#did i do a lil wave and say howdy as a greeting no that would be embarassing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xpao-bearx · 3 years

Text

《Original post here》

Part 2 HERE

SUMMARY: [Supernatural TWD AU] In which Negan is a kinky incubus, Rick Grimes is your secret guardian angel, and Daryl Dixon is a gruff monster/demon hunter. Three drastically different men who can only agree on one thing: making you theirs.

PAIRINGS: Reader x Negan, Reader x Rick Grimes, Reader x Daryl Dixon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please be prepared and do NOT report.

NOTE: This is actually my first time ever writing an xReader story series as well as writing on Tumblr (I usually only write on Wattpad). As such, it probs won't be perfect though I would SERIOUSLY appreciate your *respectful* feedback and support!

I understand writing xReader content can get a lil tricky, so please just keep in mind that not everything Y/N says or does would be something that you'd do IRL or even approve of. Also, sometimes I may not help but put a teeny bit of myself in Y/N...

Lastly, I recently got back into the TWD fandom after a looong ass time and I'm taking a while re-watching the whole show. So I apologize in advance if my portrayal of any of the characters are rusty or I may not remember too much of the events from the show, but I promise to do my very best and hope y'all enjoy~!! \(^o^)/

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @blccdyknuckles and @negans-attagirl 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 1

The sounds of laughter and easygoing chatter filled your ears as you walked closer to the church, a light breeze blowing through your F/C floral dress and the sun blinding your eyes. It was Sunday, most residents of the small town of Alexandria having gathered for mass.

It was a day like any other; peaceful and happy, children giggling and chasing each other around as their parents socialized outside before church could start.

Your heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you were just about to enter the building before a familiar voice called out.

"Y/N!"

Spinning, a huge smile instantly reached your ears as you saw none other than Carl Grimes waving enthusiastically at you as he jumped out of a car. From the driver's seat, his father soon followed as he stepped out.

Rick Grimes--dedicated sheriff of this fine town. His usual uniform forgone, instead replaced with a casual navy coloured suit. His baby blues met your E/C, flashing you a bright smile of his own that rivalled the sun itself.

Carl was running towards you now, and once in front he gave you a big hug.

"Settle down, cowboy! It's as if you haven't seen me in forever." You chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair affectionately.

"That's 'cause it did feel like forever." Carl pouted, eventually letting go as he looked up at you.

Before you can reply, Rick patted Carl's head and greeted you. "Hey, Y/N. How are things?" He asked in that endearing Southern accent of his.

"Just fine." You nodded, grinning before you couldn't help but let your gaze wander around a bit. "No Judith?"

It was then that Rick's smile faltered, but just barely. You nearly didn't catch it. "No. She's with her mom."

Rick was divorced from his ex-wife, Lori, after he discovered her cheating on him with his also now ex-bestfriend Shane Walsh. After the divorce, Shane and Lori quickly moved to the neighbouring community of Woodbury together and agreed on joint custody of the kids.

It really made your blood boil; you've interacted with Lori only a few times before so you didn't really have much of an opinion on her...that is, until, you learned what had happened between her and Rick. You knew it wasn't any of your business, but you cared about Rick a lot and he sure as hell didn't deserve to get cheated on.

"Oh." Was all you could say, quite stupidly. Your cheeks reddened, mentally slapping yourself before clearing your throat. "Will I see her in the daycare tomorrow, though?" You were a daycare teacher and even though you loved all of the kids, Judith was your favourite. She was simply such a sweetheart.

Rick nodded, his smile softening. "You got it."

You couldn't continue the conversation as the bells rang, making you jump out of your skin. Carl, noticing this, laughed which made you playfully roll your eyes before slinging an arm around him as all of you went inside.

♡♡♡

You took your place near the back of the church with Carl and Rick. Once everyone was settled and done singing, the service began and Father Gabriel stood on top of the podium. A few minutes into his sermon, the interruption of a motorcycle revving loudly outside sliced through the air. Gabriel flinched in surprise, and it was obvious he was desperately trying to keep his cool. Finally, when it was silent again, you found yourself biting back a smile knowing all too well who had caused the ruckus.

It seems Rick knew, too, judging from how his jaw clenched and his hands turned into tight fists.

The doors were thrown open, making Gabriel flinch once more and some of the congregation turning in the pews to look. But poor Gabriel quickly fumbled with his Bible, raising his voice just a tad to regain their attention.

There was a low whistle accompanying the approaching footsteps, but the congregation did their damn hardest to ignore the latest visitor.

"Damn... I assumed the church would be a lot more welcoming than this." A husky voice whispered, and you at last couldn't hold back as a smile broke through.

"Negan." You whispered back, turning slightly in your seat to see he has taken the spot behind you. His leather clad arms lackadaisically resting on your chair, the musky scent of his cologne invading your senses oh so wonderfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What? Is it really that surprising, darlin'?" He grinned, presenting a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "I go to church."

"Not all the time." You pointed out.

"Ah..." He chuckled softly, hazel eyes twinkling. "That's 'cause Father Creepy McGee over there is just that. Creepy. As. Shit."

You bit the inside of your cheeks, suppressing your laughter. True, Gabriel did have his moments, but he wasn't that bad. That didn't change the fact that Negan knew exactly how to tickle your funny bone, though.

He was new to Alexandria. It was a lovely town, but since it was relatively small not a lot of people want to move here not unless it was families looking for their children to grow up in a safe environment. Which was why it was quite a shock to find out that a single man like Negan chose this destination, and even more so when he took everyone aback with his infamous pottymouth and rather inappropriate charisma.

He had moved just a couple of houses down from yours, and you made it your mission to befriend him. Right from the get-go, he had piqued your interest and curiousity. He was different from everyone else--even possessing an air of mystery about him--and that definitely intrigued you. And also, perhaps you were just too nice and didn't want him to feel outcasted. Although, that didn't seem like an issue to him at all.

"Want one?" You were brought back to reality when you saw Negan's hand outstretched with a pack of cigarettes.

"Dude, we're in church." You reprimanded, frowning.

Negan didn't say anything, only cocking a brow and still with that same shit-eating grin. You sighed, finally giving in as you swiftly grabbed one and stashed it away in your purse for later.

"Y/N." You turned to the left, Rick's icy gaze piercing you. "Pay attention."

"R-Right. Sorry..." You mumbled sheepishly.

Carl, who was sitting in the middle of you and Rick, had dozed off. Rick nudged him, but the brunette only groaned softly and snuggled into Rick's chest. Defeated, the sheriff sighed and was just about to listen again to Gabriel before Negan cut in.

"Rick!" Negan purposely raised his voice, knowing it would get a rise out of the other man. "Didn't even see ya there. Howdy, cowboy!"

Rick grimaced, and it looked like he was just going to ignore Negan though he knew that if he did that then Negan would just irritate him even further. "Good to see you, Negan." He forced himself to say.

"Only you can say that while giving me such a deadly side eye, Grimes." Negan snickered. "How have you been? How's the wife?"

Rick flushed, his fists in a tight ball again and it looked like his nails would be digging into his skin. You abruptly swung into action, placing a hand on Rick's own.

"Rick..." You said gently. "It's okay. Calm down."

Rick did, his shoulders drooping as if a heavy weight had been lifted. He can barely pay any attention to Gabriel now, then you suddenly stood up and grabbed Negan's arm.

"We need to talk. Now."

"What, we going for a quickie?" Negan smirked, but that soon faded when he saw your serious expression. He sighed dramatically, reaching his full height as he towered over you before following you out.

At this point, you didn't care if people saw what transpired or would even start gossiping. No one, not even Negan, was allowed to harass Rick. He has helped you through so much shit--more than you'd like to admit--and you at least owed him this much.

Once outside, next to where Negan parked his motorcycle, you exploded. "What the fuck is with you?! You leave Rick alone, or I swear to fucking Christ I will--"

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horses, missy!" Negan guffawed, his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, I like 'em feisty, but goddamn! Watch your fucking language."

"Tch. You're one to talk."

"Did you just scoff at me?" He raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets as he slowly drew closer to you. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, tilting his head slightly. "No one's ever fucking scoffed at me and didn't regret it soon after."

You frowned, letting out a huff as you met his gaze challengingly. "As if you'd do anything to me."

He was silent for several moments before chuckling, leaning back against his motorcycle. "You're right. I have too much of a soft spot for ya." He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it then taking a drag. He drew his head upwards, puffing out the smoke. "Whaddya say we just forgive and forget? I truly am sorry. You can even tell Rick that I am metaphorically down on my goddamn knees begging for forgiveness~"

"I'm not forgiving or forgetting anything until you actually face Rick and apologize yourself." You muttered. And without another word, you spun on your heel and strutted back inside the church with your head held high.

Negan's intent stare lingered where your ass had just been, taking another long drag and letting out a small laugh to himself.

His eyes suddenly glowed a crimson red, a smirk playing on his lips.

Oh, he really did pick a GREAT one.

101 notes · View notes

hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 3 years

Photo

@new-account-sam-christy-456

Chapter two “Red Dahlias mean love~!”

“WHO IS HE, WHERE DOES HE LIVE, DOES HE HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD-” Blitzø ranted.

“DAD, CALM DOWN.” Skip sighed.

He continued ranting. Skip sighed, pulling out his last resort. “He has a horse.”

“Oh! He’s fine then!” Blitzø smiled. Skip sighed, shoulders dropping slightly.

He never got his dad’s priorities.

“Horses are fine!” Blitzø waved off. “...Wait…” Blitzø trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Horse...When did you meet him?” Blitzø asked.

“Uh...A few hours ago, why?” Skip asked.

“Wait...is it the FARMHAND?” Blitzø asked.

Skip broke eye contact, looking around the room.

“...so it is.” Blitzø narrowed his eyes.

Skip fell over, face consumed by a bright crimson.

“For goodness sake, Skip! I thought you’d’ve told me!” Blitzø sighed, disappointment evident in his voice.

“...Wait what?” Skip asked.

“I’m still gonna be protective of ya because I love you, but go ahead. I don’t care.” Blitzø shrugged.

“Oh, oka-” Skip started.

Blitzø got in Skip’s face. “BUT IF HE HURTS YOU IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, LET ME KNOW, I CAN TAKE HIM OUT AND MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT.”

“Dad!!!” Skip objected.

“I’m serious, Skip! If he hurts ya, I won’t hesitate to commit war crimes.” Blitzø warned.

Skip groaned, hiding in his hoodie. “Dad, I can take care of myseeeelf!” Skip groaned.

Blitzø sighed, crossing his arms and frowning. “Skip, I say this because I care about you. I’m not trying to be overly-possessive-” Blitzø started.

Skip, despite not having been provoked, burst out of his hoodie and, fueled by frustration, snapped. “WELL IT SURE FEELS LIKE YOU ARE!!!”

The room fell dead silent and Skip processed what he said and rushed out, getting as far away from everyone as possible.

“SKIP!!!!” Blitzø called, hurrying after him.

Skip reached outside, vaulting over a picnic table and gasping for breath but continuing to run away. He couldn’t face his dad. He couldn’t.

He didn’t deserve to.

Skip kept running despite the fact that night was falling and everyone was calling for him to come back.

He may be afraid of the dark, but he was scared of Blitzø when he was angry more.

Skip stopped at the edge of a forest somewhere away from the ranch, wheezing and leaning on a tree as he gasped for breath.

When he regained his breath, he looked around to see where he was.

The ranch was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t anywhere familiar.

He was lost. His panic only rose as he realized he was lost, alone, without his way of contacting ANYBODY, at night, in an UNFAMILIAR place.

He continued looking around, trying to see if he could find his footprints.

Too dark. He could barely see his hand in front of his face.

He was as good as dead.

Well, uh, he could make do until morning, sticks can work for food, right? Pretend it’s like, breadsticks or something?

He was hopeless.

Grass? Uh, greens are good! Healthy for ya!...or something.

He was an adult, HOW IS HE THIS HOPELESS?

He heard some sounds in the distance, but chalked them up to being the sounds of the woodland critters.

Woodland critters means meat means food!...Aaaand he left his handgun in the van. Welp. His fate was sealed.

He searched around for a large leaf of sorts that could function as a scrap of “paper”. He could write his final will and testament.

After a while of searching(and a lot of escaping hordes of bees), he found a place to hide out for the night.

He relaxed slightly. At least he could go in peace. No boars, bears, deer, boarbears, beardeer, or anything would get to him.

He did admit, it was kinda cold, but hey! Freezing wasn’t too bad of a way to go! Not the most painful!

As he drifted off, he reflected on his life. It wasn’t too bad, not the best, but not the worst either.

It was a little too short though. He wished he had longer. But, all Imps must move on at some point.

He jolted upright. What was he thinking?! He didn’t wanna die yet! He curled inside his hoodie, conserving body heat so that he could hopefully survive to the morning.

He would try to go back by morning. Blitzø would be calmed down by then.

He sat still, listening to the sounds of the night. They were, honestly, quite relaxing.

The sounds of crickets, woodland critters fighting for dominance, twigs snapping, bugs buzzing, hoofsteps approaching at breakneck speeds.

Skip perked up at the sound, confused. Wasn’t it the middle of the night?

Skip hid further in the shadows, he was unsure of if the stranger could be trusted. He looked around, grabbing a stick, ready to attack if needed.

The rider jumped off his mount and Skip was ready to fight. If he was going down, he was going down fighting.

Skip jumped slightly as the rider walked in front of him. He gulped hard. He couldn’t fight. He was dead.

Skip moved back slightly, rustling a branch in the bush he was hiding in. Freezing, Skip saw them step back a bit. Oh crumbs.

Skip backed away, backing out of the bushes, tail poking out. “GOTCHA!!” The stranger grinned.

Skip shrieked, kicking them in the face and hiding when he was dropped.

“OW!!! WHERE’D YOU GO?!?” They called out angrily, tail rattling like a rattlesnake. It didn’t sound calm. It was a violent shake. It shook Skip to his CORE.

Skip hid behind a rock, hands over his mouth to keep noise down.

He whimpered quietly as they walked close to the rock. Skip prepped to run, but he was grabbed by the hood of his hoodie. “PUT ME DOWN!!!” Skip growled. Skip squeaked as their hands moved to his throat, holding it in a tight squeeze, almost like they were trying to get his eyes to pop out of their sockets like some screwed up toaster.

The shadowy figure looked menacing, and yet...Familiar. “Wh-Who are you!?” Skip choked.

“Wait…” The shadowy look melted away. Literally. It fell off like water when stepping out of a pool. And he seemed...shorter.

“LEMME GO!!!” Skip panicked.

He put Skip down, sighing disappointedly. “Where have you been? Your friends and family’ve been worried sick about ya.” He lectured.

Skip coughed, rubbing where his neck had been held. “What the Hell was that…?!” Skip choked. “You could’ve KILLED me! Why would you try to CHOKE me?!?” Skip stumbled.

Striker chuffed. “Nah. Not worth it.”

“What?” Skip asked, concerned.

Striker collected himself quickly, smirking smuggly. “You’d like that, huh~?” He purred.

“NOPE! SETTING UP BOUNDARIES!” Skip objected, red in the face.

Striker chuckled. “Come on, Tiny~! Can’t ya take a joke~?” Striker purred.

Skip shook off the weird feeling he was getting. “I-I don’t like that.” Skip peeped.

Striker slinked over, patting Skip on the head. “Sorry for the scare, Tiny~! I thought ya were an intruder is all~!” Striker hummed.

Skip purred contentedly. Why did head pats always feel good…?

“It’s fine…” Skip sighed.

Striker slowly moved his hand up Skip’s head, rubbing his horns, Skip’s face heating up and him trying to stifle an...unwanted sound. “Striker…..~!” Skip groaned.

“What~? It’s just a simple horn rub~!” Striker hummed, going at a teasingly slow pace.

Skip whined, tail flicking to stim out the extra pleasure. “Striker….~!” Skip whined, trying to pull away.

“Come on, hon~! I’m just testin’ the waters~!” Striker purred, rubbing Skip‘s horns slower and rougher every few minutes.

Skip whined, eyes shutting tightly. “Striker, please….~! St-Stop….~!” Skip whined, trying to keep it down.

Striker leaned closer to Skip. “Go on ahead, hon~! We’re all alone out here~! We’re miles away from anyone bein’ able to hear anything~!” Striker whispered, Skip shuddering.

“Striker, please…~! St….Stop….~!” Skip whined, half meaning it, half begging him to keep going. He knew his dad wouldn’t like the idea of this, but FUCK did it feel good.

Striker sighed, nodding. “Gotcha.” Striker got up, helping Skip up. “Can I at least do one little thing for ya, Tiny?” Striker asked.

“What’s tha-” Skip started before getting pulled into a kiss. Skip squeaked in surprise, eventually melting into it.

Skip’s face heated up as the kiss was deepened, but he didn’t object. Eventually, Striker broke the kiss, slowly moving down Skip’s neck, Skip whining as he did so.

“Striker…!” Skip whined, melting at the affection he was receiving.

Striker smirked, intertwining his tail with Skip’s, Skip shuddering at the wave of pleasure washing over him.

“We could do more than just smooches, if ya catch my drift…~!” Striker hummed.

“N-No, D-Dad wouldn’t like that.” Skip declined.

“Spoilsport.” Striker scoffed. Skip gently smacked Striker with his tail, heavily annoyed.

“Hey!! I’m not a spoilsport!” Skip objected.

Striker chuckled. “Suuure. Go ahead, let your father dictate your life even though you’re an adult.” Striker sighed.

“Th-That’s not true!!” Skip snapped.

Striker shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I get it. Ya don’t wanna hurt your old man’s feelings.” Striker lamented. “I guess you’ll just hafta be a good lil boy from here on out, huh?” Striker sighed.

“Why do you care?” Skip rebutted.

“I dunno. I have a thing for bad boys~!” Striker hummed.

Skip shuddered. “Can we go back…? I’m kinda cold…” Skip shivered.

Striker nodded, picking Skip up and helping him onto Bombproof, riding back to the ranch.

(Elsewhere.)

“Boss, calm down! I’m sure Skip is fine!” Millie assured.

“What if he’s not, Mills?! What if he got hurt and died in a trench somewhere?! What if he got used for some sick fuck’s desires?!” Blitzø ranted, pacing back and forth.

Blitzø continued pacing, freezing in place as a knock came on the door.

Blitzø rushed over, pulling the door open to find Striker standing there with Skip clinging to him. “Howdy.” Striker greeted.

“MY BABY!!!” Blitzø cried out, pulling Skip into a hug. “Are you okay?! What did he do to you?!” He asked, panic lacing his voice.

“N-Nothing dad!” Skip assured.

Striker nodded. “I wouldn’t never hurt him, sir.” Striker assured.

Blitzø narrowed his eyes. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“He warmed up a little bit on the way back thanks to Bombproof, but he's probably still mighty cold.” Striker sighed.

“Yeah…” Skip shivered.

“Okay. I trust ya with my son more now. Just watch your back.” Blitzø warned.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Striker said, sighing in relief. “I only gave him a little gift of a little pin is all. A little Red Dahlia flower~!” Striker smiled.

#Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss Blitzo #Helluva Boss Millie #Helluva Boss Striker #Helluva Boss OC #My Oc #Skip #My Writing #Helluva Boss Bombproof #ask to tag

4 notes · View notes

i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: Daughters of Apples & Pears

Applejack as she leaves Twilight’s castle immediately goes back home to the farm, beginning her invitees with her immediately family. When she gets there, she first sees her little sister Apple Bloom doing some apple bucking of her own. She’s still a little pony, but her years of practice is starting to increase her leg strength that will one day match her big sister’s. It used to take a few kicks for Apple Bloom to get just one apple down, but now just one kick at least gets one apple down and sometimes Apple Bloom even manages to get two down on a good day. Three apples is the average per kick Applejack gets. As Applejack walks, Apple Bloom catches sight of her sister and beams a grin and runs to AJ.

Apple Bloom: Howdy, big sis! Check how ah’m doing, Ah’ve filled three big buckets o’ Apples all on mah own today, aren’t ya’ll proud o’ me?

Applejack: Of course, Apple Bloom! Feel free t’ take ah break though, because ah actually have some important, but fun business outside t’ farm t’ do. And ah’m inviting the family t’ it first.

Apple Bloom: Oh really? What is it?

Applejack: Twi’s friends in Saddle Arabia are getting married. And there’s also going t’ be ah royal ball hosted by t’ royal family that wants lots o’ guests from Equestria. Twilight tasked all o’ us t’ find friends and family t’ bring

Apple Bloom: Ooooo that sounds fun! Ah’ve never been t’ Saddle Arabia, ah’ll certainly go!

Applejack: Great! Now do y’all know if Big Mac is near?

Apple Bloom: Big Mac’s in t’ house wit’ Sugar Belle and Granny. Ah believe Granny is teaching Sugar Belle how t’ do Apple Family recipes.

Applejack: Awww, that sounds adorable. That also helps wit’ getting another off mah invitee list assuming Sugar Belle wants t’ go with Big Mac t’ Saddle Arabia.

Applejack and Apple Bloom walk together to the house where indeed Sugar Belle is learning how to bake the famous Apple Family pies by Granny Smith. Big Mac is sitting at the kitchen table.

Granny Smith: Y’all doing ah wonderful job, Sugar Belle. Y’all might just be t’ quickest t’ getting these recipes done t’ right way in mah entire life teaching t’ family recipe.

Sugar Belle: Well, I was my village’s local baker back when I still lived there. Plus I got some lessons from Mrs. Cake here in Ponyville. I sure hope that I got these recipes right.

Applejack and Apple Bloom take seats at the table as they come in, Sugar Belle notices and turns towards them

Sugar Belle: Hello Applejack and Apple Bloom, are you here for my very first Apple Pie as an official Apple family member?

Applejack: It’s not t’ sole reason we’re here, but ah suppose while y’all are offering it wouldn’t hurt t’ have ah bite.

Sugar Belle: Good! Because it just got finished.

Sugar Belle opens the oven and levitates the Pie out onto the table. Big Mac drools at the sight of the pie, and Sugar Belle then cuts parts of the pie into spices. One for Applejack, one for Apple Bloom, and one for her husband, Big Mac. Each of them gives their slice a bite, and all are satisfied.

Applejack: Granny sure wasn’t kidding! Y’all got this pie done just about perfect. It took maybe months fo’ me t’ learn from Granny how t’ bake ah pie this good.

Apple Bloom: Sooooooo delicious! Isn’t this so good, Big Mac?

Big Mac: Eyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuup!

Sugar Belle: Thanks, all of you!

Applejack finishes eating her slice and pats her tummy.

Applejack: Ahhhh, that hit t’ spot. Thanks fo’ t’ Pie, Sugar Belle.

Sugar Belle: You’re very welcome, AJ!

Applejack: Now, ah actually need t’ ask some of ya’ll something. Ah’m inviting family and friends t’ Saddle Arabia. There will be ah Royal Ball that’s requesting t’ have many Equestrian guests along wit’ ah wedding fo’ two o’ Twi’s friends who are native there. Ah know Apple Bloom’s already goin’, but how about t’ rest o’ you?

Big Mac: Ah’ll g- Wait, AJ… did ya’ll say Saddle Arabia?

Applejack: Ah did, yes

Big Mac: Didn’t ya and t’ others almost get killed last time y’all went there?!

Applejack: Well… yea. Ah expressed big concern myself t’ Twilight about it, but she told me that t’ Royal Family and Twi herself are taking every single precaution necessary t’ make what happened last time an impossibility. Heck, as long as Twilight’s not in a bottle in Saddle Arabia, she alone would provide enough security cause we’ve got t’ all-powerful genie friend on our side. And Twilight’s not leaving her bottle there when it’s time to stay the night there this time, she promised she’d sleep over in her castle, no one there will be able t’ reach her. And that’s assuming there’s even another evil there other then that Zathir guy that got his flank kicked and imprisoned.

Big Mac: Well, ah guess in that case sure. Ah’ll go,

Sugar Belle: If Big Mac’s going, I will too. A Royal Ball plus a wedding sounds like a wonderful time.

Applejack: How about you, Granny?

Granny Smith: Aaaaaaaaaah’m going t’ decline, but ah appreciate t’ offer. Ya’ll have fun whenever ya’ll leave.

Applejack: Ah understand, just didn’t want t’ leave y’all out in case y’all were interested. Now ah can get going and get ah few friends from outside ponyville. Namely, Rara in Manehattan and Autumn Blaze in the Kirin village.

Apple Bloom: Wait, ah’m confused. Ain’t Manehattan and t’ home of t’ Kirin’s places that will take days t’ get t’ and from each?

Applejack: Normally, yes. But Twilight provided each o’ us with ah bit of ah cheat. She gave each of us magic gum that when blown into ah huge bubble, it creates ah portal t’ whatever place y’all thinking o’ going t’ next

Apple Bloom: That sounds sweet! Ah could probably use that t’ more quickly and safely get t’ ah certain Zebra ah’d like t’ invite.

Applejack: Thinking o’ inviting Zecora, huh? Ah guess teleporting there would at least let me worry less about y’all walking straight into t’ Everfree forest. So sure, here’s ya gum Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom: Alright!

Apple Bloom chews her gum, blows a bubble, and once popped. Zecora’s house in the middle of the Everfree comes into view. And Apple Bloom leaps through the portal.

Zecora is mixing another of her many potion brews as Apple Bloom enters. After the door is opened, Zecora stops mixing and looks who’s visiting and sees it’s perhaps her most recurring visitor.

Zecora: Well if it isn’t lil’ Apple Bloom, what brings you to my room?

Apple Bloom: Howdy Zecora, just thought ah’d pop and offer an invite t’ something ah’m and many others are going t’!

Zecora: Where are you going? I could perhaps end up showing.

Apple Bloom: Saddle Arabia! Specifically the royal palace where a ball is being held as well as a wedding between two of Princess Twilight’s friends who live there.

Zecora: A Royal ball? That must have a beautiful dance hall. I can certainly be there, for the daughter of an apple and a pear.

Apple Bloom: Great! Ah’m gonna head back home now, seeya there!

Apple Bloom waves goodbye, though Zecora mentioning a pear suddenly gives her an idea for another invitee to her sister. Apple Bloom leaps back into the portal and just like that is back in the kitchen. And the portal closes.

Applejack: Did Zecora say yes?

Apple Bloom: Yep! Though ah just got another idea, do you know where Grand Pear is at t’ moment?

Applejack: Ah don’t think so, But can ya’ll wait t’ let me get Rara and Autumn in ah moment before we go and find him?

Apple Bloom: Sure thing.

((Story continues after the break))

Suddenly the door bell rings

Applejack: Huh, ah wonder who this is.

Applejack opens the door to find Sandbar and Yona

Sandbar & Yona: Hi Professor Applejack!

Applejack: Sandbar! Yona! Nice t’ see ya’ll, what brings ya t’ the farm?

Sandbar: Yona was craving some apple-flavored treats.

Yona: Yes, Yona hungry!

Applejack: Well y’all in luck, Sugar Belle still has some apple pie left.

Yona: Oh yes! Yona loves fresh Apple pony family pie!

Sandbar: I might grab a slice as well

Sandbar and Yona head to the table, Sugar Belle slices one for each of the students. Sandbar takes a bite, and Yona just about messily eating the entire slice in one bite.

Yona: DELICIOUS! Thank you, Sugar Belle!

Sugar Belle: You’re welcome, Yona!

Applejack: Say, while ya’ll both here would you be interested in going to Saddle Arabia with us? A Royal ball and wedding will be happening there. You’re also free t’ invite your other student friends if you’d like.

Sandbar: I’ll certainly go. Though I must tell you Gallus, Ocellus, Smoulder, and Silverstream are currently all at their native homes. So I don’t think we could really reach them all that quickly

Applejack: Oh that’s right, Ah forgot that t’ rest o’ my friends will probably be able t’ pick up t’ rest anyway with their own pack o’ portal gum. Ah think Rainbow Dash will be getting Gallus & Silverstream. And Spike will get Ocellus & Smoulder. So we’re good.

Sandbar: Cool!

Yona: Yona wants to go, yes!

Applejack: Alright, ah’ll tell ya when it’s time. For now though, Ah’ve gotta get two more friends o’ mine that are far away from me. Ah’m going t’ see Rara first.

Applejack takes out a piece of gum and blows a new portal, this time in the view is just outside Coloratura’s residence. Applejack walks into the portal. Meanwhile, Yona looks at Sugar Belle with a slight grin.

Yona: May Yona have seconds?

Sugar Belle: Sure thing Yona, I guess if I had known I’d be feeding a Yak stomach I should of baked a 2nd or even a 3rd pie *giggles*

Applejack is at the front door of Coloratura’s house and she presses a button to ring the doorbell. From upstairs, Rara looks who rang and sees her old childhood friend, she immediately heads downstairs to greet her.

Rara: AJ! I can’t believe you came all this way just to see me! Hoofsies!

Rara boops Applejack’s snoot with her hoofsie stamp, leaving a heart stamp mark on Applejack’s snoot. Both mares giggle.

Applejack: Nice t’ see ya’ll too, Rara.

Rara: Come on in!

Applejack and Rara head on over to a couch to talk.

Applejack: Though ya’ll were so happy t’ think I traveled far just to see you, Ah wouldn’t be t’ element of Honesty if ah didn’t admit Ah kind o’ did a bit o’ a cheat t’ get here. My friend Twilight gave me portal gum that allows me t’ instantly go anywhere in the world nearly instantly through ah portal created from blowing ah bubble with them.

Rara: Oh, well even if you didn’t actually travel far to get here, I’m glad you came to see me. Though if Princess Twilight gave you that, it sounds like she’s got you on a mission of some sort.

Applejack: Ah suppose, yeah. Though this is fo’ something fun, ya see ah Royal Ball is taking place in Saddle Arabia and Twilight sent me and my other friends in Ponyville t’ fetch as many friends and family they can possibly get. The Royal Family also wants Equestrian entertainment on stage. And you’re exactly who ah thought o’ that fit both o’ those.

Rara: That sounds awesome, I’d love to go. Though I don’t know if I can fit the long travel to Saddle Arabia into my busy schedule.

Applejack: *She leans over and whispers* Pssst, Rara. Ah have plenty of the Portal gum that ya’ll can take advantage o’ t’ get there quickly. Ya’ll could even just simply come in when it’s time fo’ ya performance and head out after if ya’ll schedule is packed.

Rara: Oooooh, I guess that’s true. Though I might be able to change things around so I can at least attend the entire ball.

Applejack: There’s also ah wedding that comes days later, but it’s not absolutely necessary t’ go t’.

Rara: Who’s getting hitched?

Applejack: Just two o’ Twilight’s friends that live in Saddle Arabia.

Rara: Ahhh, I don’t think I can be there for the wedding. But I’ll certainly try to be there for most of the royal ball, it’ll be great to have like, an insta-vacation.

Applejack: Sweet, thank you Rara. Can’t wait t’ see ya’ll there.

Rara: Same to you!

Applejack: Ah need t’ go now, Ah’m getting a Kirin friend ah met and then probably heading back home t’ wait until Twilight gives the go ahead that the Ball is underway.

Rara: Alright, AJ. Seeya later!

Applejack: Oh! And here’s ah few pieces of the portal gum ah mentioned. Ya’ll only need two t’ get t’ Saddle Arabia and then come back home after the ball’s over but just in case ya’ll have ah use of’ some o’ the extras or ya’ll have someone ya’ll want t’ bring as well.

Rara: Right, thank you!

Applejack blows another piece of gum, this time the portal showing the Kirin Village where she and Fluttershy were sent by the Map to help the Kirins get their voice back from the stream of Silence.

Upon setting foot in the village she sees Cinder Glow and goes up to ask if she knows where Autumn Blaze is.

Applejack: Hey there Cinder, do ya’ll know where Autumn is? Ah want t’ talk t’ her fo’ just ah brief moment.

Cinder just points in the direction to Autumn’s house

Applejack: Why aren’t ya’ll speaking? Don’t tell me ya’ll entered t’ Stream of Silence again...

Cinder: No, I just was never that talkative even before the whole village entered the stream. *shrugs*

Applejack: Ah, gotcha. Thanks for the direction!

Applejack goes to the house Cinder pointed to and opens the door and sees Autumn… doing hoof puppet theater by herself…

Autumn: “OooooOOOOOOooooOOOooooo, my daughter. I am your dead mother’s spirit! I have come here to haunt you by telling you to wash behind the ears every night!” “NOOOOOOO! Anything but that!”

Applejack: (Oh Celestia, did she somehow get even more nuts wit’ t’ village back t’ normal…)

Autumn raises her head above the hoof puppet stage and sees Applejack has come to visit her.

Autumn: Ayyyyyy! Applejack, did you come to see my new stage play? I call it, “I See Dead People, and they’re surprisingly not that different from when they were Living”.

Applejack: Nooooooot… exactly… but ah did come t’ talk and invite ya’ll t’ an event ah’m going t’.

Autumn: Oh alright, where did you want to take me, and what for?

Applejack: Saddle Arabia, ah Royal Ball is being hosted there as well as ah wedding, days afterward. Ya’ll don’t have t’ stay fo’ both, but Twilight and the royal family o’ Saddle Arabia wants as many Equestrian guests and entertainers as much as possible.

Autumn: Entertainers you say? Finally, my puppet show gets to hit the national stage!

Applejack: *cringes* Um, ah’m not sure that’s necess-

Autumn: But I wonder which play I should choose. That’ll be hard…

Applejack: *sigh* (Ah don’t want t’ upset her, Ah might awake her Nirik anger, Ah might as well let her at least try t’ put up her show. Just hope she doesn’t go full nirik if say… the Sultan won’t let ah potential cringefest hit his stage…) Um, Autumn who have ya’ll shown ya puppet shows?

Autumn: No one, really. You’re the only one to even see a little bit of what I’ve done. Whenever I ask anyone in the village if they want to see a show they say they’re busy…

Applejack: (Oh Celestia…) Well uh, ah must be honest and say ah’m not sure if the Sultan will even let ya show on stage. Ah just hope ya’ll don’t turn into ah Nirik in anger and scare people away if he says no.

Autumn: Nah, don’t you worry about that, if they say no about putting it up on the stage. I’ll understand and at least do a show on the table I sit at!

That makes Applejack feel much better.

Applejack: *phew* Well then, ah’ll see ya’ll when it’s time. ok?

Autumn: Yes! Thanks for the invite!

Applejack: No problem, ya’ll have ah good day now!

Applejack leaves Autumn’s house. Her last portal was from Manhattan to here, so she has to pull another piece of gum to head back home.

Once back home, she turns to Apple Bloom

Applejack: Alright, Apple Bloom ah’m done wit’ all mah invitees now. Let’s see if we can find Grand Pear.

Applejack and Apple Bloom head together in the direction of the Pear farm. They look around the farm and inside Grand Pear’s home but don’t see him anywhere.

Apple Bloom: Applejack, ah looked everywhere in the pear house and ah see no sign o’ Grand Pear.

Applejack: He’s not anywhere in the pear tree orchard either.

Applejack ponders for a moment, but then realizes the next most likely location Grand Pear went to if he’s not home. She takes off her hat to place it on her chest and looks down solemnly. Apple Bloom suddenly sitting down for a brief moment with a sad look at her sister as even she recognizes what’s on Applejack’s mind whenever she does that.

Applejack: Ah think ah know where Grand Pear is…

Apple Bloom: H- hhh- he’s…. v-visiting… t-them… a-ain’t he…

Applejack just solemnly nods and puts her hat back on. Applejack and Apple Bloom walk slowly but surely to Grand Pear’s likely location: The Ponyville Cemetery, where Pear Butter and Bright Mac are laid to rest.

Grand Pear is carrying a bouquet of flowers, laying it on the grave of his beloved daughter. He’s done this numerous times ever since she died sometime shortly after the birth of Apple Bloom.

Grand Pear: Pear Butter, I left more flowers for ya. Wherever you are, I hope you love these just like the rest I’ve given you. I’ve said this every time I visited since your eternal rest began, but I am just so sorry for treating you like I did before I moved to Vanhoover.

Tears stream down heavily from Grand Pear’s eyes

Grand Pear: I should have given you and Bright Mac a chance, I was such a stupid stallion to put farm ventures over my own daughter’s happiness. I wish… I s-so-so wish… I could of apologized to you while you were still alive… I think I keep coming back here in hopes that just m-maybe there will be some sign you have h-heard me… but perhaps my real a-apology might not happen until I j-join you up there… I’m at a real old age, maybe that will be next year, or even the next m-month.

Applejack and Apple Bloom have been somewhat hearing what Grand Pear was saying as they got closer. Grand Pear looks behind him and sees two of his Grandchildren from the Apple family.

Grand Pear: Oh hey… Applejack and Apple Bloom. Come to visit my daughter and your father too?

Applejack: We actually came t’ mostly look fo’ ya’ll, but ah guess while we’re here. There’s no harm o’ sharing the pain o’ loss one more time.

Grand Pear: Gotcha

Apple Bloom has tears streaming down her face

Apple Bloom: Ah wish ah got t’ know them… Ah was only ah foal when they… when they…

Apple Bloom can’t even finish her sentence as she just ends up burying her face in her big sister’s chest and sobbing uncontrollably…Applejack putting a hoof behind Apple Bloom. Applejack herself with tears, but she tries to be strong for her little sister. She eventually puts her face off Applejack but still very visible tears from her eyes dripping down. Grand Pear turns to the crying filly and tries his own way of trying to comfort her.

Grand Pear: Pear Butter would of loved you Apple Bloom, I hope you know that.

Apple Bloom: A-ah know… b-but it’s j-just still s-so h-hard… i-it ain’t f-fair!

Grand Pear: You have no idea what I’d give it for to me six feet deep right here, and both Pear Butter and your father next to you paying their respects for me instead. I’ve lived and seen a lot of what life’s thrown at me. They were taken from us, way too soon… so I feel very much the same as you Apple Bloom.

Applejack: Ah’m glad t’ have had them fo’ most o’ mah childhood, Ah got t’ know them as some of t’ sweetest parents ah could ever ask fo’. But the day they died, ah felt like my own childhood was over even though ah was still ah few years away from being ah teenager. Granny and Big Mac did a decent job whenever they could. But there’s ah huge hole in mah heart that’s always been missing since that day. Ah’d much rather have it that ah attended their funeral when ah myself was quite old, not ah little filly that has t’ be told her parents are going t’ be eternally resting underground, and ah’ll never see them again… Ah would o’ loved t’ had them as ah was truly growing up into the pony ah am today, as well as getting ah chance to meet some o’ mah best friends. Rara and mah Mom would o’ absolutely been capable o’ ah beautiful duet…

Grand Pear: Definitely…

All three just solemnly look and think about Pear Butter and Bright Mac for a few minutes more before they eventually start a slow walk back to Grand Pear’s house. Sometimes stopping to look back one more time at the graves. Tears being left making a trail along with the hoof prints on the ground.

Sometime later, all three are in Grand Pear’s house

Grand Pear: Ok now, what did you two come to ask me about?

Apple Bloom: We were gonna ask if ya’ll were interested in going wit’ us on ah trip t’ Saddle Arabia. There will be ah royal ball and ah wedding fo’ two o’ Twilight’s friends there.

Grand Pear: Ah, I’m afraid I can’t. But I hope you and your sister have fun, thanks for joining with me to grieve though. It always helps to have some pony there to share the heartbreak with.

Applejack: Ya’ll welcome, Grand Pear. We still miss them as much as ya’ll do.

Applejack and Apple Bloom approach and give Grand Pear a warm hug before walking out the door

Applejack: Let’s get back home, Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom: Alright, sis. Ah can’t wait fo’ the ball, Ah hope ya do too.

Applejack: Ah am, indeed. ((It’ll certainly be something t’ cheer up both myself and her after that visit…))

NEXT UP: Chapter 3: The Waterbolts

#Secrets Of The Dragon's Tear #Applejack #Apple Bloom #Big Macintosh #Sugar Belle #Granny Smith #Zecora #Sandbar #Yona #Rara #Coloratura #Autumn Blaze #CInder Glow #Grand Pear #Pear Butter #Bright Mac

12 notes · View notes

a-totally-legit-farm · 4 years

Text

Marmalade’s Winter’s Star Party

// Hey y’all, this year I was Shio’s ( @stardeworanges ) secret santa for our discord community secret santa! It took me forever but I present to you ‘Marmalade’s Winter’s Star Party’, a story with a bit of fluff, a bit of edge, and then some more fluff, with some guest appearences in there too.

The full version can be found under the cut, or you can read the story HERE.

I hope you like it shio!!

Word Count: 3022

_______________________________________________________________

Marmalade looked down at her latest accomplishment: a small stack of laminated cards, each one addressed to the friends she had made – her Valley family. There were about 50 cards, everyone from Sebastian to Gus was invited. Names embossed in cursive detailed the addressee of each invitation. The orange-haired woman was so proud of her little cards – she had designed them from scratch, from the colours on the bordering, to the little intricate mistletoe and stars adorning the corners. They were her own little doodles, quite well-done considering Marmalade had never considered herself an artist. In all honesty, Marm had gone a little over the top with these preparations, which had become obvious after she had created a 50-page binder complete with individual greetings, an array of feast meals and cocktails, and even mood boards to pin the perfect aesthetic. But she had a mission, and by Yoba, she would do whatever it took to achieve it.

Her smile softened. The Winter’s Star had always meant so much to her. When she was a little girl, she’d always visit her grandpa for his Winter’s Star festivities. Many a memory was dotted with her kind grandpa’s grin, the smell of warm cocoa, and the flashing of festive lights; the raucous of townspeople sharing hot drinks and good food. But those memories were fading with age, and Marmalade knew that she had to take up the mantle. She was going to throw the perfect Winter’s Star feast. She was going to honour her grandpa’s legacy.

And the next step to doing so was dispersing these slick-looking invitations to their rightful owners. Most important on her list was Clark, her best friend, and the newly appointed mayor. She hadn’t seen him in a few days – the farmhand had been tied up with bureaucratic red tape left behind by a spiteful Lewis. The poor man had been running circles around the town, attempting to get at least somewhere with his new legislation. Well, there was at least a slim silver lining to that storm cloud – Marmalade knew exactly where he would be.

It was a short walk from the farm to the town, though the brisk winter winds would require a Winter’s Star sweater, and of course, the tackier the better. She scanned her drawer for the best candidate: a red and white wool monstrosity, with “Orange you glad it’s winter” knitted in a box. Perfect. The sweater slipped on, gloriously awful pun present in yellow text, a pair of oranges decorating the inscription. She wrapped a scarf around her bare neck, her orange locks falling over the dark, soft material. Finally, she swung her backpack on, filled with a water bottle, some orange slices, and the crux of it all, her invitations.

Without a misstep, Marmalade was out the door, the brisk winter winds and the ankle-deep snow neither bothering nor hindering the ginger on her mission. Winter always brought a unique beauty to the Valley, bare skeletons of trees sleeping for the winter, and those brilliant blue berries poking up through the white terrain. One of Marmalade’s favourite sights had to be spotting the holly berries and crocus flowers in the dense snow. Wet gravel crunched under her feet as Marmalade trekked on. Her mental checklist of places to stop kept growing. Gotta invite Pippa and Rue and Dae! I’ll stop on the way. And I’m sure Cherry will be home – and maybe Nikoma and Jenna will come… Then I should stop at Pierre’s for some more supplies. Oh, and of course, Clark, in the town hall!

She smiled once more to herself.

Winter 26th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party anybody had ever been to!

_______________________________________________________________

Clark ran his fingers through his dense, blond curls, the toll of being constantly busy affecting the usual lustre of his hair. He grimaced at the paperwork in front of him, feeling each and every monotonous, tedious word sap strength from his dwindling will to keep reading. He loved being mayor. He loved the warm appreciation of the townsfolk as he walked the streets of the Valley, he loved the constant support and trust. He loved that he was elected the Mayor. He did not love the piles of paperwork constantly inhabiting his in-tray, perched eternally on the right of his desk. The dark circles under his eyes evident of his sleeplessness, his expression stony as he stared down the stack of sheets sitting, waiting, mocking – Clark wanted nothing more than to slam his head into the desk. He pulled at his red tie, loosening its grip around his wrinkled, white button-up shirt, sleeves cuffed awkwardly around his tanned wrists. That was one thing he did miss – the blue jeans, the red flannel, the straw hat, but there was something about office-wear that really made his pecs look juicier, so he was willing to compromise. A groan escaped him, forcing its way through his teeth, as his eyes wandered towards the window, looking for anything to fuel his procrastination…

And as if summoned by Yoba himself, Marmalade burst through his office door, face alight with happiness.

She was a radiant beam of sunlight in the poorly lit office, and she couldn’t help but bring a grin to Clark’s mug. Her silly holiday sweater procured a chuckle from the exhausted ex-farmhand – it was just like Marm to be a walking pun. The woman basically bounced to the front of his desk, striking a little pose before rummaging through her pack. It was obvious Marmalade was very excited, and Hayesmith was ready for whatever the exuberant redhead was going to throw at him.

“Mayor Clark,” Marmalade’s voice rung with a silliness that she only showed around her closest friends, “I would like to cordially invite you to Miss Marmalade’s Winter Star feast party!” She slapped down the invitation on top of all of his paperwork, its festive design a winter star compared to the drab documents underneath. Clark let out another one of his gruff chuckles. “Not even a howdy before the theatrics.” Marmalade’s face went a shade of bashful pink, the playful act dialled back a bit from the cowboy’s ribbing.

“Now y’know I’m jokin’ there, Marm. I’d be pleased to make it.” He lifted the card up, inspecting the calligraphy – Clark Hayesmith, You are invited to my Winter’s Star party, 6 PM on Winter 27th. See you there! He tucked the invitation away in his pocket – it had been a while since the man had been able to socialise, and he was looking forward to the opportunity.

“Say Marm, who’ve you invited to this lil’ shindig?” Oh, how Marmalade had missed his deep, soothing drawl – and boy did she have a list of names for him. “Well, Pippa and her crew are coming, and Clive, uhh Sebastian and Maru said they would come, Red and Derek, Abigail… Nikoma sighed at me and said ‘fine’ so I’m assuming he’s coming… Jenna and Haley said yes too! Oh, and Jenna has an assistant now? And Amelia, Ainsley, Edel…” The names kept coming, and Clark’s excitement to flex his social and physical muscles was only growing.

“Trust me darl’, I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for th’world . Now, I better get a hustle with this work, or I’ll be stuck here till the party’s over.” Clark shook his head in exaggerated despair, and Marmalade let out a small chuckle. “Okay Clark. See you at the party!”

“See y’all at the party, Marm.” Clark waved as Marm hurried out the door, the farmer eager to deliver the rest of her invitations. The new mayor-elect pulled out his invitation once more.

He grinned, and for the first time in what seemed like days, he actually wanted to finish his paperwork. A party clearly makes for a mighty fine motivator.

Winter 27th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party he’d ever been to.

_______________________________________________________________

It was 7:56 PM on Winter 26th.

The ticking of the kitchen clock on the wall had drove her crazy. It now laid facedown on the tiled floor.

Marmalade glared at the door. She sat alone, at her dining table, 34 different plates of food sitting, cold, untouched, abandoned on the dark cherry wood, uncovered and unprotected from the cold night air. The fire had burned out about half an hour ago – what was the point of keeping a fire burning if no one was here to stay warm?

Marmalade glared at the door. She hadn’t touched any of the food she had slaved the day away cooking. She hadn’t had a sip of the punch, or the soup, or the wine. She was at first waiting for someone to come, to share the food with, but after an hour of sitting alone she had thoroughly lost her appetite.

Marmalade glared at the door – only pausing to wipe the tears defiantly escaping her eyes. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry. It didn’t matter if no one had come. She was sure there were reasons why they hadn’t come, but no one had even called to inform her. Maybe they just weren’t her friends. She had always thought that at least a few of the farmers had been left with good impressions of her. The anti-social ones, she understood – those like Katherine, afraid of people, or Nikoma, annoyed by people – but the extroverts? Cherry? Pippa? Red? Where were they?

The only conclusion Marmalade could come to was they didn’t care. They must have had other plans, or had forgotten, they must have been too busy with their lives to remember Marmalade’s party. She sniffled, wiping away more tears that had forced their way down her face. She had to reason with herself. After all, yesterday was the Winter’s Star Feast, and everyone would be tired…

Even Clark, her best friend, her old farmhand, was too busy for her. It must have been his new job…

Marmalade glared at the door. The door swung open. Tension was almost palpable in the air as Marmalade tensed up – tears at this point were streaming over her blushed cheeks, make-up running. Clark walked in, sighing. He had yet to look up, his head was hung low, the strain of sitting at a desk all day leaving a myriad of cricks in his neck and back.

The cowboy could tell Marmalade was in earshot, and he called out while taking his shoes off. “Hey Marm, excited for your party tomor-…” Finally, his gaze swung up to meet Marmalade’s glare.

Time froze as he scanned the room; the festive decorations, the tinsel-covered tree, the holly and mistletoe and wreaths hanging from every possible point. The banquet of food laid out in spectacular fashion. The poor, lonely woman, sitting isolated amongst the festivities.

Uh-oh.

Marm broke down. The floodwalls failed, and she began sobbing, only quietly, but there was no other noise – all Clark could hear was Marmalade’s soft weeping. Immediately, he moved towards her, trying to protectively wrap himself around her, in an attempt to shield the orange-haired woman from what had happened in her own dining room. She protested, albeit weakly, beating closed fists against his brawny chest. It didn’t last long, as those beating fists uncurled into fingers gripping his shirt, knuckles clenched white, the fabric a lifeline to Clark as Marmalade pressed her tear-soaked face into him.

Clark didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even entirely sure what happened – her party wasn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow evening… Unless she didn’t know that. The invitations must have been wrong. The cowboy shook his head. All of Marmalade’s meticulous planning, all of her expertise and effort, left to rot because of a typo on the invitations. Clark knew what he had to do.

Clark continued to hold Marm as she wept out her grievances, Clark affirming her and hushing her softly. It didn’t take long for Marmalade’s crying to slow – it was clear now, obviously the town didn’t hate her. But it didn’t matter. The party was a failure, and she had spent so much time and effort and money on this one, she had nothing left to throw another one. It was all a waste, and everyone was going to be disappointed.

All Clark could do was hold the woman, assuring her that the townsfolk wouldn’t be mad. He told her stories about his failed events in the past, about his week and all the mess-about that went into being mayor, about how people were kind, and forgiving, especially in these parts. For about 40 minutes, the pair laid spread out on the on the cold tiled floor, Marmalade’s head still on Clark’s chest, time passing in an emotion-filled haze.

It was 9:03 PM on Winter 26th, according to Clark’s wristwatch.

He knew exactly what he had to do to make this right. As Marmalade drifted to sleep, he swept her up, and escorted her to her bed – and then he was out the door. He knew most of the farmers and townsfolk would be winding down for the night, but if he knew this Valley, he knew that they would come together for something this important, especially for the mayor.

Well no, actually.

They’d come together, especially for Marmalade.

Clark had to make sure that Winter 27th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party Marmalade had ever been to.

_______________________________________________________________

It was 9:04 AM on Winter 27th, according to the clock Marmalade had picked up off the floor.

She was still a little down – she had thrown all the wasted food in the bin, and tried to salvage what had kept, but it all felt like a big mistake. She was now sitting at the dining table, staring absent-mindedly at the door. Clark was nowhere to be seen, again, as always. The farmer didn’t want to walk out that door, didn’t want to have to tell everyone the party was cancelled.

But she was a brave woman, and she’d let most of the negativity out last night. She wasn’t ready to do it yet, though. No, she’d check the mail, and then finish her coffee. Then she’d set off to let the public know of her shame.

The woman stood up, stretching her haunches, mug of hot, black coffee clutched tightly. A small amount of the life-saving ichor had stained the sleeve of her long sweater, but that was fine, it was just a pyjama top anyway. The soft fleecy fabric was a latte-foam tan, with the sleeves slightly too long, and honestly, the small brown stains added to the look. Marmalade ambled towards the door, procrastinating her eventual exposure to the outside elements.

It was just the mail.

She’d have to face the world eventually.

She swung the door open – and dropped her mug.

Laid out on the front lawn, cleared of snow, was tables of food. Fresh prepared meats, plates of berries and fruits – all in season, all garnished with those dark green leaves that survived the winter chill – bowls of punch and liquor and crates of wine laid out, hot coffee and soups simmering over small fires. And with it all, stood all the farmers she had invited to yesterday’s party.

Warm smiles from familiar faces all began turning towards Marmalade, the breaking of ceramic and the splashing of coffee alerting the people laying out this feast on her front lawn. It felt like a dream – the slow roll of applause started to crawl across the crowd, and before long they were all cheering at (or cheering for, more likely) Marmalade.

Friends and acquaintances from all around the Valley were present – she immediately noticed the tall figures of Barclay, Rue and Bernard, discussing fishing in the mines (a very controversial topic, apparently), with Pippa and Red inspecting the miner’s latest find close by. Edel, Katherine, Mona and Amelia sipped at Kat’s latest champagne, the bubbly enticing enough to drink even this early in the morning. Alex and Cherry were carving roast chicken, while Ainsley and Delaney seemed to be debating what exactly defined a ‘soup’. Jenna and Haley chatted away with Vi, Percival and a pair of siblings who Marmalade hadn’t seen before – but they were all far too dressed up, clearly. Even the recluses had turned out; Anderson and Morrison stood at the end of a table, alone, and Nikoma sat in a pile of snow, flask in hand. And that wasn’t even most of the people Marmalade could recognise – about 60 bodies, more than she had ever invited, stood around, having a good time, eating food and drinking merrily, just as she had envisioned for her party…

And right, smack-bang in the middle of them all was Clark, those new, dark rings under his eyes the blackest she’d ever seen them. He had been up all night, corralling the locals into coming together, pooling their resources, cooking and brewing and shovelling snow, to throw Marmalade the best Winter’s Star party that she had ever been to.

Marmalade hopped over the shattered mug, and ran straight into his arms, once again pressing her face into his broad chest. There was no way this was all happening, and yet, it seems Clark had made it happen.

A few tears stained that same, white shirt he was wearing last night.

“Thank you so much, Clark! Thank you…”

Clark smiled warmly, his tired eyes softening as he patted Marmalade on the back.

“Not a worry in the world, Marm. You know I -… You know this town would do anything for you.”

Marmalade could feel the kindness in her soul, the flame that had been doused last night, reignite within her. She couldn’t ask for anything more, to be surrounded by those she lives with, to supply the space for her community to be happy, to be safe, and to have a good Winter’s Star. To take up the mantle of her grandfather. She pulled herself from Clark, and looked around at all of her friend’s faces, warm drinks and good food in their hands.

This was going to be the best Winter’s Star party ever.

#long post #secret santa 2019 #stardeworanges #drabble #event drabble #i hope you like it shio!!!!!

30 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Of Farms Fairs And Fame (Part 6)

Sokka watched Kya pluck a cluster of blueberries and raspberries from their designated bushes. The woman was baking up pie after pie. Practice, she stated. One after the other, but she never seemed satisfied. One was too sweet, one didn’t have ripe enough berries. One simply didn’t look pretty enough. He didn’t know what to do with all of those pies, they were too good to simply throw out and waste. Maybe he oughta drop one or two off for Azula and TyLee, the both of them had been working so hard these days. But TyLee was allergic to blueberries and Azula...he could picture her at her writing desk focusing much too hard to give the pie any more notice than maybe an absent bite or two.

When deep in the creative process, the girl had a tendency to neglect things like eating until the urges became too intense to ignore.

So it was that Sokka had given himself a stomach ache or two, trying to keep those pies from going to waste.

“Why ain’t you just sell ‘em?” Katara asked at last.

He caught her watering her pumpkin. The last time they’d given it a good weigh it had a decent twenty-two pounds on it. It was getting to be on the large side. A good sign being as it was just a baby.

“We could use the extra money.”

By all means, she was right--he spared a glance at their newly broken tractor. It was just one more repair that they couldn’t afford to make. Again he found himself thanking the lord that he had grown so close to Azula. Perhaps her fa wouldn’t allow her to buy him a tractor part or a whole new one altogether. But she had a talent for sneaking her farm’s tractor out and loaning it to him for a day. Yet that day wasn’t a day that required one.

It was a day that only required a pickup truck and some patience down at the farmer’s market. Katara’s idea was a good one. “Have ma get ‘em tagether ‘n I’ll go on down ta town.”

With any luck he’d be able to pull Azula away from her writing desk.

He didn’t quite fancy sitting at a stall alone for hours. He figured that she could probably write songs sitting next to him.

.oOo.

Azula groaned out loud. This whole song thing wasn’t going as well as she had hoped. Not at all. Why was it that whenever she needed good material it never came. She laughed bitterly to herself--in that case, it would seem that she always needed good material.

Frowning to herself, she crossed out another line. She ran her fingers through her hairline. She could write about her mother. About the unspoken things about the unfinished matters. It would be the easy route. But the lord knew she didn’t want anyone to know about those struggles. She could write lyrics to a ‘dear mum’ kind of song but she’d never put it on an album. She drummed her fingers on the desk, growing more and more frustrated with each moment that passed without notable progress. With a drawn out sigh, she pushed her chair in.

She’d have a quick bath and then get back to her writing...or lack thereof.

No sooner had she vacated her chair did the doorbell ring. She had every intention of ignoring it. But her father called up. “It’s fer you, Azula. That boy, what’s his name? Sohka?”

“Sokka.” Azula corrected. “Send him up.”

It would see that her bath would have to wait. She had to admit, it was rather irritating to have Sokka interrupt her...oh who was she kidding, she didn’t have a creative flow going. “Don’t you have yer ma to be helpin’?”

“That’s actually why I came on over here. Ma done went ‘n made so many pie that I can’t even eat ‘em all.” He explained. “So I was gonna get on down to the farmer’s market ‘n try to sell ‘em. Maybe if folks sample ‘em first, they’ll have a better chance to win.”

Azula allowed herself a laugh. “Sokka, I think that’s gotta be the only smart thing ya said since we met.” She supposed that it couldn’t hurt to keep the man company, she wasn’t getting anywhere with her own work anyhow. “A’right I’ll go with you.”

“Yer the best.”

He slung an arm around her, flashing a boyish smile, and her heart fluttered. She couldn’t understand why, not anymore than she could understand why she was so willing to drop what she was doing to help the boy. She stole a peek at his expression. She had to get this...whatever it was...out of her head. He probably thought of her like a little sister. His face seemed to say as much.

“Well c’mon then.” He laughed, tugging her in the direction of his truck.

His truck smelled of pine and cut hay. It was comfortingly familiar, she couldn’t even count the number of times she’d been in this truck. “Y’all wanna pick the station this time?”

Azula answered by turning the dial, finding her favorite station. The one with the artists who had inspired her to start writing music in the first place. In particular, she was fond of Yengchen’s vocals. But every now and again she could enjoy an older song or two by Lo and Li. Lo and Li, who her father claimed had been her caretakers when she was too young to remember having known them at all.

“Yengchen again?” Sokka asked.

“Yeah, it’s better then Chong and the Nomads.” Azula rolled her eyes.

“Hey! Don’t ya’ll go bad mouthin’ Chong ‘n the Nomads!”

He pulled into a parking spot and opened the door for her. She helped him carry an armful of pies to an open stall.

“Ya wanna try a ‘lil piece?”

Azula thought for a moment. “I suppose I do.” He cut her a small slice. “Yer ma does wonders in the kitchen. It’s almos’ as good as her jam.”

“Almos’?”

“I ain’t much of a pie person.” Azula confessed as Sokka greeted his first possible customer.

An hour or so passed and Sokka’s stall had received little attention. It would seem that Long Feng and his crew were getting most of the attention again. According to Sokka, that’s how it usually went. Long Feng with is more industrial way of doing things. From the sound of it, his methods were highly unethical between injecting hefty amounts of hormones into his cattle to the general way he went about raising and slaughtering them. The man was no good for anyone in this town, yet everyone seemed to treat him like an agricultural god.

They praised him for the size of his potatoes and carrots but they were practically artificial if Sokka’s word wasn’t biased.

Evidently, it was Long Feng’s apples that were getting all of the attention that day. None for the perfectly tasty apple pie Kya had made. She helped herself to another slice, apparently she had finally taken enough for Sokka to make note of it.

“I thought ya’ll ain’t a pie person.”

“It’s diff’rent when yer ma makes ‘em.” She replied.

“If only everyone else thought that…”

“It ain’t you or Kya that’s the problem.” She eyed Long Feng and the rest of the Dai Li farm crew.

“Ain’t no good for anyone.” Spoke the man in the stall next to theirs. “Been sayin’ so since they got here.” Usually Azula didn’t take anything this man said seriously. Not many did. But this one...this one was the one thing she and Sokka agreed with him on. “He been takin’ my business.”

“I git this feelin’ that ya wouldn’t git business even if they went ‘n disappeared back ta the city they came from.” She muttered more to Sokka than to the older man. His cabbages weren’t exactly a delicacy at the farmer’s market and they didn’t fare any better at the fair. Frankly, Azula didn’t know many folks who liked cabbage.

“I ain’t got no luck taday.” Sokka sighed.

Azula returned the sigh and stood up. “Howdy, Chan.” She greeted with a rather exaggerated enthusiasm. “You look like ya need a pie.” She tugged him over to Sokka’s stall. “C’mon, jus’ buy one. Fer me?” She could bat her eyelashes for good measure, but she thought that words would suffice.

Chan slid a few bucks Sokka’s way and took a pie.

“If y’all like it, spread the word.” Sokka waved him off. And to Azula he spoke. “Ken ya do that again?”

“I suppose I can.” She replied, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. By the time most people began packing it in for the day, she had snagged Sokka a few more buyers. The boy had only three pies left. One of which she said that she’d take to her fa and Zuko. The other she said that she’d take to TyLee when she dropped by.

“I’m so glad I brought y’all along.” Sokka beamed at the wad of cash in his hands. “I reckon we could repair the tractor or one a the other things that we done broke.”

“Glad I could help.” Azula replied. If only someone could help her with her song writing.

Azula listened to the pop and snap of rocks as they cruised down the dirt road. She listened to Sokka singing along to Chong and the Nomads. She didn’t know who was more annoying, Sokka with is ridiculous twang or Chong himself. Azula could have sworn that Sokka hated Chong.

The wind whipped at her hair. It would seem that, for once, she’d be home before dark.

He pulled into her driveway and she let herself out of the car. Sokka put it in park and stepped out for himself. “Thanks again fer helpin’ me out taday. I know yer busy.”

“It ain’t nothin’ big.” She replied.

“It kinda is.” He gave her another wide smile. A cheerful one. She was almost certain that he was going to give a wave and get back into his truck. Instead he pulled her close and gave her a quick hug. She wasn’t left with much time to savor it, but it was enough to take in the scent of him. The scent and the warmth. It wasn’t long at all. But it was long enough for her cheeks to go pink.

Feeling awkward and not knowing what else to say she mumbled again, “it ain’t nothing big.”

He gave her back a light and quick pat. “It were to me.”

#Avatar #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

hanzobarmoustache · 6 years

Text

Moonshine Kisses (pt1)

It’s on my ao3 with better formatting but here it is for the tumblr crowd <3

The bell above the entrance rang, alerting her of a customer, but she didn't need to look away from the poultice she was creating to know who it was, his thick accent greeting her seconds before the stench of his cigarillos did, "Howdy, Miss Amari."

Chuckling gently to mask the disappointment - she had been expecting a taller, brawnier, older charismatic fellow - she turned from her worktable to make her way to the counter, settling atop the stool behind the register with a smile. "How many times must I tell you, Jesse? Please call me Ana."

"Pardon me, Ana," Jesse smiled softly, leaning forward on the counter, sleeve rolled up past the elbow, the other pinned up at his shoulder where his prosthesis was missing. Her eyes dropped to the long scar raised along the length of his forearm, still prominently discolored.

She hummed, reaching forward to prod at the scar, carefully watching Jesse for any signs of discomfort. Pleased with her examination, she took her hands back to tidy up a few loose herbs on the counter, speaking as she worked, "Your arm has healed quite nicely. Keeping it clean, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's been just fine 'cept for some minor aching in the morning. No puss, no fuss."

Ana rolled her eyes at the crude statement, "Very well. I trust you to tell me immediately if something happens."

"I've been around the block before. I know the drill. Trust me, it's a walk in the park compared to this thing," he wriggled the stub of his left arm.

"Odd to see you without it. I assume it is in for repairs?"

"Yep. Torb said it needs intensive repairs." Jesse scratched at his beard, recalling what the blacksmith mentioned about the prosthesis. "Something about how poorly I've treated it for the last, oh, coupla years."

Ana nodded sagely, "Yes, that would do it. Well, then, what brings you here if not for my herbal wisdom?"

"Force o' habit... and, well, as for why I'm here... there's, uh-"

Ana knew that tone well, dealt with it enough in her years to understand the tentative, almost shy nature of those unaccustomed to a topic that unnerved them, who chose to treat it with utmost - at times unnecessary - caution to the point of stagnation. It would not do, having Jesse of all people hold that tone. The man spoke of all natures of things; whatever was on his mind was serious.

She pushed herself off the stool, grabbing her walking stick and starting off to the living quarters behind the storefront. "Would you like some tea?"

Jesse's shoulders drooped, and he nodded. "Yeah, I think that'd help."

"Change the sign to 'closed,' then. I'll get some brewed in just a moment."

Jesse sighed, watching the leaves in his teacup swirl about in the water, dancing around each other like sakura blossoms in the wind.

Ana sipped at her own cup silently, patiently waiting for Jesse to speak. She leaned forward to spoon some sugar into the man's cup, speaking only once the granules dissolved, "Take your time, habibi." She certainly was not prepared for what the man was about to blurt.

"Billy's dying."

Ana blinked, put down her tea, and turned in her chair to properly face Jesse. She placed a hand on his knee, and the words began to pour out.

"He's the oldest wolf Hanzo has running with him. He's not doing too hot, not since winter let up anyway, always taking a lil' too long getting up and down, and his old bones creak something awful. It's pitiful, but I just know he ain't gonna last much longer. I'm just not really sure what to do.

"Back home, it's common to just take old dogs out someplace quiet and shoot 'em, get it over with before they suffer too awful bad. But Billy's not just some mangy mutt picked up on the side of the road. He's Hanzo's family. Hell, the old fart's grown on me, too.

"It ain't like we can put him in hospice or, hell I don't know, retire him to live out the rest of his days as a lapdog. He's a wild animal... I guess I thought you might be able to help. Might be able to give advice, at least."

Ana was quiet a moment, digesting the information Jesse confided in her. She spoke gently, "Unfortunately, I am an herbalist, not a veterinarian. However, if it would put you at ease, I can come visit and have a look at him? If I can do nothing for him, I may at least be able to brew something for the pain."

"Would you be able to...?" Jesse didn't finish his statement.

"If it came to it, yes. So long as Hanzo consented, I could lay the old dog to rest."

Jesse hauled Ana up into a hug faster than she could blink, squeezing tight enough to pop her back. He murmured into hair, "You're a God-damned angel, Ana."

"I do believe those are demons, Jesse," Ana laughed, patting Jesse's back until he released her. She smiled widely, stretching her back, "Let me collect some things, and I'll stop by tomorrow."

"Hell, bring 'Reeha, too. Let's make a night of it. It's been awhile since I've had a proper bonfire, and the weather's perfect for it."

"I don't know if-."

"I've got my own little plot of land up there now, log cabin and everything. Long as I don't burn the forest down, Hanzo won't say a word."

"Jesse, I'm unsure if-."

"C'mon, you've not even seen the place yet. I cleaned it up real nice."

"If you are sure, then I suppose-."

"I'll invite Reinhardt." Jesse winked.

Ana scoffed, pushing at Jesse's chest, "Oh, please. There's no need to bribe me." She huffed and crossed her arms. "If you want a bonfire, you'll have to wait until the weekend. I need time to make something sweet."

"Oh, Ana, I'm sure Reinhardt thinks you're sweet enough."

Ana sneered, "I meant something to appease your sweet-tooth of a lover. I suppose I shall spread the word to Reinhardt and Torb, then?"

"Works for me. Saturday it is! I better go tell 'Reeha the good news."

"She should be down at the beach. She's been spending quite a while down there recently."

"I'll check on her, don't you worry none. She won't be getting into trouble on my watch."

"Thank you, Jesse."

The beach wasn't a short trip from the village, not for the average man. The rolling hills leading down to the water's edge were enough to take the breath from even the most athletic of men, and often a visit to the lovely waves and warm sand was reserved for a lazy summer day where the entire day could be reserved for the sole purpose of enjoying the atmosphere.

Fareeha Amari jogged to the beach every morning to swim. She claimed that swimming was a better workout than even working in Torb's forge, but Jesse wasn't about to believe that for a moment. She was always too giggly when she came back home. It was about time to figure out what the girl was doing so far from home; he only wanted to make sure she was safe.

Or to embarrass the hell out of her if she had found herself a sweetheart.

Jesse stepped onto the sand from the main path, youngest Amari nowhere in sight. Aside from a footstep in the sand, he could have been confident saying no one had been on the beach that day aside from himself. He shook his head, toeing off his shoes and rolling his jeans up to his knees. There was no dry place on the beach that had any semblance of privacy, but Hanzo had shown him a few secluded caves the few times they had explored the beach together. One had to be willing to get their feet wet to get there, but the atmosphere was like nothing else.

In those caves, it was as if nothing else existed, no earthly qualms or problems could reach them, where the air was cool and the only sounds were that of the other's breath and the gentle plip-plop of water droplets falling from the stalactite, where he could get lost in Hanzo's eyes and the feel of his lips, where the sound echoed just right and Hanzo's giggles sounded absolutely divine.

He splashed some cold seawater into his face to will his blush down before poking around looking for Fareeha.

He didn't find her in the few caves closest to the path, didn't find the slightest hint of her even being around aside from that lone footstep. He pushed his jeans as high as they would go and started wading out to the most secluded system Hanzo knew of. Jesse wasn't allowed to go out there normally because Hanzo said he had a friend that lived out there, but Jesse felt like a missing person was reason enough to poke around just a bit more.

He laughed aloud once he made his way to the small, isolated stretch of beach alongside the cave. Folded neatly above the line in the sand carved by high tide, Fareeha's outer clothes rested on a clean rock.

This cave had no entrance to be seen above the water's surface; the only way in was found by swimming ten feet below the waves and crawling through. Jesse recalled Hanzo saying the first time through had been "harrowing" due to the absolute lack of light and sound, as if one was traveling through the infinite, unflinching cosmos.

Jesse wasn't sure if that was an apt description, but he'd never been one for terribly frilly language anyway. He stripped himself, threw his clothes toward Fareeha's, and dove into the water.

It was freezing. He'd been wading through it, but once it encompassed his entire being, the chill pierced through his skin and settled deep in his bones, slowing him as he swam through the water with all the grace of a drowning turkey. He was raised in a desert, he wasn't built for water dammit!

Just when his lungs were about to burst, he found the entrance to the cave and pushed himself through urgently, breaking the surface of the water with a gasp and cough. He frantically caught his breath as his eyes adjusted to the darkness until he could see two vague figures on the other side of the cave pressed close to each other.

Upon hearing smacking and giggling noise, he shouted, hoping to save all of them some embarrassment, "You've got a visitor!"

Fareeha jolted, breaking off from the other woman, floundering uselessly as the unidentified woman - mermaid - rolled over her to assume a defensive position, tail wrapped around Fareeha, arms propping her up, jaw extended and sharp teeth exposed as she hissed, gills flaring.

"God dammit, Jesse!" Fareeha shouted, wriggling free of the mermaid's tail. "What are you doing here?"

The mermaid tilted her head, curious. She relaxed immediately with Fareeha's words, coaxing her to sit back down with the wides puppy-dog eyes Jesse'd ever seen. She wrapped her arms around Fareeha's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder, quietly asking, "You know this man, chand ka tukda?"

"Unfortunately," Fareeha groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Jesse pushed himself up out of the water, padding over to the two and sitting before them. He offered the mermaid a grin and his hand, "Jesse McCree, nice to meet you, Miss...?"

"Satya Vaswani," she said simply, staring at Jesse's hand as if it were a stinking, dead fish before reluctantly placing her hand in his to shake. She recoiled when he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Stop trying to charm my girlfriend!" Fareeha growled, kicking out at Jesse.

"Trust me, it isn't working," Satya deadpanned, pressing her nose into Fareeha's shoulder, wiping the back of her hand off on Fareeha's shorts, "He's so furry."

"You should see his boyfriend," Fareeha grumbled.

"At least Hanzo takes care of himself."

"Girls, I'm sitting right here!"

"Well maybe it'll teach you to not be a peeping Tom!" Fareeha shot back, crossing her arms over her chest much to Satya's amusement. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Jesse gasped, hand flying to his chest, aghast, "I wasn't peeping! Your ma was concerned about you going off all the time, and I was the good Samaritan who - out of the kindness of my heart - went out of my way to locate and ensure the safety of her one beloved daughter! Now I get to tell her the reason you're sneaking off is because you've been seeing someone behind her back."

"Jesse James McCree, you wouldn't dare!" Fareeha's accusation prompted Jesse's brow to jump and a shit-eating grin pull at his lips.

"Oh, but dare I shall!"

"Satya, let me go. I need to kill him," Fareeha whined.

The mermaid scoffed, "You are not getting blood in my cave."

"Why thank you, Miss Vaswani!"

Satya stared at Jesse, lips curling back in a smile that mimicked Hanzo's when he was being devious, "Kill him outside."

Jesse bristled under the girls' predatory gazes, spluttering, "Now hold on just a minute!"

"So, I take it you really like this girl?" Jesse teased as he and Fareeha began the long walk back to the village.

"I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Hell no."

Fareeha shook her head, kicking a pebble as she walked, keeping her eyes glued to the ground instead of risking any eye-contact with Jesse. "Yeah, I do. She just... There's a connection there, and we really understand each other. I know we're from two different worlds, but... I don't know. She's so smart and funny and so so..."

"Beautiful?" The mermaid with her long, dark hair and warm brown skin cut an impressive figure. She knew how to doll herself up with all sorts of golden baubles without appearing tacky, and her cyan scales were absolutely gorgeous against the sand where she waved Fareeha off before disappearing back into the waves with an angelic grace. (Made sense why she was Hanzo's friend. Beautiful, audacious people stuck together apparently.)

"Breathtaking!" Fareeha corrected, a lovely dopey look on her face as she spoke, "I can listen to her talk for hours about the things she builds, and she is beyond ecstatic when I bring her anything to build with. I brought her wood reed a few weeks ago, and we spent all day weaving baskets, and I loved every moment of it!"

"You have it bad."

"I do," Fareeha agreed dreamily, shrugging unapologetically.

"Bet your mom would be real happy to hear all about her."

"No! You can't tell her! She'll kill me if she finds out from you. I have to tell her myself or she'll hate me forever."

"She will not h-."

"Jesse, you do not know my mother. I have to tell her."

"Fine, fine. I won't tell her."

"Thank y-."

"On one condition."

"Miraculously, The loathing I felt for you has returned."

"Don't be like that! All you need to do is bring Satya to the bonfire this weekend. Introduce your mom to your girlfriend, and I'll act like I didn't know a thing."

"You are evil."

"You want me to tell Ana? I'll tell her, cross my heart."

"Fine! I'll bring Satya to your bonfire! She probably wants to see Hanzo anyway and ask him why he's dating you."

"Fareeha!"

"Jesse?" Hanzo asked, his eyes glued to the stamped-down grass where Billy lay, fitfully kicking out in his sleep and smacking Belle in the face with his tail. A sharp look convinced her not to pounce upon him, and she hobbled over to wrestle with the twins instead.

"Yeah, sweetpea?" Jesse looked up from the ground where he'd been reading, marking his page with a piece of grass, smiling gently at the way Hanzo's cheeks still reddened with the pet name.

"You mentioned once that you are cursed." He murmured, watching the siblings sandwich Belle between themselves and playfully nip at her.

Jesse coughed, setting his book aside and crossing his arms, preparing himself for the inevitable conversation that would follow. "That I did. What about it?"

"Would you mind telling me about it? You have no obligation to do so, I was just..."

"Curiosity hits us all, no need to apologize." Jesse pushed himself to his feet with a groan, walking the short distance between himself and Hanzo to plop down next to his friend where he sat upon a rock, the rabbit he had been skinning long forgotten if that distant look in his eyes was anything to go by.

"It may be raw, still. I do not know when you were-."

"Guess I could spin you that tale," Jesse groaned exaggeratedly, stretching his arms to prepare himself for a long story full of gestures. It pulled Hanzo from his funk and brought a laugh to his lips, at least. "Oh, boy, but where to start? Well, s'pose it might be apt to explain what the curse is first. The demon what done cursed me called it 'deadeye,' said it was both a gift and a burden. Thing was horribly full of itself, I tell you what."

"That would be the demon that imprinted on you?"

"Nah, now hold up, don't get all riled up now, hon. Those devils're both long dead. Anyway, uh, to put it bluntly, I see dead people."

"Dead people?" Hanzo echoed, throwing the rabbit carcass in the general direction of the wolves, far too entranced with Jesse's theatrics to bother with his chore.

"Heh, yeah, thanks to this-" Jesse tapped his right eye, the one that was just a slightly darker shade of brown to the untrained eye - "I can see ghosts and the like. Can tell if someone ain't really alive, too. They look kinda... kinda shimmery, like the air over hot asphalt in the middle of summer. And, well, that's more an issue half the time, let me tell you."

"The dead upset you?"

"Well, depends. Sometimes they're loud sons of guns, that's for sure. Not many up here, all things considered. Pretty quiet."

"Many... so there are some spirits lingering here?"

"Yeah, but none with a -how do I put this?- real defined presence, none that are gonna be around for an extended period of time. Those bounty-hunters you killed, one of 'em keeps wailing and making a ruckus. I reckon it's that one you used as a pincushion, but he'll leave soon enough. Ones like him usually don't stick around too long, just long enough to get over their deaths and move on."

"Ah, then there are many types of spirits."

"Yup. Stories are rooted in fact sometimes, and ones about ghosts are no different. Ghosts and poltergeists are different devils, but... I guess I could say that they're kinda like wolves and dogs. Related in their ways, but different enough." Jesse toyed with his lighter, idly searching his pockets for the cigarillos he had run out of.

Hanzo bent down, pulling one of the cigars he'd purchased in town for Jesse out of his bag, handing it over. "There is more to it, isn't there?"

Jesse sighed, nodding, pinching the end of the cigar as he lit it, watched it burn for a moment before taking a drag and speaking, "I've also got a damn fine aim, if I do say so myself, but that can't hold a candle to what this eye of mine can do. Hand me a six-shooter, and throw a few men in front of me. All of them will be dead before they can draw. Comes at a price, of course, but sometimes there's no choice."

"What is the cost?"

Jesse blew out the smoke, letting it dissipate before speaking, "Their souls. I can hit ten men with six bullets, but their souls're taken by the thing that cursed me if I have to shoot without ammo. Damn thing took my natural talent and twisted it for its own gain. Shootin' without bullets can be nice, but... takes a toll on a man."

"Ah." Hanzo was silent, unsure if Jesse would continue. When it was clear the man wouldn't, he took a breath and bumped his shoulder against the other man's. "Seems like a bargain."

Jesse laughed, smiling as he shook his head, "Aw, darlin'. You've got an awful high opinion of me if that's what you're thinkin'."

"You will not prove me wrong."

Jesse's grin met his eyes, and his snicker died as he took another drag from the cigar before offering it to Hanzo. While Hanzo pressed the cigar to his lips, Jesse continued, "Guess I oughta let you know how it all happened, then. Not a whole lotta people come out of the crosshairs of two demons alive. I'm certainly not unscathed, but I'm still breathing.

"I'll start with Deadlock. Now, it was really more of a gang than a coven, but... we had plenty of desert-witches and small-town magic users, but most of us were just plain old human. Everyone learned a lil' bit of magic eventually, little incantations but nothing like big old fireballs thrown from our hands, more like charms and stuff of that sort. I still make a charm on occasion for luck and protection." Jesse paused a moment, tapping the metal decoration on his hat before continuing, "This thing's enchanted, actually. Gabi didn't believe a word of it, but-."

"Gabi?"

"Ah, yeah, my old boss. I think I mighta mentioned him once, actually."

"Oh, right, you called him 'a real mean old fucker' if I can recall."

"Yup, that's the one. Gabriel Reyes. You'd think someone that turned into a bat on occasion would put a little more faith in magic, but what the hell do I know. Anyway, back to Deadlock, I wasn't really as old as some of the others, shitty life led to shitty choices you know, but I was useful enough. Sharp aim, quick wit, pretty hand with protection spells, handsome as I'll get out-."

"I believe the story is muddling behind your ego, Jess," Hanzo chuckled, leaning into his side.

"Heh, alright, alright. I was good enough to get myself a name in the gang in any case, had myself a wanted poster before long, too. 'Course, it didn't have nearly the number of zeros it does now..."

"Modest."

"Always, sunshine," Jesse winked. "Anyway, someone eventually had the bright idea to summon a demon to get some more power, get the gang some more recognition, ask the thing to lend some power for... something. Hell, I don't remember anymore. That damn thing fed on memories, and all the time around it is just fuzzy. I didn't participate in the summoning, the thing killed just about anyone that did before coming on into the gang and doin' as it pleased after setting itself up as kingpin. Might've stuck around a year, maybe three? That was the worst of Deadlock, when that thing was in charge, greedy and hungry as hell. That's when Deadlock switched from robberies, muggings to kidnapping, ransoming, anything and everything that would help fill that sunnova bitch's stomach and pockets.

"People came and went fast through the gang then. Some of 'em died on jobs, but most of 'em lost enough memories to the demon that they were just gone. None of them were real nice folk, but they were nothing after the demon sucked them dry, left them husks of people, bleary-eyed and missing everything but a pulse. Empty.

"I had a friend, someone I might've called my first love if that demon hadn't come through when it did. Seein' them sitting there, idly spinning a revolver out of pure muscle memory and not recognizing me when I walked up, not knowing who I was or even who they were, not reacting to their own goddamn name-" Jesse took a breath, steadying the rapit beating of his heart and the anger that still flared in his chest from that day. He hooked a hand through his hair, staring at his feet through teary eyes. "It felt like they'd been erased, like everything we'd ever been through meant nothing, didn't happen, wasn't real even though I knew damn well it was."

Hanzo took McCree's knee in hand, squeezing gently to ground him again in the present. "What was their name?"

McCree smiled ruefully, shaking his head and snuffing out the cigar on his metallic wrist, "Heh, that's the fucking kicker, that. The demon took that, too. I don't know what it was. Might've started with a K, but I don't know."

"I would never ask you to continue this tale if it upsets you so. It is still raw, but if you don't mind my asking, how were you spared such a fate?"

"It'll always sting, but it's nice to be able to share if you'll believe that." Jesse took off his hat, playing with the brim as he continued, "The demon only took certain things. Preferred nice things, good, wholesome memories.

"I've got a memory of my mother. I'm not... I... she was..."

Hanzo extended his hand, carefully twining his fingers around Jesse's, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

"We were eating dinner, tacos, outside on the porch where we could look out over the horizon and watch the sun descend past it. I wasn't too old. Old enough to feed myself but not quite old enough to be neat about it yet. I dropped a taco right into my lap, damn thing spun and landed with all the fixin's face-down and got salsa all over me. Mama laughed so hard she smacked her face with hers and got salsa all over herself, too. I remember how hard my stomach hurt from laughing, where the salsa smeared over her lip and made it look like she had a mustache, how the song the radio was playing - a song I can still sing from memory - drifted out the window... but..." Jesse took a breath." Hanzo, I don't remember what her eyes look like. That demon went through every memory I ever had of her and wiped her beautiful eyes away.

"It was real picky, liked to see what it could take and make outta people when it took things. One of our best fighters, real big guy, died from a fight he should've won because the demon swiped some of the combat training he'd gotten with his dad. Best damn cook there was stated to burn everything because it took her abuela's teachings away. Worst part was, we couldn't tell if it took something from us, could always tell when it happened to someone else though. We only knew if it or someone else told us, but the damn thing loved to rub it in, liked to make us know how miserable it was making us.

"It only took good memories. It said something once about bad memories tasting like ash and cyanide.

"It's the demon that imprinted on me, if that wasn't clear. It was pickier about its favorites, and it took a real shine to me for whatever reason, carefully removed little bits and pieces and shaped me up how it wanted. It recognized a lotta people didn't really like me, and since it never touched sour memories, lots of people got stuck on hate and little else. I can't name all the poor bastards that tried to slit my throat in the middle of the night when the demon fished all the good out of them. I don't know why it didn't... why it didn't treat me like the others. It taught me things, put memories in my head that weren't mine, forced me to know what it feels like to put your mouth on a gushing artery and drink, what it feels like wh-" Jesse cut himself off, glancing to his companion before silencing. The words he had been about to say - when someone's tearing through your guts and chewing on your liver - tasted as bitter as the memory.

"When?" Hanzo pressed, disgustingly intrigued by the horrors Jesse described.

"I'd best not continue with that. If it's all the same to you."

"I... I am here for you, do not forget that," Hanzo murmured in lieu of an apology.

"I know, thank you. Now, this whole operation of the demon callin' the shots fell apart, nowhere soon enough mind you. It got reckless, started taking things people were gonna miss. People with money and power and the ability to do something about it. And that's where... no, wait, I was... I was cursed before that. Shit, I mixed the two up somehow. I'm sorry, I told you it's all fuzzy, guess it's jumbled too."

"You do not need to tell it as it happened, Jesse. If it is easier, tell it as you remember. Or do not tell it at all. It has stressed you enough for one day if you would prefer to leave it for now."

"No, I'm gonna tell you. I've just gotta get it straight, that's all. I'll get through this then talk about the other demon. If there's still time in the day."

Quietly, Hanzo clicked his tongue twice, pulling Belle from the bottom of the cuddle-pile she and the twins had formed. She hopped over to the men, making herself at home over their laps, presenting her stomach to not-so-subtly demand the worship she deserved. Always weak to her demands, Jesse dutifully began to scratch her stomach in that special spot that sent her tail a-wagging and her left hindleg a-jerking.

"When the demon got too big for its britches, someone called in a sort of supernatural defense force, government made up of supernaturals meant to deal with supernaturals: Blackwatch. All very hush-hush, not completely legal. They started breaking up little hideouts, flushin' Deadlock back to the main base, cuttin' off portions and hauling everyone they could off to jail while disposin' of those too far gone. Naturally, this royally pissed off the demon, and just prompted it to send off more people to get more troops. It used up too much energy, got hungry and started killing when it fed. Thing wasn't smart by any stretch.

"Now, none of us were really thralls, not under anything but the fear of it, and fear only grew when Blackwatch was around. The thing was sloppy, losing ground and losing people, and it didn't take long for Blackwatch to come knockin' at the main base. They came in with probably... I dunno, six people for the rest of us. None of us realized 'till they'd already dealt with the crew on the first floor.

"I was up on the third, right before the demon's office, put in charge of a whole group of people that were just room-temp if you catch my meaning.

"Gabriel came up to my floor, alone in a puff of smoke, two shotguns in his hands, just blastin' away. I was scared as hell, never'd seen something like him before, thought another demon had shown up and I was caught between the two of 'em. So I just returned fire, throwing off shots like my life depended on it because for all I knew, it did. Didn't land most of them because he was all ghostly incorporeal smoke for the most part, but then he materialized right in front of this kid named Annie -if I ain't mistaken- and he brought up a hand and just crushed her neck, watched how her eyes just barely glazed over 'cause there wasn't much left in her anyway. And I took the opportunity as it presented itself and fired." Jesse brought up a hand, mimicked the shape of a gun and made a little 'pchew' noise before dropping it to tap at his jaw, "Hit right in his ear. He flopped down, and I thought it was over, and then he was scrabbling on the floor and tearing at Annie's neck and his damn brain was on the ground but it crawled back to him when he pressed his mouth to her neck and-." Jesse cut himself off, coughing. "And then he vanished, and then he was in my face and I screamed and tried to shoot him again. And he took my gun away, half-eased half-pushed me down to the floor, said something into his comm, and started off for the demon, leaving me there, absolutely confused.

"And I, like the dumbass I am, floundered to my feet and followed him. He was going to shoot, but I opened up my fat mouth before he could level his shotgun with my chest, pointed him directly to the demon, warned him about some of the traps it'd set up. He didn't get why I was tellin' him, that I wanted it dead as much as - hell, more than - anybody. So Gabriel just laughed at me, told me thanks in his own way, and misted through the door.

"Prolly shoulda listened to me. The bastard set off the first trap as soon as he walked through the door, nearly got his head cut from his shoulders.

"Now, the demon was about as happy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It went absolutely ballistic, launched itself at Gabriel. It wasn't speaking, just garbling and screaming as it fought against him. I'm not really sure why, but I pulled the door open a bit to watch. Guess I wanted to see the demise of it, get some twisted relief when I could see it stop twitchin' for myself.

"Instead, I saw Gabriel wrestlin' with it, not really winning or losing but losing steam. The bullet I'd hit him with had taken its toll. The demon was fadin' too, but not as fast as Gabriel. And it kicked out, knocked loose something on Gabriel that spun across the ground to the door where I was. It was my gun, and I realized I could just pick it up and shoot. So I did, and it was like they knew it, too.

"They both looked at me, the demon all excited 'cause it thought I was going to help it out and shoot the vampire it was grappling with, Gabriel's eyes wide and a string of curses flyin's outta his mouth where he called himself an idiot... I'm never gonna forget how scared the demon looked when it noticed I was aiming for it.

"Gabriel just stood up after, all calm while the demon's body withered up, curled around itself and turned to ash. I was still holding the gun when the rest of his crew busted in. One of 'em tackled me. I got a scar from it, actually, where she ripped into my shoulder while holding me down..."

Gabriel stared down at the sight before him, one of his subordinates pressing a dirty teenager into the ground mere feet away from the disintegrating corpse of a demon. The kid howled, bucking against the soldier's hold even when it began to draw blood, cursing Gabriel, "¡Eres un pedazo de mierda!"

Gabriel laughed, crouching down next to the gangly, malnourished brat that wore too much leather and too many spikes, asked, "¿Como te llamas, chico?" Something was up with this kid, something that made him keep most of his good sense while under the rule of one of the worst mind-consumers Gabriel had ever seen, something that made him able to shoot Gabriel, that made the kid watch a scuffle between a demon and vampire and had him pick up his gun and fire instead of crawling up into a ball like the few other survivors Blackwatch had found, that actually made him hit home even while he was shaking. Gabriel was sure some of his subordinates didn't even have such fantastic aim to land a bullet in a demon's head.

The man reached out, examined a patch on the boy's jacket that indicated a higher rank in the gang. Most of the others Gabriel had seen were practically robots for all they could recall, everything but programmed to fulfill the demon's wishes. But not this one. Maybe the vampire could squeeze some answers out of the boy about this whole mess.

"¡Se ayudé!¡Se ayudé, su hijo de puta!" The boy spat, accusing Gabriel of betrayal, wriggling as best as he could beneath Private Elisa. He wasn't going anywhere.

Though none of his strike team were vampires like himself, Gabriel's crew was stronger than the brat, well-fed, well-rested, cared for in the way soldiers constantly sent on suicide missions were. The most the little shit was going to do was bruise himself. Eliza pressed his face into the floor, slurring his speech slightly against the concrete.

"Tranquilo, chico. No vamos duarte... más." Gabriel straightened up, picking up the revolver that had been thrown from the boy's reach. He stifled a laugh at the growl it pulled from the boy, turning his back to examine the weapon as he ordered Elisa, "Cuff him."

Elisa took a moment to find her cuffs - they weren't exactly standard-issue in this branch - and locked them none too gently around the boy's wrists. He practically hissed, "Let go of me! I wasn't going to hurt him, let me go dammit!"

"Shut the hell up!" Elisa snapped, hauling him to his feet.

Gabriel held back a grin, "Simmons, get the team ready for extraction. You five are done here."

Elisa raised a brow, gesturing to the boy that continued to growl in her grip, "What about the kid?" She asked, scowling as he struggled against her.

Gabriel blinked and cracked his knuckles. "Little shit shot me. I think we need a little time to talk."

"We'll send you the extraction time. You want us to call the local authorities to clean up this mess?" Simmons, a somewhat shorter fellow, asked, rubbing the butt of his gun with his glove to wipe away some blood.

"I'll handle it. Now get out."

"Yes, sir." Simmons led the way out, and Elisa roughly released the boy, keeping herself facing him until she was out the door. It slammed shut with a hollow bang.

The boy's shoulders slumped, and he wriggled his wrists, feeling the handcuffs dig into his skin. "Ya gonna bust me up now? Make yerself feel like a big, tough guy? Ya really need to do that to feel all high 'nd mighty when you're already head honcho?"

"You have quite the mouth on you," Gabriel muttered, stepping over what remained of the demon's corpse to stand in front of its chair. He stared at it a moment, wiped some weird goop off the seat, and sat himself down, reclining quite comfortably in the worn leather. He kicked his feet up onto the desk, "Now, I seem to remember asking you a question. What's your name, kid?"

The boy glared at him a moment longer, fingers curling into the cuffs on his wrists. He wasn't exactly accustomed to wearing them; though, he'd been in his fair share in the early days of Deadlock, before the demon. When it felt like people cared. But maybe it was just easier to get people outta jail than find new blood. He sighed, "McCree."

"First name?"

"Does it matter? Way you were talkin', don't seem like I'll be using it much longer."

"Answer the question."

"Jesse," the boy grunted like it was killing him, stepping forward to right a chair that had fallen during Gabe's tussle with the demon, sitting on it with his chest against the backrest. "And who the hell're you?"

"Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Commander. You're in some deep shit, Jesse."

"Spare me the lecture. What d'ya want? Y'ain't killed me yet, but y'don't seem like a real patient sort of fella either."

"I want to ask a few questions about this whole situation, about your demon and why you betrayed it."

Jesse scoffed, rolling his eyes before pressing further into his chair, "Psh, alright, fine. Can't promise anything, but go on 'nd shoot."

"Why is that?"

"Thing-" Jesse kicked at the ashes "-are memories. Everything went fuzzy after it showed up. Not so much for me, but plenty enough for all my compadres out there. You saw how much was left of them after the demon had its way with 'em."

Gabriel had seen, first hand, but that didn't clear up a damn thing. "What makes you any different?"

Jesse shrugged, "Guess you vampires ain't real sensitive to magic, huh?"

"Depends."

Jesse hummed, stretching his legs out in front of himself, "Now I ain't about to say this like I'm proud of it or nothin', but I was its favorite. And I reckon that's on account of my being cursed."

"Cursed," Gabriel echoed, thoroughly intrigued. Now that he was paying attention, he did recognize the acrid air that seem to twist around the boy, the thick and suffocating aura that came with dark magics. It was slight, no doubt intentionally masked, but present still. "You've got a masking spell at work. Not of the demon, then."

Jesse shrugged again, bringing his hands around and spinning the cuffs around a finger while the opposite hand tucked the lockpick back into the slit of his belt where it belonged, He tossed the cuffs to the desk between them and fiddled with a ring of twine around his finger, "Nah, that was me. Just a charm, really, but I guess it's all the same."

Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to even pretend to be angry. He sat up, resting his clasped hands on the desk after retrieving Elisa's cuffs. "You hungry, kid?"

"Guess I could eat. Why?"

"There was a diner a ways down the road. I don't have the best memory on an empty stomach. Do you?"

"Nah, don't s'pose I do... y'know, they have the best chocolate milkshakes?"

"Do they?"

"Yeah."

"Well, c'mon then. ETA's thirty minutes." Gabriel led the way out of the warehouse, politely keeping his mouth shut when Jesse lingered a moment to spit on the demon's corpse and collect his meager belongings.

He did let Jesse throw the lighter that sent the place up in flames, though. That seemed to cheer him up a bit.

"And that seems to be about all there is to it," Jesse murmured, rubbing circles against Belle's jaw as the wolf grumbled, content.

Hanzo wordlessly reached over to curl his arms around Jesse's shoulders, rolling the wolf off their laps to land in the dirt with a confused borf. He pressed his face into Jesse's neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to hold him close.

Jesse smiled, returning the gesture and murmuring into Hanzo's hair, "Love you, too."

"Does it hurt?" Jesse asked suddenly, too quickly for Hanzo to comprehend focused as he was smoothing a small amount of oil along the length of his bow.

"Hmm?" Hanzo looked up from his task, wiping his slippery fingers on a spare rag before closing the container and pointing to the string that sat by Jesse in the shade, narrowly catching Jesse's eyes lingering where his pack lazed in the shade of a tree, gnawing upon the bones of what was once a sickly fawn.

Jesse handed the string over, returning his gaze to Peacekeeper where she lay in his lap, rubbing a cloth against her barrel to buff out an unseen spot of dirt. "Changing. Going canine. Does it hurt?"

He twisted the string between his fingers for a moment, quiet as he measured the length necessary to restring Stormbow, remembered the deep ache in his bones from constantly shifting between forms. He opened his mouth and lied, "Once, when I was young. Every time it was agony. I am unsure if I have grown numb or accustomed to it. I am unsure which is worse."

"Oh, that's... that's good."

Hanzo raised a brow, confused, "Good?"

"That is doesn't hurt you anymore, at least." Jesse shrugged, spinning Peacekeeper in his hand before resting her back in her holster. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Just don't like the thought of you hurting yourself every time you wanna run with your wolves or switch back to livin' on two legs."

Smiling gently, Hanzo rubbed a bit of wax into his bow string and stood, grabbing both his quiver and Jesse's hand, "Come."

"Hey, hold up now!" Jesse snatched his hat from the stone he'd been sitting on, plopping it on his head before matching Hanzo's hurried pace. "Where're you taking me?"

"Someplace where you won't think so hard."

"Wha-? Now I was just-!"

"Being far too sweet for your own good," he finished for the other man, "You do know of my sweet-tooth, do you not?"

"Sweetheart, I don't think there's a soul on this mountain that doesn't know of your boundless appetite for all things saccharine. Think I'd die a happy man if you'd devour me, though."

Hanzo sputtered, turning away from Jesse nowhere near fast enough to hide the flush on his cheeks. It only worsened with Jesse's hearty laughter. Growling, Hanzo promptly pivoted on his heel, pressing a kiss to Jesse's cheek and murmuring, "Later," to shut him up.

"Sir, yes sir," Jesse chuckled, following Hanzo until the elder stopped in a clearing he didn't recognize. Not that he'd really explored the forest much after winter passed; there'd been no need. He only needed to follow the paths he'd worn from his cabin to Hanzo's cave, the river, and the main road. There was no need to wander and get himself lost in the brush, not now when everyone in town knew him, when he didn't need to hide from them.

It wasn't a wide clearing, but it was long, intentionally so as if someone had fell the trees into an oblong shape. Where the two stood, it was shaded, would be for the majority of the day, but the other end of the area stood fully in the sun, nary a shadow cast over it.

"Wait just a moment," Hanzo spoke, pressing his hand against Jesse's chest to make him stay before disappearing into the woods at the opposite side of the clearing.

Jesse huffed, looking over his shoulder to see someone'd followed them into the clearing. "Hey, Billy. What're you up to?"

The elderly wolf growled at Jesse's question, convincing the man to refrain from offering to scratch the mangy thing in that one spot on his back that just sent his rear leg wild, and wobbled to a thick patch of grass in the shade before plopping down.

"Stubborn old man," Jesse grumbled.

"What did you call me?" Hanzo asked playfully, hauling something into the sunny area and affixing it to a sturdy but bare sapling. He adjusted the rope around the straw amalgamation, carefully pressing what looked like some sort of goggles back into place in its head and straightening out its overalls.

"I was talking to Mr. Kid over here." Jesse threw his thumb behind himself, pointing out the wolf where he lay, legs kicked up in the air where he'd fallen asleep in a pretzel-eque shape.

"Of course you were," Hanzo joked drily, making his way back to Jesse's side.

"Now, take no offense to this, but what the hell is that thing you just tied up to that tree?"

"My target?"

"Don't tell me you made that thing."

"Oh, please. It washed up on the beach three summers ago, and my friend beseeched me to rid her of its hideous appearance on her property. It's shaped enough like a human to be an adequate target, and the straw refuses to decay for whatever reason," Hanzo added under his breath, taking his bow from where it rested on his back and testing the draw.

"Uh-huh... Creepy as hell, whatever it is," Jesse muttered, squinting at the thing from where he stood behind and to the left of the archer. (Best not to be directly behind anyone firing a weapon in his experience,)

"Absolutely. Reeks of explosions and rust," Hanzo mused, nocking an arrow and drawing back the string of his bow.

"Certainly looks like it just made its way out of a fire."

Hanzo laughed and released the arrow. It flew true, impaling the target through the chest. Pleased with his weapon, Hanzo handed it over to Jesse and ushered the taller man into the space he just occupied.

"The draw may be a bit more than you are accustomed, but you will adjust to it. Spread your legs a bit more, stand straight, take a deep breath and-."

Jesse loosed the arrow before Hanzo could finish, sending it spiraling through the air to lodge deep in the target's stomach and scratch against the sapling supporting it.

"You have done this before, then?" Hanzo, amused, teased, retreating to Billy's side to watch while petting the wolf.

Jesse was silent, testing the bow with another shot that went wide to understand its particular nature before nocking a third arrow and speaking with the string drawn to his cheek, "Mama McCree knew a thing or two about this. Best archer I've ever seen. Absolutely terrifying on horseback, I tell you what." His fingertips slid free of the string, and the arrow flew into the target's neck with enough force to shake it and the sapling.

"I have never had the opportunity to shoot from horseback. She must have been a fantastic marksman."

"Oh, phenomenal. Mounted archery's a whole different beast, having to account for the horse below you, worrying about leading the damn thing in the right direction and shooting straight. I'd prefer my six-shooter, but in a pinch I know my way around a bow." Jesse flinched when his next arrow landed next to Hanzo's where a heart would be in a living being. He swore he heard a whine, but it must have been the bowstring.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, "I never thought I would see the day. You? Humble?"

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. I'm just saying that 'cuz I'm standing here with Robin Hood behind me."

"Oh, believe me, he cannot hold a candle to my skill." Hanzo stood with a groan, clicking his tongue to encourage Billy to follow suit. "I'll get supper started. I trust you to collect the arrows."

"You do that. Maybe next time you can have a go at it with Peacekeeper?"

"I look forward to it." Hanzo pressed forward to kiss Jesse quickly before walking off with Billy back toward their home, leaving Jesse to gather the arrows and put that target wherever it was supposed to be.

Jesse picked his way over the clearing to the thing's side, whistling as he set about easing the arrows out of the burlap.

He stopped abruptly when the thing released a noise like an age-old crypt door easing open for the thick, acrid stench of death and decay to flood out. Pausing, Jesse gave the thing a thorough look-over, but he was unable to see anything damning the thing to any supernatural origin. He steeled himself and peered into its thick goggles.

He wasn't sure if he imagined that sentient orange flicker where an eye would be, but he wasn't sticking around long enough to find out. He wrenched the last arrow out of the thing's stomach and hauled ass out of the clearing, pretending that impish laughter taunting him as he ran was just the wind whistling past his ears.

#My writing #mchanzo #long post #fanfic

19 notes · View notes

williamlwolf89 · 4 years

Text

How to Write Comments That Stand Out (for the Right Reasons)

Blog comments are a relic from a bygone era.

That’s the word on the street, isn’t it?

In its heyday, a blog comment was powerful. Write good comments and they could land you on the radar of a popular blogger — the kind of super-connected influencer who could accelerate your success.

But that was then, right?

Today, readers have turned to Facebook and Instagram for their commenting fix. Spammers and trolls have taken over. And, as a result, some blog owners have done what would’ve once been unthinkable: turned off their comments.

So, game over. Blog comments are dead. Stick a fork in them.

Right?

Not so fast.

In 2020, it’s Easier Than Ever to Write Good Comments People Will Notice

Smart bloggers see opportunities where others do not.

Here’s the truth:

Because so many have dismissed blog commenting as an outreach strategy, there’s virtually no competition.

On social media, you’re competing against thousands of followers all vying for the influencer’s attention. Inside inboxes, you’re competing against the dozens or even hundreds of emails they receive every single day.

But in the comments section, you’re competing against crickets and tumbleweeds. And the handful of comments that do exist tend to…

Well, they tend to suck.

And that’s a shame because blog comments are still powerful. They can still land you on the radars of popular bloggers and influencers.

If — and this is the catch — you write high-quality, genuinely-good comments worth noticing.

Unfortunately, this is the part that trips up many bloggers. Nobody taught them how to comment on blogs the right way. Heck, they aren’t even sure what good comments look like.

As a result, many well-intentioned bloggers who still believe in the power of commenting are spending their precious time writing comments they think are great.

In reality?

Their comments probably suck.

Here’s why that’s a problem:

Clumsy Commenters Make Terrible First Dates

Blog commenting is a lot like dating.

You’re trying to woo another person, right?

With dating, you’re trying to woo someone into becoming Mr. or Mrs. Whatever Your Name Is.

With blog commenting, you’re trying to woo the owner of a blog.

You want them to notice you. You want them to reply to your comment. Secretly, you want them to visit and comment on your blog, follow you on social media, and ultimately become your best friend forever.

But is that possible if your comments suck?

Sure, it’s possible…

It’s also possible to stumble into marriage, kids, and a house with a white picket fence even if you turn up to your first date with a mustard stain on your shirt and spinach in your teeth.

But just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s likely.

Free Training: The 31 Most PROFITABLE Niches for Bloggers in 2020

That’s why it’s time to improve your commenting game.

To help you do that, I’m going to share with you the anatomy of a good comment. It’s my tried-and-true template you can follow to craft memorable comments that will get noticed.

Even better: you can apply many of these tips to Facebook comments, Instagram comments, outreach emails, and more.

Let’s dive in.

First, we’ll look at a few rookie mistakes that are sabotaging your blog comments. Avoid these and you’ll be ahead of 90% of the bloggers out there:

The Common Mistakes That Make Blog Comments Suck

Mistake #1: Using a Novelty (or Non-Existent) Gravatar Image

You wouldn’t show up to a first date wearing a disguise, would you? Or wearing a plain paper bag over your head?

So why would you choose an image of Grumpy Cat or Ron Burgundy to represent you in blog comments? Or settle for the faceless silhouette that screams generic nobody?

Instead, let people see the real you.

They will be far more likely to feel a connection with you if they can see your face.

Besides, you know you’re sexy. Show us that smile!

Tip: If your carefully-crafted message is somehow flagged as spammy and held in purgatory (aka comment moderation), a gravatar increases the chances the blog owner will approve your new comment.

Mistake #2: Using a Fake Name (or “Fun” Nickname)

Among your friends and family, you can go by Lil’ Bit, DJ Roomba, Superfly, House of Shane, or any other nickname you choose.

But unless you’re a spy, or in witness protection, you should use your real name on a first date. (Unless, of course, it’s a blind date and Gary Busey sits down at your table.)

The same is true in blog commenting.

Bloggers, just like dates, want to know who’s trying to woo them. And someone who hides behind a pseudonym likely isn’t a long-term prospect.

Mistake #3: Dumping Links in Your Comments

Want WordPress, Disqus, and other commenting systems to know you’re not writing spam comments? Refrain from embedding links in your comments.

Imagine you’re on a date and, halfway through, your date suddenly asks if you have life insurance.

You try to wave it off, but they begin discussing rates and policies with you.

“Oh no,” you think to yourself. “This isn’t a date … this is a sale’s pitch!”

If you embed links in your comments, bloggers are likely to react similarly. It comes across as a cheap attempt to peddle your lemonade on their lawn.

And usually it won’t matter how insightful your fancy words are or how relevant your link may be; the blogger will feel an irresistible urge to kick you off their property.

Mistake #4: Failing to Read the Post Before Commenting

Ever been on a date with someone from Match or eHarmony who didn’t bother to read your profile?

“Do you have any hobbies?” they’ll ask despite your profile’s thousand-word tribute to paper mache. “Fancy a juicy steak?” they’ll suggest despite your publicly stated veganism.

It’s the same with blog commenting. Yes, you’re busy. Yes, reading a post thoroughly before commenting takes time.

Know what else takes time? Getting your foot out of your mouth.

When you comment on a post after skimming it or — worse — not reading it at all, you greatly increase the chances you’ll say something silly.

Mistake #5: Droning On and On (and On)

Some people like the sound of their own voice. Ask them what music they like, and they’ll take you on a 12-minute journey into the minutiae of John Mayer’s latest album.

One-sided conversations on a date aren’t much fun and neither are blog comments that last forever and a day.

A long-winded blog comment, by its very length, defends itself against the risk of being read.Click To Tweet

Many of the best comments are on the longer side, but be careful not to confuse quantity with quality.

A 500-word comment isn’t better than a 100-word comment. It’s usually just five times longer.

(And probably five times more boring.)

Mistake #6: Repeating What the Post Just Said

Ever had a date where the other person repeated everything you said?

You love Kevin Costner movies? So do they.

You adore Mexican food? Yep, them too.

You hate Mondays? They hate Mondays.

I call this kind of parroting a (re)Pete Comment.

It doesn’t add to the conversation. It doesn’t ask questions. And it doesn’t challenge an idea.

It simply repeats what was said in the post.

Summarizing to a point is fine, but your comment needs to be more than the CliffsNotes version of the post you just read.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

The 4 Elements of a Good Blog Comment (Plus: Lots of Examples)

The Friendly Greeting

The Sincere Compliment

The Added Value

The Parting Promise

Now that I’ve inoculated you against writing comments that truly suck, let’s look at the structure of a comment that stands out for all the right reasons.

How do the best comments begin? How do they end? What’s the stuff that goes in the middle?

Here are the essential parts, from top to bottom.

Part #1: The Friendly Greeting

The first thing I look for is personalization. This is so easy, all it takes is to just include the name of the author.Adam Connell

Let’s go back to our dating analogy…

You meet your handsome guy or beautiful gal at a restaurant for your first date. Could they be the one? They don’t look crazy or anything.

Hopeful, you take a deep breath, smile, and say hi.

But instead of greeting you or even acknowledging you, your date just starts talking.

No preamble — they launch right into talking about their day.

Did you know they have a co-worker named Mr. Buttons? Did you know they have a peanut allergy?

You do now.

Memorable date? I suppose.

A date you would like to get to know better? Definitely not.

And yet, every day, thousands of comments are written that do not bother to acknowledge the post’s author in any way, shape, or form.

Do they think robots wrote the post instead of a human being? Do they believe greetings are an outdated ritual? Or are they simply too lazy to scroll back to the top to find the author’s name?

If you’re hoping to catch the attention of bloggers and strike up a relationship, a healthy dose of proper etiquette can go a long way.

So say hello to them.

Greet them.

Refer to them by name.

How To Do It

This one’s so simple, it shouldn’t need an explanation. But here’s how to do it anyway.

Scroll back to the top of the post and find the author’s name. If you are prone to misspellings, copy the name so you can paste it into your comment.

Then say hello. Or hi. Or howdy, if you’re feeling folksy.

You’ll only spend a few seconds to get your comment started on the right foot.

It’s time well spent.

Part #2: The Sincere Compliment

It’s a nice confirmation when an author’s work is validated, and they can see the fruit of their labor.Carol Amato

You meet your date for the first time.

“Wow! I love your outfit,” you might say.

Or, “I really like your car.”

Or even, “Your SpongeBob tattoo is awesome!”

The details are different each time, but the act is the same. When you’re on a date, you pay the other person a compliment. It’s what you do in civilized societies.

Once again, blog commenting isn’t any different.

Remember, you’ve chosen to be on this person’s blog, not someone else’s. You’ve chosen to read their post instead of another. You must have a reason to want to connect with them over any of the other million bloggers you could be trying to connect with at that moment.

Chances are, you like them. You value them. You respect them.

So pay them a compliment…

Tell them how much you enjoyed their great article…

Make their day…

In short, pay them a compliment. Any compliment. Just make sure it’s a sincere compliment.

How To Do It

You can focus on the blogger, the post itself, or a combination of the two.

Are you a fan of the blogger’s body of work? Tell them so. Say how much you enjoy their writing.

Even better? Tell them about a specific example where their writing has helped you.

If you choose to focus on the post itself, talk about a particular point within the post that truly hit home for you.

Did it change your outlook on a topic? Or maybe it motivated you to go out and take action? Did it rock your world?

Tell them so.

Note: In order to sound sincere, refrain from heaping too much praise onto the bloggers themselves. A little praise can go a long way. For this reason, it’s often best to focus on the post rather than the blogger.

(Plus, you don’t want to come across as a creepy stalker.)

Part #3: The Added Value

My favorite comments add extra value to a post. Perhaps they add a personal experience, a different perspective or a new question.Henneke Duistermaat

Now we’re into the meat of what makes a good comment good.

Greeting the author and paying a compliment are nice, but no one cares how good the appetizers are if the main course is a BLT sandwich with no bacon.

Your goal in every comment should be to add value. If your comment doesn’t add value, it’s wasting everyone’s time.

Of course, adding value has become one of those overused and meaningless phrases in the blogging world. Like Sriracha sauce, people tend to throw it around and use it for everything.

What does it actually mean?

In this context, it means doing something that makes you appear valuable — useful, insightful, entertaining, or interesting — to the blogger you’re aiming to woo.

In other words, anything that establishes you as a person worth knowing and helps develop a personal relationship.

You do that by making a positive impression and then building upon it.

Here’s how:

Value Tactic #1: Share Personal Insights or Anecdotes

Did a particular point in the post hit home for you? Did you find something particularly relatable? Or did the post bring up an area in which you’re struggling?

When you share a personal insight, bloggers can more easily relate to you. You’re no longer just an unfamiliar name making a comment that could have been left by anyone…

You’re a blogger with a story!

How To Do It

Don’t worry about channeling Herman Melville; remember, good comments don’t have to be long to be effective.

Amanda Formaro demonstrates this perfectly in her succinct comment about email subscribers.

In the same discussion, Jenn establishes a connection by sharing her struggles.

Don Purdum, meanwhile, enhances the post by sharing the details of a conversation he’d had just days earlier.

The number of ways you can share insights and examples are myriad. But the more personal your insight, the more unique it will be.

And the more unique your insight, the more memorable your comment will be and the more you’ll stand out.

Value Tactic #2: Ask Thoughtful Questions

Was an idea presented in the post that you didn’t fully understand? Maybe you want the author to expand on a certain point?

Asking thoughtful questions is an excellent way to build relationships because it starts a one-on-one conversation with the blogger.

You ask them a question; they answer. It’s pure, simple, poetry in motion. And it’s a great way to introduce yourself to bloggers you enjoy.

How To Do It

Andrew Warner went the inquiry route after reading Andrianes Pinantoan’s blog traffic case study:

Pooja, an excellent writer in her own right, did the same after reading Glen Long’s post on crystal clear writing:

And Gertrude Nonterah, after reading my post on blogging milestones, took the opportunity to ask a question that had been weighing on her:

Sometimes for brevity’s sake, an author won’t fully flesh out a detail in his or her blog post.

So if the article contained a detail you want expanded upon, don’t be afraid to comment and ask.

Value Tactic #3: Contribute To The Discussion

If you want the attention of influencers and blog owners, your comment should add to the conversation.Sue Anne Dunlevie

Were 581 sensory words presented in the post, but you know a good one for #582? Want to flesh out a point discussed in a post about landing freelance writing jobs? How about a detail that wasn’t covered at all?

If your comments enhance the overall value of the post, few bloggers will fail to see the benefit of your contribution. Sometimes they’ll even update their post in light of your comment — which is a major validation of your ideas.

When you write a good comment that adds to the discussion, it often has a domino effect. Others will respond to your comment, which will fuel even more comments.

The result is more people reading and discussing the blogger’s work, which means a higher comment count.

Bloggers love that — and they love the commenters who help make that happen.

How To Do It

A great example of this is the following comment Anne R. Allen left Brian Dean in his blogger outreach post here at Smart Blogger:

Another is the comment Harleena Singh left Will Blunt:

And one of the best examples you’ll ever see is the comment Matthew Harding left on Smart Blogger’s post on blogging milestones. Here is a snippet:

When you add value with a good comment, you’re investing in the blog post.

Bloggers love that. They appreciate it…

They learn from it…

And they remember it.

Part #4: The Parting Promise

I love it when commenters tell me they’ve shared or will share my work. The ideal comment would come from someone who both tells me they’re going to share, and then remembers to tag me when they do.Brittany Bullen

After a successful first date, each person is usually looking for a clue the other enjoyed themselves and a second date is in the cards.

That clue could be a lingering smile. It could be a casual remark about not having any plans the following Saturday. Or it could be the other person actually saying the words, “I enjoyed myself and would like to see you again.”

Whatever form it takes, it sends a message: this date was not just a one-off.

And when wooing a popular blogger, you’d be smart to let them know you’re interested in a longer-term relationship.

That’s why the best comments make a promise at the end. They tell bloggers, “Hey… I enjoyed this so much I want to keep the party going!”

How To Do It

One great way to make a promise is to tell the author you’re going to share the post on your favorite social media platform…

Tell them they’ve written such a good post you have no choice BUT to share it…

Or channel your inner Arnold Schwarzenegger and tell them, “I’ll be back” (to read more of your content)…

But whatever promise you make, be sure to keep it.

Tweet the post like you said you would. Read the blogger’s other posts, and leave more comments. In other words, do exactly what you said you would do.

And when you share the post on your favorite social media platform, be sure to tag the blogger — let them know you followed through…

And if the bloggers are anything like Will Hoekenga, they’ll notice and express their gratitude…

Examples of Blog Comments that Kicked Butt (and The Extra Ingredient They All Share)

So what does a good comment that has each of these elements look like?

It looks a lot like this comment from Adrienne Smith:

And it looks a lot like this comment from Ayodeji Awosika:

Source: How to Make Money Writing: 5 Ways to Get Paid to Write

Adrienne’s and Ayodeji’s comments start with greetings, go straight to compliments, add value, and end on promises.

But beyond that, they add an additional element present in most good comments…

Personality.

Any robot can start a comment with a greeting and end it with a promise.

But for a comment to take the next step, for a comment to get noticed by the blog’s owner or editor, you have to let “you” shine through.

As my friend Jaime Buckley once told me:

“Unless you’re engaging, my eyes will glaze over. We all have a personality, but do you use it? Does it come out in your comments?”

Jaime should know. He’s an expert at letting his personality shine through in his comments:

Source: The 5 Best Free Blogging Platforms

Jaime writes his comments the way he might write an email to a friend.

It’s refreshing and it’s an excellent way to get noticed.

The Rich Rewards That Flow from Carefully Crafted Comments

You may be wondering at this point…

Is it worth it?

Is it worth putting all this time and thought into blog comments?

It was worth it for me.

Years ago, I left the following comment on a post published on this very website, Smart Blogger:

I greeted the author by name, complimented his work, added value, and promised to share his post on the now-defunct Google Plus.

A week later, after Smart Blogger published a new post, I left another comment:

Another greeting, another compliment, another piece of added value, and another promise.

The next week, I did it again:

And again the next week. And the next. Over and over, again and again.

Each week, week after week, I visited Smart Blogger, read their latest masterpiece, and left them a good comment.

Smart Blogger’s editor at the time, Glen Long, took notice:

A few months later, Glen invited me to become a guest writer:

This invitation led to my first post for Smart Blogger…

…which led to several more.

Fast forward a few years and Jon Morrow, the company’s CEO, invited me to join Smart Blogger as its Editor-in-Chief.

Today, I run the blog I admired and followed for so many years. I get to work for and alongside my mentors, Jon and Glen. I get to fulfill my dream of quitting the rat race and blogging full-time.

And I have comments to thank for setting the wheels in motion:

Your mileage can and will vary.

But if you need proof blog commenting can lead to wonderful things, look no further.

Let’s Find Out Where Good Comments Can Take You

It won’t happen overnight. And, clearly, good comments alone won’t catapult you to world domination.

But they’re an effective, often-overlooked component — especially now that so many bloggers think they’ve gone the way of the dodo.

In a sea of sameness, good comments with personality stand out like Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels at a charity gala for the preservation of the endangered Icelandic snow owl.

They’re capable of getting influential bloggers to sit up, take notice, and ask themselves: “Who is that?”

So, are you ready for a new era of smarter commenting?

Are you ready to discover where good comments can take you?

Then let’s do this thing.

Note: For a handy visual reminder of the four-part formula you can download or share on your own website, check out the image below:

Embed This Infographic On Your Site:

<!—– Copy and Paste This Code Into Your Post —-><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/blog-comments/”><img src=”https://smartblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/blog-comments-infographic.png” alt=”How to Write Comments That Stand Out (for the Right Reasons) from SmartBlogger.com” width=”700 px” class=”noa3lazy”/></a><br /><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/blog-comments/”>How to Write Comments That Stand Out (for the Right Reasons) from SmartBlogger.com</a>

The post How to Write Comments That Stand Out (for the Right Reasons) appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from SEO and SM Tips https://smartblogger.com/blog-comments/

0 notes

kittykat-creations · 7 years

Text

Grandpa Fiddleford AU

"But Pa-!"

"No buts," Tate grunted, clicking his suitcase shut. "I don' want the two'a y'all to stay here alone all summer."

"We'll be fine!" Dipper protested. "Why do we have'ta spend the summer with our grandpa? We barely know him!"

"Dipper, I ain't arguin' 'bout this no more," Tate responded. "Now go finish packin'."

Dipper pouted and left the room, making his way to his and his sister's shared room. He flopped down on his bed, kicking at a pile of dirty clothes.

"What's wron', Dipstick?" Mabel asked, currently covering her suitcase in glitter glue designs.

"Oh, nothin'. Just that we have ta uproot our lives to spend the summer in some crummy cabin in the woods with our grandpa that we barely know."

"Aw, Ah'm sure it won' be that bad!" Mabel gigged. Dipper sighed and finished shoving his things in his bag, glaring at Mabel when she approached it with a tube of glitter glue.

"Alright, alright!" Mabel backed off, tossing the tube into her bag, likely spilling its contents all over her stuff. "All ready ta go!"

She skipped out to the car, followed slowly by her twin. They fit their bags into the trunk and climbed into the backseat, buckling in their seat belts. Their parents sat up front and did the same before Tate drove off.

It was a short ride to the cabin in the woods. Once the car pulled to a stop, the twins grabbed their bags and went up to the front door with their dad. The cabin looked so old that Dipper began to hope that maybe there would be a ghost or two.

Tate knocked on the door and it was answered by his dad.

"Oh, howdy Tate," Fiddleford smiled.

"Hey Pa," Tate greeted. "Here are the twins."

"Howdy lil' ones," Fiddleford grinned at the twins.

"Hi!" Mabel waved excitedly and pulled a giant sweater out of her bag. "Ah made ya a sweater! Ah didn' know what size ya were, so Ah made it extra big!"

"Oh!" Fiddleford giggled and took the sweater. "Thank ya, little lady. You must be Mabel."

"Ah sure am!" Mabel beamed. "An' this is my nerdy brother, Dipper!"

She wrapped an arm around her twin, pulling him to her side. He smiled sheepishly and waved slightly.

"Well come on in, you two," Fiddleford moved inside to let them enter the house. They did so and he turned back to Tate. "Don' worry Tate, they'll be perfectly safe. Bella's been super excited fer them ta spend the summer."

"Thanks fer watchin' them, Pa," Tate nodded.

"Ain't a problem," Fiddleford waved it off. "Hope y'all have fun."

"You too," Tate replied, walking back to the car and driving off. "Tell Aunt Bella I say hi!"

Fiddleford closed and locked the front door before following the twins into the living room. They were looking around and the small machines and piles of mechanic parts that filled the room.

"Did you build all this?" Dipper asked.

"Sure did!" Fiddleford smiled proudly, showing off a golden tooth.

"Woah..." The younger twin looked around in awe.

"So who's Bella?" Mabel asked. "Is she yer sister?"

"Mm, close," Fiddleford chuckled. "She's been ma best frien' since we were youngin's. She out book shoppin' right now, but she should be back soon. But until then, why don' y'all get settled in? Ah have yer room in the attic all set up."

Mabel cheered and pulled Dipper with her up the stairs to the attic, where they found a pair of twin-sized beds on either side of the room.

"I call the one on the right!" Mabel shouted, tossing her bag on said bed. Dipper looked around the room as he walked over to his bed, which was already occupied. He jumped backwards.

"An' there's a raccoon on my bed," he spoke. The raccoon woke up, chittered, and jumped off the bed, leaving the room. "...is that supposed to be here?"

"Ah dunno," Mabel shrugged, taping posters to the wall. "Ask Grandpa."

A few minutes later, Fiddleford appeared in the doorway. He was wearing the sweater Mabel had made him. The sleeves were rolled up multiple times and overall it looked way too big for the man.

"Y'all settlin' in alright?" He asked.

"Yep!" Mabel grinned. "Check out my splinters!" She showed off her splinter-filled hands, then eyed the sweater. "Hm, that really is big. Ah can make another one!"

"Oh, it ain't necessary-"

"A'course it is!" Mabel waved him off. "An' it's a pleasure!"

"Er- Grandpa?" Dipper spoke up. "There was a raccoon up here-"

"Oh yeah, that's Rebecca," Fiddleford smiled. "She's ma pet."

"...you have a pet raccoon?" Dipper asked, confused.

"Why does everyone think it's so strange?" Fiddleford asked, setting his hands on his hips. "Really!"

Dipper was about to speak, but closed his mouth and shook his head. From downstairs they heard the front door open and close.

"Fidds! Where are ya?! I hit a jackpot!"

"In the attic!" Fiddleford called back. "The twins're here!"

"Oh!" The voice yelled. The sound of two bags hitting the floor was followed by excited footsteps. A woman that looked to be the same age as Fiddleford appeared and gasped. "Hi! Aw, Ah missed yer arrival. Damn it."

"Bella, no swearin' 'round the kidlets," Fiddleford scolded.

The lady grimaced.

"Fine," she huffed and smiled at the twins. "Hi. I'm yer... what's a grandparent's sibling called?"

"Great aunt?" Dipper supplied.

"Yes! That's it," the woman nodded. "Great Aunt Bella. And yer... I can' remember names very well."

"Ah'm Mabel, an' this is Dipper!" Mabel introduced.

"Ok! I... will try to remember," Bella giggled.

"Aw, Ah wish Ah had known ta make ya a sweater!" Mabel pouted. "I'll do yers first!"

"She made me one," Fiddleford chuckled, showing off his oversized sweater. Bella looked at it and laughed.

"While Ah've always thought that oversized sweaters look cute on ya Fidds, that one... doesn'," she said. She looked at Mabel. "No offence."

"Nah, I agree," Mabel shrugged.

"Well y'all get finished unpackin' an' then we'll have some lunch," Fiddleford said, leaving with Bella.

"This summer is gonna be awesome, Ah can tell," Mabel beamed happily.

#gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #dipper pines #mabel pines #except not really #tate mcgucket #bella mccreary #grandpa fiddleford au

2 notes · View notes

wasabi-duck · 7 years

Text

reverse idol jungkook

i always write for jungkook and yoongi but lmao i like writing for them the best so here we go…

anyway im offended nobody wants to talk about the ketchup song, i bet jungkook wouldn’t play me like that

okay so this is a reverse idol au wow

which means that you’re an idol, wow, surprise

i think for all of them it would be fun to do different kind of groups but idk for this one im going with the flow

im debating whether to make everyone in a kpop group because i mean most of us probably don’t live in korea so like…

you’re in a pop group though, we can start there!! your group isn’t like super popular, but you just released a single that topped a lot of charts and so now you’re getting a lot of positive attention and a wave of new fans!!

jungkook has been a fan from the beginning though wow surprise…

he was probably the fan that got hooked back in the predebut days (so are you kpop??) and he was the one that made shitty gifs on his moms desktop and uploaded the to the good old tumblr

from the beginning you were his fave tho like there is no denying that

you had a certain charm about you, and you always seemed so pure and innocent and you always were so open with your other members

like throughout all your mini video diary updates, you were always the one making sure everyone in the group got adequate speaking time and got to talk!!

and you’re always helping the other members when they’re struggling with a dance move or with some lyrics, like it’s so obvious that you’re the one who makes sure the rest of your members feel comfortable with what they’re doing??

yah that’s you and wow jungkook has the hots for you

just like my dad thinks winwin is hotter than flames smh

your group at this point, maybe like, you’re just coming up to your year mark??

and jungkook has been loyal all 365 days of this year and he’s like

he makes a cake??

he like makes this cake and it looks awful and later yoongi chokes on it and has to go to patient first lmao yikes

but like he gets so excited about you guys hitting your year anniversary that he bakes this cake with lots of icing and twenty times more sprinkles than that right??

and he puts like happy 1 year in really crappy writing on the top with some icing and he puts whip cream on too it looks wild to say the least

and then he puts some candles on for like the birthday of your group wow

not like i do that or anything when my bias has a birthday,,, haha,,,

okay but he uploads a picture of the cake to twitter and tags you guys or whatever idk how twitter works, im stupid

but like a lot of other fans start retweeting it or something because while comical, the gesture is really cute and sweet and kind of touching??

jung-

when did i stop saying jeongguk did i say this already

anyway jungkook gets all flushed because wow there are a lot of people talking about his cake

and guess what guys

guess what the heck what

you of all people retweet the tweet and you add a comment like “omg this is the cutest thing, thank you so much sweetheart!!”

and jungkook checks his twitter

and he just kinda

he screams and he kinda doesn’t mean to but he throws his phone and he’s shrieking and his mom comes down like boy i will beat you with a candle if you don’t shut up and his brother records his meltdown

he calls jimin and tae and the three of them scream and cry together omg like tae and jimin are the hypemen while jungkook has a come apart

he probably is one of those people that walks when he’s excited so he’s on the phone doing laps around the house and his lil puppy is trailing along all excitedly

after three hours of talking to the boys (i remember when i used to talk on the phone for three hours omg) he heads up to his room

where he promptly goes to his shrine of your group and like cries over it and hugs all three of your mini albums to his chest

he probably has like seven posters of you omg can you imagine

he would be the one to get shy when like he changes and all the posters are staring at him or something…

oh his mom probably would like come in his room all the time and if your clothes were too tight or something, his mom would cover your poster in sticky notes and jungkook would be like “mom plz you don’t understand it’s a looK”

jungkook omg also we all know my boy can draw right

he would be one of the crazy good fanartists that posts his drawings of the group (but mostly you)

and after the cake incident, his work and art gets so much more attention like he becomes a fairly popular fanartist for your group

for his birthday btw, yoongi and hoseok come together to write the worst, most cliche, cringy reader insert fanfic of you for him and he keeps it under his pillow every night

okay but also after the cake incident, you kinda sorta stalked his twitter account and you flipped out over how amazing his artwork is and all your group members crack up because you can spend hours just checking out his account and trying to somehow low key print pictures of the art

im watching a documentary in spanish yikes sorry im distracted

okay anyway your group

your group announces like a special one year anniversary meet and greet to thank the fans who have supported you guys for this time and all

jungkook is in school when he gets the notification on twitter and he loses it in class like the world is caving in around him and his teacher sent him down to the principals office because he was causing controversy

oh btw his binders at school are probably cute collages of your group thanks bye everyone

okay anyway

tbh probably tells the principal about the meet and greet

and the principal just kinda “okay…”

jungkook goes home that day and he is on cloud nine right this boy is having the time of his life like his heart has never felt lighter and he has never felt more alive in his life

he practically skips home from school (like winwin did when they played duck duck goose someone hold me)

and he bursts through the door and the smile on his face is so wide and so bright that his brother goes and gets some sunglasses

and he’s like “mom, dad, guess what! they’re having a meet and greeT”

his parents kinda exchange looks and they’re kinda !!

“well how much is it honey?”

and jungkook’s smile falters because he knows that guess what, his family doesn’t really have that kind of money right now, and the only way that he managed to get all his albums and posters was because he’s been saving up birthday and new year’s money and all

and he keeps that same smile on his face because jungkook doesn’t share his emotions and jungkook doesn’t let people know how he’s really feeling and he doesn’t want his family to know that the air has literally been stolen from his lungs

he just kinda shrugs and his voice is all quiet and he’s like “oh… it’s nothing important, i shouldn’t have mentioned it. sorry.”

he heads upstairs before he starts crying because jungkook like really got his hopes up??

and your music really speaks to him and he’s kind of developed this emotional dependence on your group and you guys never fail to make him smile and you always get him up when he’s feeling down and he just wishes that maybe he could somehow tell you all how important you are to him and how much you’ve done for him through your music and all!!

he goes upstairs and he locks himself in the room he shares with his bro and he just cries into his pillow

it’s the weekend right and that next morning he doesn’t get out of bed and he doesn’t leave his room

he won’t even open his phone up because he doesn’t wanna see everyone talking about the meet and greet he can’t go to

he’s not mad at his parents or anything, he’s just defeated like he’s loved you (guys) from before day one and now the chance to express that is slipping through his fingers

boy howdy someone is not happy with this

it’s min yoongi

surprise

he’s like i cannot not let my love,,, i cannot let this happen

like jungkook had called jimin and tae eventually and cried to them and they immediately told the other boys

and yoongi was like oh heck no my baby gets what he wants

imagine the kermit meme but with yoongi

yoongi: i gotta show the boys im cool and poised and don’t give a shit

yoongi to yoongi: buy jungkook meet and greet tickets

tbh he totally plans on doing it

like he researches it all and he figures out when they’re going on sale and that night (it’s like a week after the entire meltdown), the boys wanna go out to the karaoke bar or something

and yoongi is like i’m at work

and namjoon is like wth you’re laying on our couch

and yoongi is like “did i stutter kim namjoon do you want me to shove a hairbrush down your throat when you’re sleeping”

i just burnt my peanut butter toast and i wanna die tbh anyway

yoongi gets them, surprise!! well one for jungkook but like you get it

and he’s so proud of himself he is like i am the best in the world all hail min yoongi, king of spoiling his friends

he wants to wait to give them to jungkook but he cannot hold the excitement in so one day he just kinda heads over to jungkook’s house and traipses on in and jungkook is doing his calculus homework or something

and yoongi just shoves the ticket in his face and jungkook blinks and then he slowly realizes what’s up and he stares at yoongi then bursts into happy tears

fudge you two havent even met

okay so the day of the event jungkook probably wears a bias shirt with your name on it and he is alive okay like he brings his albums and his drawings of you to give to you because lil bun wants to like impress you??

he probably writes a note to you as well talking about how happy you make him and he’s like wait that’s creepy but jin is like no my child, no it is perfect and beautiful just like you and then he kisses jungkook’s head

the boys wait outside the event and they all have matching bomber jackets and sunglasses to be the jungkook protection squad

jungkook dies when he gets in there right

like there’s so much noise and chattering and people and he’s so uncomfortable and stressed tbh and he doesn’t feel good like he starts to panic

what if he like embarrasses himself?? what if he makes a fool of himself in front of you?? what if he like passes out or something or like gleeks oN YOU OMG

he’s like dying in line but he can’t help but keep checking you out the entire time and you are even more gorgeous in person and you aren’t even up close and personal yet…

he feels like he’s gonna die but the boys keep texting him reassuring messages and all he starts to calm down

he’s gripping everything so tight his knuckles go white

omg his turn though

he talks to all the members because you are at the end and all

and he’s like so shy and flustered but he manages to talk to them and explain how h’es been a fan from the beginning of time and he talks about all the best songs on the album and his fave choreos!! and he’s so cute and his face is all red and bright and he’s so !!!

okay i have a spanish benchmark so i should be going but

he finally gets to you and he’s like wow time to kms

he can’t even breathe like you are five inches away from him, in the living flesh, smiling like an angel and -

he kinda plops his albums down on the table and he can’t break eye contact with you to save his life and you just kinda laugh and smile wider because he’s so cute and you’re so flattered that like wow look at this cute fan??

but then he slips the drawings your way and he’s rambling on about how cool you are and how you’ve really inspired him to try new choreography and all and how he thinks you’re the most angelic person and all this other stuff

and you’re like !!

and your heart is racing because most fans are like wow you’re so attractive i love you but he’s going in depth about like you as a person and that’s so touching??

all your band mates keep glancing at you guys like suspiciously

you notice the drawings and you’re like wth is tHIS i HAVe SeeN thEsE

“you’re the birthday cake boy omg!!”

jungkook’s eyes widen and his jaw drops because you just admitted you’ve been stalking his twitter and you immediately cover your mouth with your hands and you’re like wth is this,,, i wanna die… what

jungkook just blushes and nods and smiles that cute bunny smile and your heart melts because he’s so cute and sweet and wow this isn’t very good

security isn’t feeling it though and they’re ushering you on so you quickly do like

the idol grab hands thing and you interlace your fingers and smile down at him

“im really glad i met you”

and he’s about to #die because you are like talking about meeting hIM

and you sign his albums real fast and wink before security ushers him on

but then you’re like “wait, i never got your name!”

and he just “jungkook!!”

“I hope to see you again jungkook!!”

you wave and he’s pushed off by security

the boys are in the parking lot and they’re like wth man how did it go and jungkook has the thousand yard stare

jimin shakes his shoulders and tae starts yelling and yoongi is like time to throw down??

but jungkook gets this loopy smile and he’s like “wow i am in loVE. love love. like actual love. like marriage love”

namjoon rolls his eyes and jin is like “young mAN YOU ARE TOO YOUNG”

but tae and jimin are poking through his albums and stuff and tae screams and everyone looks at him and he kinda

“man look at this!!”

in the back of the album is “hey cutie, i think i wanna get to know you more. shit, that sounds weird. i guess im saying, hot chocolate your speed?”

and then this is totally against idol code but im making this au so um

it’s your number and a cute smiley face and heart and jungkook passes out on the sidewalk

and guess what you do get hot chocolate after that

and jungkook is all nervous and embarrassed and he hides behind his face half the time and you think it’s cute…

and you guys text all the time?? like always??

you leak him lyrics and dance vids all the time and he’s like my hero…

you two hang out whenever your schedule permits but he still gets super shy whenever the other members of your group are over omg

they always tease you two as like scandalous and all but you really like jungkook!!

you like him enough to dedicate,,, a love song to him,,, on your first full album,,,

and like one day your group is on a talk show and the host is like so anyone, how about those relationships,,,

and you’re like well my boyfriend and i are-

and you’re like oH SHIT

and the boys are huddled around jungkook’s laptop, watching, and jungkook’s heart shatters because you have a boyfriend… since when…

and yoongi is like pal,,, buddy,,, amigo,,, it’s yOU

you guys officially get together in the dance studio really cheesy with help from your group mates and it’s so nice and wonderful and you guys always kiss and cuddle when you’re supposed to be rehearsing oops,,,

#what the fuck is this gif #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bangtan fanfic #bangtan writing #bangtan text #bangtan scenarios

135 notes · View notes

simplemlmsponsoring · 5 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/website-traffic/how-to-write-blog-comments-that-stand-out-to-influencers-plus-examples/

How to Write Blog Comments That Stand Out to Influencers (Plus Examples!)

You’ve heard the advice a million times.

Write great comments on popular blogs, and your blog will grow. Why, it’s so easy even a caveman can do it!

And it’s true — comments can be powerful. A great comment can land you on the radar of a popular blogger — the kind of super-connected influencer who can accelerate your success.

It sounds so simple.

The only problem?

Nobody tells you how to comment on blogs. You aren’t sure what a great comment looks like.

Is it a comment that shovels heaps of praise onto the author? Or one that argues a persuasive alternative view? Or one that simply thanks the blogger for their insights?

Because while many experts preach the virtues of strategic commenting, almost nobody tells you how to do it.

As a result, many well-intentioned bloggers are spending their precious time writing comments they think are great.

In reality?

Their comments usually suck.

Why Clumsy Commenters Make Terrible First Dates

If you think about it, blog commenting is a lot like dating.

You’re trying to woo another person, right?

With dating, you’re trying to woo someone into becoming Mr. or Mrs. Whatever Your Name Is.

With blog commenting, you’re trying to woo the owner of a blog.

But is that possible if your comments are lame?

Sure, it’s possible…

It’s also possible to stumble into marriage, kids, and a house with a white picket fence even if you turn up to your first date with a mustard stain on your shirt and used the pickup line, “Did you hear about Pluto?”

But just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s likely.

That’s why it’s time to improve your commenting game.

To help you do that, let’s look in detail at the anatomy of a great blog comment.

But first, let’s look at the rookie mistakes that make most blog comments totally suck.

The Common Mistakes That Make Comments Suck Mistake #1: Using a Novelty (or Non-Existent) Gravatar Image

You wouldn’t show up to a first date wearing a disguise, would you? Or wearing a plain paper bag over your head?

So why would you choose an image of Grumpy Cat or Ron Burgundy to represent you in blog comments? Or settle for the faceless silhouette that screams generic nobody?

Instead, let people see the real you.

They will be far more likely to feel a connection with you if they can see your face.

Besides, you know you’re sexy. Show us that smile!

Mistake #2: Using a False Name (or “Fun” Nickname)

Among your friends and family, you can go by Lil’ Bit, DJ Roomba, Superfly, House of Shane, or any other nickname you choose.

But unless you’re a spy, or in witness protection, using your real name on a first date is just the right thing to do. (Unless, of course, it’s a blind date and Gary Busey sits down at your table.)

The same is true in blog commenting. Bloggers, just like dates, want to know who’s trying to woo them. And someone who hides behind a pseudonym likely isn’t a long-term prospect.

Mistake #3: Dumping Links in Your Comments

Imagine you’re on a date and, halfway through, your date suddenly asks if you have life insurance.

You try to wave it off, but they begin discussing rates and policies with you.

“Oh no,” you think to yourself. “This isn’t a date … this is a sale’s pitch!”

If you embed links in your comments, bloggers are likely to react similarly. It comes across as a cheap attempt to peddle your lemonade on their lawn.

And usually it won’t matter how insightful your words are or how relevant your link may be; the blogger will feel an irresistible urge to kick you off their property.

Mistake #4: Failing to Read the Post Before Commenting

Ever been on a date with someone from Match or eHarmony who didn’t bother to read your profile?

“Do you have any hobbies?” they’ll ask despite your profile’s thousand-word tribute to paper mache. “Fancy a juicy steak?” they’ll suggest despite your publicly stated veganism.

It’s the same with blog commenting. Yes, you’re busy. Yes, reading a post thoroughly before commenting takes time.

Know what else takes time? Getting your foot out of your mouth.

When you comment on a post after skimming it or — worse — not reading it at all, you greatly increase the chances you’ll say something silly.

Mistake #5: Droning On and On (and On)

A long-winded blog comment, by its very length, defends itself against the risk of being read.Kevin Duncan

Some people like the sound of their own voices. Ask them what music they like, and they’ll take you on a 12-minute journey into the minutia of John Mayer’s latest album.

One-sided conversations on a date are not much fun and neither are blog comments that last forever and a day.

Many great comments are on the longer side, but be careful not to confuse quantity with quality.

A 500-word comment isn’t better than a 100-word comment. It’s usually just five times longer.

(And probably five times more boring.)

Mistake #6: Repeating What the Post Just Said

Ever had a date where the other person repeated everything you said?

You love Kevin Costner movies? So do they.

You adore Mexican food? Yep, them too.

You hate Mondays? They hate Mondays.

In the blogging world, this kind of parroting is a (re)Pete Comment.

It doesn’t add to the conversation. It doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t challenge an idea.

It simply repeats what was said in the post.

It’s okay to summarize, but your comment needs to be more than the CliffsNotes version of the post you just read.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

How to Write a Good Blog Comment (Plus: Lots of Examples)

Now that we’ve inoculated you against writing comments that truly suck, let’s look at the structure of a comment that stands out for all the right reasons.

How does a great comment begin? How does it end? What’s the stuff that goes in the middle?

Here are the essential parts, from top to bottom.

Part #1: The Friendly Greeting

The first thing I look for is personalization. This is so easy, all it takes is to just include the name of the author.Blogging Wizard

Let’s go back to our dating analogy…

You meet your handsome guy or beautiful gal at a restaurant for your first date. Could they be the one? They don’t look crazy or anything.

Hopeful, you take a deep breath, smile, and say hi.

But instead of greeting you or even acknowledging you, your date just starts talking.

No preamble — they launch right into talking about their day.

Did you know they have a co-worker named Mr. Buttons? Did you know they have a peanut allergy?

You do now.

Memorable date? I suppose.

A date you would like to get to know better? Definitely not.

And yet, every day, thousands of comments are written that do not bother to acknowledge the post’s author in any way, shape, or form.

Do they think robots wrote the post instead of a human being? Do they believe greetings are an outdated ritual from a bygone era? Or are they simply too lazy to scroll back to the top to find the author’s name?

If you’re hoping to catch the attention of bloggers and strike up a relationship, a healthy dose of proper etiquette can go a long way.

So say hello to them.

Greet them.

Refer to them by name.

How To Do It

This one’s so simple, it shouldn’t need explanation. But here’s how to do it anyway.

Scroll back to the top of the post and find the author’s name. If you are prone to misspellings, here’s a comment editing tip — copy the name so you can paste it into your comment.

Then say hello. Or hi. Or howdy, if you’re feeling folksy.

You’ll only spend a few seconds to get your comment started on the right foot.

It’s time well spent.

Part #2: The Sincere Compliment

It’s a nice confirmation when an author’s work is validated, and they can see the fruit of their labor.Carol Amato

You meet your date for the first time.

“Wow! I love your outfit,” you might say.

Or, “I really like your car.”

Or even, “Your SpongeBob tattoo is awesome!”

The details are different each time, but the act is the same. When you’re on a date, you pay the other person a compliment. It’s what you do in civilized societies.

Once again, blog commenting isn’t any different.

Chances are, you like them. You value them. You respect them.

So pay them a compliment…

Tell them how much you enjoyed their post…

Make their day…

Tell them you dig their groovy tunes…

In short, pay them a compliment. Any compliment. Just make sure it’s a sincere compliment.

How To Do It

You can focus on the blogger, the post itself, or a combination of the two.

Are you a fan of the blogger’s body of work? Tell them so. Say how much you enjoy their writing. Even better? Tell them about a specific example where their writing has helped you.

If you choose to focus on the post itself, talk about a particular point within the post that truly hit home for you. Did it change your outlook on a topic? Did it motivate you to go out and take action? Did it rock your world? Tell them so.

(Plus, you don’t want to come across as a creepy stalker.)

Part #3: The Added Value

My favorite comments add extra value to a post. Perhaps they add a personal experience, a different perspective or a new question.Henneke Duistermaat

Now we’re into the meat of what makes a great comment great.

Greeting the author and paying a compliment are nice, but no one cares how good the appetizers are if the main course is a garbage sandwich with no mayo.

Your goal in every comment should be to add value. If your comment doesn’t add value, it’s wasting everyone’s time.

Of course adding value has become one of those overused and meaningless phrases in the blogging world. Like Sriracha sauce, people tend to throw it around and use it for everything.

What does it actually mean?

In this context, it means doing something that makes you appear valuable — useful, insightful, entertaining, or interesting — to the blogger you’re aiming to woo. In other words, anything that establishes you as a person worth knowing and helps develop a personal relationship.

You do that by making a positive impression and then building upon it.

But how?

Let’s review some tactics that work every time.

Value Tactic #1: Share Personal Insights or Anecdotes

Did a particular point in the post hit home for you? Did you find something particularly relatable? Did the post bring up an area in which you’re struggling?

When you share a personal insight, bloggers can more easily relate to you. You’re no longer just an unfamiliar name making a comment that could have been left by anyone…

You’re a blogger with a story!

How To Do It

Don’t worry about channeling Herman Melville; remember, comments don’t have to be long to be effective.

Amanda Formaro demonstrates this perfectly in her succinct comment about email subscribers.

In the same discussion, Jenn establishes a connection by sharing her struggles.

Don Purdum, meanwhile, enhances the post by sharing details of a conversation he’d had just days earlier.

The number of ways you can share insights and examples are myriad. But the more personal your insight, the more unique it will be. And the more unique your insight, the more memorable your comment will be and the more you’ll stand out.

Value Tactic #2: Ask Thoughtful Questions

Was an idea presented in the post that you didn’t fully understand? Did you want the author to expand on a certain point? Did the post spark an inquiry?

Asking thoughtful questions is an excellent way to build relationships because it starts a one-on-one conversation with the blogger.

You ask them a question; they answer. It’s pure, simple, poetry in motion. And it’s a great way to introduce yourself to bloggers you enjoy.

How To Do It

Andrew Warner went the inquiry route after reading Andrianes Pinantoan’s blog traffic case study:

Pooja, an excellent writer in her own right, did the same after reading Glen Long’s post on crystal clear writing:

And Gertrude Nonterah, after reading the blogger’s bucket list, took the opportunity to ask a question that had been weighing on her:

Sometimes for brevity’s sake, an author won’t fully flesh out a detail in his or her blog post. So if the article contained a detail you want expanded upon, don’t be afraid to comment and ask.

Value Tactic #3: Contribute To The Discussion

If you want the attention of influencers and blog owners, your comment should add to the conversation.Sue Anne Dunlevie

Were 10 ideas presented in the post, but you know an 11th? Want to flesh out a point discussed in the post? How about a detail that wasn’t covered at all?

And bloggers love when the comment count for their posts get higher and higher. It’s validation that their work is reaching people.

When you write a great comment that adds to the discussion, it often has a domino effect. Others will respond to your comment, which will fuel even more comments.

The result is more people reading and discussing the blogger’s work, which means a higher comment count.

Bloggers love that — and they love the commenters who help make that happen.

How To Do It

A great example of this is the following comment Anne R. Allen left Brian Dean in his blogger outreach post here at Smart Blogger.

Another is the comment Harleena Singh left Will Blunt in his guide on Google+.

And one of the best examples you’ll ever see is the comment Matthew Harding left on Smart Blogger’s post on blogging milestones. Here is a snippet:

When you add value via a great comment, you’re investing in the blog post.

Blog owners love that. They appreciate it.…

They learn from it.…

They remember it.

Read more: smartblogger.com

#blog #comment #comments #date #post #their #them #they #your #WEBSITE TRAFFIC

0 notes

laurendcameron · 6 years

Text

How to Write Blog Comments That Stand Out (Plus Examples!)

You’ve heard the advice a million times.

Write great comments on popular blogs, and your blog will grow. Why, it’s so easy even a caveman can do it!

And it’s true — comments can be powerful. A great comment can land you on the radar of a popular blogger — the kind of super-connected influencer who can accelerate your success.

It sounds so simple.

The only problem?

Nobody tells you how to comment on blogs. You aren’t sure what a great comment looks like.

Is it a comment that shovels heaps of praise onto the author? Or one that argues a persuasive alternative view? Or one that simply thanks the blogger for their insights?

Because while many experts preach the virtues of strategic commenting, almost nobody tells you how to do it.

As a result, many well-intentioned bloggers are spending their precious time writing comments they think are great.

In reality?

Their comments usually suck.

Why Clumsy Commenters Make Terrible First Dates

If you think about it, blog commenting is a lot like dating.

You’re trying to woo another person, right?

With dating, you’re trying to woo someone into becoming Mr. or Mrs. Whatever Your Name Is.

With blog commenting, you’re trying to woo the owner of a blog.

But is that possible if your comments are lame?

Sure, it’s possible…

But just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s likely.

That’s why it’s time to improve your commenting game.

To help you do that, let’s look in detail at the anatomy of a great blog comment.

But first, let’s look at the rookie mistakes that make most blog comments totally suck.

The Common Mistakes That Make Comments Suck

Mistake #1: Using a Novelty (or Non-Existent) Gravatar Image

You wouldn’t show up to a first date wearing a disguise, would you? Or wearing a plain paper bag over your head?

So why would you choose an image of Grumpy Cat or Ron Burgundy to represent you in blog comments? Or settle for the faceless silhouette that screams generic nobody?

Instead, let people see the real you.

They will be far more likely to feel a connection with you if they can see your face.

Besides, you know you’re sexy. Show us that smile!

Mistake #2: Using a False Name (or “Fun” Nickname)

Among your friends and family, you can go by Lil’ Bit, DJ Roomba, Superfly, House of Shane, or any other nickname you choose.

The same is true in blog commenting. Bloggers, just like dates, want to know who’s trying to woo them. And someone who hides behind a pseudonym likely isn’t a long-term prospect.

Mistake #3: Dumping Links in Your Comments

Imagine you’re on a date and, halfway through, your date suddenly asks if you have life insurance.

You try to wave it off, but they begin discussing rates and policies with you.

“Oh no,” you think to yourself. “This isn’t a date … this is a sale’s pitch!”

If you embed links in your comments, bloggers are likely to react similarly. It comes across as a cheap attempt to peddle your lemonade on their lawn.

And usually it won’t matter how insightful your words are or how relevant your link may be; the blogger will feel an irresistible urge to kick you off their property.

Mistake #4: Failing to Read the Post Before Commenting

Ever been on a date with someone from Match or eHarmony who didn’t bother to read your profile?

“Do you have any hobbies?” they’ll ask despite your profile’s thousand-word tribute to paper mache. “Fancy a juicy steak?” they’ll suggest despite your publicly stated veganism.

It’s the same with blog commenting. Yes, you’re busy. Yes, reading a post thoroughly before commenting takes time.

Know what else takes time? Getting your foot out of your mouth.

When you comment on a post after skimming it or — worse — not reading it at all, you greatly increase the chances you’ll say something silly.

Mistake #5: Droning On and On (and On)

A long-winded blog comment, by its very length, defends itself against the risk of being read.Kevin Duncan

Some people like the sound of their own voices. Ask them what music they like, and they’ll take you on a 12-minute journey into the minutia of John Mayer’s latest album.

One-sided conversations on a date are not much fun and neither are blog comments that last forever and a day.

Many great comments are on the longer side, but be careful not to confuse quantity with quality.

A 500-word comment isn’t better than a 100-word comment. It’s usually just five times longer.

(And probably five times more boring.)

Mistake #6: Repeating What the Post Just Said

Ever had a date where the other person repeated everything you said?

You love Kevin Costner movies? So do they.

You adore Mexican food? Yep, them too.

You hate Mondays? They hate Mondays.

In the blogging world, this kind of parroting is a (re)Pete Comment.

It doesn’t add to the conversation. It doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t challenge an idea.

It simply repeats what was said in the post.

It’s okay to summarize, but your comment needs to be more than the CliffsNotes version of the post you just read.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

How to Write a Good Blog Comment (Plus: Lots of Examples)

Now that we’ve inoculated you against writing comments that truly suck, let’s look at the structure of a comment that stands out for all the right reasons.

How does a great comment begin? How does it end? What’s the stuff that goes in the middle?

Here are the essential parts, from top to bottom.

Part #1: The Friendly Greeting

The first thing I look for is personalization. This is so easy, all it takes is to just include the name of the author.Blogging Wizard

Let’s go back to our dating analogy…

You meet your handsome guy or beautiful gal at a restaurant for your first date. Could they be the one? They don’t look crazy or anything.

Hopeful, you take a deep breath, smile, and say hi.

But instead of greeting you or even acknowledging you, your date just starts talking.

No preamble — they launch right into talking about their day.

Did you know they have a co-worker named Mr. Buttons? Did you know they have a peanut allergy?

You do now.

Memorable date? I suppose.

A date you would like to get to know better? Definitely not.

And yet, every day, thousands of comments are written that do not bother to acknowledge the post’s author in any way, shape, or form.

If you’re hoping to catch the attention of bloggers and strike up a relationship, a healthy dose of proper etiquette can go a long way.

So say hello to them.

Greet them.

Refer to them by name.

How To Do It

This one’s so simple, it shouldn’t need explanation. But here’s how to do it anyway.

Scroll back to the top of the post and find the author’s name. If you are prone to misspellings, here’s a comment editing tip — copy the name so you can paste it into your comment.

Then say hello. Or hi. Or howdy, if you’re feeling folksy.

You’ll only spend a few seconds to get your comment started on the right foot.

It’s time well spent.

Part #2: The Sincere Compliment

It’s a nice confirmation when an author’s work is validated, and they can see the fruit of their labor.Carol Amato

You meet your date for the first time.

“Wow! I love your outfit,” you might say.

Or, “I really like your car.”

Or even, “Your SpongeBob tattoo is awesome!”

The details are different each time, but the act is the same. When you’re on a date, you pay the other person a compliment. It’s what you do in civilized societies.

Once again, blog commenting isn’t any different.

Chances are, you like them. You value them. You respect them.

So pay them a compliment…

Tell them how much you enjoyed their post…

Make their day…

Tell them you dig their groovy tunes…

In short, pay them a compliment. Any compliment. Just make sure it’s a sincere compliment.

How To Do It

You can focus on the blogger, the post itself, or a combination of the two.

Are you a fan of the blogger’s body of work? Tell them so. Say how much you enjoy their writing. Even better? Tell them about a specific example where their writing has helped you.

(Plus, you don’t want to come across as a creepy stalker.)

Part #3: The Added Value

My favorite comments add extra value to a post. Perhaps they add a personal experience, a different perspective or a new question.Henneke Duistermaat

Now we’re into the meat of what makes a great comment great.

Greeting the author and paying a compliment are nice, but no one cares how good the appetizers are if the main course is a garbage sandwich with no mayo.

Your goal in every comment should be to add value. If your comment doesn’t add value, it’s wasting everyone’s time.

Of course adding value has become one of those overused and meaningless phrases in the blogging world. Like Sriracha sauce, people tend to throw it around and use it for everything.

What does it actually mean?

You do that by making a positive impression and then building upon it.

But how?

Let’s review some tactics that work every time.

Value Tactic #1: Share Personal Insights or Anecdotes

Did a particular point in the post hit home for you? Did you find something particularly relatable? Did the post bring up an area in which you’re struggling?

When you share a personal insight, bloggers can more easily relate to you. You’re no longer just an unfamiliar name making a comment that could have been left by anyone…

You’re a blogger with a story!

How To Do It

Don’t worry about channeling Herman Melville; remember, comments don’t have to be long to be effective.

Amanda Formaro demonstrates this perfectly in her succinct comment about email subscribers.

In the same discussion, Jenn establishes a connection by sharing her struggles.

Don Purdum, meanwhile, enhances the post by sharing details of a conversation he’d had just days earlier.

Value Tactic #2: Ask Thoughtful Questions

Was an idea presented in the post that you didn’t fully understand? Did you want the author to expand on a certain point? Did the post spark an inquiry?

Asking thoughtful questions is an excellent way to build relationships because it starts a one-on-one conversation with the blogger.

You ask them a question; they answer. It’s pure, simple, poetry in motion. And it’s a great way to introduce yourself to bloggers you enjoy.

How To Do It

Andrew Warner went the inquiry route after reading Andrianes Pinantoan’s blog traffic case study:

Pooja, an excellent writer in her own right, did the same after reading Glen Long’s post on crystal clear writing:

And Gertrude Nonterah, after reading the blogger’s bucket list, took the opportunity to ask a question that had been weighing on her:

Sometimes for brevity’s sake, an author won’t fully flesh out a detail in his or her blog post. So if the article contained a detail you want expanded upon, don’t be afraid to comment and ask.

Value Tactic #3: Contribute To The Discussion

If you want the attention of influencers and blog owners, your comment should add to the conversation.Sue Anne Dunlevie

Were 10 ideas presented in the post, but you know an 11th? Want to flesh out a point discussed in the post? How about a detail that wasn’t covered at all?

And bloggers love when the comment count for their posts get higher and higher. It’s validation that their work is reaching people.

When you write a great comment that adds to the discussion, it often has a domino effect. Others will respond to your comment, which will fuel even more comments.

The result is more people reading and discussing the blogger’s work, which means a higher comment count.

Bloggers love that — and they love the commenters who help make that happen.

How To Do It

A great example of this is the following comment Anne R. Allen left Brian Dean in his blogger outreach post here at Smart Blogger.

Another is the comment Harleena Singh left Will Blunt in his guide on Google+.

And one of the best examples you’ll ever see is the comment Matthew Harding left on Smart Blogger’s post on blogging milestones. Here is a snippet:

When you add value via a great comment, you’re investing in the blog post.

Blog owners love that. They appreciate it.…

They learn from it.…

They remember it.

Part #4: The Parting Promise

After a successful first date, each person is usually looking for a clue that that the other enjoyed themselves and that a second date might be in the cards.

That clue could be a lingering smile. It could be a casual remark about not having any plans the following Saturday. It could be the other person actually saying, “I enjoyed myself and would like to see you again.”

Whatever form it takes, it sends the message that this date was not just a one-off.

And when wooing a popular blogger, you’d be smart to let them know you’re interested in a longer-term relationship too.

That’s why great blog comments make a promise at the end. They tell bloggers, “Hey… I enjoyed this so much I want to keep the party going!”

How To Do It

One great way to make a promise is to tell the author you’re going to share the post on your favorite social media platform…

Tell them their post is so good you have no choice BUT to share it…

Or channel your inner Arnold Schwarzenegger and tell them, “I’ll be back” (to read more of your content)…

But whatever promise you make, be sure to keep it.

Tweet the post like you said you would. Read the blogger’s other posts, and leave more comments. In other words, do exactly what you said you would do.

And when you share the post on your favorite social media platform, be sure to tag the blogger — let them know you followed through…

And if the bloggers are anything like Will Hoekenga, they’ll notice and express their gratitude…

Examples of Blog Comments that Kicked Butt (and The Extra Ingredient They All Share)

So what does a comment that has each of these elements look like?

It looks a lot like this comment from Adrienne Smith:

And it looks a lot like this comment from Carol Amato:

Adrienne’s and Carol’s comments start with greetings, go straight to compliments, add value to make connections, and end on promises.

But beyond that, they add an additional element present in every great comment…

Personality.

Any robot can start a comment with a greeting and end it with a promise.

But for a comment to take that next step, for a comment to get you noticed by the blog’s owner, you have to let “you” shine through.

As Jaime Buckley once wrote: “Unless you’re engaging, my eyes will glaze over. We all have a personality, but do you use it? Does it come out in your comments?”

Jaime should know. He’s an expert at letting his personality shine through in his comments. The comment he left for “The Blogger’s Bucket List: 20 Must-Reach Milestones on the Path to World Domination” is a perfect example.

Here is a snippet:

Jaime writes his comments the way he might write an email to a friend.

It’s refreshing and it’s an excellent way to get noticed.

For a handy visual reminder of the four-part formula, check out the image below (click to see a larger view):

Embed This Infographic On Your Site

<!—– Copy and Paste This Code Into Your Post —-><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/blog-comments/”><img src=”https://smartblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/blog-comments-infographic.png” alt=”How to Write Blog Comments That Stand Out to Influencers (Plus Examples!) from SmartBlogger.com” width=”700 px” class=”noa3lazy”/></a><br /><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/gdpr”>How to Write Blog Comments That Stand Out to Influencers (Plus Examples!) from SmartBlogger.com</a>

The Rich Rewards That Flow from Carefully Crafted Comments

You may be wondering at this point…

Is it worth it? Is it worth putting all that time and thought into a single blog comment?

Well, that depends on what you’d like to achieve from your blogging efforts.

Would you like influential bloggers to notice you and follow you on Twitter?

Do you want to expand your reach on other platforms like Google+?

Would you like Darren Rowse, Pamela Wilson, and other blogging icons to share your posts with their followers?

Would you like to be invited to participate in expert roundups, conferences, and other great opportunities?

Would you like to receive emails out-of-the-blue from super-cool and talented people asking you to write for them?

Would you like to have your work published on one of the biggest, baddest blogs in the world?

Because this is what can happen when bloggers notice you.

It isn’t easy, and it doesn’t happen overnight. And, clearly, great comments alone won’t catapult you to world domination.

But they’re a critical, often-overlooked component. And most people who try it write comments that suck.

In a sea of sameness, great comments with great personalities stand out like Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels at a charity gala for the preservation of the endangered Icelandic snow owl.

They’re capable of getting other bloggers to sit up, take notice, and ask themselves: “Who is that?”

So tell me, now do you think it’s worth it?

Let’s Find Out Where Comments Could Catapult Your Blog

Comments are perhaps the most misused — and least understood — weapons in the ambitious blogger’s arsenal.

That’s why most blog comments suck.

You now understand the anatomy of the perfect blog comment, so you can start crafting your comments with purpose.

Comments that get you noticed.

Comments that woo popular bloggers.

Comments that cause opportunities to drop into your lap.

The days of frowning cat gravatars are over. Repetitive comments are yesterday’s news. Empty contributions have gone the way of the dodo.

So, are you ready for a new era of smarter commenting?

Are you ready to discover where it could take you?

Then let’s do this thing.

About the Author: Kevin Duncan runs Be A Better Blogger, where he uses his very particular set of skills to help people become the best bloggers they can be. To further your quest to woo bloggers, he’s written a special post just for Smart Blogger readers: How I Went From Unknown to Boost Blog Traffic Writer in Six Months (and How You Can, Too).

The post How to Write Blog Comments That Stand Out (Plus Examples!) appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from Lauren Cameron Updates https://smartblogger.com/blog-comments/

0 notes

lindabodecom · 6 years