they’ve set for Nora, and Olivia slides across the hardwood floor in her socks, nearly careening into the wall, as she rushes across the apartment to answer. When she got home today, she’d set her omnitool in her office, closed the door behind it, and silenced all but the main comm unit so she could have a few uninterrupted hours of non-crisis time. With Garrus at a Council meeting, Nora off on a mission, and Quentus drinking his disappointment this weekend (and Nico dealing with him), she hadn’t anticipated that anyone might call home, or that she’d have to race down and across the entire apartment to answer. She taps accept just before it goes to the mailbox.

Nora flickers into view. From her surroundings, Olivia gathers she’s on a ship, one of the small personnel transports the Alliance uses these days. She looks a little tired, but Olivia can’t see any injuries, at least from her shoulders up. Getting hurt in ICT is inevitable, she knows this better than anyone in their family, and she always prefers when Nora’s post-mission calls don’t come from the ship infirmary.

“Hey, kid,” she says.

“Hi, Mom.” Nora’s shoulders settle and the tension in her jaw disappears.

“How are you?” Olivia watches as Nora visibly relaxes. Though she doubts Nora remembers those days alone at all, abandonment still lingers around the edges of her subconscious, even over twenty years later.

“Good. I can’t tell you about it, but the mission went well.”

Olivia smiles proudly. If she remembers the pacing right, Nora’s well on her way to N4 by the end of the year. James and Abby emphasize cooperation over solo missions whenever possible, and she has no doubt Nora’s N4 won’t be nearly as much of a mess as hers was. “That’s good to hear. Any idea when you’ll be back this way?”

“No clue. We’re headed back to Tereshkova; it looks like Vega’s got another op lined up.” Nora plays with her dog tags, sliding them back and forth on the chain as she talks. “That’s part of why I called, actually. Dad said something about going to see the new Blasto, but I don’t know that I’ll be back before it’s been booed out of theaters.” She scrunches up her nose in half a pout. “Is he home?”

Olivia shakes her head. “I’ll let him know you called. He’s in a meeting – they’re voting on new Spectres tonight.”

Her eyes widen in excitement. “Did Quentus make the final cut?”

“Not this time,” she exhales sadly. Her heart aches for her eldest son: he’s wanted to be a Spectre since he first heard about them, even more so when he found out she used to be one. But Quentus is an unstoppable force when he wants something badly enough, and Olivia knows he’ll try again. And again. As many times as he needs. As soon as he wakes up in Nico’s guest room, having slept off the hangover, he’ll be planning.

Nora sighs. “Poor guy. I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”

“You might want to wait until the afternoon. There was something about triple-filtered black label scotch.” Some things are better not to even ask about.

A door opens to Nora’s right and she turns to talk quietly to a person just off screen. She turns back. “I have to go. We’re gonna go raid the mess for food and then Alle has some hanar soap opera,” she makes a confused face and shrugs, “she’s dragging me into.”

Olivia laughs. “Tell Alle I said hi.” A muffled hi Olivia! comes from somewhere offscreen. “And if that upcoming mission of yours happens to have a stop on the Citadel…”

“Believe me, I’ll be coming over for dinner.” Nora grins. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.”

***

“Admiral, she's a child,” Olivia argues. “You cannot keep her locked up and isolated for her entire life.”

Hackett sighs. “I don’t disagree with you, Shepard. But she has unknown Cerberus technology inside of her. It’s dangerous, and we don't know what it does. And until we do, Alliance brass isn't comfortable letting her live among the general population.”

Olivia squares her shoulders and stares him down across his desk. “All your top scientists confirmed the chip is deactivated. It’s not emitting any signal, it shows no sign of energy or power whatsoever.” She holds up her hand when he opens his mouth to argue. “I’m not saying that it isn’t dangerous, or that she’ll never pose a threat. I’m saying that right now, she’s a scared little girl who wants nothing more than a hug.”

She pauses for half a moment before continuing. She hates what she’s about to say, but she and Garrus talked at length about how she was going to make their case; appealing to the Alliance’s sensitivity and maternal instinct alone was never going to work. “Keeping her locked up as a lab experiment is only going to breed resentment. If the chip does become a problem later and you’ve kept her in a cage, she’s going to be far more dangerous than if you’ve let her be a kid.” If you’ve let her be loved. “The chip’s off for now,” she continues. “Garrus and I are willing and able, and happy, to take her in. And you know you can trust us.”

He sighs again, heavier this time, and scrubs a hand over his face as he leans back in his chair. “You two aren’t exactly out of the spotlight. What happens when some Cerberus agent sees news footage of your family and recognizes her?”

Olivia grinds her back teeth. They’ve been trying to get the press to leave them to their privacy, but she’s even higher-profile now than she was during the war, and Garrus is the sixth-ranking turian in the galaxy. Though the bodyguards Wrex provides help, it’s still an exercise in frustration at times. “She’s three,” she says. “She was born on that station. Everyone on it is dead. Her biological parents are both dead. There’s likely not anyone to recognize her.”

Holding up his hands in defeat, Hackett gives in. “I will bring it up with the others,” he says. “But,” he softens his voice, and she knows that it’s now Steven talking to Olivia, not Admiral Hackett talking to Captain Shepard, “are you going to be able to give her up to us if something does happen?”

She squares her shoulders, looks him right in the eye, and lies. “Yes.”

***

Nora drops into her seat at the large wooden briefing table opposite Deck. They docked at Tereshkova this morning, and she’s spent most of the day shopping for a new visor. Everywhere she tried had the one she wants on backorder; she’ll have to talk to the Alliance’s Ariake rep and maybe flaunt her last name to pull some strings. She pokes her straw through the lid of her iced tea lemonade, swirls the ice around, and takes a sip. It’s absolute heaven, especially after a week of drinking only water and bad Alliance-manufactured coffee. She sniffs the air and squints at the foil-covered package in Deck’s hand. “When did they get a falafel place?”

Deck shrugs, chewing a bite of her pita. “Okay,” she says when Jonah walks in, “I have been coming here for five years and have never found the McDonald’s. Rahiri drew me a damn map last time, and I still couldn’t find it.”

Jonah smirks as he takes a seat two chairs down from Nora. He opens his takeout bag and offers Deck first dibs on his fries. “It’s on the Section 4 docks, around the corner from the quarian fortuneteller. Who, by the way,” he takes his fries back before Deck can eat them all, “is still convinced I died two years ago.”

“Hold up,” Nora says. “You paid fifty credits to a guy – who you already knew was going to tell you that you were dead – to tell you that you were dead? Which you are very clearly not?” She tears a piece off her soft pretzel and pops it into her mouth. While the pretzel is totally delicious, she’ll need to get actual dinner after the briefing before they all land in a bar.

“Yeah, man,” Deck stretches over the table and snags another fry. “If you’re giving money away, I’ll take it.”

“He’s a very sad man who never succeeded in his pilgrimage, but he won’t take a handout. So I pay him fifty credits, he throws some rocks on the table, tells me I’m dead, and he gets to eat dinner tonight that isn’t protein paste.” He moves his fries out of reach and back to safety.

Deck leans back and kicks her feet up onto the chair next to her. “You are so nice,” she points a stolen fry at him, “it’s disgusting.”

Nora catches Jonah’s eye and smiles. She always gives a few credit chits to the kids who hang out on the docks, and they both know Deck does the same in the salarian districts where she buys her snacks. The war ended over thirty years ago, before any of them were born, but scars are everywhere.

The doors swish open and Commander Vega enters. “I’m stealing you from leave; don’t get up,” Vega says when the three lieutenants move to stand. He takes up his position near the head of the table, and stares at Jonah’s food. “Alright,” he sighs, “I live here. Where is the McDonald’s?”

“Section 4 docks, by the quarian fortune teller, apparently,” Deck says. “But I think he’s full of shit.”

“There’s a station directory,” Jonah says flatly.

Biting back a laugh, Nora keeps quiet on the issue: she’s only ever found the McDonald’s by accident, and never anywhere near the Section 4 docks. She jabs her straw at the ice and takes another sip.

Vega blinks at his soldiers, shakes his head, and then kills the lights. He activates the display at the center of the table, and a blue holographic galaxy map flickers into existence. “We’ve got two missions: reaper cults and Cerberus. Any preference what we talk about first?”

“Is there a third option?” Deck asks around a mouthful of falafel.

“Nope.”

“Reaper cults,” Nora says, when neither of the others says anything.

“Right,” Vega says, and taps at the control panel on the wall. “We’ve got reports from both Omega and the quarians of suspicious activity coming and going from the Skepsis relay.” He focuses in on the Sigurd’s Cradle cluster.

The map zooms in past the cluster and to a star system. “It was enough for the quarians to send scouts. They tracked a ship to Psi Tophet, where they found evidence of reaper cult activity. Normally, we’d just keep an eye on it and leave it alone: they’ve largely faded to the edges of the galaxy and keep to themselves.”

Though Deck’s still lounging back in her chair with her feet kicked up on the seat next to her, Nora sees the tension taking hold in her shoulders. Her hand shakes as she sets her sandwich down. They all have their ghosts.

“But?” Deck prompts, voice tight and flat.

“But, twelve cargo ships have gone missing in the last eight months after departing Omega.”

“Things go missing around Omega all the time,” Jonah points out. “Why is this weird?”

Vega taps the panel, and flight paths overlay the galaxy map. “Because all their trajectories required a relay jump at Skepsis, and they were all carrying relatively large hauls of eezo.”

Jonah lifts his eyebrows. “That’s worth investigating.”

“Alliance brass thought so, too. Deck, I know this is an uncomfortable topic for you, but you have firsthand knowledge –”

“Not willingly,” she mutters.

“– of how these cults work. You’d be able to notice things the rest of your squad won’t. I’d like you leading this one.”

Nora watches as Deck takes a deep breath and shoves the tension away when she exhales. It’s impressive. She wishes she was that quick at calming herself whenever Cerberus is up on the monitors.

“Sure,” she says, cracking her neck.

“You’ll take Kennedy, Hayes, and Starkhov. This is recon only. I don’t want you engaging. Hopefully it’s nothing.”

“Twelve missing eezo cargo ships, and reaper cults near the Leviathan homeworld,” Nora says. “I think we can hope it’s nothing all we want.”

Deck points at her, agreeing. “If this is supposed to be recon only, can I have Rahiri instead? Kennedy is not good at stealth.”

Vega shakes his head. “No, Rahiri’s on a mission with Chen.”

The three lieutenants look at each other, and then back to Vega.

“You can’t just leave that there, sir,” Deck says. “Irene and Isaac have been at each other’s throats since the day they met. What the hell do you have them doing together?”

“A classified op, for which both their skills were uniquely suited.”

A moment of silence, and then a collective nod of comprehension. “Assassination,” they say in unison.

Vega clears his throat before any of them can ask for details he can’t give. “You’ll head to Haignere Station, where you’ll meet up with an Omega scout ship that’s establishing a listening station in the Pylos Nebula. They’ll take you to Psi Tophet, at which point you’ll leave in an FTL shuttle and proceed on your own.”

“And we trust Aria T’Loak to follow through with this?” Jonah asks, one eyebrow raised high. He crumples up the foil his burger came in and drops it into the grease-spotted paper bag.

“It’s her eezo shipments that’ve gone missing,” Vega says. “She has a vested interest in this. It’s financial, but no less legit.” He looks at Deck and tosses her an OSD. “Operation Anubis leaves in three days.”

Deck catches the drive, and nods. “Understood.”

“Now,” Vega says, changing the display, “Cerberus.”

Nora swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. If she even still has the memory, it’s dim and buried deep. But she knows what happened, and that alone is enough to conjure up images of a station full of the dead, and a tiny scared toddler tucked up underneath a desk amidst the carnage.

“The galactic intelligence community has assumed for a while that Cerberus is under new, consolidated leadership, but other than an increase in organized attacks, we haven’t found any real proof. However, the Alliance has come across some new information.”

Though the chip hasn’t shown even the slightest hint of energy since it was deactivated, and though she’s taken anatomy courses that taught her it’s impossible, some days she swears she can feel it buzzing in her head. She takes another bite to try to settle her nerves, but her pretzel’s cold now.

“How?” Jonah asks.

“Shadow Broker,” Vega says.

Nora presses her lips together to hold back a smile, despite her mood. She doubts even the highest of Alliance Command knows who Vega’s wife really is. She’s used Liara’s intel herself on a handful of missions, and even once spent a few days on a Broker base hiding out from pirates. Her team keeps pestering her how she knows the Shadow Broker well enough to have access to a base, but she’s gotten very good at shrugging silently. So has Vega.

“The Broker’s intel referenced several Cerberus bases. Scouts checked it out – all abandoned, but information on a server led us to a planet in the Faia system of the Ismar Frontier.” He taps on the interface and the map zooms to the other side of the galaxy, highlighting the second planet. A little label pops up, Zorya.

Deck’s chair squeaks as she sits up to stare at the map. “That is the ass-end of nowhere.”

“That’s probably why they chose it,” Jonah says.

Vega nods. “Zorya used to be Blue Suns headquarters, but the Reapers wiped everyone out. Galactic Affairs rated the system destroyed and abandoned, so it never got any rebuilding attention. Based on the apparent age of the base, we assume Cerberus moved in a few years after the Aquila relay went back online,” he says. “It’s a mid-level research facility, but it’s active, and therefore the best lead we have to find their actual headquarters.”

He zooms in on the planet, focusing on a compound deep in the jungle. “We have blueprints, and their guard rotations and main door access codes as of two weeks ago. Your job is to infiltrate the compound, grab whatever data you find, and then blow it. Captured Cerberus agents are a perk if you can, but thirty years underground probably hasn’t eased their paranoia.”

Nora takes a slow, quiet, deep breath. And then another. Good air in, bad air out. After three, she’s settled enough that she can focus on participating in the briefing. She wipes her clammy palms against her thighs.

Jonah taps on the glass panel built into the table, activating the interface. He calls up data on Zorya. “It rains 98% of the time on that part of the planet, and the only intel we have on plants and wildlife is from the vorcha. Which obviously makes it reliable.” He looks up. “Apparently there are mutated pyjaks and something with very long thorns.”

“We’ve been worse places,” Nora shrugs, calling up her own interface.

Sighing, Jonah shakes his head. “We need to stop saying that.”

“Well,” Deck says, sliding her straw up and down through the lid so it squeaks, “we have.”

“As long as those things with long thorns aren’t trying to digest Torrini, I think we’re okay,” Nora says. The tightness in her shoulders starts to relax as she has something concrete to focus on.

Vega clears his throat. “Even though all of Chimera’s going on this, I’m putting Wu in charge. Vakarian, you’ll be second.” He lifts an eyebrow ever so slightly, a silent inquiry for them to speak now on the matter of command or forever hold their peace.

Normally, she’d argue. Chimera’s her team, and has been from the very beginning. But they’re going into an active Cerberus facility – not just a small cell, an actual fully-functional base – and she probably has no business going on this mission in the first place, even less business leading it. 2IC is fine by her. She nods.

“We’re dubbing this one Operation Grigori. You leave for Haliat-Gemini in four days. You’ll pick up one of our new stealth FTL shuttles from the shipyard, a turian stealth cruiser will take you to the Ismar Frontier, and you’re on your own from there. I want an infiltration plan before you leave.” He tosses Jonah an OSD. “Here’s all the intel.”

“Yes, sir,” Jonah says. He fumbles the catch and has to duck under the table to pick it up. Deck rolls her eyes while Nora bites back a smile.

“Alright, dismissed,” Vega turns the lights back on. “Go have fun.”

The three of them stand, salute, collect their trash, and head toward the door.

“Vakarian, hold up.”

“I’ll meet you there,” she tells Deck and Jonah, and turns around. “Yes, sir?”

He waits until the others are gone and the door’s closed. “Drop the sir.”

She nods. Vega’s her commanding officer, but he’s also known her since she was a kid. Though most of the time they’re Lieutenant Vakarian and Commander Vega, sometimes they need to talk as Nora and James. As weird as it is for her to be ordered to jump out of a dropship six miles aboveground by someone who used to braid her hair, she bets it’s even weirder for him. “What’s up?”

He looks at the display, still showing the Cerberus compound, and then back at her, brow furrowed in concern. “You okay with this one?”

Nora watches the blue hologram slowly spin, giving a full aerial view. “Yes,” she says, more confidently than she feels. Her previous Cerberus missions have always been at a temporary location or a base they stole from someone else - never on their own ground. The chip itches. Not for the first time, she wants to claw inside of her skull and rip it out.

“You sure? I can swap you with Kennedy. Deck won’t mind.”

She studies the map. They’ll need a significant amount of stealth to even get into the facility, and once inside it’s all tight corridors and blind corners. What the team needs is a sniper and non-concussive grenades, not a claustrophobic vanguard. “Yeah,” she says quietly, “I’m sure.” She looks back at him and offers him a smile. “Thanks, though.”

“And you’re good seconding?”

She lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Please put Jonah in charge.”

He holds her gaze for half a moment longer, and then nods. “Alright, sobrina. Eezo job takes off in three days, if you change your mind.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Have a drink for me. I’m here all night doing paperwork,” he sighs. “And stop having Torrini as bait, would you? Command’s starting to wonder a few things.”

Nora grins, and it’s bigger, more genuine than the one she gave him just a minute before. “I’ve already heard it from him. He’s off bait duty for the foreseeable future, don’t worry.”

He waves her out the door. “Enjoy leave.”

She offers him a casual salute. “See you in a few days.”

#tarysande #nightingaleseeking #if you're thinking either deck or alle (or later rachel) look familiar - you are not wrong; queen of reusing her own ocs right here #don't even talk to me about how much of a pain it was to find a planet for this #s:words #s:2018 #s:set your flag #i feel like i'm posting this in the equivalent of the friday night death slot :/#but also if i don't i'm gonna go completely bonkers nitpicking those flashbacks so here we go #hey mobile how about you make readmores work again yeah?#long post for mobile ts

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phoenixflames12 · 6 years

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Returning Home

A/N: An extended version of my Tell A Story Day Drabble that coincides with chapter 9 of An Endless Night in my WW2 AU

Six years after he left Scotland, Captain Jamie Fraser returns to Inverness

21stApril 1945

His hands are trembling as the train begins to slow down, rattling into a familiar station that he has not seen for six years.

Shadowed shapes brush past him; a low rumble of voices slowly increasing in excitement filling the compartment. Out of the blurred evening light, a flash of dark hair dances past. A small boy clutches at the skirt of a camel coat; huge, amber coloured eyes dancing out of a pale face; shy and expectant all at once.

A Dhia, was that…? Could that be…?

And then, flickering, fading, blurring through the crush of the crowd, he sees her.

She’s older now, the lines of her face more pronounced, the whisky coloured eyes that have sustained his sleep for so long, wide and creased with crow’s feet.

Oh, my Sorcha…

Mo nighean don.

Claire.

The crumpled paper, his last from that kind nurse who had taken pity on him at the hospital at Le Havre, crumples in his palm, aching fingers reaching instinctively to touch the ghost of the rosary lying at his throat and he stands, ready to greet his wife and children.

‘Train terminating here! All passengers to depart!’

An involuntary shudder ripples through him at the guard’s voice and it is a moment before he can steady himself; a deep, aching breath catching through his lungs, his eyes squeezing themselves shut against the memories.

This isna Salzburg, man.

You’re home.

You’re back.

Breathe easy now.

Breathe.

Slowly, carefully, he shifts the weight of his pack against his shoulders and steps down onto the platform.

The sun is beginning to dip behind the station as he stands there, motionless, letting the throng of civilian bodies surge past him. Tiny flecks of purple heather blaze against the hulking shadow of the hill, guiding him home.

All he can see is her. Her eyes, her smile that is forced and holding, a façade of strength pulled up against the prospect of heartbreak.

Mo Sorcha.

Mo ghraidh, it’s me.

I’m home.

Can see Faith’s eyes widen in shock, the mane of tawny copper that he remembers so well, cut short so it slices against her cheekbones. She looks older, she is older, he reminds himself, she’d been a child of eleven when he’d left.

And then Brianna; sweet Brianna, with her hair still in stubby plaits; the fierce and bonny face that he loves so dearly radiant in the evening light.

And lastly the little boy whom he had left as a bairn, barely walking. The little boy whom he has not seen grow up, or change.

William, suddenly frightened by this tall, thin stranger moving like a sleepwalker towards them, turns away, burying his head in Claire’s coat.

Willie, mo bhalaiach, it’s me. It’s your Da. I’m home.

‘Jamie…’

His name is a moan on her lips, the façade crumbling as he reaches to cup her head hard, drawing her to him, the weight of her hair cascading through his fingers.

‘For so long, Sorcha… So long…’ The words are ragged, desperate, each breath a bloody, heaving effort, his heart splintering with the pain of it, his shoulders heaving as she holds him fiercely, never wanting to let go.

‘I know’, he hears her whisper at last, the words full of love and longing.

‘I know.’

Fin

#mine #writing #fanfiction #outlander #ww2 au #jamie fraser #claire beecham #faith fraser #brianna randall #william #blood of my blood #thoughts?

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heart-karisoo · 6 years

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sEX tOy

C H A P T E R T W O - P A R T ||

Chapters: prologue, one, two.1, two.2, two.3, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. [finished]

EXO’s sEX prOfile

Wu!’s sEX prOfile

Your sEX prOfile

A/N: Woop this is on queue! The smut is finally here! ;)

Pairing: Xiumin x fem!reader & Kai x fem!reader + mention of other members

Genre: Smut

Rating: M (Mature, 17+)

Warnings: Swearing, sexual content & still agressive Xiumin

Kinks: Maledom. Daddy, Petplay, Slight bondage, Orgy???

Concept: An alternative universe where big idols can secretly hire so called ‘’sex toys’’ for their personal pleasure.

You (fem!reader) are hired by EXO to please them as they wish.

Word count: 2,3K

As soon as we got back to the dorms I was send up stairs to get ready. I hated that they had won. I wanted this one victory just so I could do as I pleased.

At least I normally have Baekhyun and Chen for that.. I changed quickly and returned to the big living room. The boys had made a circle of chairs and all took a seat. If I didn’t know any better i’d think they planned this out the moment they hired me. “We’re ready for you, kitten” Kai called out. I entered the circle and immediately felt vulnerable. All their gazes turned dark as they scanned each inch of my body with their hungry eyes. I was dressed in a tight dress shirt with the first three buttons undone, revealing my chest. I had a very short skirt on that barely covered my rear. Underneath I was wearing a very revealing black see through lingerie. Back in my training days I was taught to strip in front of a person, but never did I think I would be in a situation where nine men would watch and absorb every angle of my body. And never would I imagine being this turned on by it. “Let’s put on some music, shall we?” Chanyeol loved every bit of this and he was not affraid to show it. “Don’t go too fast, baby” Lay cooed. Their teasing lead to my wetness becoming bigger. I wanted to be touched so bad! But I pushed away my needy thoughts and started moving with the music. I tried my best to look as confident as possible as this would add to the sexiness. I moved my hands over my hips as I stuck out my ass and slowly moved it in circles. My hand roamed my body and I squeezed myself once in a while as I moved to the sound. I decided it was time to take off the clothes as I felt myself getting worked up already. I looked at the silent men while they stared back with focused expressions. Some stared at my ass and some at my breasts. I noticed a few were already getting hard and wondered how far this little strip show would go. I reached for the button of my shirt to start stripping. “Oh no, no, NO!” Xiumin raised his hand signing me to stop. “When did we give you permission to strip already?” His words made me break a sweat. He always made me nervous. “You do not want us angry right now.” Kyungsoo added to my fear. As of my nature I bowed down to apologizes. A slight reminder of what happened this morning came back to me as I could nearly feel Xiumin’s hand in my hair again. I straightened my back quickly and stared at the men in front of me. “You can continue now, slut” Kyungsoo’s words struck. He was clearly horny and he would always turn this way when he was. Not wanting to frustrate them any further I continued my dancing. I felt up my thighs as I moved slowly and steady. Dragging my hand over my hair as I closed my eyes. I rubbed my thighs together as I felt a knot form in my stomach. I haven’t even been touched by anyone but myself and I was already this wet. As I opened my eyes I was greeted by a lip biting Chanyeol who was rubbing himself through his jeans. I soon realized all nine men were. Baekhyun was already so far that he had unzipped his jeans to touch himself openly as his dick stuck out of his underwear. I gulped at the sight but quickly continued. “You can strip for us now.” Sehun spoke in a low voice. I noted his rather subtle order and reached the button of my shirt. I unbuttoned it slowly and continued to do this all the way down. I smoothly pulled the fabric off my shoulder and then the other. Leaving me in my lingerie and mini skirt. I slowly bent over to place the fabric onto the floor as I flashed my see through panties right at Chanyeol and my thinly covered breasts right at Chen. I earned a moan from both of them as Chanyeol commented on the view he was getting. “I love this tiny skirt on you, sweetheart” I could hear the grin in his voice. I moved my hands to my ass and slowly pulled the skirt down my thighs before letting it hit the floor. This lingerie left nothing to imagine. It was straight up see through and you could see everything. As I was still bent over I softly wiggled my ass at him. “Fuck!” I heard behind me. I grinned at his comment before straightening my back again. “Slow down, baby” Lay spoke in a raspy voice. I slowed my movements as I glided my hands up my stomach and slowly reached my breasts. I gave them subtle squeezes as I pressed them together. “No, fuck that. Speed up” Sehun growled. I gulped as it struck me that I had to be naked in front of them all as they were still clothed. My hands reached for the clip of the bra which was in the front. I undid it and slowly released my breasts. They hung slightly with my nipples perking out as to my arousal. An accidental moan slipped from my lips as I brushed my hand past my erect nipple. My cheeks turned bright red. In this dark room I prayed they wouldn’t notice. I bent once again and slipped my panties down my legs until I reached the ground. “Stay like that for me, kitten” Kai’s voice rumbled through his chest as he spoke. The position was uncomfortable but I had to obey. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for us, sweetie?” Suho said. Kai clicked his tongue at the leaders demand, taking my wet sex away from his sight. I did as I was told and lowered myself to the ground. “Come here” Sehun motioned his hand towards himself. With my panties still stuck at my ankles I slowly crawled to him. He took of his jeans and boxers as he finally let his member jump up. It looked painfully hard as precum was oozing out of his tip down his long shaft. “Not so fast, maknae. Just because your dick is big doesn’t mean you can be sucked off first.” Xiumin voiced his frustration. “I have been waiting all day and you know it. Come here babygirl.” “Hyung~” the youngest whined. Being more intimidated by Xiumin’s character I turned around and crawled my way to the older male. It was embarrassing to crawl like this. I felt so vulnerable but my body trembled not because of fear, but because of arousal. “Don’t think I’m going to be gentle, I have been denied twice today slut!” His tone matched his angry movements as he took a tight grip of my hair. He pulled me up to only my knees as he forced me eye level with his hard member. This time the pain struck a bit more as he clearly was not in the mood of kindness. I winced in pain and moaned in distress. “Be more gentle Minseok” Lay spoke in concern. “She’s a big girl, she can handle it.” He was right, I loved this. I loved the way he roughly treated me like I was nothing but a toy; and I was. Without needing to be told I started unzipping his jeans and released his hard dick. It was just like Sehun’s, pink and seemed very painful, waiting for it’s release. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started pumping him slowly up and down. “No, I need more than your hands slut. Use that drenched cunt of yours.” My eyes widened at his words. But having him wait this long I knew it was best to not question or hesitate at any command. I pulled myself to my feet and faced him as I kicked my panties to the side. He took a firm grip on my hips and roughly forced me around to face the other men in the room. “I want them to see your face when I fuck you.” His words made the knot in my stomach grow as I felt my wetness drip down my thigh. His knees spread my legs apart as his hands started roaming my ass. He gave light squeezes as he massaged my flesh softly. I held in all my whimpers and cries as hard as I could. But I failed when he reached between my spread legs and started playing with my swollen clit. “Yes, moan for me slut.” He loved the affect he was having on me. I closed my eyes as I felt my orgasm nearing already. “Keep your eyes open, whore” Kyungsoo’s voice send shivers up my spine. As I did so I was forced to look straight into Chen’s eyes. He had a smug smile on his face as he was jerking his member. The sight of Chen made me reach for my chest but before I could accomplish my desire I felt two hands roughly grab them and twist them behind my back. “We didn’t allow you to touch yourself, did we?” Xiumin spoke as I heard his belt being moved around before it wrapped around my wrists and restraining me tightly. “I’m sorry Daddy” I cried out. Without another word he pulled me onto his lap. I had to stand on my toes to give him access. He took a firm grip on his dick and pressed it against my entrance. Without waisting any time he pushed in as my walls stretched around his member. “She’s so tight, isn’t she” Chanyeol commented as he took in the sight. “Fuck, look at those tits.” Kai bit down on his lip as he watched my chest bounce up and down. Xiumin had a firm grip on my shoulders as he fucked himself into me. I cried out at the filled feeling as Xiumin took what he wanted with no mercy. A lot of moaning was heard from not only Xiumin and I but also from the other men in the room who by now were all panting and pleasing themselves like they were watching porn. I turned my sight from Chen’s thirsty gaze as I noticed Chanyeol stand from his seat. He continued stimulating his hard cock as he slowly made his way to me. I looked up at the tall male and before I could grasp the situation my face was sprayed with his hot semen. He continued milking his dick with loud moans as his orgasm slowly faded. “Don’t wipe it off; It looks good on you” his voice was low and raspy from his previous moans. He walked to the coffee table and cleaned himself off with a few tissues before returning to his seat to enjoy the rest of the show. His cum dripped down my face and neck onto my chest as Xiumin bucked his hips harder. The gravity was having a strong effect on my breasts they started hurting from the rough treatment. “D-Daddy, can I come?” I pleaded. “No babygirl, you can take more.” He grunted before he started twitching inside me. It was hard to keep my orgasm from coming but I was terrified of any consequences. I felt Xiumin force me onto him with great strength as he stopped thrusting and filled me with his cum. He grunted loudly as he reached his high. My legs were shaking and twitching as I tried my hardest to keep my body from coming. As he finished his orgasm he slid out of me with ease and I fell to the floor in exhaustion. I was panting and whined at my orgasm denial. I had no time to recover as I felt my limp body being lifted from the floor, my feet lost contact of the ground. Kai looked back at me as he carried my body and sat down on his seat before placing me on his lap facing him. “I’ll make you feel good” he whispered in my ear before he bit my ear shell. His hands felt up my hips as he lifted me slightly and lowered me onto his erect cock. He was way slower and gentle than Xiumin and he actually gave me time to adjust to his size. A choked moan came from his throat as he closed his eyes in pleasure. “F-fuck~” he dragged his moan at the same time that he entered me. My legs were still shaking as my sex was sensitive from my previous denial. But his slow thrusts helped me gain back my pleasure. I clenched my fists as I felt him hit my g-spot. A whiney moan came from within me. This motivated him into thrusting. With his hands tightly gripping my hips he bounced me up and down his cock. “You’re doing great, babe! Look at you taking my full cock in that tiny pussy of yours!” He encourage me as I was now the one controlling my bouncing. Kai’s hands still roamed my back to support my balance as my hands were still restrained behind my back. Suddenly his lips attached themselves to my collarbone. I gasped at his unexpected action but continued riding him. The friction he caused on my chest brought me closer to my high as my moans became louder and ‘Jongin’ became the only word I could create with my fuzzy mind. “Can I c-come” I managed to exclaim “p-please” he smacked my ass before detaching his lips from my now purple and sensitive skin. “Yes baby, come for Daddy” he had the brightest grin on his face as I clenched around him tightly. While I was riding out my orgasm he took my hips in his hands once more and pushed me all the way down his shaft while he twitched and released his cum inside me. Mixing with Xiumin’s semen as it dripped out of me and onto his balls. Soon both of us were panting while we came down from our climax. As soon as Kai regained a bit of his energy he got up while lifting me with him. He pulled me off of him resulting in me releasing a whine from the loss of his cock. He snickered at my cute reaction and placed me on the chair to calm down further as he grabbed tissues to clean up his mess as well as my face from Chanyeol’s previous release.

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sweetpeasgirl · 7 years

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Two | Pop's and Long Nights

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Word count: 2512

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse

Summary: Y/n has to get out of the house quickly and faces the difficulty of the streets of Southside Riverdale before wandering to Pop’s and running into a certain tall serpent

Tag list: (tell me if you want to be added)

@mariechristine91 @chanel5

Your heart races as the footsteps get louder. Your stomach aches, a reminder of what happened only minutes ago. You had managed to make it to your room and to lock the door in your haze of fear. Your window is open, ready for you to climb through it, but you can’t find the one thing you need. It’s not in your closet, nor under your bed, and it’s definitely not already in your pocket. You’ve checked there too many times already. It seems that, if you want to make it out of your very own house of horrors, you’ll be leaving without your cellphone.

You hear the door handle jiggling behind you and you run for the open window, launching yourself through it as the door splinters behind you. You land in a pile on the grass, barely having time to grab the backpack stashed under the large oak on your property before you’re sprinting down the familiar pathway. You hear his slurred shouts from behind you. Slut. Whore. Mistake. You just keep your head down, your feet on the pavement, and your mind closed. You don’t need to hear what you already know to be true anyway.

You slow your pace when you make it to the Main Street. For a Friday night it’s pretty dead but that doesn’t make you any less nervous to be wandering the streets alone. You have no plan, no money, and no idea when it will be safe to re-enter your house. That makes for one hell of a long night but, really, what else is new? It’s not like you didn’t know that sooner or later you’d have to flee your own house again. You had gotten about a month free from escaping, it was due for a night on the streets about now. It builds your character.

You keep to under the bright lights, away from the ominous stares of the darkened alleyways and sewer grates. You hate the dark. That’s another downside to having to leave your house. Every noise you hear makes you jump and look over your shoulder. You’re freezing, the cold air preying on your uncovered fingers. You can see your breath coming out in white clouds of fog. You’d bet the few dollars in your pocket that your nose is red too. All in all, you want to sit down right here, on the dirty sidewalk, and cry. You feel like that’s all you do anyway; cry.

You pull your backpack from your shoulders, stopping under a street lamp to see what you managed to throw in there before you tossed it outside. A change of clothes, eleven dollars, and an old, dog eared paperback about falling in love on a sunny beach. Everything you need in order to buy yourself a burger at Pop’s and a little shelter for the time being. Besides, it’s been too long since you last saw that old man. It’s about time you payed him a visit. It might do you some good to clear your head.

You sling the bag back over your shoulders and make your way to the other side of town. It’s a long walk but you don’t mind so much anymore, knowing you’re going somewhere with a little life still left in it. It always does feel like you’re crossing a barrier when you go from the Southside to the Northside. It feels like going from danger to safety in the blink of an eye. All you have to do is walk from one sidewalk corner to the next and you’ve stepped over the metaphorical tracks that divide the already small town into two smaller parts.

The red glow of Pop’s breaks your train of thought, warming your face under the full moon. You run the last few steps towards safety; towards one of the only places that has ever felt like home. Pop’s is like that for a lot of you teenagers in Riverdale; a beacon of hope in what is steadily becoming it’s very own horror movie. When you finally get tired of watching your own backs you always find yourselves in the same place, resting under the glow of a faded sign.

The door chimes when you enter but no one really glances to see who stumbled in. Why would they? It’s just a tired girl in an even more worn hoodie. No one needs to see that. But, much to your relief, Pop’s welcomes it.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you bud,” Pop’s quickly finds his way around the counter, pulling you into a much needed hug, “how’ve ya’ been doing? Not so good it looks.”

Pop’s, you have no idea. You pull back after a minute, trying to soak up as much warmth as you can get before releasing the jolly old man. You try not to notice the wrinkles on his skin. You don’t ever want to think about a time where Pop’s isn’t there to greet you with a smile.

“I’ve been better but I’ll live. I sure could use some food though, I don’t think I’ve really eaten anything today,” you laugh at your understatement, forcing the bitterness out of your voice.

You haven’t eaten since yesterday and the morning at that. It was a bowl of cereal before your dad woke up. You can tell it shows on your face. Your eyes are sunken and your skin is lacking it’s usual lustor. Plus, without the needed nutrients, your bruises have yet to really fade. You didn’t have time to cover them before you left either, so they’re bright on your cheek. The perfect cherry on a horrible sundae. The ice cream is melting but you refuse stop eating it.

“What do you want, kiddo?” Your stomach rumbles when you look at the menu board.

You memorized it years ago but you need all the time you can get.

“Can I have a cheese burger? And a strawberry milkshake please?” You take the crumpled bills out of your pocket while you speak, smoothing them to the best of your ability as to look somewhat presentable to Pop.

You want to look like you have one aspect of your life sorted through. Like you’re not walking into the one place that means something to you with your hat in your hand. Like you have enough money for your meal and then some, not just for your first meal in a few days. You just want to be seen as a normal teenage girl.

Pop glances at your hand, “put your money away bud, it’s on me. You want onion rings too?”

His generosity would be perceived as small to an outsider looking in but to you, in the midst of your desperation, it is unmeasurable. It brings tears to your eyes and all you can do is nod your head, attacking the old man with another hug. He just chuckles his familiar laugh and rubs your back before shooing you to one of the only empty booths.

It’s in the back, hidden away quite well from the rest of the diner. The lights are a little more dim and the booths are just a little more faded. It’s right next to a big window looking out on the parking lot. You slide in immediately and lean your head against the cool glass, closing your eyes for a moment. The hum of the diner, and the lights above you, lull you into a sort of daze. You don’t mind; it’s nice to be able close your eyes when you want to sleep.

“Hey, bud. Wake up,” a warm hand on your shoulder wakes you from your short nap, “you need to eat something, sunshine.”

You rub your eyes, letting out a small yawn. You thank Pop as he leaves the abundance of food on the table. It’s beautiful and you can feel the tears rushing back. Pop rubs your shoulders, tells you to eat and to ask for more, and walks away. You don’t hesitate to dig in. You savour it, pulling out the old romance novel and hunkering down. It’s about time you just sat back and let the world keep moving without you for a little while.

You glance out the window, onion ring in hand, to see motorcycles that you hadn’t seen before. Your head races with impossible ideas. You don’t give them any leeway, just noting the bikes and not anyone who could be on them. That will only drive you crazy. You don’t have your phone, what are the odds that he’ll walk through those doors?

The answer: more likely than you’d think.

A group of teenagers with black leather jackets and slicked back hair walk into the diner, hollering and laughing with each other. To most of the people in Pop’s it looks like raw chaos but to you it looks like fun. You’ve never been one for normality, no matter how much you crave it. It’s just never comes naturally to you. You’re starting to be more okay with that. If it means being as carfree as them, or at least gathering a facade like them, then why not? What can be worse than what you already have?

You look back down at your food, forcing yourself to not scan the group for the boy you know isn’t there. You just take a bite of your cheeseburger and flip the page. The girl just got to the island and she hates it. You want to scream at her; tell her to get her shit together and to just fall in love like she’s supposed to. Some people don’t have it that easy, you want to say. If only she could hear you, she would know just how badly you wish you could trade places with her. A white sand beach below you and a gorgeous boy beside.

“Y/n, why the hell didn’t you call me?” The book tumbles out of your hands at the rough voice calling out across the diner.

Your eyes widen at the tall, dark haired serpent storming towards you. Your eyes scan over Sweet Pea, taking in his tight jeans and flannel thrown over a fitted t-shirt. He looks rugged, like he just came off the streets as well which, by the sight of his rowdy friends, was just where they were. His hair is messy and you kind of want to run your fingers through it. The tattoo on his neck just adds to the appeal, it’s ink sharp against his tanned skin. He’s healthy, spare the bags under his eyes. And, god, those eyes are perfect. Melted chocolate and filled with a passion you didn’t even know existed.

“I lost my phone,” the words barely escape your lips before you’re hauled into a sturdy chest.

Before you can stop it, a small groan of pain escapes your lips. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed but, alas, Sweet Pea isn’t anyone else. He sets you down on the edge of the table before you can protest, wanting to stay in his warm arms a little bit longer. You hadn’t noticed the chill until it was gone but now it’s back and you’re fully aware of that. You pout up at him but he doesn’t notice as he’s studying you for any new marks. You decide to spare him the trouble and lift the edge of your shirt, your hoodie now stashed in your backpack. A fresh handprint stands bright against your skin, a mangled green and purple badge of dishonour.

Sweet Pea swears under his breath, tracing the outline of the bruise with his fingertips. Wherever his hands touch fire erupts against your skin, as cliche as that sounds. It fogs your mind for a moment. You almost forget the reason he’s touching you.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” His voice is low this time, pleading.

You shake your head, unable to meet the eyes you can feel staring into your head, “I can’t let you get hurt too. I’m sorry.”

Your voice breaks slightly at the end and you wrap your arms around yourself. All you want to do is tell him the truth but that would mean risking him to the wrath of your father. You wouldn’t submit your worst enemy to that, let alone your closest friend. The hot tears slide down your face without your permission, yet another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Baby, please,” he steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands and lifting your chin until your eyes meet his shattered brown ones, “I can help you.”

With a few little words, the dam of emotions inside of you breaks. You had done well keeping it together for the entire night but as soon as Sweet Pea came into frame that entire idea had been shot to hell. You dissolve into choking sobs, the kind that make you dizzy, and he tucks you neatly into his chest again. His leather and pine scent wraps around you as he tightens his arms and drops his head on yours, completely enveloping you.

“You can’t- I’m not-,” you can’t get enough air but you need to finish the heartbreaking idea that you started, “I- You can’t help me. I- I have no where to go from here, I have nowhere to go, and this is the first thing I’ve eaten since yesterday. It’s best if you just forget me, forget what you’ve seen. Forget everything. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it. Just forget it all!”

You push away from him at that, grabbing your backpack and running as fast as you can out of Pop’s. Two voices, the two people you’ve ever known to take their time to talk to you, call out behind you but, for the second time that night, you just keep your head low and eyes on the pavement. You don’t make it far, though, as apparently tall gang members are quick on their toes.

You’re picked up, this time, and thrown over Sweet Pea’s shoulder as he starts walking towards an old, black pick up. He keeps an arm secured firmly over your behind as he pulls open the passenger door of his truck. He sets you down but keeps his hands on your hips if only to keep you from running again. His deep eyes stare into yours, daring you to look away.

“Okay baby, apparently we have some things we need to sort out. So this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to come home with me. And we’re going to sit there until you tell me what’s happening. And then you’re going to get some sleep. Because, baby, those bags under your eyes aren’t voluntary and it’s hurting me a little.”

All you can do is nod, your eyes locked on his and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. It’s going to be one hell of a night.

“Okay,” he leans in and places a searing kiss on your forehead, “let’s do this.”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #riverdale series #riverdale one shot #riverdale #the cw riverdale #cw #jordan connor #sweet #pea

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