#I see a picture of a puppy and my response is 'meh' but when I see a sentient mecha robot I actually went 'squee!' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamii-yume · 4 years

Note

Hiya~ Can I request a sinfic featuring yan!riddle where he uses an aphrodisiac on his fem!darling? ^v^ thanks in advance if you every try to write this!

Tried to implement some Mommy kink for our Baby Riddle but meh...Yume didn’t quite get there lol I’m sorry~ I’ll do your mommy kink justice someday, Riddle! {{ (>_<) }}

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎︎

It's petty, it goes against the rules, against every moral lesson he was taught, and as the older one, Riddle knew how immature this was of him. But he just loves you so much that it's only fair for you to feel the same thing, right? It's a completely valid reason!

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Riddle was not one to show emotions to make himself feel and look vulnerable to others.

It doesn't matter if they're a close friend or anyone he's familiar with, he just thinks that it's unnecessary for him to do so. Especially after his overblotting incident, it's just his duty to do what's right and recognize his past mistakes. For the first time in so long, he was corrected, he was wrong in so many ways, and he whole-heartedly accepted that. It was a blessing that his own dorm ended up forgiving his tyranny, being able to celebrate another successful unbirthday party as if Riddle hadn't done anything wrong at all. He was lucky to have such understanding friends, but the fact that they forgave him this easily was the exact reason why he's so conflicted with such a massive amount of guilt.

They were so nice despite after everything, just too loyal and accepting that Riddle's heart aches just remembering that he once took advantage of that loyalty. The guilt still chains him up and it was suffocating, but he knew he must not show such emotions. It doesn't change the fact that he's the Dorm Leader, the current King of Heartslabyul, he shouldn't burden anyone with such trivial things such as guilt. They don't have to know, if this was the price for his past actions, then he shall suffer through it all alone. No one needed to get involved in his personal matters, not again.

"...Are you sad, Riddle-san?"

No one...but you, who personally knocked ever so gently against the walls he built around himself.

Riddle didn't know if you were aware of his dilemma or had just consulted him out of pure instinct but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't caught off guard that one day. It was the end of another unbirthday party that you and Grimm were invited to. You had dared to place your hand on his head, stroking his hair once and even asked such an outrageous question. Suffice to say, he was surprised, it left his mouth open but words don’t seem to come out. It also occurred to him that you might've done that deed unconsciously as he could practically see the realization coming down upon you, retracting your hands from his head almost immediately.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry...! I touched you without thinking..." You had apologized, bowing repeatedly but eventually looked up with an embarrassed smile. You scratched the back of your head, a tiny blush decorating your cheeks, feeling silly. "...I guess I just felt something really odd about you today, Riddle-san. It's probably just my imagination but still..."

"...Please cheer up. I'm sure no one would want to see you sad." You said, giving him a close-eyed smile and an awkward ‘Cheer-Up’ pose. "If you have something on your mind, feel free to share them with any of us!"

With Grimm screaming for you from the distance, you gave him one last smile and bowed before turning to your monster friend. Riddle didn't even get to say anything as he stood there, watching your figure disappear in the distance. He found himself reaching for his own head, on the same exact spot that your hand was in and looked down. That was unexpected, he really should get his act together if someone like you was able to tell. It was a relief that you didn't pry too much, that would've been a problem.

...Though, Riddle couldn't deny that something in him felt a little giddy for someone to see through him without words. The way you placed your hand on his head, the way your eyes looked at him, even if it was all done unintentionally. It made his face heat up and his heart could only beat so fast.

They all felt so gentle and sincere. He liked it.

But even so, Riddle turned around, clearing his throat and shaking his head awake out of such a ridiculous daydream. What is he talking about? Patting his head is a major offense to him personally! It's gesture that makes him feel inferior and doing so will immediately prompt him to decapitate your head off.

However, Riddle narrowed his eyebrows together and pat his reddening cheeks twice, just to calm himself down. You did recognize your mistake and it wasn't intentional after all so...He'll let you off the hook. He might've just been surprised, that's all, there was no more reason to fret over your touch like this.

Riddle needs to get his everything together, he's your senior, for god's sake.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

...Was what he told himself, correct? He thought he was done with this.

Someway, somehow, Riddle found himself inviting you for a private tea party with him one day. He doesn't like this, it feels like he's favoring you way too much, he doesn't even do this with Trey and the others. But one look at your troubled expression in the library that day was enough for him to come and talk to you. Seriously, had he really become this easy to catch these days? Anyways, your woes laid down on a subject that involves magic, it was probably why you look so troubled about it.

"You'll teach me? Really?"

That spark in your eyes was something Riddle had never seen before, it intrigued him for some reason. He originally thought that you were suspicious, suddenly appearing out of nowhere without a single ounce of magic. You ended up becoming a student, a half-student to precise, and not to mention a girl in a prestigious all-boys school that Night Raven. It already sounded problematic in papers and by ear, your whole existence in this school is a clear violation of rules! However, once he took a closer look at the bigger picture of your situation, only then did it occur to him how harmless you really are.

After all, you were just a normal girl who always seems to get involve in a situation you didn't ask for in the first place.

"I see...So, that's how it is." You said, humming. Even without magic to perform the activities written on the text book, you somehow understood the basic concept of the topic. As expected of Heartslabyul's Dorm Leader, his strict but careful manner of teaching was no joke.

Gracefully placing down his cup on a saucer, Riddle ran his finger smoothly on the huge block of text in the textbook. "You don't need magic to remember these formulas, correct? As long as you memorized all of them with accuracy, you'll have no problems in the upcoming tests." Riddle advised as you nodded, mentally taking notes of each and every one of his words. "Now, try to answer this next question with a different method. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out the trick soon enough."

True to what he said, you managed to answer all the questions in your homework and Riddle couldn't help but be amused with your reaction. You look so relieved that you were able to finish them in such a short period of time and with confidence too. This made him want to brag about how he could finish paper works at this amount in an even shorter time frame and with everything guaranteed to be correct just so he could see your amazed reaction. But he decided against it, thinking of how immature of a move it was.

"Riddle-san, you're really amazing...I could never do these things by myself." You whispered with a small laugh as you leaned down on the table, resting your head that had been starting to ache from all the memorization you've been doing. Riddle wanted to criticize your laid-back posture but, in the end, he kept it all on his own. Your exhaustion was to be expected after all, it’s understandable.

Riddle tilted his head to the side. "...Is that so? I do think this is normal for my age." He said, which merely made you laugh nervously and drop a sweat. What he said just proved how much of a genius this child is, having the personality of a workaholic. However, you noticed how he slouched down slightly, with something oddly lonely in his eyes. "...This is what I've been taught all my life after all. I have to be the best of the best."

Ah, of course, he's not a genius without a cost. That much is understandable at least. "That's not true." You said without thinking, making Riddle turn to look at you. Your eyes were closed as if you were in the verge of falling asleep but that dazed, gentle smile remains on your face, telling him that you're still wide awake. "No one can be the 'best' out of the best. A child shouldn't grow up to believe that they can."

"...But unfortunately so, Riddle-san did, didn't he?" You phrased the words like it was supposed to be a response to yourself rather than to him. You opened your eyes, sympathy overflowing from within them that it makes Riddle's heart ache. "I can't imagine how painfully lonely that must've been, enduring and following all those crazy rules."

"But you know? It doesn't have to be like that anymore, you have friends who'll listen and spend time with you now." You said. "You can eat all the tart you want and not have to worry about breaking any rules for even just a second. It doesn't hurt to have fun once in a while."

"That's why, Riddle-san doesn't need to be the best of the best. You don't even have to listen to your mother if you, yourself knew how unreasonable her words are. You are your own person, after all." Riddle looked up at you and you couldn't help but to think of him as a little puppy, learning how to do his first trick for the first time. However, you blinked and covered your mouth when you realized that you just said something extremely rude in regards to his mother. "A-Ah! T-That's not to bad-mouth your mother or anything! I'm sure she was trying in her own way...! I think…?"

A tinge of awkwardness decorated your features as you sat properly on your seat, scratching the back of your head. "...But the point is...I just don't see why Riddle-san needs to be the best at everything. You're already fine the way you are." You said, looking down as you begin to feel really embarrassed of what you're saying. "Honestly, if you were my son, I'd be the proudest mother in the whole world~! No doubt about it!"

Widening his eyes at what you said, Riddle couldn't help but look down as different kinds of emotions swirling inside of him. His mouth twitched but he didn’t know whether to smile or to frown, he's incredibly indecisive right now. But his eyes did soften though, your last words had echoed over and over again inside his head, blocking out every other words that came after. He felt all warmed up on the inside that he clutched his chest tight and didn't seem to hear you say "Just kidding~" in a playful manner. You'll be the proudest mother you said, an actual proud mother who can be proud of someone like him.

"...Honestly, it would've been nice if you were indeed my mother in the first place..." He whispered with a strained, quavering voice, his hand clenching harder on his chest. How laughable, he's older than you and yet, he could actually feel himself at ease, consulting you like this.

"Eh...? Eh!? Riddle-san!?" You were about question him, trying to process if what you heard was correct. However, you quickly shot up from surprise in your seat as you looked at the red-haired's expression, a few drops of glistening tears began to overflow from his eyes. "W-Why are you crying...!? Aah, I'm sorry, I-I was joking...! I'm not gonna do it again, okay-"

"Hey..." Before you could say any more, you flinched as Riddle grabbed your hand, shutting you up completely. You fell into silence as he slowly brought your hand up on top of his head, your heart beating in anticipation. "Could you do it again...? Please?"

You felt your face heating up, not knowing how to process this turn of events. It was supposed to be a joke, an example to strengthen a point that you were trying to make. Still, Riddle seemed to have taken it seriously and you couldn't help but to feel a little sympathetic. It just proves that this child had been hungry, yearning for some needed motherly affection that he never got as a child. So desperate in fact, that he's willing to believe that silly little statement of yours.

Your eyes softened as you went closer to him and began to stroke his hair as gently as you could. You watched him sniffle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tries to keep his cries at a minimum. "...You're still in pain, aren't you? You poor thing..." You said with a smile, purposely making your voice as soft as possible to give him the sense of comfort. "There, there...It'll be alright. Everything's going to be alright."

With that, Riddle couldn't help himself anymore and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sitting on his little throne, he buried his face on your stomach, his tears staining your uniform but you didn't mind. All you could really do was to continue stroking his hair and welcomed his head in an embrace. "...Thank you for enduring everything all this time, you've been such a good boy." You comforted, closing your eyes and Riddle could just melt against you. "But we're here now, you don't have to worry anymore. From now on, you'll never feel lonely again."

"You've done an excellent job, Riddle. I'm so proud."

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

Yume had to force herself to buy a new laptop because she knew she wouldn’t be able to survive Online Class without one (c" ತ,_ತ) I’m quite a stranger to electronics really, but I’m learning as I go, but I still miss my old laptop aaaa- （；＿；）

BUT NEVERMIND THAT!

Yume had reach 500+ followers! That many Darlings!? Isn’t it crazy!? (´；Д；`) To think this blog could actually reach that much lol Yume just wanted to release some hornii \(//∇//)\ Thank you very much, Sweethearts~! My fellow Hornii people ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

...I’m excited for the next few Sinfics (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere #riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle rosehearts #heartslabyul #sinfic #Spicy Dream

346 notes · View notes

secrelty-z · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Boys

Playing with their hair

Paring: oikawa x reader / bokuto x reader / kenma x reader / kuroo x reader /

A/N: Kenmas was specifically for @fangirlingtrash go give her a follow and check out her stuff! Also Bokutos wasn’t that good but oh well😭

Tags: @come-on-shitty-boys @nekxrizawa @miyaniacs @h00dedhijabi

Warnings: None

Fluff

*sigh* i love this man

god i love his hair

but sis ur funny

he will NOT let you touch his hair

you’d literally have to POUNCE on him to get to his hair and touch it

ngl i feel like his hair is lowkey just the way it is. maybe he does blow dry it more but TELL ME HIS HAIR ISNT SO SOFT IN REAL LIFE

bruh that shit would feel like touching the MF CLOUDS

UGHHHHH i just wanna flatten his hair w my hand let go and see it ✨swish✨ back into place

this dudes a disney princess istg

you guys would be sitting on the couch together and you’d be like:

“Tōru?” he hummed back a response as he kept scrolling on his phone. Your boyfriend was currently sitting between your legs while you were watching a show. “Can I play with your hair?” Oikawa immediately got up, eyes wide he stared at you “Don’t you dare! We’ve talked about this! I spend precious time doing my hair!” “Oh ya?” you respond while inching closer and closer until your noses we’re almost touching. The moment Tōru tried to get up and run for it your reflexes kicked in. You grabbed onto his neck and wrapped your legs around his torso bringing him down. “NO! Y/N-CHAN GET OFF!” he was trying to get up without hurting you but you just grabbed his head and dug your nose into his hair, taking in his sent. That’s when he let out a squeal, “I’m not letting you go this time!” Tōru stopped moving, sat up and just whined while you started playing and patting his hair. Tōru fell asleep that night while you were trying to make mini braids all over his head. Let’s just say he looks adorably stupid with wavy hair.

he would want you to play with his hair

sis we’ve all seen fanart of him w his hair down

BUT JUST IMAGINE

I-

ngl don’t hate me for this but i feel like his hair wokld lowkey be damaged

...oops

THE AMOUNT OF GELLLL

after a shower would be the time do play/do his hair

blow dry it 🥺 braid it 🥺 give him pigtails 🥺

and he’d just look at you like 🥰

gtg kms

Bokuto finished changing after his shower and plopped next to you on your shared bed. You looked up from your phone and saw how messy Bo’s hair was. You sighed and pushed his hair back, giving it a slicked-back look then resting your hand on Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto turned his head so that he could kiss your palm and nuzzle into your hand. You couldn’t help but squeal, “BOKUTO STOP BEING SO CUTE!!” you said as you lightly pushed him. He looked at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes and just went “play with my hair.” You couldn’t say no! You guys put on your favourite show and started watching while playing with bokutos hair. Brushing it, putting it up into pigtails, he even lets you curl his hair. Once you were done he wanted to match so he tried to make your hair look the same as his, and to be honest he did a pretty decent job. You guys ended up making tiktoks and took photos together.

kenma hates it when people touch his hair

but he really liked it when u do it

even tho he’ll never admit it

he finds it relaxing

but he’ll never tell u that

his hair would be super soft

literally like SILK

tell me im wrong

u cant

cuz im not

Kenma was gamming as usual and Kuroo was on call with him- as usual. He, Kuroo and some other guys were playing Call Of Duty. You were bored but you didn’t want to bother the boys. So you went and sat behind kenma quietly. He was eyeing you while trying to focus on the TV. Not saying anything as you wrapped your legs around his torso and gave him a kiss then went it for the kill. Kenma hated it when people touched his hair. So he was lowkey shook when you dug your fingers in his hair. He let out a squeak and Kuroo asked what that sound was. Turning around kenma glared at you, “that was Y/N.” It took everything in you not to laugh. Sneaky brat… Kenma thought to himself as he continued gaming. Not bothering to mute himself and tell you something, he let you do as you please wanting to know how this was going to go. You sat there happy as ever that Kenma wasn’t swatting away your hand this time. Eventually, he started relaxing and leaning back into you. When the boys ended the game Kenma took off his headset and turned to look at you. Leaning on you, but not squashing you, he rested his chin on your chest. “Do it again...,” he asked blushing while hiding his face in your chest. You almost burst. You grabbed his face and gave him an Eskimo kiss and started playing with his hair as he fell asleep.

man this man 100% wakes up and boom thats his hair for the day

if u like playing with hair

then you chose the wrong man

im telling u, u cant put ur hand in his hair and be able to take ur hand back out

but if you brush it

✨chefs kiss✨

youd just want to play with his hair and hed just keep saying

“next time” “meh maybe later”

then you’d get fed up

sit him down

and do his hair

lots of screaming

lost of ranting

lost of kuroo screaming OW THAT HURT

basically so chaotic

“Is this necessary?” Kuroo asked with a whine. “Yes, Kuroo! I can’t take it anymore” you say as you dramatically pretend to faint on Kuroo as he pushed you off him. “Fine but you better not mess up my hair” You looked at him with the most confused/disgusted look and pushed him onto the bed. He fell with a ‘Oof’ and you sat next to him. You started brushing his hair and on my lord, “Kuroo when the fuck was the last time you brushed your hair? 50 years ago?” After brushing his hair- which took 30 minutes- you started styling it. It started out as just a down look, you tried giving him a perm, begged him to shave his hair into an undercut but ended up deciding on a slicked-back look. Kuroo lowkey started admiring himself in the mirror and thought it would be fun to dress up while you were at it. He wore a suit and you wore a cutie short dress and did your hair as well. You guys started goofing off and even decided to go to McDonald’s at night while wearing your formal clothing and took pictures. It was definitely a day to remember.

234 notes · View notes

ais-for-alex · 3 years

Text

The RIDER Nature Reserve: Chapter 2

So I’m probably just going to upload this as I edit which might end up with several chapters a day then nothing for awhile 😄

James Potter was a picture of contentment. Currently he was burrowed into one of the well-worn holes in his parents’ old loved couch, propped up by countless throw pillows and buried somewhere underneath several plush Sherpa lined blankets. Opposite him James younger sister Lily was reading a dense looking book while simultaneously trying to shove her foot into James’s face.

Within the Potter household Wednesday night dinners had become the traditional family gathering once they had all graduated from Hogwarts. Every week they would gather in their parents’ cozy home for their mum's delicious cooking, everyone throwing lighthearted jabs at each other over the dinner table. These had become James favorite night of the week. So far only James and Lily had made it back to their childhood home that night.

Ginny Potter was currently in the kitchen humming tunelessly as she banged pots and pans on the stovetop. Wednesdays were her normal days off from her job as head coach of the Holyhead Harpies, so she had been cooking when James and Lily had arrived not long before collapsing onto their respective sides of the couch.

At the sound of the flue activating James looked up from his warm bubble just in time to see his dad stumble through green flames. Still clad in his velvet Auror robes James noted that his dad seemed a bit disheveled. His dark unruly hair was more of a mess than usual like he had been running his hands through it for the past hour, and unless his eyes deceived him there was more gray shot through his beard than the last time James had seen him.

Harry sighed in relief when the green flames calmed down back to their soft yellow warmth, he paused for a moment warming his hands seemingly lost in thought. James watched his dad pull off the heavy velvet cloak and send it sailing upstairs with a quick flick of his wand. Harry was so distracted he was completely oblivious to the fact that two of his kids were sitting quietly behind him. That is until Lily let out a giant sneeze making Harry jump, his hand twitched towards the wand holstered at his thigh as he turned only to relax back to his side once he saw who it was.

“Sorry, flue powder, always makes my allergies act up,” she said mildly.

“Jeeze! You scared the crap out of me! Out of the three of you, you two are not the ones I expect to be quiet, make a noise every once and awhile, God damn!” Harry said in exasperation placing a hand on his racing heart. Finally calming down Harry sat on the arm of the couch next to Lily, “Why are you guys so quiet anyway? It’s weird.”

Lily looked up from her book for a moment before responding, “I, unlike this overexcited puppy,” she jabbed her socked foot in James’s face again for emphasis “have the capacity to be calm at any given time.”

“I’m sleeeepyyy,” James moaned, pulling a knit blanket over his head.

Harry scoffed at James’s whine, “Speaking of quiet, where’s Al? Not here yet?”

James’s muffled voice came from under the blanket, “That traitor ditched us because Scorp is off from St Mungo’s and he would rather spend the evening shagging his boyfriend rather than enjoying some wholesome family fun with us. That’s what he said right Lil’s?”

“Oh, yeah you got it verbatim, those were his exact words.”

Rolling his eyes Harry leaned over and kissed the top of Lily’s head before standing, “Mum in the kitchen?” he asked only to receive two mild affirmative answers as he headed out of the living room.

“Why are you so tired tonight you weirdo? Normally, you would be forcing us to play exploding snap until dinner, but now you’re just a quivering mass of pathetic over there.”

“Muf mnr smrm” James’s voice came, now completely muffled as he had pulled a pillow under his blankets and on top of his head.

“What?”

“Vmdf kjr fjbvd”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” she groaned, stretching her leg out and lightly kicking her brother in the head knocking the pillow and blanket to the floor.

Sighing dramatically James repeated his statement again, “I said I’m not pathetic you're pathetic.”

“Ooo, what a snappy comeback, totally worth the wait,” She said sarcastically.

“Ugg, I’m just super tired from training,” James said, finally answering her question, “I think my coach is officially trying to kill us. I don’t think I have been this sore since last season’s finals.”

“I don’t know why you guys are training so hard, I mean considering Mums team is going to whoop your arse anyway.”

“Yo! A little support here would be nice!” James cried in outrage that his sister had sided with their Mum rather than himself.

“Meh, I don’t want to inflate your ego. Not that you are short of adoring fans who will do you the honor.”

“Aw come on Lil’s you know that your support is worth what like five of theirs.”

“Only five!? James you have thousands of fans and I am only worth five! I’m your own flesh and blood for fucks sake!”

“Well I mean it is only you, Al and Dad are probably about fifty each but you, your kinda meh.” James laughed at the indignant look of outrage in his sisters’ face then promptly threw one of his pillows at her head.

“Rude!”

From the kitchen they could hear their Mum shout to them, “Offspring! Dinners ready!”

The two got up to head into the kitchen, as they walked James wrapped a strong arm around his sister catching Lily in a headlock.

“Oh, come on,” he said at her now sulking expression “you know I’m kidding.”

Rolling her eyes she replied exasperatedly, “Yeah I know, now get off me you oaf.” She punctuated this with an elbow to the side. The two were still locked in a bit of a wrestling match as they stumbled into the kitchen.

The Potters sans Albus were sitting at their dining table bickering good naturedly, wrapping up the end of their meal together, when a huge gray owl soared in through the open kitchen window and deposited himself on James’s lap. A small smile played at his lips when he noticed the familiar elegant script on the envelope, he gently removed the letter from the bird’s leg who let out a low ‘hoo’ then took off out the window once more.

“Ooo, who’s that from?” Lily asked in a faux scandalized voice, “another admirer?”

“Shut up,” he groaned at her teasing, “it’s from Teddy.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming genuinely interested now, “well go on then, what’s it say? Haven’t heard from him in ages.”

James rolled his eyes at his sister then looked down to read the front of the envelope and scoffed a bit in amusement at the words.

Jamie,

Open With Care

‘Open With Care’ had been his and James’s secret way of letting the other know that their letter was to be opened in private as it contained something sensitive or less than appropriate to read in front of other people.

“Lils, if you want to know what he has to say so badly, write him yourself you twat.” He said gently tucking the envelope into his pocket.

“Rude!” she cried.

“Well,” he said, taking a last sip of wine before getting up from the table, “I think it’s about time I head home. I have an early practice tomorrow.” Harry and Ginny looked up from the hushed conversation they had been having at the other end of the table.

“Hey Jay, wait up” Harry called out, “Before you go I wanted to talk to you all about something.” His dad's eyes darted from James over to where Lily and Ginny were still sitting at the table, his face was grim and pale. James vaguely recalled his mum mentioning his dad had been working extra hours lately on a nasty case and it looked like it was taking its toll on him.

“Alright, what’s up?” James replied sliding back down into his chair.

There was a pause as Harry took a deep breath before speaking, “Jay, I know this will sound a bit weird but I need you to start being a bit more cautious when your alone.” James blinked a bit taken aback by his dad's request but the serious tone with which he spoke made it clear he wasn’t joking. “Strictly speaking I’m not supposed to talk about this but screw it. Over the past couple months the Aurors have been looking into a sting of some pretty grizzly murders. We had another one today, and it's officially been classified as a serial killer.” Not knowing what to say James remained silent hoping his dad would continue speaking. “I don’t really want to go into details but we do know that they are targeting people who seem to have higher than average magical abilities. Now the Auror department has been keeping it under wraps to avoid panic for the moment but it won’t be long before the Profit gets ahold of it. One of the jackasses in the department as dubbed them the Wizarding Reaper.”

There was a beat of silence while Harrys words settled over the table James shot a look over to his sister who shrugged in response before turning back to their dad.

“Uh Ok, I’ll make sure to double my warding and keep an eye out for anything off,” James said, his demeanor serious.

“Thanks kid,” his dad sighed, sagging a bit in relief for a moment before he got up and wrapped James in a hug that quickly turned into a light headlock. Harry rubbed his knuckles into James’s already messy auburn hair, “Now just try not to kill yourself on the pitch and everything will be fine,” his tone had completely changed from that serious one back to his usual joking demeanor.

“Yeah, yeah alright” James said, breaking out from under his dad's arm, “I’ll see you two on Saturday,” he said to his dad and Lily. “And you,” he turned to his mum, “I’ll see you on the pitch,” his voice lowered a bit in a faux challenging tone.

Ginny, never one to be outdone, turned on her best taunting voice, “That you will baby boy, don’t forget to bring some tissues for when you're crying in the locker room after the Harpies demolish you.” His mum’s words would have been cruel but she said them in that same faux challenging tone James had used and had a teasing smile on her face. It was a little tradition of theirs before matches their teams played together, they would go back and forth with smack talk until their taunting insults turned into statements of love.

“Oh, you’re going to be the one crying, sobbing into dads’ shoulder when we put you out of the running for the world cup.”

“We are going to whip your ass, same as I did when you were a child stealing cookies from the kitchen.”

“I still steal cookies, but that’s cause you’re amazing at baking,” James said still in a taunting voice despite the complement.

“Thank you, I left a plate of them on the counter for you.”

“Thanks, love you mum.”

“You’re welcome and I love you too,” the two kept up the charade of acting the bitter rivals their teams were. James slowly crept over to the counter grabbing the plate of home baked cookies she had left all the while meeting her exaggerated glare with his own, an utterly ridiculous attempt at looking intimidating. As he backed out of the kitchen, he paused in the doorway taking two finger pointing to his eyes then pointing to his mum in the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, he then relaxed his posture and waved them all good night before disapparating away to land in his own entryway.

James sighed in relief at finally being home after an extremely long day. His small apartment was sparse with only the essentials to live comfortably only decorated by the occasional bits of Puddlemere United paraphernalia he had picked over the years. With a couple swift wand strokes James reinforced the warding on his front door, then dropped his gym bag full of dirty practice clothes off his shoulder to the floor. Wandering into his small kitchen James slid his plate of cookies onto the counter; he would save them until after the match this weekend. Snagging a water from the fridge he made his way into the living room to flop down onto his old couch.

James pulled Teddy’s letter from his pocket, once again smiling at the familiar writing on the front, he opened the envelope and read its contents, a warm fond feeling spreading through him with every word.

Jamie,

Guess what! One of our dragons is pregnant! Or sort of, she technically incubating her eggs, but still! I am so excited! Charlie has been trying to find her a mate for ages, turns out she took a liking to that dragon I told you about, the one I went to fetch from the U.S a while back. I am so curious to see what the babies will look like, it’s an interesting cross. Anyway, I digress. It’s just so exciting I had to tell you.

So, how’s training going? Your coach still acting like a drill Sergeant? You excited for the match this weekend; I know you’ll do fantastic. I know I’m supposed to support both of you equally but honestly, I hope you beat the Harpies. You’ve been working your arse off, you deserve it. Just don’t let your mum know I said that.

On a side note I got the ‘present’ you sent me, and god damn Jamie are you trying to kill me? God you are so gorgeous I don’t even have words; I will let you know that they have officially been added to my personal spank bank so thank you.

Good luck on Saturday. I know you’ll crush it, I wish I could be there but you know how the ministry is about travel on and off the reserve. I’ll be watching on the live stream though and rooting for you.

-T

P.S. The picture of you polishing your broom was my favorite, that little wink at the end makes my blood go south just thinking about it.

James groaned at the mental image that last comment had invoked. In his last letter to Teddy, James had included a couple risqué pictures that had been taken for the Puddlemere United’s annual charity calendar. The whole team had them done and after his session with the photographer he had been sent several of the shots with instructions to choose which one he would prefer to have in the final product. James had thought he looked silly in most of them so he sent them to Teddy for a second opinion, including the one of himself in only a jockstrap in the team’s colors polishing his broom, as his hands stroked back and forth on the wood suggestively. In the picture his eyes would close as he tipped his head back, mouth open slightly, slowly he turned to the camera with a sultry look then winked as the image looped back to the beginning.

James moaned quietly turned on by the thought of Teddy getting hard and wanking to his picture, the concept was still a bit weird for him to wrap his mind around. He and Teddy had been friends for ages they had practically grown up together.

Teddy had always been James’s person, the one he could confide in or complain to about his siblings or even just hang out with and enjoy each other’s company. Through James’s last couple of years at Hogwarts Teddy had been working to finish his Auror training but just before he was due to be inducted as an official Auror Teddy decided that ultimately it just wasn’t the job for him. The constant strain of being surrounded by dark wizards, surrounded by murderers and rapists, it had worn on his mental state.

Eventually Teddy settled down in a position working at the Nature Reserve James’s uncle Charlie ran, and he absolutely loved it. That had been in the last year before James graduated, after Teddy left for Romania, they began writing to each other and they were just as they had always been, friends.

This last Christmas though Teddy had come home. He had only been back a handful of times since leaving and it had been years since James had seen his best friend face to face. That Christmas Eve though James had opened his parent’s front door and was greeted to the sight of Teddy, his turquoise hair lightly dusted in snow and smiling brighter than the sun. In a split-second James’s entire demeanor changed though normally energetic he seemed to almost start vibrating with excitement.

Teddy had the good sense to drop his duffle bag quickly as James nearly tackled him in a bearhug. The two men stumbled backwards across the Potters front deck from the momentum until they fell backwards into a snowbank. Teddy hugged back just as enthusiastically, causing them to roll in the snow until he was straddling James' hips. Both of them were laughing heartily ecstatic to finally see each other again Teddy stood up and pulled James up from the snow with enough force to lift him off his feet and spin around. James locked his arms around Teddy’s strong form not wanting to let go as they stood now completely soaked and cold from the snow.

Still in Teddys strong hold James breathing in deeply, intoxicated by the crisp smell of fresh cut pine, campfire smoke, and strong coffee that seemed to cling his skin. Suddenly the porch light flicked on making the men look up, Harry was standing in the open doorway having come to investigate to cold breeze leaking into the house as James hadn’t bothered to close the door when he tackled his best friend. The two began laughing again at the silliness of rolling around in the snow in subzero temperatures then headed back towards the house where Harry was still watching with an amused look on his face.

After the onslaught of warmth and greetings from the rest of the Potters it was like Teddy had never left at all. He effortlessly fit back into their family easily slipping into each conversation on quidditch with James and his mum, Albus and Scorpius’s deep discussions about wizarding folklore and how bits of it could fit into their D&D campaign, he talked Ministry politics with Harry and even seemed to take an interest in Lily’s newfound love of all things Muggle as she had decided to seek further education at a Muggle university. Throughout the night James could feel Teddy's eyes frequently coming to land on him, he would look up to find Teddy staring a small grin playing on his lips as he held the eye contact before turning back to his conversation leaving James feeling warm from his gaze.

Back when Teddy had left neither he nor James had anything other than friendship in mind, each was preoccupied with their own struggles. Teddy trying to make it work with the Aurors and James still in school then starting his own career in the Quidditch world after graduation. That Christmas eve though felt different somehow, their eyes seemed to always find each other, leaving behind a charged feeling in their stomachs. It was odd after being friends for forever neither was sure what to do with this new energy that seemed to be pulling them together.

Their evening was filled with friendly familiar chatter until everyone was exhausted and ready to head home into bed. Teddy was chatting with Harry and disclosed that he hadn’t really thought too much about where he would be staying while he was in England. At that exact moment James had been meandering by the couch, not eavesdropping on their conversation at all, when he plopped down and slung his arm around Teddys neck insisting he stay at his flat.

They left the holiday festivities soon after that, both collapsing into a heap on the old beaten up couch in James' sparse living room. For the first time in years they had the freedom to tell each other everything that never translated well into letters. The night wore late as they spun tales of their lives, talking animatedly about quidditch and dragons sharing the last years of their lives with one another.

Teddy had been telling a captivating tale about one of his coworkers who had gotten a bit too comfortable around one of the dragons and ended up getting his arm torn off, however, James wasn’t listening. Teddy had pushed up his shirtsleeve revealing intricate tattoos that swirled and moved with the motion of his arm and James was utterly distracted. His eyes traced the magically moving ink from where it began at the wrist up his forearm until it disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt.

Eventually Teddy stopped talking, realizing that James was no longer paying attention to his words, the silence prompted James to let his gaze wander slowly back up to Teddys face, bits of glinting metal caught in the dim light as he finally met his burning eyes. James watched in awe as Teddy’s eyes darkened from their natural hazel color to a deep midnight blue with lust. He barely had a moment to gasp at the intense look before Teddy’s mouth was on his, body pressing him back into the worn couch cushions. They moved together gasping, moaning, James whimpered at the feeling of skin on skin. Mouths sliding together, hands exploring, both trying to get as close to the other as possible. The next morning, they woke in bed Teddy had wrapped himself around James’s body every inch pressed together both filled with warmth and contentment.

Even now laying alone in his flat, if he closed his eyes James could almost still feel the tingling trails of Teddys fingers caressing his body as they talked that morning. The two ultimately deciding against starting anything more between them, after all Teddy would leave in a couple days back to Romania and James would once again throw himself into Quidditch training, there was no point. So, from that point they went back to normal, aside from the occasional salacious fantasy they were simply friends.

James had gotten caught up in the memory of that night when he looked up at the time it was nearly one in the morning and he had to get up early for practice. With another dramatic groan he pushed up from the couch and headed to bed.

Read on ao3

Previous Next

#james sirius potter #albus severus potter #harry potter #teddy lupin #writing #RIDER #jeddy

4 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

her one constant [part two: duty and honour] [drake walker the bodyguard AU]

A short series in which TRR canon is used but instead, Drake is MC’s bodyguard. The above edit is mine and I really liked it so I had to find another excuse to use it again!

Part One if you want to catch up

@ibldw-main @jovialyouthmusic @katedrakeohd @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @princessleac1 @burnsoslow @notoriouscs @dcbbw @saivilo @rainbowsinthestorm @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @sirbeepsalot @gardeningourmet

Previously..

‘I’m here,’ Drake murmured, his voice cracking. ‘If you need to talk..’

Camille’s smile wobbled. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘You’re my one constant.’

*****************

Drake stood in the corner, keeping his eyes focused on Camille as she spoke to her fellow guests.

He would not take his eyes off the Duchess of Valtoria for one moment. He had sworn to protect her and even during an event like this one, he couldn't afford to slack. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to her.

Drake watched as she laughed at a joke Maxwell Beaumont had said. Camille's laugh was throaty, a really dirty laugh she employed when something genuinely tickled her. The laugh was surprising but it made you feel special. It was one that warmed your heart.

Olivia Nevrakis' bodyguard, Lou, was also watching his charge. Olivia, the Duchess of Lythikos, was helping herself to champagne. But, he tore his eyes away to look at Camille and then Drake. He chuckled.

'No dipping your pen in the company ink, Walker,' he teased. 'Keep it in your pants.'

Drake's jaw set, not once taking his eyes off Camille. 'I'm a professional, Lou. How about you do the same and keep your eyes on Olivia?'

Lou smirked and went back to watching Olivia.

'How long have you liked her?' he asked casually.

Drake clenched his fists. He wasn't going to dignify that question with a response. What he felt for Camille was his business, nobody else's. He was her bodyguard and that was that.

'You can fuck her, you know,' Lou said. 'Olivia and I have had a few discreet meetings. It happens.'

'I respect the Duchess of Valtoria,' Drake hissed, watching Camille as she danced with Bertrand Beaumont. 'I would never dare do anything to damage her trust.'

Lou laughed harshly. 'It's just a quick fuck, Walker,' he said. 'Nothing serious.'

Drake didn't reply. He didn't want a quick fuck with Camille. He wanted so much more than that.

He wanted to be able to hold her hand and walk her into events like this. He wanted to keep her safe, not because it was his job, but because she was his to protect. He wanted to kiss her whenever he could and he wanted to tell her he loved every part of her.

'I thought you said no dipping your pen in the company ink?' Drake asked dryly.

Lou shrugged. 'Meh.. Just because you can't doesn't mean you shouldn't. Wouldn't blame you for tapping that.'

Drake ignored Lou. He wasn't keen on Lou at the best of times due to his sleazy personality. But whenever he talked about Camille like that, it made Drake's blood boil.

If he wasn't at work, he would punch the guys lights out. But he was a professional so angry silence was all he could do.

He watched Camille as she now danced with Liam. As always, Drake's chest tightened as he watched them. He didn't know why but it was always hard to watch King Liam dance with Camille. Liam always looked like a lovesick puppy whenever he spent time with Camille and she was always laughing and smiling when she was with him.

Drake knew Camille could date who she wanted. She was single. But it still made him feel jealous that Liam could dance with her whenever he wanted while Drake stood silently in the corner.

His eyes followed Camille as she was dragged out of the room by Hana and Maxwell. Instantly, he moved from his position and followed her at a distance, keeping his eyes on her back.

He always made sure to follow her at all times but discreetly. After the event that rocked Camille's confidence and the idiocy of her previous security guard, Camille had asked Drake to always follow her. She felt safer with him near, as she should.

As he followed her, he studied the way her blue dress hugged her delicate curves and her hips that swung like a figure eight as she walked down the corridor with her friends, laughing and talking without taking a breath.

Drake wondered what it would be like to be in her inner circle. It was clear that Camille was the Queen Bee, even though she was the newest noble at court and much of the nobility disliked her - they didn’t understand how a commoner had been gifted the title of Duchess and a duchy to preside over. Drake couldn’t help but think, ‘fuck em.’ He was proud of Camille for reaching great heights; she deserved it. Besides, she looked out for the common people, unlike the other nobles that surrounded her. Cordonia needed somebody like Camille in their corner. Hell, Drake needed Camille in his corner.

He could tell that Maxwell and Hana adored Camille. She was popular with them. While Camille was the leader, Maxwell was the funny one. Hana was quieter, more studious and serious, but occasionally Camille would make a risqué joke that made Hana erupt into peels of laughter. Their friendship group looked fun.

But as Drake watched her, he did wonder what she would treat him like if he wasn’t her employee. Would they have inside jokes? Would they share secrets? Would they drink whiskey together and bitch about Olivia and Madeleine?

Drake scolded himself. Camille would never drink whiskey.

She turned to look briefly at him over her shoulder. Drake realised she was checking to make sure he was there.

His heart tugged at the realisation.

I will always be here, girl. I promise. I’m your one constant. You know that, you said it yourself.

**************************

At 1am, Camille sought out Drake in the crowd and nodded at him. Drake prepared himself to leave the Beaumont residence with her. He radioed Geoffrey: ‘Pull the car around, the Duchess is ready to leave.’

Camille gave him a smile when she reached him. ‘Hey, Drake,’ she said. ‘So, how bored were you?’

Drake smirked. ‘I kept myself entertained.’

‘Betcha did.’

Drake laughed and motioned for Camille to start walking. He kept close to her, at her shoulder. The doors opened and he could see the car waiting for them at the bottom of the courtyard. The issue was the crowd of photographers who were waiting for glimpses of the partygoers. Right now, Camille was the most popular subject they wanted to photograph. She brought in a flood of cash from one picture alone.

He saw her body tense. Drake placed his hand on her lower back while holding out his other hand, keeping the photographers at bay. ‘It’s alright, Duchess,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Keep walking, keep walking.’

Drake guided Camille past the throng, trying his best to keep her shielded. The cameras flashed and the men behind them shouted her name, asking for a smile. Camille kept her head down, walking as quick as she could. She hated attention. She hated her privacy being invaded. She hated this weird bubble she now lived in, trapped and screaming for help, but nobody could hear her.

Except one person.

She felt Drake hold her by the arm, pulling her closer into him. His body was solid and at six foot four, he towered over the photographers. Everything about him screamed ‘protector.’ He made her feel safe and secure. She knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

‘Give her room,’ he commanded in his low baritone.

The photographers stepped back, possibly for fear that Drake would kill them if they didn’t listen. Drake helped Camille reach the car and opened the door for her, shielding her body from the cameras so she was hidden.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered in his ear.

He gently set her inside the car and gave her a brisk nod. Camille watched him out the window as he walked around the car to his side.

Drake Walker was the most respected bodyguard in the business. He was professional and he took his job seriously. He swore to protect her and keep her safe; but Camille had to keep reminding herself that that was his role. He had to swear that. He didn’t let emotions cloud his duty. He swore to protect her because that was his job as her bodyguard; not because he cared for her.

But she couldn’t help but wish that he did.

******************

Drake and Camille settled back into the plush seats of the car, both relieved when the car took them away from the craziness of the photographers.

Drake watched her curiously. She was playing with her hands, a nervous habit it seemed, and her chest was rising rapidly as she tried to calm down.

'How does someone who hates attention and the spotlight end up becoming the Duchess of Valtoria?' he asked softly. 'I don't mean to be rude, I'm just curious..'

Camille let out a shaky breath and turned to look at him with vulnerable eyes. 'When Liam proposed to me,' she began quietly, 'I said no. I didn't want to be Queen and, more importantly, I didn't love him. But he was keen to keep me in Cordonia and so, he offered me a duchy. I couldn't reject him again and so I said yes to that, reluctantly. I didn't realise the magnitude of what I was signing up for.. My mistake.'

Drake frowned. 'Can't you just leave?'

Camille laughed dryly. 'And throw it in his face? No, Drake. I can't.'

Drake sighed. They sat in silence for a long moment until Drake had to break it. He couldn't have her upset.

'So, on a scale of one to ten, how shit was the champagne in there? One being the lowest.'' he asked.

Camille smiled. 'Don't say that in front of Bertrand, he'd have your head.'

Drake smirked. 'Even better. I hate that guy.'

Camille considered her answer. 'Well, I actually hate champagne,' she admitted, surprising him. 'So, I'd say zero.'

Drake let out a laugh. 'Of course the nobles have no taste in alcohol.'

'Hey, I'm a noble!' Camille protested. 'You wouldn't be saying that about the stuff I drink!'

Drake turned to study her and raised an eyebrow. 'Oh really?' he said. 'And what, pray tell, do you drink?'

Camille gave him a mischievous smile. 'Do you like whiskey?'

Drake blinked. 'Uhh.. Yes.'

She turned away to look out the car window, holding her head high. Her voice was lilting and teasing as she spoke again.

'Then stay up and have a night cap with me.'

****************

Camille was a woman after Drake's own heart.

Her whiskey collection was extensive. While she preferred to drink wine, she did enjoy a bottle of the good stuff and kept a cabinet well stocked.

'This one is fifteen years old,' she mused, picking out a bottle. 'Fancy it?'

Drake stood, dumb, at the living room door, unsure of what to do. Should he sit down on the L shaped sofa? Take his shoes off so he didn't dirty the carpet? Stand at the door as usual, back straight?

Camille turned to give him a warm smile. The joy in her eyes made Drake's heart skip. She gestured for him to sit on the sofa. Grateful, Drake hurried to sit down.

'Sounds like a good bottle,' he said casually.

'It is a good bottle,' Camille corrected. 'Just right to share!'

She lit the fire and then settled down beside him, tucking her legs up underneath her. She had changed into a silk green dressing gown and her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her face clear of makeup. She looked elegant, as always, but relaxed. The real Camille. Not the Duchess of Valtoria. Just Camille.

They clinked their glasses together in a toast and sipped the whiskey. Drake smiled as the amber liquid burned his throat, warming his stomach and mind. He gave Camille a smile and watched as she shuffled closer to him.

'So, tell me about yourself,' she said softly. 'Your background. Where you're from.'

Drake shrugged. 'I'm half American.'

'You are?!' Camille squealed, her eyes lighting up. 'Where from?'

'Texas.'

Camille's eyes widened in surprise. 'I love that you're American. I thought I was the only one in Cordonia!'

Drake chuckled and sipped his drink, enjoying the conversation. He was never asked about himself. He was always supposed to be quiet, keep his thoughts to himself. But Camille was interested. She wanted to get to know him.

'What made you become a bodyguard?' she asked.

Drake cleared his throat nervously now. He should have expected that question. 'Well, my dad was a bodyguard,' he said. 'Sort of. He worked for the Royal Guard.'

'Oh my god, so he protected the King?'

Drake nodded, taking a long sip of whiskey. He was grateful for the drink.

'He protected old King Constantine,' Drake told her. 'But he died in duty.'

The light in Camille's eyes faded. Drake looked down, hating the attention all of a sudden. He felt Camille shift and the sound of her glass being placed on the table echoed. She reached out to gently take his hand.

'I'm sorry, Drake,' she said quietly, her voice cracking. 'Really. That's awful.'

Drake shrugged, trying to play it off. 'He always said it would be an honor to die for the king,' he said. 'He got his honour.'

Camille shook her head. 'But that left you without a father. How old were you?'

'Fourteen.'

Camille bit her lip. Her hand remained in his. Her skin was so soft compared to Drake's calloused fingers. Drake gently ran his thumb along her palm, not thinking about the lack of proprietary or decorum.

'Your dad would be proud of you,' Camille murmured, her eyes now fixed on his. The fire that crackled near them cast her skin in a warm glow and her brown eyes danced with the fiery embers reflected against her pupils. She looked fierce and beautiful.

Drake smiled weakly. 'I try my hardest to be the best bodyguard for you, Camille,' he admitted. 'I'm like my dad. We take our duty seriously and our honour.'

'As long as you don't get hurt for me,' Camille said quickly. 'I don't want you getting hurt.'

Drake shook his head. He was fully aware that they were still holding hands. 'It's my job to protect you,' he murmured. 'But more than that, if anything happened to you, I'd never be able to live with myself. I'd have failed you. So, I need to keep you safe.'

Their eyes remained on each other. Maybe it was the whiskey that was loosening their inhibitions. Or maybe it was because it was late and the fire was warm and it felt like the world was asleep except for them. They were talking honestly, bravely.

'You always keep me safe,' Camille told him quietly. 'I can always count on you.'

The atmosphere between them was loaded and heavy. Drake's eyes roamed across her face before flicking down to her lips. Her mouth parted slightly as her eyes remained on his.

Drake swallowed. He was so close to her right now. He could lean forward and kiss her if he wanted.

But then he remembered Olivia's bodyguard, Lou, teasing Drake and making comments about Camille.

No. His job was to protect the Duchess. Not kiss her and tell her every feeling he held in.

'You should go to bed,' he said in a low voice. 'It's getting late.'

Drake swore he saw Camille's face fall. But she arranged her features and calmness set over her face. 'You're right,' she said. 'I've got an early start tomorrow.'

She got to her feet, smoothing out the silk of her dressing gown. Drake followed, his eyes on her as he glimpsed the way the silk clung to her body, highlighting her slim figure.

'Thank you for the night cap,' he said. 'I really enjoyed it.'

Camille smiled. 'Me too. Perhaps tomorrow night?'

Drake wasn't expecting a repeat invitation. But then it dawned on him that Camille lived in this gigantic Manor with nobody for company but servants. Drake was the only conversation she had had since she arrived home.

He couldn't say no. Besides, he wanted to sit up with her again and drink whiskey. He wanted to ask her about herself - he hadn't had a chance to this time. Well, next time, he would.

He would just have to resist the urge to kiss her.

Remember your duty. You are her bodyguard, nothing more.

#drake walker #trr #trr fanfic #drake x camille

58 notes · View notes

maisygrace · 3 years

Text

First try, don't judge

Hi, Maisy here. Probably nobody will read this, but if you do then be warned that its my first work I've published, so it might be awful. I think it's kind of okay, but who knows?? Enjoy. xx

Dylan leaned back in his chair and yawned. Prep was so boring. He and his friends had been sitting in the school library for almost an hour; they had three big tests coming up next week, and they needed to get good marks. The only person not studying was Dylan. He had the attention span of a goldfish. As he sat looking around, Dylan fiddled with his pen, his rubber, he tried to settle down and read his textbook – he knew this stuff already! Having done anything and everything to keep himself occupied; Dylan (defeated by boredom once again) resorted to the classic timewaster of tapping his short fingernails on the wooden table.

He was so zoned out that when his friend Flynn put his hand on Dylan’s arm, Dylan jumped like he had been poked with a cattle prod. Coming back to reality with a jolt, Dylan realised that Flynn was waving his tanned arm in front of his face and saying, “Dylan? Dyl? You alright mate?”

Still dazed, Dylan nodded his head and replied, “Huh, what? Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

Flynn grinned and ran a hand through his chocolate-brown curls, “Good that. I’ve finished my history notes, and Jamie and Al left about ten minutes ago. We should probably head to dinner.”

Dylan’s stomach grumbled in response, “Don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

Flynn laughed and pushed back his chair; it squeaked against the hard wood floor. He slung his bag over his left shoulder and started out of the library. Dylan hurried to grab his things and followed. Catching up to his green-eyed friend, Dylan slowed his pace to match Flynn’s. They walked along in silence for a while, until Dylan, who had been deep in thought, looked at his friend and asked, “Do you ever get bored?”

“Bored of what?” Flynn looked at him quizzically.

“All this,” Dylan paused, “The same thing every day: waking up, getting ready, going to school, going to the library to study, eating dinner, and then going to bed to start all over again?”

Looking pensive, Flynn shook his head. The sunlight caught on his curls as they bounced back and forth.

“No, not really.” he said, and that was that.

The pair walked the rest of the way to the dining hall in silence. When they arrived, they were greeted by two other boys their age, waving energetically. Dylan and Flynn waved back and made their way over to the table. The shorter of the two boys had shoulder-length hair that was a dirty blonde and was tied back into a ponytail. A devilish grin was spread across his pleasant face. He had eyes that sparkled with mischief, but they were framed by big dark circles, an indication of many sleepless nights. His uniform was untidy – his shirt was untucked, there was mud on his trousers, and his blazer was slung haphazardly over the back of his chair. He had undone his blue and white tie so that it hung loosely around his neck with his shark tooth necklaces.

The boy who was sitting next to him was his opposite. He had short, brown hair that had been carefully styled, a small smile had crossed his face when he had seen his friends, but aside from the occasional smile, he wore an expression of indifference. With neat uniform worn perfectly, he could not have looked any more different. He was constantly begging his Al to sort out his uniform.

“Al, please.” he said exasperatedly, “At least tuck your shirt in.”

Having grabbed himself a sandwich, Dylan sat down and laughed, “If he tucked his shirt in then he wouldn’t be our Al. It’s no point in begging.”

Al’s grin grew impossibly wider. “So,” said Al, “what stuff have you guys actually revised? A'cos I’ve done my French and History, but I don’t actually have any Geography notes.”

A conspirational look briefly passed across Al's face. He made puppy eyes at James.

“Jamie,” he whispered in a wheedling tone, “Can I have yours?”

“Fine,” James sighed as Al punched the air. James pretended that he minded, but they all knew that he really didn’t. “I think I’ve done all my revision. French, History, and Geography.”

Nodding, Flynn agreed, “Yeah, same. Is it just me, or is the French really difficult stuff?”

“I know right!” exclaimed Al. As usual, he was too loud. Too loud or too quiet with Al; there was not in between.

“Meh,” Dylan made a noise of disagreement, “It’s not really that difficult when you know what you’re doing.”

The other three boys all rolled their eyes. Dylan was always doing this. Bright smile falling from his face, Al tore off a chunk of bread and rolled it between his thin fingers. Hand going limp, he let the bread drop back onto his plate.

Avoiding everyone’s gaze, he mumbled, “Yeah, I’m sure it’s not.”

Al’s voice was laced with danger; the silence that followed was like the calm before the storm. Taking a shaky breath, Al pushed his chair back from the table. The noise of its flimsy legs screeching across the floor - though it went unnoticed in the noise of the room - was the start of uncomfortable silence. Holding up his hands in defeat, he stepped away from the table.

“You know what mate? Have fun passing all your tests with full marks and no revision. Funnily enough, some of us have to work hard to do well.”, he paused, looking long and hard at his friends, “And even then, we’ll probably still fail.”

His voice cracked with the last word. Al's eyes glistened with tears as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the dining hall. Barely a second passed, and then James got up out of his seat, grabbed Al’s bag and blazer, and hurried after his friend. Giving Dylan the evil eye, Flynn grabbed his sandwich and followed. Dylan dropped his head into his hands; he hadn’t meant it like that. Why did he always manage to say the wrong thing? How did he always manage to say the wrong thing? Sitting at the table, Dylan was alone with his thoughts, he didn’t like it. Picking up his bag, he got up and left. Al had been in moods like this before – Dylan knew it wasn’t a good idea to go back to the dorm room yet.

Having wandered aimlessly around the school for at least an hour, Dylan began to make his way back to his room. His room? he thought, more like their room. Dylan made his way along the corridor to their dorm room. Standing outside, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was greeted by a familiar sight. Inside the room was four beds, two on either side of the room. Each bed had a small table beside it, and each boy had decorated his table in a different way. On Flynn’s bedside table there was a pair of earphones, a few pens, and a packet of tissues. Only Dylan knew about the polaroid of his twin sister that he kept in the top drawer. On James’ table there was a phone charger, a clock in the shape of a TARDIS, and a copy of Good Omens. Good Omens was James’ favourite book, and was only one of the many that he had brought with him to school. Al’s table was the strangest by far: a picture of his pet snake Noodle, a compass, and multiple small objects (such as bracelets, stones, and feathers). Al was a “collector”. Flynn said Al was a hoarder, and James said he was sentimental. Dylan’s own table had a packet of chewing gum, a glass of water, and a photograph of himself and his friends. When the photo had been taken, the boys had been on a school trip to Dover Castle. The day had been swelteringly hot, and James’ lunch had been stolen by seagulls, but it was one of Dylan’s favourite memories. Dylan walked over to his bed and sat down. He kicked off his black leather shoes and laid down. Having only had a few seconds of peace, Dylan suddenly felt the bed dip by his left knee. Flynn had emerged from the boys’ shared bathroom, seen Dylan, and had made himself right at home. Slightly raising his head from his pillow, Dylan shot Flynn a quizzical look.

“What?”, said Flynn.

Dylan sighed, “Well, you wouldn’t have come over if you didn’t have something to say.”

Dylan knew that wasn’t true, but he said it anyways. Flynn looked taken aback.

“Don’t you start it on me, I only came to check if you were okay.”

Flynn put his hand on Dylan’s bare arm. Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan put his head back down.

“I guess so," he started, “I don’t like being smart you know. I don’t like school, and I don’t like work or tests. I- I sometimes just wish that I could forget everything that I know and could be anywhere but here.”

Flynn frowned; he hated seeing Dylan like this. Usually, he was so bright, and happy, with a quick wit, and brilliant sense of humour, but nobody could be happy all the time. Wrapping a protective arm around his friend, Flynn laid himself down next to Dylan. Dylan moved closer into Flynn's side, and closed his eyes.

#first post #my ocs #kinda gay #kinda good

1 note · View note

holidaywishes · 4 years

Text

It Had To Be You XXXIX

Chapter 39: I’m In Love Without You

Summary: “I never meant to hurt you. Honestly. Everything just kind of happened so quickly and I didn’t.. feel you anymore. Does that make sense?”

Warning: Melancholia? like not angst but not anger or depression just kinda like.. sorta sad? There’s no actual Tyler in this chapter, just talk of him -- so you’re welcome to skip it if that’s not your cuppa tea but I really hope you don’t! 😊

Author’s Note: I already had this one in the back of my head when I wrote the last chapter so I figured I’d put it out as soon as I could before I completely forget it. So here you go, it’s a short chapter and it takes place about six months after the last chapter (so like June 2022?) but I’ve been listening to this song like non-stop and it made me think of James and (Y/N). Enjoy!

Song Credit: I’m In Love Without You -- FINNEAS (the beginning of this song gives me chills every time; give it a listen you won’t be disappointed)

masterlist

the other masterlist

While Tyler was occupied with Hockey, you had been planning the wedding but it was proving to be much more difficult than you thought.

“I think you need to come back home,” your sister said over the phone, “you know, for support.”

“This is home. Besides, I can’t leave now. I’ve got Lionel and the season’s over. They need me...” you hesitated, not fully believing the words that came out of your mouth

“The season’s over and Ty’s going to do what he always does. Train and head out to a warm place with a beach and an ocean and bring along his buddies. He doesn’t need you for that.”

“Yikes. That’s not really what a girl wants to hear about her fiancé.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she corrected, “I just meant there’s no harm in you popping back to Calgary so your family can help plan your wedding; that you haven’t decided on a date for.” She mumbled the last part under her breath and you called her on it but she just ignored you, “look, if it’s about the dog, bring him. I’d love to meet him!”

“I don’t know,” you hesitated, “I’d have to put him in cargo and he’s never been on a plane before. He’s still pretty much a puppy you know. Plus, what about Ty’s dogs?”

“Bring them too?”

“Luce...”

“Come on! I haven’t seen my baby sister in ages and now that she’s getting married, I won’t ever see her again.”

“Hey!” you practically snapped, “that’s not true. Of course you’ll see me.”

“No I’ll see the two of you. The you that is the ‘us.’ Sometimes, I just need sister time.” You understood where she was coming from and you would be lying if you didn’t agree on some level with what she was saying so you agreed to go back to Calgary after Tyler started BioSteel Camp but you had to admit, you were kind of relieved to know that you would have some people to help plan this wedding with you. When you landed in Calgary, you sent a quick text to Lucy, who came to meet you at the airport.

“I knew you’d head out here,” she taunted, smiling at you, “you can’t plan a wedding with no family”

“Sure you can,” you added, “people do it all the time.”

“Yeah but...” she stammered, “they’re not surrounded by hockey players”

“I think you’d be surprised how many hockey players are good at the wedding planning stuff. Ty, however, is not one of those. He’s happy to just let me handle it.”

“See...” she laughed, “you need us!” You sighed before admitting she was right

“If Ty’s sisters were in Dallas, it wouldn’t be so bad but they’re up in Toronto you know?” you said, “if I’m gonna head up anyway, I may as well just go home.” She nodded in agreement before smiling at you. The two of you headed back to Lucy’s place because she was hoping to surprise Chris and Karen and you were happy to indulge her.

“I notice there is no dog...” she questioned

“Ty said he’d be happy to keep all four of them. Said it would help push him to train more or something.”

“Ahh I see..”

“Yup.” The two of you laughed; a text came through from Chris

“Just checkin’ in. You’re never too old for me to do that you know!”

“Do they know yet?” Lucy said as she glanced at your screen and saw his name.

“Yes!” you answered, but furrowed your brow, “I think so. I’m pretty sure.. It’s been six months so I’m positive I told them after it happened”

“How can you not remember?” she laughed

“A lot was happening,” you smiled, “there was a party and Candace came down so we spent some time together. She made herself a bridesmaid by the way”

“As long as she didn’t claim Maid of Honour,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, “I don’t care”

“Just bridesmaid, which I would’ve made her and Cass anyway,” you added, “but I’m sure I told Chris and Karen.” You thought about it more as Lucy began dialing Chris’ number,

“Hey Chris!” she greeted, hitting your shoulder to get you to pay attention when she noticed you weren’t looking in her direction, “I’m just wondering if you and Karen could come over and help me organize my office. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” She put him on speaker

“Why are you organizing your office?” he answered

“Because I’m bored, I don’t know. Why aren’t you organizing your office?” she snapped back

“You want our help? I’d check your tone if I were you.” You raised your eyebrows at your sister to get her to calm down and she winced in your direction, knowing you were right

“I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m overwhelmed” she shrugged and you laughed silently to yourself. Chris agreed, like he always did and like you knew he would, and Lucy said she’d seen him soon before they hung both hung up.

“You’re lucky he didn’t snap at you”

“Chris would never!” she joked and you nodded knowing she was probably right

“Whatever,” you laughed, “I’m going to take a shower before they get here.” It didn’t take long for them to get there and you were rushed to Lucy’s room so she could distract them enough for you to get ready. When you popped your head into Lucy’s office, Karen was the first to see you and her high-pitched scream made you cover your ears sarcastically.

“What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed

“Shouldn’t you be in Dallas with your fiancé?” Chris teased

“HA!” you shouted, turning to Lucy, “I knew I told them!” Everyone laughed for a few seconds before eventually asking why you were really home

“Everything’s okay right?” Chris said

“Of course!” you giggled, “I just thought.. maybe.. you’d like to help me plan the wedding a little?”

“Oh..” Chris hesitated, “that’s a thing for you girls. I’d be no good in that situation.”

“Hmm...” you hummed, “fine, but please be there when I’m trying on dresses. Your opinion means a lot to me.”

“You got it, kiddo.” You returned the smile he gave you as Karen and Lucy bombarded you with questions and directed you toward the kitchen table.

After about two weeks of deciding dates, colours and themes, occasionally checking with Tyler to get his thoughts which proved to be ineffective since all he said seemed to be

“I trust you.” You could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone but it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted to hear

“It’s your wedding too, dummy,” you joked, “I want it you to have some say.”

“I love you and I trust your judgement. Anything you choose, I’ll love because you chose it. All I need is you.” You smiled but rolled your eyes before hanging up. After that, you kept him up to date on how everything was going but none of the details, except the important ones; you know, like the date. Karen had found a great bridal boutique and called them to make a reservation for later in the week but to be completely honest, you couldn’t picture your wedding dress.

“I wish we could’ve gone to the one on T.V. The Say Yes to the Dress store.” Karen sighed as she got off the phone

“I don’t need that. All of those dresses, all those options, would give me way too much anxiety,” you smiled, “besides, I don’t even have a venue picked out to know what kind of dress to look for.”

“Let your dress pick the venue.” Lucy said, wrapping her arm around you in a side hug

“I like that,” you returned, “I think I’ll do just that.”

“Good!” She said victoriously and you laughed.

“Hey, I gotta go. I’m meeting up with Diana and Ethan downtown for lunch,” you interjected, “apparently they’re in town for a bit.”

“Ahh what a coincidence!” Karen said

“Meh, not really.” You replied, shrugging to yourself, “I told them I was heading out here and I wouldn’t be surprised if they booked their tickets after i booked mine.”

“Me either” Karen and Lucy said at the same time, chuckling afterward. Seeing them acting all dorky together made you happy that you agreed to come home. You never truly realized how much family meant to you until you didn’t have it right around the corner everyday.

On your way downtown to meet your best friends, you decided to stop at one of your favourite spots in the city, Snap Foto Club, if for no other reason than to people watch. You watched as crowds lined up in front of the various wing backdrops for their perfect Instagram shot; taking a seat on a bench just far enough away to watch all the girlfriends beg their boyfriends to take as many shots as possible of them in the bathtub full of rose petals.

“(Y/N))?” you heard a familiar voice call from behind you and you slowly turned your head, “I thought it was you!”

“James?”

“How have you been?!”

“Good, I’m good. How about you?” It was weird to see James after all this time but he still managed to give you comfort

“I’m good! Wow. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He stated, “I never thought I’d see you again. You here alone?”

“Yeah, I just stopped in to people watch before I met up with Diana and Ethan..” you smiled, “you here alone?”

“Uhh, yeah,” he said, guiding you to a quieter area, “let’s talk for a bit. I’d love to catch up! Unless you’re in a rush?”

“No, no. I can chat for a bit.” You replied, following his lead, “you look good, James.”

“Thank you!” he smiled, “I’m Keto now.” You winced at his response and he laughed, “I know I know,” he shrugged, “I just.. needed a change.”

“How’s.. Freddy? That was her name right?” you asked sheepishly

“Good. Good, I assume” he answered and you awkwardly tried to backtrack

“Oh. Oh god. I’m sorry, I just assumed--” you said, burying your face in your hands, “I just remember you being so.. into her.”

“Yeah, I was,” he started, “but that was like five years ago. Things change, you know?” You nodded before fidgeting with your engagement ring, clearing your throat

“Yeah.. they do.” You tried to come up with the words but you weren’t really sure when to say anything or how to say it. ‘Hey ex-boyfriend, I’m engaged. To the guy who you always knew I was in love with but I always tried to play it off like I wasn’t and made you feel paranoid for years... You happy for me?’

“So how have you been? How’s Tyler?” he blurted out

“Good. I’m good, he’s good. We’re engaged.” The words came out of your mouth so fast that they actually felt harsh and the silence lingered for only a few seconds before James laughed

“I heard,” he admitted and you let out a sigh of relief, “congratulations. I’m really happy for you, both of you. I know how much you loved him and how much he loved you. The timing just wasn’t right then. I’m glad it is now.” You were shocked at how well he was taking everything

“So who is she?” you said, inquisitively, positive that this sudden shift in personality was because he was in love.

“There’s no girl” he smiled

“Guy then?” you countered

“No,” he chuckled, “I’m just making better choices.” You let the words just hang for a second while you thought about what that meant, not really knowing how to proceed.

“You don’t still love me do you?” was all that came to you and he turned sharply to look at you

“No.” he stated, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still think about you all the time. I’ve had the occasional dream that we were still together. I’ll probably always love you, in some way, but no. I’m not still in love with you.”

“Good.” you said plainly, ending it with a smile

“You’re in love without me then?” he continued, but looked straight ahead to avoid your eyes as you answered, “with him?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t been all fairy tales and rainbows but I feel safe with him.” You replied, biting the inside of your cheek briefly before continuing, “that’s important to me. After everything I’ve been through. I like knowing that he’ll be there for me and that I get to be there for him.” He looked back at you with sorrowful eyes

“I wish I could’ve been that for you”

“You were. For a long time. And then you weren’t.” You said, “a lot of that was my fault. My trust issues. I don’t blame you for anything. If anything, I’m grateful for it all. Because our relationship made me understand what love is; how much compromise is actually needed.”

“You think I’ll ever find a relationship that makes me grateful for all the shit we went through?” he joked

“Yes. I think you’ll find the perfect person to drive crazy,” you chided, “the perfect person who makes you feel invincible. Who feels like home or Christmas or Chocolate Chip Cookies. Or whatever makes you the happiest you’ve ever been in your life.”

“I hope you’re right”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Being happy for yourself first is the best thing you can do. Everything else will fall into place when it’s supposed to.”

“Can I ask a really.. awkward, painful question?” you winced slightly but agreed

“Go for it”

“When was the moment you realized it was over between us?” You thought about it for a moment; was it when he forced you to go to the police after your assault? when he cheated on you when you were on another continent? Was it when he offered an open relationship just to see his ‘mistress’?

“Honestly,” you sighed, picking at your nail beds, “I think I realized it was over when we, both of us, stopped cuddling like we used to.”

“What do you mean? We always cuddled?”

“Not really. When we first got together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and that was typical. But whenever you felt weird about my friendship with Tyler, I felt you pulling away in small ways; like cuddling for a bit and then turning away from me. Initially, I didn’t think anything of it. But when.. what happened happened, I just wanted you to be there. You know? Like I didn’t want sex or to be touched in that way but I wanted to feel like you were still close to me. But you slept in a different room or kept your distance.”

“You didn’t want me to touch you”

“I never said I didn’t want you to touch me. I just... It’s hard to explain. There are as many different kinds of touch like there... Pokemon..”

“Pokemon?”

“Just go with me. It’s the first thing that came to mind,” you laughed, “There’s the touch that’s more or less meaningless. You know, like a literal touch on the shoulder that you’d get from your parents or gym teacher when they’re proud of you or have to tell you something important -- good or bad. Then there’s the soft touch. The one that you get from the person you love that sparks something in you. Then there’s the steamy touch. The one that leads to other things. Then there’s the sweet touch. The one that calms you down and clears your head. Finally, there’s the touch that you don’t want to feel. The one that you feel before it ever even happens. Before their skin ever meets yours. The one that leaves you feeling like you’ve just been dropped into a sewer and now you’re wondering if you’ll ever stop feeling that touch.” You weren’t sure if he understood what you were saying yet, so you waited until he said something but when he didn’t, you tried to explain, “I didn’t want that ‘steamy’ touch, I wanted the sweet touch. I can’t say for sure that I would’ve accepted it right away because I might have still been too fragile. But you didn’t try. It’s all so contradictory I know. I respect that you wanted to give me my space until I was okay again but I just wanted some way to not feel so awful about myself...”

“So that’s when you stopped loving me?” You furrowed your brow

“What? Whoa.. no. That’s a whole other question, and a whole other answer,” you confessed, “I stopped loving you when I left...” You noticed the confusion on his face and you cleared your throat to continue, “I never stopped loving you even when I felt like I lost you, even when you cheated on me and everything else that followed. Even during our last fight when I told you I kissed Tyler and we went back and forth about how it shouldn’t have been him. You remember that fight?”

“Yeah.. you walked out on me after I said I didn’t want you to go.” You nodded

“I needed you to realize that you lost. But I realized in that moment that our relationship was always going to be about him in some way. So, I had to say goodbye, but I still loved you. You were the only kind of love I had known for so long and I couldn’t just ignore that but I also couldn’t ignore the fact that when I left, when I walked out that door and cried my way to my sisters place,” you said, straightening your posture, “I felt like a giant weight had been lifted. It still hurt like a bitch but I knew it was right. I never meant to hurt you. Honestly. Everything just kind of happened so quickly and I didn’t.. feel you anymore. Does that make sense?” He nodded, indicating he understood, standing up and gesturing for you to do the same. He pulled you in for a hug and you squeezed him tightly

“You’ll always be the one that got away” he smiled against your ear

“You’ll always be the one that taught me what love is.” He walked you out and the two of you parted ways one last time. And it finally felt like you had closure.

#Tyler Seguin #It Had To be You #it had to be you series #Tyler Seguin fic #Tyler Seguin Imagine #Dallas Stars #Dallas Stars imagine #NHL #nhl imagine #masterlist #the other masterlist

21 notes · View notes

vaultofqueenorion · 4 years

Photo

It is time to introduce you all to my favorite series of all time by my favorite author of all time, that is the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas.

This also means that the whole review will basically be one giant hype-train, even if I will keep spoilers to a minimum.

So let’s take a deep dive into the story of Adarlan’s greatest assassin, Celaena Sardothien, the most sassy character that I have ever met, and one of the badass women in the series.

The Title

The title is dramatic, it’s got flair, and it also portrays something entirely terrible that had me actually getting chills when I started reading about the villain of the story.

The castle is made completely of glass. That doesn’t seem particularly practical you say? Well you would be right, and Celaena would agree with you. It’s extravagant, just like the nobles of Adarlan who give no thought to the people that the King of Adarlan has oppressed for a while now.

It’s also kind of the perfect metaphor for Celaena - extravagant and beautiful, but hiding a fragility, a fear that could bring it all crashing down.

The Characters

See Celaena might be the Adarlan’s (and maybe even the world’s!) greatest assassin with blood on her teeth and a sharp tongue, but there are hints to her fear, to her utter self depreciation and escapism throughout the whole book.

She is, simply, a hero who doesn’t want to be one.

It’s quite aptly summed up in the picture above. She doesn’t believe that she’s fated for anything - not after having been through what she’s been through.

But she puts on a mask and smiles through it all, ridiculing those around her and lavishing in the finer things in life.

This was one of the things that made me connect so much with her (not the lashing out part, the hiding your true self part - the fear). Her past has left her so broken, so afraid of failure and of the world around her that she simply stopped trying to save it all.

And yet.

Because as the above shows, she still does save people. She saves a puppy from being killed for being the ‘runt of the litter’, and she saves a man from falling to his death. She keeps saving those around her, keeps trying even after she says that she’s done.

Even though she has troubles surviving on her own as it is.

That’s also what’s so interesting about Celaena - she manages to be vibrant while hopeless, kind while self-preserving. She’s a full-blooded killer, but she doesn’t kill those who don’t deserve it. There are so many opposites within her, and they all serve to make her an incredibly fun character to follow.

She’s also very flawed, and she’s got a horribly fiery temper that leaves her with thoughts such as the ones below.

See? That’s not the voice of a kind and soft spoken woman. That’s the voice of a fighter that has walked through hell and yet still manages to come out the other side.

A Nehemia so aptly puts it:

Her spirit remains as it once was - she is scarred and she is hurt, but she kept her defiance going. She kept getting up after being knocked down.

I think that is one of the things that had me relating to her the most. All of those feelings, all of the despair and fear and pain and yet she still manages to get onto her feet one more time after she gets knocked down.

Celaena is a hero who had me getting back on my own two feet long after I finished her story.

Nehemia is the second character that I want to talk about. The princess of Eyllwe, the land that the Kind of Adarlan has practically enslaved for their rebellion against his power, Nehemia Ytger is stuck in an enemy capital, walking around the torturer of her people at all times. And yet she still manages to keep her chin up, her spine erect.

She’s a powerful woman, the light of her people, and the dearest friend of Celaena. She’s fierce and Celaena has the idea that she’s fighting to free her people, even as she walks among her enemies, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

She’s also the one to bail Celaena out at many points, their friendship deepening with each horrifying secret that they uncover. She’s clever enough to keep her things relatively hidden, but there’s also a hint of sadness to her whenever she talks about her people. As if she knows that she cannot ever do enough.

Chaol is the captain of the Royal Guard. He’s cold, he’s calculating and he’s suspicious of Celaena and her intentions. That is, until you get to know him. He can seem stand-offish - imagine an old grumpy man with a golden heart. The thing is that this old man’s heart (he’s young in the book btw, so don’t take the metaphor too seriously) has been encased in ice and it takes him a while to thaw.

He does, however, appreciate hard work, and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’s proud of Celaena after a while as she goes from hollowed out husk to powerhouse again.

The above is not a particularly nice part of the book, but it does signify their relationship at first. Chaol sort of tolerates her, he doesn’t really praise her, but he comes to care for her. A lot.

And it was really really nice to have a hero that had to be retrained again, because that is the most realistic thing that I’ve seen in regards to a hero who has come back from a long time of inactivity.

Dorian Havilliard, the Crown Prince of Adarlan, is a softie. At least he seems like that - naive, doesn’t go against his fathers wishes, womanizer. The standard douchey no-good straight guy who has it all.

It’s shown in the dumb question below (which makes Celaena have the most amazing response later on the page, but go read the book to see that one!).

Because Endovier is the Death camp. It’s been made to kill and to be unescapable. And yet he asks her the unthinkable. Celaena, with her sass and smart assery, gives the perfect response and her escape plan was almost perfect.

Dorian learns, slowly, to stand up to his father. He learns what it means to care for someone other than himself and his best friend Chaol, and he actually seems to maybe not despise it, but at least rein back on the courtly stuff. But boy oh boy there’s a lot of character development here, and the potential is amazing.

The King of Adarlan was terrifying. He’s a peripheral character, most of the time, but he’s very much prevalent in all of their minds. Sort of a dark presence that never moves, never blinks, he seems to watch their every movement.

He’s cruel, he’s dark and we have no clue how much he knows. That lack of knowledge is terrifying and it was nice to have a hero that actually feared their adversary rather than felt like they could defeat them, because Celaena, Dorian, everyone feels powerless against him.

The quote below from Celaena is one that I am especially fond of.

Cain is ... wow. Don’t even get me started. He’s a brute and he’s just plain cruel for fun. I didn’t like him because he was a bully, but he was never that prominent for me. He was a villain like any other.

Elena, who is another pretty good but also a bit meh character for me, warns Celaena of this regarding Cain and whatever is going on.

Elena is not a character that I will go into. She’s sort of the friendly ghost that hangs back and swoops in once in a while, and she seems to want to help Celaena, but you have to take a look at her for yourselves.

The Plot

Ever wanted to read a murder mystery slash assassing tournament slash love and friendship story that takes place in a fantasy world that once held magic but is now dried out? Then this is the one for you.

That is a huge simplification, of course, because reality is so much better. I was in suspense until the end - not about who was the evil one, but rather what is going on. There’s a whole level of suspense going on in figuring out what in the world is happening alongside Celaena, who needs to discover everything for herself.

And gosh. The whole retraining programme in which Celaena finally gets to eat like the noble she feels like, and the way she has her sassy spars with Chaol.

Just everything.

Also the ball seen at the Yule ball is so worth it and her dress description gives me life.

Then we move on to the tournament. I was in love with the challenges and whenever one presented itself, my eyes were glued to the pages. The way Celaena can easily outmaneuver most of them, but she needs to keep it a secret is priceless.

Also the poison challenge in which the participants need to rank the poisons from the most deadly to the most harmless and then drink whatever they placed as ‘without poisons’ is amazing. Partly because Celaena actually doesn’t identify all of them, and partly because there is just so much confusion among everyone but one (who’s basically a poisoner) and when they drink it. Man did I enjoy watching all the characters that Celaena hated writhe on the ground before they could get the antidote.

Next comes the murders. They are gruesome and terribly well written, and the worst part is that no one can figure out what is doing it. Organs are removed, brains carved out and they are surrounded by strange marks.

Of course Celaena finds out, which results in one of the most intense scenes in the book, which I very much loved.

The last part of the plot is the actual tournament. It is tense, and it is glorious. A hero who struggles so much at the end will always be appealing to me, and then the scene where she thinks I will not be afraid (below) is one of the most character defining moments for me.

Because that is who she is. She denies her fear room, she fights on through it, and she says that she is Celaena Sardothien, and she will not be afraid.

It gave me courage, too.

The Language

Gorgeous, stunning, fierce. Can I end the segment there? That’s not enough to convince you? Alright, then let’s take a deep dive.

This is my absolute favorite quote, so much so that I got a version of it tattooed, so the below is really the star of the book.

It’s got fate in it and it’s got power and it is so beautifully written that I am in awe. The fear part got me - that she is so powerful that she would be able to change the course of the world, but she is too afraid to do it, because of her past, because of the world around her.

Geez that hits right in the feels.

The stars and darkness and unknown is a huge part of this book and there are so many beautiful quotes that it is hard to narrow it down. The thing is that while the characters carry the book, the language is paced perfectly with snippets of these gems hidden between the pages and it just makes you want to keep coming back, again and again and again.

I found myself trying to emulate her writing style after I had read it (I quickly dropped that again because I kept slipping back into my own style which is honestly the best), and it stuck with me long after I put down the book.

In conclusion

Do you get the feeling that I could talk for days and days and days about this book? You are very much right. It is my all time favorite, and I devoured it whole in one sitting when I first got it. I simply couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pages and the wonderful world that Sarah J. Maas has built within.

So do yourself a favor and check it out. I’ll be giving it five paws, in any case.

3 notes · View notes

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

23 notes · View notes

szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point?: I try my best to explain things but ppl still don’t understand the obvious

What was the last thing you said in complete caps?: not sure what was last

Do you enjoy playing board games?: some

Did you wear anything new today?: pineapple shirt my mom bought for me recently

Do you ever eavesdrop on people’s conversations?: hard not to when they’re so loud

Are you good at playing Hide and Go Seek?: I was because I’m tiny XD

Who or what made you smile last?: my thoughts

What was the last song you had on repeat?: Daisy by Ashnikko :x

Do you often have that song on repeat?: no that was one time only lol I hardly ever have a son on repeat, that happened like 5 times in my entire life, usually after breakup

Silly string or confetti?: fun but too messy and waste of money so none

How long is your favorite song?: about 3.50

What was the highlight of your day today?: it’s complicated

Do you tap your foot when you listen to music?: I tap but mostly due to anxiety ^^”

Would you rather use tape or glue?: tape

Homemade or store bought cards?: store bought

Do you listen to any hip hop?: nah

How about some lyrics?: I'm tired of weakness Tired of my feet of clay I'm tired of days to come I'm tired of yesterday And all the worn out things that I ever said Now it's much too late The words stay in my head (...) I'm tired of Facebook Tired of my failing health I'm tired of everyone And that includes myself Well being alone now It doesn't bother me But not knowing if you are That's been hell you see

Have you ever had a fascination with stickers? slightly

Have you ever seen A Walk To Remember? yeah Did you ever watch Captain Planet? I did Do you think that Uggs are ugly? I love them Have you ever watched That ‘70’s show? meh Do you get along with your sibling’s friends? we don’t know each other Do you have a fashion icon? sorta, not really Do you think that iCarly is annoying? possibly

Have you ever had a really bad haircut? sadly

What are your favorite type of calendars? pocket? Could you spend hours on pinterest? just a couple of minutes Have you ever had to wear a school uniform? I liked that Who were your best friends in high school? K.K. E.E. E.W. Ż.B.

Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? bottom Have you ever had a secret admirer that left you notes? I got a note in elementary, it’s a mystery to this day, I thought that it’s a response from M.N. after I left him one myself but it seemed to be a prank done by girls who’ve been bullying me so I threw that piece of paper angrily at him like it was his fault - I still kinda remember what was written on it, they called me a flower and left a tiny drawing - later, forgot how, I found that note again and I believe I might still have it stored somewhere What was your favorite thing to do at sleepovers when you were younger? as a kid I had 1 sleepover (same school in which the note situation happened) my friend P.W. had puppies and I was allowed to stay for the night in her house Do you currently live in the city you grew up in? mhm What’s one way in which you’re behind the times? ex. getting a job What’s one way in which you’re still a child? ex. collecting stuffed animals, lots What’s one way in which you’re old? ex. health issues Do you feel old or young? Or do you feel both at different times? both at different times What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? money? Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? neither, I hold grudge and don’t trust the person again, at least for a long time Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? in primary most of them were, in middle school: polish, biology, chemistry and math and in high: russian, english, PE and physics (but I probably shouldn’t count it as we had it for a few months) Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? - What time of day were you born? half past midnight, my mother asked me why I’m so lazy as for someone who was born on Saturday and I responded with - I was sleeping in and was late for Friday What is the best hairstyle you’ve ever had? can’t choose Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? I’m used to my color but I wouldn’t mind dyed hair Do you ever listen to Celtic music? me and John had a phase on that back in the day, I wish I remind the titles... Have you ever wanted to be a model, actress, singer, or dancer? actress When you look at your baby pictures, do you recognize yourself? pfft Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? got darker, less red Do you wear matching socks? always but recently I thought about changing that fact Do you have a seashell collection? Do you have a rock collection? small Flamingos or pineapples? both Cacti or seashells? same but it’s harder to take care of cacti than shells haha Maple tree or palm tree? palm, ppl say maple looks like weed - I don’t think this way but that’s annoying, still I’d prefer maple trees irl! Dreamcatcher or wind chimes? wind chimes but not every kind Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? <3

Are you a pyromaniac? Bu is :P Are you a kleptomaniac? wtf Do you like to wear belts? it’s uncomfy and not good for my belly Would you ever get dreadlocks? I could but I won’t Do you listen to Eminem? no way

Does your sibling have a significant other? my sister is married

When and why is the last time you cried (or at least, shed tears)? yesterday?

Have you ever cried at a real wedding? not that I been to many but no

What do your flipflops look like? don’t own any

Are there any gadgets of yours that need charging right now? my cellphone is charging

Which awards show would you wanna go to the most (e.g Oscars, Grammys etc.)? I wanna go to MET gala, nothing else

Any idea what time you’ll be going to bed tonight? late

Does your significant other like the same colour as you do? she hates my fav colors besides black

Have you ever purchased anything online? obvi

Name all your friends whose name starts with the 4th letter of your first name. ...

Have you ever ridden an elephant? I’d like to (and camel and an ostrich and a horse)

Are you the candle lighting type? am not

Coffee in the morning, yay or nay? nay

Anal sex, yay or nay? hell no

Blue lipstick, yay or nay? okay, whatever

Is this question lame: “Have you had sex?” yep

Have you ever dated someone with really crooked teeth? mine are crooked

Would you rather vacation on the beach, or in the mountains? beach What embarrassing music do you listen to? too embarassed to write down? What’s your biggest talent? talented? me? r u kidding?

If you were a candy bar, what would you be? Milky Way? Would you rather ride in a hot air balloon or hang-glide? air balloon What’s one word you want people to use to describe you? truth is most important, everything else is less

Did you often read for fun when you were a kid? tons of books

Are you more of a visual learner or an auditory learner? I learn best with my hands (kinesthetic) but visual is probably easier than auditory to me

Do you have any dietary restrictions? ugh...

Do you prefer Google Maps, Apple Maps, Waze, or something else? I get lost no matter what

How old does someone have to be for you to see them as an adult? about my age or older

Do you ever ‘manspread’ when you sit down? sorry but I don’t sit like a lady - I sit like a lesbian unless there’s no space for that

When was the last time you were in a crowded place, and where was it? bus this day

Have you ever turned down a job offer? had to

What was the last medical appointment you scheduled? scheduled plenty at once

Have you ever had a dream in which you died? I die often, it’s a common element in my dreams, I’m fine with it by now

Have you ever fallen asleep on public transport? oh well... majority of those times I was able to but once it was an accident and I missed my stop while going to school

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? almost Have you seen all the Hunger Games films? yasss Why did you last go see a doctor? control visit about my IBS, GERD, food intolerances... Are you more logical or creative? depends

What do you currently hear? parents talking, music - iamamiwhoami; shadowshow

Did you get enough sleep last night? I slept a little over 3 hours and I feel tired Are the streetlights on? it’s not dark yet When you wear a hoodie, do you pull the sleeves over your hands? when it’s warm for that or they bother me in what I’m doing Are you in any advanced classes at school? w moim profilu miałam rozszerzone historię i WOK (wiedza o kulturze) Did you have a good day today? it wasn’t the worst (compared) and hope it won’t turn into complete shit

1 note · View note

memorylang · 5 years

Text

Pets! Pronunciation, Saints and Souls | #12 | November 2019

I was helping the Buddhist monks understand the English alphabet one Friday, when I found they had trouble hearing me teach the sounds /ch/ and /j/. These two sounds are and have always been two I’ve struggled with since birth. Finally, I just chalked on the board, /ch/ = /ч/ and /j/ = /ж/. So, those who understood explained it in Mongolian to the others. My speech problems go way back.

I often say, I struggled with my native language too, when my Mongolian students struggle to speak English. Today, I return you to my childhood to share how personal English pronunciation problems affect my teaching today (plus stories about pets).

While a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’ve watched over both a kitten and a puppy, too. They made me reflect on life. And November begins with Allhallowtide. So I’ll wrap up today’s stories living my first full triduum to the dead.

The Challenging Child

Growing up, I fumed when siblings and especially Father kept telling me to, “Stop mumbling.” I never intended to sound inarticulate. My words just came out that way.

After graduating high school, while packing to move from home to university, my eye caught my kindergarten teacher’s file on me. I flipped through it. Astonishingly, the teacher’s notes described month after month her concerns that I seemed slow to make friends, seldom spoke and sounded hardly audible when I did. I never realized kindergarten-me troubled her.

While in Catholic elementary school, a friend and I maybe a few times per month attended a separate speech class from our classmates. Among our activities there, we sometimes played “Uno” and “Go Fish”—games I now adapt to teach English here in Mongolia (though “uno” is a Spanish word, hehe).

Before the first of those years of sessions began, my entire class underwent phonics testing. I’ll never forget this particular moment. The tester raised cards with a picture and asked me to name objects. I saw a small box with a screen and button grid. “Cell-a-phone,” I spoke with certainty.

I felt frustrated, then, when the card-holder asked me to repeat, insisting I was wrong. Finally, I said “cell phone” as she said, not, “cell-a-phone.” But I didn’t understand. Later, I later, that phonics person was correct. So I felt betrayed by my mother, who taught me wrong.

Mother read aloud to me, while I was in kindergarten and first grade. She sometimes pronounced words differently than I heard at school. I felt grumpy wondering, who could I trust? Elementary school or Mom?

As I later learned in high school and came to understand after Mother’s death, her career as an English professor let her to immigrate to America from China. So, teaching English surely mattered to her personally. She taught her second language to me to learn my first.

My Pronunciation Improved

From late middle school into high school, I wore braces. I realized my speaking problems associated with my teeth. After braces, sounds like /s/ and /th/ became easier. I recalled that elementary school tutor had drilled me on those sounds, plus /sh/, /ch/ and /j/.

At university, while singing four years in choir, I learned to articulate to help convey emotion in music. Similarly, I realized articulation helped convey emotion in speeches to bring clarity. These took vocal warm-ups, as we did in my senior storytelling course.

But, in China last summer, I learned my Chinese pronunciation was terrible. I started new regimens, like using only audio recordings to communicate instead of writing messages. I also learned to listen for exactly the right sounds. And despite my poor tonal pronunciation, instructors commended my listening. I could transcribe the right pīnyīn, for even unfamiliar words.

As a Chinese instructor now, though I, too, at times struggle to pronounce words from memory, I can recognize almost at once when I hear an off sound. For, I know how it should sound. My Chinese-instructing colleagues even notice I speak alright. I’ve come a long way.

Instructing English With Compassion

These memories lead to why, when I teach pronunciation, I give the benefit of the doubt that students aren’t trying to mumble, even when they seem to. I focus on asking students to speak louder and move their lips more. I focus on visual articulation, too, so I can see how they form sounds.

One of my university colleagues specializes in pronunciation and amazes me by how well she knows the phonetic alphabet. When I clarify pronunciations for her, she notes in phonetic letters. We bleat about English’s inconsistent phonetics sometimes, haha.

Yet, learning phonetics helps me plenty. When I catch multiple students speaking the same error, I write a series of words to course-correct. For examples, to drill, “brown,” I might write, “crown, round, down.” Or, to drill, “orange,” I might write, “or, door, floor.” I link troublesome vowels to familiar ones.

Curiously, the Mongolian language lacks the /ə/ sound, one I often spell as “uh.” I first noticed the missing sound while teaching Chinese, when my students struggled to pronounce the most basic question, “什么？(Shénme?).” It has /ə/ (or /uh/) in its second character. Thus, students misprounounced “么 /muh/” as /meh/, instead. This Mongolian lack of /ə/ makes authentic pronunciation of basic English words like articles “the” and “a” challenging.

Still, my fixation on pronunciation has its fun. Apparently this trickles into my Mongolian! Lately, I find my students gleefully giggle with amazement when, as we might be walking and chatting together, they hear me slip briefly into Mongolian to say passing pleasantries to employees or locals I know speak no English. My students often insist I sound authentic and beautiful. And I assume there’s hyperbole in those. But my colleagues, too, have said I’ve improved. They’ve no doubt I’ll speak wonderfully by this time next year. More on this at the end.

Pets! Kitten and Puppy

During my Peace Corps service I watched in the capital, Ерөө /Yeröö/, the kitten of one Volunteer, and in my current city, Azzy, the puppy of another. I saw myself in those pets.

I mentioned we Peace Corps Volunteers played, “The Shining,” for Halloween. As the film began, we Volunteers exchanged smirks when the mountain lodge’s owner explained concerns about fears of isolation during the harsh, trying winters. We sat through such talks about choosing to serve in Mongolia. But the film’s symbolism, about confronting our psyches in the mirror of isolation, felt fitting to me.

Many Mongolians fear dogs. Dogs are protectors not companions, for many. In the States, even my mother feared dogs. In fact, we had two pet dogs. I feared them a bit, too. When my parents went walking with my siblings and I, neighbors’ dogs would run up beside the road and yap at us. But Dad would always laugh and yap back, teasing Mom about how they just wanted to play. I remembered those walks even throughout college, when I strolled neighborhoods and heard barking. They gave me peace. And whenever I visited friends’ houses, their dogs most always loved me for reasons I never knew.

Azzy the puppy he would weave around my legs or leap up and cling to me momentarily, when I visited to feed him. He seemed so lonely without me. Then he would hop down, zoom around at my feet and scamper to a corner of the room. He freaked out over the simplest things, too, haha. But one morning, after his owner had come back, while I was walking into the city, Azzy zoomed to me and accompanied me from the area where we live, all the way downtown. I felt surprised, though I appreciative.

Ерөө the kitten had fun darting about our hotel room, zooming with wide eyes at light speed to achieve nothing particular. And she would flick her paws at the jingling toy I dangled, while she lept from table to chair. And, when I was journaling a little, Ерөө would hop on the bed, then leap to the desk and plop on my arm. I would pick the kitten up by her middle and set her on the floor, then she would zoom back to me again. I loved her energy, even if she seemed a little too hyper, hehe.

The pets were ecstatic for me to visit. I considered my own longings for companionship. But pets are relationships that take responsibility. And I’m hardly certain I could commit. Still, maybe because I accept others, they come. Maybe that’s all there is to it. They don’t just want love. They want to love. How sweet.

I’m glad our Peace Corps Mongolia director allows pets. They let my energetic soul see itself in the crazy creatures. Such joys, even for the effort!

All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days

The second and third day after Hallowe’en, in the Catholic tradition, celebrate first, “All Hallows,” the Saints and holy ones, living and had lived. Then we celebrate, “All Souls,” all who have passed away. The triduum has always been difficult for me the past three years, since they inevitably return to mind my loneliness since Mom’s death.

But this year was kind, for people asked me how I was doing when they greeted me. I also remembered to pray for my friends who’d lost close family. In my suffering, I remember my chance to heal others. At Mass on the last day, while others lit incense sticks for relatives, I lit one for Mother. I burned my finger. But I liked the sting. It reminded me I live. Hearing the readings of how we’re always surrounded by the saints and how the teachings assure that none of us can compare this life to the next, I felt consoled, these holy days. By the end, I’d attended Mass five days in a row! Woah.

Nowadays’ Love

I like the compliments from colleagues, students and friends that my Mongolian pronunciation’s rather good. And I know it can still be better. But they gives me great hope. My students can improve, as I have.

In our Toastmasters Club, I’ve been assigned weekly as Grammarian, tasked with correcting pronunciation for all speakers. They’re so grateful I come, and I’m so glad to help.

I recently spoke on the topic of how I chose this English teaching profession, while chatting with my senior students to prepare them for their TOEFL exams.

I recounted how Mother was an English professor and her parents were both secondary school Chinese language teachers. And it struck me how I teach both English and Chinese at both university and secondary school levels. I teach everything those two generations before me had done.

Whether children from Номгон, adults from our community speaking clubs, or new friends from the orphanage, I love the little messages I get from locals striving to improve their English. And, sometimes, those many Mongolians striving in their English remind me of Mom. She always strove. Even before I became an English instructor like her, I helped her. Maybe that’s why I aid anyone trying in English, always. They’re her.

Up Next: Thanksgiving and the Orphanage

I am extremely excited to share with you my next story, for it’s about the orphanage. I adore its community. Our children and teachers touch my soul.

As for the puppy, it’ll be a shame to say goodbye when he moves to the capital by Thanksgiving. But perhaps I’ll see him again when I visit the city sometimes!

Meanwhile, check my Instagram at memoryLang and Facebook for this year’s Thanksgiving novena of photos and memories bridging my summer life to today’s.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#winter #thanksgiving #Halloween #memoryLang #university #Chinese #teacher #English #student #Catholic #gratitude #story #memoir #Mongolia #Peace Corps #love #holiday #pet #cat #dog

2 notes · View notes

diyunho · 6 years

Text

The Joker x Reader -“The Golden Boxers”

The Joker stumbled on the gold boxers by accident and didn't even care for them until he realized they have some kind of strange power over Y/N. What is a man supposed to do with such intoxicating ability? He's going to use it, of course.

1. First contact

Gotham’s royal couple is choosing some new clothes for their wardrobe at “Sauvage Coeur”, a very chic boutique belonging to one of The Joker’s business partners. The venue is closed to the public for the night, this way Y/N and her boyfriend can roam around and enjoy the shopping spree.

“What about this shirt, Pumpkin? Do you think this purple shade is too light for my skin tone? Should I get it?” J asks for your opinion, not sure he wants it yet.

“…U-hum…” you reply, completely absent minded.

“OK then, I’ll take it,” he adds the item to the pile in the cart and gazes your way just to see you staring at a mannequin wearing a pair of golden boxers next to the “Intimate Apparel” male section.

You seem totally smitten, almost in a trance.

Y/N grabs some socks from a nearby display table and rolls them in a hurry, stuffing them inside the underwear afterwards.

“Pretty close,” you grin to yourself and The Joker is confused.

“What are you doing, Princess?!”

“This…” you point out towards the plastic model, “…this would look great on you!” the excited girlfriend shouts.

“Hmm…” he huffs, analyzing the skimpy, tight boxers. He takes more socks from the table and shoves them inside the garment, finally pleased on how the crotch appears. “That’s more like it,” J grins, full of confidence. “Size matters, Pumpkin!”

“Oh!” you enthusiastically exclaim because it is actually closer to the truth. Your eyes are so big and you seem so captivated he reads the tag out of pure curiosity:

“One of the kind, made out of 24 karat gold thread. Exclusive for our boutique. Price: 10,000 dollars.”

“I guess I’ll take them,” J lifts his shoulders up because why not?

He loves gold anyway.

2. Discovering the Hidden Powers

The Joker crawls in bed next to you, resting his chin on your arm.

“What are you reading, Doll?” he pretends to be interested in your magazine.

“Meh, boring things,” you sigh and glare his way, ignoring the fact that he’s naked. Y/N goes back to turning pages while J sulks, not happy about your reaction.

He pulls down on the strap of your lacy nightgown and you pull it back up, kissing his forehead in the process.

“Not tonight, baby. I have a terrible headache.”

“Do ya’?” he squints his eyes, suspicious on the reason. “I must point out that shopping for new clothes tonight got me quite aroused, especially after you tried on those pretty dresses,” he lifts your already short nightgown higher, softly pecking your thigh.

“Maybe tomorrow, hm? I really do have a terrible headache,” you explain and go back to reading.

The King of Gotham pouts more, his pride hurt after the obvious rejection.

“Fine!” he growls and rolls out of bed, grabbing the freshly washed boxers waiting on his side of the bed, getting ready to sleep since it’s clear he won’t do anything else this evening. One leg goes in, then the other. The soft fabric hugs his hips and…

“Oh!” you gasp and ogle J as he adjusts his pillows, suddenly paying attention. You scoot over, biting your lip so hard it hurts. “You look really sexy in this,” you walk your fingers on his abs, seductively battering your eyelashes.

“Do I?” he sneers, in a bad mood because you told him no moments ago.

“Yeah…” you gulp and slide on top of him, starting to kiss him in a frenzy.

“I thought you have a headache,” The Joker points out and you don’t even remember uttering the words.

“It’s gone now!” you scream with such determination there is no doubt about it.

Interesting…, your boyfriend has time to think before his Queen goes crazy on him.

Not bad for a woman that just miraculously got rid of a migraine in a few seconds. A true mystery!

3. More Powers

The next morning J is roaming around in his gold boxers, searching for one of his guns. You keep on following him like a lost puppy.

“You need something, Pumpkin?” he frowns, not understanding why you’re acting weird.

“Nope,” you fastly reply, pinching his butt when he bends over to peek under the sofa in the living room.

The Joker kind of jumps, rubbing the sore spot.

“Auch!”

In the two hours since he’s been up, his butt wrapped in the golden fabric got slapped, pinched and groped more than humanly possible. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the extra attention.

“Stop it, Y/N! What got into you?” he scoffs, groping you back.

“Nothing,” you innocently answer, playing with your hair.

“I’m going to go take a shower, wanna join me?” he takes the underwear off and you have a change of heart.

“I already took a shower before you woke up, plus my headache returned. I’ll go make coffee, OK?” the Queen loses interest and heads towards the kitchen.

The Joker wants to test a theory building up in his mind and slips into the enchanted underwear again.

“Are you sure, Princess?”

You turn around to say “yes” but your brain can’t focus when you see The Clown Prince of Crime with the glorious flimsy garment.

“Oh!” escapes your mouth and you get rid of your nightgown and bikini so quickly he almost missed it.

You rush in his arms, dragging him towards the master bathroom.

“Come on baby, hurry up. I wanna have some fun too,” you impatiently cling to him and J sarcastically chuckles:

“I thought your headache returned!”

“It’s gone,” you nonchalantly conclude and push him through the opened door, not being able to control the urge of making him yours.

I might be onto something here, J debates before Y/N makes him forget about the newly discovered feature of the magical golden boxers.

4. Booby trap

Frost is waiting for his boss to get ready and The Joker wants a guy’s opinion regarding his hypothesis, that’s why he decides to ask the clueless bodyguard a few questions.

J emerges from the walk-in closet in his underwear, halting a few steps away from Jonny.

“So what do you think Frost?” he grouchily sucks on his silver teeth.

“About what, sir?” the henchman is not sure what’s going on.

The Joker gestures towards his mid-section and Jonny panics.

Oh my God, a booby trap! What do I say?! flickers in his brain because when The King of Gotham asks trick questions you better give him the correct answer, otherwise you’re a goner.

“Looks very…e-hem… nice on you, boss!” Frost confidently blurs out.

“How nice?”

Shit! This is a Mega Booby Trap! Jonny thinks and starts sweating. Slightly, but he’s starting to. Why?

The Joker’s Mega Booby Traps or MBT’s (as the crew named them) are very dangerous to get out of and lethal to a fault.

“Very nice, sir! Gold suits you.”

“Hmmm…” J sneers, not particularly thrilled with his bodyguard’s reply. “If you were a woman, for example Y/N, would you go ballistic at the sight of these boxers?”

Fuck! An Extra Mega Booby Trap !!! I’m screwed ! Frost loses the track of his thoughts, seeing the imminent end galloping his way. Why?

The Joker’s Extra Mega Booby Traps or EMBT’s (as the team named them) are the hardest to escape with your life: if the boss doesn’t like the first letter of the first word coming out of your mouth, you can kiss your existence goodbye.

Jonny takes a deep breath, already picturing his funeral:

“Only a sophisticated and refined woman like Y/N would know, sir!”

J puckers his lips, deeming the response to be acceptable for his wacky standards.

“I supposed she would…” the green haired plague announces before walking back into the closet.

Frost feels the need to sit down, entirely drained after the experience.

He has no idea yet, but after today he will become a legend among his peers: the first one to ever survive The Joker’s horrific EMBT. They will even open a blog in his honor, entitled: “Jonny Frost, The Unsung Champion of EMBT’s and Other Crap He Survived.”

5. Karma

The King and Queen returned to “Sauvage Coeur” boutique because they both want to choose something special for their date night.

You didn’t find a dress yet.

“What about this red one, baby?” you inquire, maybe he can help out with a decision.

“…Yeah…,” J’s flat opinion reaches your ears.

“Alright, I’ll take it,” you conclude and gaze his way just to see him standing in front of a mannequin dressed with a gold bra plus matching thong next to the women’s “Intimate Apparel” section.

The Joker seems hypnotized, almost in a daze.

He finally snaps out of it and grabs a few socks from the display table nearby, rolling and stuffing them in the bra.

“Close enough,” J smiles, incapable of taking his eyes off the golden top and bottom.

“What are you doing?!” you skeptically interrogate.

“This would look awesome on you!” he purrs, already imagining you wearing the two-piece he would love to take off your body as soon as possible.

“I don’t know…” Y/N hesitates but rolls more socks that she places in the bra, backing out to see the results. “That’s more like it. Size matters, J !”

“Daddy loves,” The Joker purrs louder and he’s so excited it makes you read the tag although you don’t care for the outfit:

“One of the kind, made out of 24 karat gold thread. Exclusive for our boutique. Price: 12,000 dollars.”

“I suppose it won’t hurt to add this to my wardrobe,” you accept to get it because why not?

You like gold anyway.

6. Flip side of the coin

The Joker didn’t pay attention to you after the date last night. He locked himself in the office all day and ordered not to be disturbed since he’s planning an important heist. You sure missed him and you realized how much the second he showed up to go to sleep; your boyfriend seems pissed and that makes him more delicious.

“Hi baby,” you shove yourself into him and kiss his neck, cuddling under the covers.

“Not tonight, Y/N! I’m tired!” he growls and pushes your hand away.

He hears you whimper, the spoiled Princess kind of fake cry.

“But you didn’t pay attention to me since this morning,” you complain and slide your fingers in his sweatpants.

“I’m tired, woman! Are you deaf?!” he snaps, ready to give you the speech about his manhood and how the crown jewelry works on his terms, not yours. He will definitely underline that there’s nothing you can do: when the King says no, it’s no. “I told you before, Y/N…” he initiates the rant and you try to avoid it.

“Fine, fine, I get it! OK? Fine!” you get annoyed also and dart out of bed. “If you must know, I went through the trouble of washing the stupid gold bra and panties for you. Almost broke a nail when I started the washing machine. A nail !!! Can you imagine the scare?!” the irritated Y/N mumbles, letting the silky robe she’s wearing fall on the floor. “My heart skipped a beat, J! It was terrible and you were in your office, not given a damn!” you continue to admonish, unaware The Joker’s heart skipped a beat also since now he can see the revealing gold two-piece acquired from the boutique yesterday.

“Which nail?” J suddenly pretends to be interested since he pretty much distinguished only that part; the rest went blank.

You lean over to show him your pinky, sulking.

“This one.”

“My Poor Pumpkin,” The Clown Prince of Crime whispers, carefully squeezing it like it’s about to explode. “Does it hurt?” he displays a seductive smirk as he pulls you on top of him.

“Not anymore…I thought you were tired,” you wiggle to escape when his arms go up and down your back, certainly wishing to initiate something.

“Me?! Tired?! When did I say that?” he grinds his teeth, forcefully holding the feisty pain in the ass.

“Just did!” you squirm harder, breaking free and distancing yourself from him.

“You must be hallucinating, Y/N,” The Joker gets on his elbow, intrigued.

You’re intrigued too: all the wrestling made his sweatpants glide lower on his hips, exposing the top part of the golden boxers.

“Oh!” you gasp and your reaction makes J remember he’s wearing the secret weapon. With a swift move he removes the pants and he’s not even finished when you basically attack him.

I think I possess a weapon of mass destruction, The Joker contemplates before not being able to concentrate anymore.

I think I found a weapon for total annihilation, Y/N reflects since her vigilance noticed the switch in her boyfriend’s mood as soon as he saw her in the golden minimal attire. Further testing will be required.

7. Another booby trap

You summoned Frost to the Penthouse, probably in regards to the heist J is planning. A fool’s expectations…Not even close!

Jonny steps out of the elevator and freezes: Y/N is waiting for him, wearing nothing more than the golden two piece. Frost immediately feels he’s about to faint, his eyes tensely searching around for the deadly threat.

“J is not here,” you correctly guess the reason for his anxiety.

Jonny leans on the coffee table closest to him, avoiding looking at you but it’s hard not to.

“Frost!” you sulk. “As a man, what do you think about this outfit, hm?”

OH. MY. GOD! Another Booby Trap!!! Why me??? the bodyguard is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, imagining how cute he’s going to look in his silver casket. Already picked the color. Why?

Y/N’s Booby Traps are by far the most atrocious you can come across besides The Joker’s.

“Ummm… It looks stunning on you, Y/N!” Jonny stiffens and his luck has left him.

“How stunning?” you lift your left eyebrow in contempt, displeased with the short reply.

Fuck me, a Colossal Booby Trap!!! runs through his mind, believing the cemetery on Gimmer Street has the best tombs available. Why?

Y/N’s Colossal Booby Traps or CBT’s (as the team named them) are plain and simple death sentences: one single sound that comes out of you wrong and you’re history.

“Impressively stunning, gold is your color for sure!” Jonny affirms with the utmost flair.

The Queen sniffles, meditating on his answer.

“So Frost, if you were J, would you immediately want me no matter what right in the moment you see this skimpy lingerie?”

Lord have mercy, a Gigantic Booby Trap!!! and the room starts spinning as he hopes somebody will bring flowers to his grave. Why?

Y/N’s Gigantic Booby Traps or GBT’s (as the gang named them) offer no possibility of an escape: if you make it to round three like he did, you’re literally dead.

“Only a person with amazing swag and class like Mister Joker would know,” Jonny babbles a bunch of nonsense since he reached the end of the line.

You roll your eyes and arrogantly push him out of your way, scoffing:

“Hmm… I suppose he would!”

Frost watches you walk upstairs, his heart racing like crazy.

He has no idea yet, but after today he will become more than a legend among his peers: a living and breathing myth! The first one to ever survive Y/N’s horrific GBT! They will even open a second blog in his honor, entitled: “Jonny Frost, The Ultimate Victor of GBT’s and Other Shit He Survived.”

Gotham’s true hero! Batsy has nothing on him.

And that’s a verified fact.