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meat--grindr · 5 years ago

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Ooof, so yea I’m officially in love with your writing style... keep on doin what you do! Also I can’t stop thinking about a sorta subby touch starved Martin and gender neutral reader. Yes, I am a clown 🤡 regardless have a great night!

L-Love? Gosh, I’m flattered!! I’m really glad to hear you like it so much!! Now you’ve also got me thinkin’ about a subby touch-starved Martin. I guess Clown City has two residents now! I suppose there’s nothing left for it but to write some smut to hide under the cut ;)

Martin the Touch Starved Submissive (Gender Neutral Reader) – NSFW

· Martin Mathias. Supposed Creature of the Night, Drinker of Innocent Blood, and Haunter of Your Peripherals. He hangs, as always, at the edge of your personal space. Perching there beside you in the semi-darkness, you could almost forget that he was there. With his legs tucked up neatly beneath him, he takes up surprisingly little space. Slouching against the headboard, his hands rest in his lap, long fingers twisting and turning as he wrings his hands in his usual absentminded fashion.

· He’s so close, you can feel the heat emanating from his body, close enough that you can feel the faintest caress of his breath against your neck, close enough that with a mere flex of those pretty fingers, he could close the gap and touch you. But he doesn’t. He almost never does. Though you have a sneaking suspicion that he wants to most desperately. What gives him away?

· Perhaps it’s the way his gaze lingers on your hands. You’ve caught him at it more than once: his dark eyes drinking in the way your hands flex as you run them through your hair. You’ve watched his pupils dilate as your fingers curled around a pencil for something so simple as jotting down a list of groceries. He could sit and watch you type for hours, entranced by the way your fingers fly across your keyboard, the satisfying klunk of typewriter keys far from the only thing sending shivers down his spine. Of course, you’ve noticed these things. for all his attempts at subtlety, he’s not very good at hiding from you. But you pretend, for his sake, that you haven’t caught on.

· Or perhaps it’s the way his body seems to lean toward your own whenever you’re together, as though he wants to bury his head in the crook of your neck, or even just brace his shoulder against yours, if only to feel you there, solid, safe, and warm. He almost does it sometimes. He’ll look at you, soft brown eyes wide, searching yours for something…permission, perhaps? And though you would have given it freely on many occasions, he never seemed to find what he was searching for, electing instead to retreat to the cold comfort of his personal bubble—close to, but entirely separate from your own.

· It’s not that he’s never touched you before—he most certainly has.

· He’s done so accidently: a quick brush of his shoulder against yours as he darts past you in the shop, scurrying behind the counter under Cuda’s harsh glare—his fingers bumping against yours as you both reach for a book knocked from a desk or a fallen set of house keys—a desperate grasp for your arm as he slips crawling in through your window one night, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh for only a moment as he regains his balance.

· He’s done so, when you ask, with such innocence it makes your heart ache: pressing gentle kisses against your palms, your temple, your cheekbones, so soft you can barely feel them at all over the buzzing he ignites beneath your skin—returning the squeezes you give his hands when you hold them with a shy smile, his eyes half-hidden beneath his curls—wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close beneath the covers of his bed or yours. His sharp chin digs into your shoulder, and beneath you, his arm begins to fall asleep, but he makes no attempt to move it, and you can’t bring yourself to complain about anything, not when he’s holding you like this.

· And upon your request, his touch is anything but innocent: at first, he lets you guide him in the darkness, your hands firm atop his own. 'Show me,' he says, 'Show me how to touch you, show me where.' And you do, laying the secrets to your pleasure bare before him, calling 'harder, deeper, faster, more,' until his worry over his perceived shortcomings and inexperience are lost in thoughts of you and you alone—his hands tremble against your thighs, half-nervous, half-reverent. He knows how to make you shake, and yet he hesitates. His lips ghost over the flesh of your neck, his breath cool against the flushed heat of your skin. You lock your arms around his neck, and pull him flush against you, “Get out of your head, Martin.” You stare up into his dark eyes, “Please. Just kiss me.” And he does, falling on you with a passion you have never seen in him before—his long fingers curl against sensitive flesh, drawing ragged sounds from your throat, much to his surprise. His eyes drink in your form, splayed against the sheets, and writhing under his hands. His fingers brush a particularly sensitive spot, and you throw your head back against the arm of the sofa. Seizing this opportunity, he surges forward, sinking his blunt teeth into the meat of your throat.

· Yes, in the time you’ve come to know him, you can say for certain he is far from opposed to physical touch. But a pattern has emerged nonetheless—he rarely, if ever instigates that touch, or asks it to be reciprocated. But if those subtle indicators are anything to go off of, and you believe that they are, there is an element of longing within him that had long gone unaddressed. So why on earth doesn’t he just ask? Surely, he knows you’re more than willing. Maybe you’re way off base…or maybe he simply doesn’t know how to ask.

· You cast a sidelong glance at the lanky man beside you. His eyes are half-closed, content, as always, to simply sit and listen, even when you aren’t talking. You suppose there’s no time like the present.

· Snapping your novel closed, you toss it aside. It lands with a muffled whump on the comforter. “C’mere.”

· Startled by the sudden flurry of sound and motion, Martin looks at you, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity. Though he makes no move to follow your directive, you have his full attention.

· “Uh-uh,” You shake your head, patting your lap where the book had lain just moments before, “I said, ‘C’mere.’”

· A hesitant moment passes, but he obeys. That same mixture of emotion furrows his brow as he crawls across the mattress and settles into your lap. It takes him a moment to situate himself comfortably—his long legs curling around your hips, his arms braced against the mattress behind him.

· “There.” You beam up at him. He averts his eyes, but you can see the smile beginning to tug up the corners of his mouth. “I wanna try something, okay?” He looks a touch suspicious, but he nods regardless.

· You reach a hand up towards his face, and he flinches. His hands shoot forward, nearly unbalancing himself as he grabs for your wrist with both hands, “Woah, Martin. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.”

· It takes him nearly a full minute, but he lets you go, hands dropping into his lap. His eyes, however, remain fixed on your hand, uncertainty knotting in his stomach.

· “It’s okay,” You croon, keeping your voice calm and your hand steady. It’s almost as though you’re coaxing a stray cat into letting you pet it. “You’re okay, Martin.”

· His cheek is soft against your palm, his curls tickling the back of your hand. For a moment, his eyes go wide, then they slide closed, his lashes fluttering contentedly. His body sags against yours as he leans into the warmth of your palm, nuzzling against it.

· A smile spreads across your face. Thought so.

· “C’mere, baby.” He shivers as you pull him forward, closing the gap between you entirely. He arches into your touch as your fingers trail up and down his back. His face rests in the crook of your neck, and much to your surprise, he begins to press soft kisses into your skin, reveling in the warmth of your flesh under his lips.

· “Why didn’t you say something, shy-boy?”

· He pauses for a moment, his breath ghosting over your skin. He does not answer you, rather presses another round of feather-light kisses into your neck.

· Your hands still against his back, “No, no, baby. I asked you a question.”

· You can feel his forehead press against your shoulder, a sigh heaving through his chest. There is another pause a few moments long as he mulls the question over in his mind. When he answers, his voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, “I’m not supposed to want things.”

· For a moment, you are dumbstruck, unable to believe what you’ve just heard, “Who says?”

· “I do or…my family does. Cuda–”

· “Oh hush. That grumpy old man doesn’t know anything.” You run your fingers down his back again, relishing in the shuddering breath it draws from him. “Besides, I’m not your family. You’re allowed to want from me.”

· With a gentle push, you send him sprawling back onto the bed. Hovering above him like this, you can see his pupils are blown wide, the endless black swallowing the brown.

· “I’m going to put my hands on your throat, Martin, okay?”

· His eyes widen a touch, the whites flashing in the low light, but he nods, swallowing heavily.

· Your hand wraps around his throat, gentle but firm. Applying little pressure, you hold him there, immobile. His breathing changed almost instantly when your hand met his skin, deep and slow. His eyes slid closed again, and in that moment, you knew he was putty in your hands. You could do whatever you pleased with him and he would let you—thank you, even. Good. “Who are you?”

· His eyes remain closed, though his brow knots in confusion, at length, he responds, “M-Martin?”

· “Good. And what are you allowed?”

· There’s another beat of hesitation before his answer, though he sounds more sure this time, as though he’s beginning to pick up on what you want from him. “To…to want?”

· “Good. And who do you belong to.”

· “You.” The answer comes immediately this time.

· “Oh, good boy.”

· Withdrawing your hand, you lean down, pressing a kiss against his exposed throat. He whines and you swear you’ll be hearing that noise echoing in the back of your mind forever.

· You slot a knee between his legs, pressing gently against him. He jerks against you, and you can feel the length of him straining against his jeans. With a heady rush you realize just how much he wants you.

· You press your knee against his hard cock, smiling wolfishly down at him, “Is this for me, pretty boy?”

· Martin throws his hands up over his face, hiding his burning cheeks from your sight.

· “Aww, there’s no need to be so shy about it.” Your hands slide down his sides, pressing against his hipbones as you grind your knee gently against him. With a whimper, he tries vainly to buck his hips against you, but you hold him in place. “Down, boy. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

· Reluctantly, he nods, propping himself up on his elbows. Under his watchful gaze, you pop the button of his jeans and drag the zipper down slowly. You smile up at him, repositioning yourself face to face with the obvious bulge pressing through the opening in his pants.

· You tap gently on his thigh, “Up.” And he complies, raising his hips for you so you can work his jeans down. You don’t take them all the way off, instead opting to leave them mid-way down his thighs. There will be time to take them off later if he wants to continue.

· For a long moment, there is little else you can do but stare at him—the flush of his cheeks, the heavy rising and falling of his chest, the perfect outline of his cock through his underwear. “So pretty,” you whisper, and he flushes a little deeper, though he doesn’t argue. He likes the praise—it lights a fire somewhere deep within his gut that he can neither ignore nor begin to explain.

· “Tell me what you want, baby.”

· Under your hands, you feel his hips shift as he tries and fails to buck up toward your mouth.

· “Martin,” you chide, “Use your words.”

· He whines, squirming beneath you. “Your mouth!” The words are ground out as though they required great concentration to form coherently.

· “Good boy.” You flick out your tongue, dragging a long line up the dark fabric of his underwear. Again, he tries desperately to buck against you, a frustrated whine on his lips.

· “N-Not like that…”

· “No?” You run your tongue up the clothed shaft of his cock a second time. “How do you want it then?”

· He thrashes underneath your tongue, torn between chasing the pleasure and knowing it’s not enough, “Don’t make me say it…"

· A smirk passes over your features as you circle the wet spot quickly appearing on the fabric near his tip. “But, baby, how will I know what you want if you don’t tell me?” You press the pad of your thumb down, rubbing against the spot with more force. He writhes against you.

· “I want…I want your mouth on me…on my skin, please…”

· “Oh, I like hearing that word. Say it again, baby.”

· “P-please?”

· “Is it a question?”

· “No…”

· “Then beg like you mean it.” Your tongue flicks out over his cock again and the air rushes out of him like he’s been punched in the stomach.

· “Please.” He’s breathless, but you’re sure you could wring better out of him.

· “More.”

· “Please.”

· “Better. But I’m not convinced yet.”

· “Please!!”

· Getting there. You grin, a wicked idea forming in your mind. Through his underclothes, you take the head of his cock into your mouth. The fabric sticks to your tongue unpleasantly, filling your mouth with the taste of cotton, but the sound he makes is nothing short of heavenly.

· “Oh fuck! Pleasepleaseplease, love, please, I’ll die! I swear I’ll die if you don’t, pleeease!”

· You pull back, smiling. “Good boy.” You reach up and caress his cheek. The poor thing is trembling, but he nuzzles against your hand nonetheless. Mumbled pleas still tumble from his mouth as he cranes his neck to kiss the side of your hand.

· “You’ve been so good for me, Martin.” You gently brush the curls from his eyes and take in his expression. His eyebrows are knit together with tension and there’s a pouty tilt to his mouth, but his eyes are gleaming.

· “Good boys deserve rewards, don’t they, baby?”

· He nods emphatically, curls bouncing against his temples. “Please.”

· Again, you tap his shaking thighs, and he lifts his narrow hips allowing you to slide the dark fabric down his legs.

· His cock bobs free, laying flushed and leaking against the flat plane of his stomach. Like the rest of him, it’s so pretty. You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight.

· You stroke his cheek with your thumb gently once, twice, before trailing your hand down to his cock. You ghost your fingertips over the head, and he cries out softly, his whole body shuddering with the pleasure of it.

· You rest your arms against his thighs, pillowing your head as you size him up. Your breath puffs gently against his cock, warming his skin in the chill of the room.

· Suddenly, you’re jolted off balance as Martin bolts into a sitting position, his hands fluttering nervously at his sides. “W-Wait! Aren’t I supposed to-”

· You place a hand against his chest. “Shhh. You’re not supposed to do anything, Martin.” You fix him with a serious look. “Do you still want this?” He nods desperately and you plant a gentle kiss against his collarbone, “Then lay back and let me take care of you.”

· You push him gently back onto the bed, and before he can stall you a moment longer, you take him into your mouth.

· His knees are around your ears in an instant, his chin digging into the top of your head as he curls in on himself. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair, pulling hard. It stings, but the pain makes your eyes roll back.

· You push him further into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat.

· Much to your surprise, that’s all it takes before he’s shaking apart and cumming down your throat.

· His hips jerk forward into the wet heat of your mouth, chasing his pleasure. You choke, but if he notices he gives no indication other than a drawn-out groan as your throat constricts around him. Fighting to gain control of your breathing, you place a hand on his hip, stilling him a moment. He whines but complies, doing his best to hold still for you.

· When you release him, eyes still watering, but no longer in danger of choking, it takes mere moments before he’s lost in the drag of his cock over your tongue once again. You’re so soft inside he can hardly handle it—you feel like nothing else in the world, certainly nothing he’s ever felt before. You flex your tongue against him and his hips stutter, losing what ragged rhythm they had.

· You swallow around him and he keens, a high noise emanating from the back of his throat. You do it again and he actually sobs. It’s too much too soon and he loves it. “Please!” He doesn’t know if he’s begging you to stop or to keep going forever as he rolls his hips into your mouth again and again and again.

· At length, his pace slows, and he begins to come down from his high. You pull back, breathing heavily. “Fuck, Martin.” The combination of the cool air against his over sensitive-cock and the wrecked timbre of your voice makes him shudder.

· He flops back against the pillows, boneless and utterly spent, one arm thrown over his face, the other reaching desperately for you. You take it and he squeezes you so tightly you feel the bones in your fingers creaking.

· “Martin? Baby? Are you alright?”

· He nods, once, slowly, as though he’s not entirely sure. Then again as his brain kicks back to life, this time with more certainty.

· “Good.” You lay down on top of him, curling up against his chest.

· He reaches out, curling his fingers around your hair. “I didn’t mean to…” He whispers.

· “Mean to what?”

· “…F-Finish so quickly.” You glance up at him. He’s not looking at you. Though his eyes are still hidden beneath his arm, you can see his cheeks and the tips of his ears have gone quite pink. He’s embarrassed.

· “Aww, baby! It’s no big thing! We can play more later…if you want.”

· He shifts his arm a fraction, peaking at you from beneath it. “…Promise?”

· You smile pressing a kiss into his shoulder. “Promise.”

#martin 1977 #martin x reader #slasher x slasher #slasher imagines #this was supposed be a quick little thing and then suddenly it was over 3000 words jfjsndjsj #it kinda got away from me #ripper fics

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izcana · 5 years ago

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Purely Platonic, Of Course...

Inspired by What Minho Thinks by skyofstardust. In response to a prompt by alicewonder87 in the quoteonlyprompts collection.

Originally Posted on Ao3 (My Ao3 account here).

Prompt:

"It's a blessing and a curse that love is blind."

***

"You're kidding me," Minho groaned, flopping down to his bed.

"Stop bloody complaining, Minho," I muttered from next to him. "He'll get the hint eventually." I was really starting to regret agreeing to help Minho with this. I mean, sure, when I agreed, I was trying to stop his obnoxious pining of the poor boy, but I didn't expect it would be this hard! To be honest, I didn't expect Minho to be this whiny, either, but I was foolish not to suspect. However, I have dedicated myself to doing it and I will.

Being me is utterly exhausting.

Thomas wasn't going to know what's hit him when Minho finally asks him out.

I could see the longing in both of their eyes – pity they themselves couldn't see it. Thomas was oblivious to default, according to his sister Teresa, but Minho was being unbelievably dumb about it. I think he was too caught up in his own pining to notice the other's crush on him.

I was going to have to do something about it, I guess. After all, when do shuck-faces learn how to solve their own problems?

Yeah, that's what I thought. When pigs fly. Now I wish there were flying pigs...

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Okay, I'm going to seduce the klunk out of Bambi," Minho declared, his head set in a grim nod. He rolled up his sleeves (my tip, of course – show off the muscles) and licked his lips. "Thomas wouldn't know what hit him," he added. Yeah, hopefully.

I have to admit, I could see why Minho was attracted to him. Tommy was a mess, that's for sure, but he was a cute mess, a type of clumsy that made you want to wrap him in blankets instead of scolding him. Thomas has plump, pouty lips and bright amber eyes that look exactly like Bambi's. He had adorable messy, ruffled chocolate hair and pale, mole-dotted skin. I'm saying this in a friendly way, of course; I have a boyfriend and besides, Minho would kill me if I stole his boy.

Pity Thomas was the most insecure person I've ever met.

I've had to tell him countless times he was pretty and it was getting slightly frustrating how he couldn't see himself as amazing. Again, I say this as a best friend, but I hope Minho could get his wits together and swoon him. Maybe Minho could knock some sense into him and give him a boost of self-confidence – Alby certainly gave me a lot.

Anyway, back to Minho.

"Hey, Tomboy," Minho drawled, slapping on his signature smirk.

"Hi?" The fellow Gryffindor student mumbled, putting on a shy smile. "What are you doing here, Minho?"

"I want to tell you how ravishing you look today!" Minho beamed. I mentally facepalmed. Why couldn't Minho just stick to the script and ask him out to Hogsmeade? Why, just why did Minho have to make my job more difficult than it is?

Thomas went scarlet at that, his milky skin flushing red. "T-Thank you," Thomas said brightly, beaming back. If anything, I appreciate Thomas' optimism and happiness. He was a glowing beacon every day, shining in the moonlight as a guide for us. The Gladers (my friends, duh) call me "the Glade Mother", but if anything, I'm in charge of the fussing but Thomas does the counselling and tutoring. We all saw him as innocent and naive (don't tell him we said that) but he was the best at advice, somehow. Maybe because he seemed to understand everything – that boy was too kind for his own good.

"Well, just take that from me," Minho winked, jogging back to me, leaving behind a blushing Thomas.

******

"You're bloody kidding me, right?" I demanded, pushing him into a wall (I swear that isn't what it sounds like!) as soon as he jogged away. "You couldn't just ask him to Hogsmeade?" I thought my frustration bar was going to explode.

"He's just so...perfect!" Minho babbled as if he hadn't heard a single word I said. "Amazing, smart, kind and caring, pretty, selfless all in one! How was I supposed to ask him out?"

I groaned. "Minho, do me a favour and shut up, okay?" I think I've had enough of matchmaker drama for today.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

So. News reporter Newton Isaacs here. Today I'm going to tell the story of how Minho's jealousy caused him to make another move. He hasn't asked him out (yet) and he says he plans to, but I don't know.

Dammit, Minho, you're supposed to give me something to talk about here!

Anyway...Our rather interesting day started like this.

It was your classic sunny day with birds chirping and blue skies. This was unusual as it was October and anyone who's grown up in the UK knows October = rain. Obviously.

Minho and I got up to go to class, as usual, and it was all the same until midday.

******

"Isaacs, Lee," Snape sneered, drawing the attention of all the students. "You're late."

"With all due respect, sir," Minho smirked, his tone not implying the same as his words. "We're 30 seconds late." Great, that's at least 10 points from Gryffindor.

"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape retorted predictably.

This class, we were learning how to boil the draught of living death. All was well until a small shriek cut off the class. We turned to the source of the shriek and to Minho's horror, Thomas' hand was covered with potion and it was starting to peel, the red flesh beneath it sprouting sores. It made my stomach churn, and it certainly looked painful.

"Edison, get that checked by Madam Pomfrey," Snape muttered, turning his head off. He means the medjack. I've always found it funny that Snape didn't treat Thomas, Teresa, Aris, or Rachel (Aris and Rachel were Tommy and Teresa's best friends) like he did the other non-Slytherins. Maybe it was because they were so...academically perfect that Snape couldn't find an adequate reason to be rude, I don't know. "Jones, you go with him."

"Adequate", "academically perfect". I think Tommy's rubbing off me with his nerdiness.

"Yes, Professor," Thomas whispered breathlessly, his voice cutting through the pin-drop silence.

"C'mon, dude," Aris Jones, the ever-loyal friend of Tommy beckoned, giving him a hand up. I could tell that it was purely platonic (anyone with eyes could, in fact), but Minho was the verge of rage from his (misplaced) jealousy. After watching Minho, I can definitely tell where the expression "if looks could kill..." comes from; Minho's dark, stormy eyes were a sight to behold.

"Mate," I chastised. "Stop being so...jealous! It's a friendly touch!"

"No, it wasn't!" Minho seethed, gritting his teeth so hard I heard them cracking.

I sighed. Minho should just ask Thomas out already.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Hey, Thomas!" Minho called across the courtyard again, drawing the stare of a couple of dozen students in, mostly Hufflepuffs who were playing catch-the-ball on the lawn. I mentally prayed that he'd take the chance and ask the boy out already.

"Hi, Minho," Thomas said, albeit softer than Minho. "How are you doing?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Minho asked, shifting to where Thomas was sitting. It was still close enough that I could hear, though it was considerably more discrete now that the Hufflepuffs had gone back to playing their game. "You're the one who was injured in Potions, after all."

"It's okay," Thomas murmured. I didn't miss how Minho's eyes danced over the streak of rebellious hair that fell to his forehead, or the occasional glances to the cupid brow lips. It was frankly amazing that Thomas hadn't noticed. "Madam Pomfrey sorted it out."

"Thank goodness," Minho muttered, glancing to Thomas' hand.

They both sat in silence for a few moments and I was tempted to go and smack them both around the head, but I figured it'd go better if I didn't interfere.

"W-Would you like to go to H-Hogsmeade with me n-next weekend?" Minho stuttered out, and to his benefit, he didn't blush.

Thomas definitely did, though. "O-Of course!"

Good for them – they finally got together, but I just wish they did it sooner. I guess it's just like what they say: "It's a blessing and a curse that love is blind."

I think my work here is finished. Matchmaking was pretty entertaining, after all. Maybe I should get Aris and Teresa together as well...

#matchmaker newt #the maze runner x harry potter #crossover #thominho harry potter AU #Alternate Universe - Harry Potter #thomas x minho #tmr #newt #alby #nalby #teresa is thomas' twin #newt's pov #aris jones #teresa agnes (edison)#thominho #ao3

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omnifalls-10 · 5 years ago

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Omni Falls Chapter 1: 10 and Up

Gravity Falls, Oregon. This place seems normal to average tourists, but in all honesty, they wouldn't be wrong. The town itself is surrounded by pine trees, where the forest is home to various wildlife and other….inhabitants, there is a town square with multiple buildings used for business across the various areas and town hall near the town square. Average town, average people, and average day-to-day life, right? Aside from this, there’s one place where an individual will see when they come to this sleepy town: the Mystery Shack.

The Mastery Shack is simply a tourist trap. This shop is able to attract many visitors with its absurd legends and lore, yet somehow this business is able to make a large profit each time a group of gullible tourists would come by to get souvenirs and knick-knacks. The one that leads this business was “Mr. Mystery” himself, Stan Pines. He is a skilled con artist who is able to keep this shack running through lucrative means and has no shame in it, so long as he managed to make some cash. Honestly, he is rather content with this lifestyle for 30 years.

That is until his nephew and niece, Dipper and Mabel Pines arrived. The twins were bought by their parents believing they needed to be outside more and figured going to stay with their great uncle was a good idea.

The twins themselves see things differently in life: Mabel was a ball of sunshine and energy, Dipper was more critical thinking, Mabel was free-spirited while her twin brother was more self-conscious. Despite these polarities, their bond remains tightly-wound and has been ever since. The twins have different views of being in this town so far. For Mabel, she seems to have no problem with where she was; she took it in happiness and stride, whether it’s having splinters in her hands or a goat chomping on her sweater, she doesn’t let it bother. Dipper, on the other hand, felt on edge since he first got here. He couldn’t explain it in words but he just feels like the weirdness he felt for this town was like an itch. An itch that he can’t scratch. Despite this, Stan seemed to not care and was focused on his tourist trapping, to which he and Mabel work as an extra set of hands for his business.

As business is slow in the shop, one of the Pine Twins takes this as an opportunity to finally find a summer romance, as Mabel hides behind a row of Stan-bobbleheads. She peeks to see one boy reading her note aloud.

"Uh…..Do you like me? Yes? Definitely? Absolutely?", the boy reads, confused as he looks around to see who gave him the note.

"I rigged it!", Mabel whispers to herself, excited and proud her plan worked. She's on a roll. Dipper is wiping a jar as he looks at her congratulating herself.

"Mabel", Dipper states, finishing clean, "I get that you're in this "Boy Crazy" phase, but you're really overdoing it with the crazy part."

Mabel turns her head to her twin, incredulous to his claim. "What?", she scoffs, blowing a raspberry at her brother, "Come on, Dipper. This is our first summer away from home. It's my big chance to get an epic summer romance."

"I know”, Dipper replies, “But does this really mean you have to be attracted to every boy you see?”

Dipper isn’t really wrong about this. Since Mabel got her, she’s been constantly vying for the attention for every boy that came her into peripheral vision and most of them ended in either a.) the boys being more confused about what’s going on, b.) they would be uncomfortable by her presence, or c.) they would run away from her. Is she truly not self-aware about what she does that constantly, Dipper isn’t really sure. He really doesn’t understand why she’s doing this, it is the beginning of summer. She had time.

“Mock all you want, brother” Mabel pouts, not allowing her brother’s deter her from her goal “But I got a good feeling this summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now.” To her disgust and to her twin’s humor, the man of dreams turns out to be her grunkle, who is choking on his own burp.

“Hey, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest.”, Stan demands, holding up Mystery Shack direction signs.

“Not it!”, the Pine twins reply quickly, expressing their reluctance to do something foolish.

“Uh, also not it.”, Soos, the Hispanic overweight handyman of the Mystery Shack, answers at the last minute. Stan stares at his employee with uninterested eyes. “I didn’t ask you, Soos”, he drones.

“I know’, Soos admits, as he pulls out a chocolate bar to eat. “And I’m okay with that.” Stan just facepalms in annoyance as no one is willing to take this task, so he turns to his other employee in hopes she would do it.

“Wendy!”, the boss calls out to his adolescent employee. “I need you to put signs in the forest for me!” Woefully, the young redhead is too invested in her magazine reading to do anything. “I mean, I would but” she grunts as she makes a pitiful attempt to reach, being too lazy to actually do it. “Too...far...to….reach...it”

“I’d fire all of you if I could.”, he grumbled, as nobody wanted to do this task. Well, it’s a good thing that you have family to help you out, right? The boss of the Mystery Shack to pick one of the Twins. “Okay, let’s make it……”, Stan starts to choose, swiping his finger between the Dipper and Mabel, “Eenie….meenie…..miney…..you.” His finger lands on Dipper, who is in disbelief at his grunkle’s choice.

“What? Grunkle Stan, whenever I’m in the woods, I feel like I’m being watched”, he explains, feeling unnerved doing this, much to his grunkle’s irritation.

“Ugh, this again”, Stan rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious.”, he insists, “Something is weird in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out ‘BEWARE’” He pulls up his sleeve to show his grunkle. Stan leans down and squints to read the marks.

“That says ‘BEWARB’’, Stan corrects his nephew, who scratches in either in embarrassment or because it itches a bit. He sighs and gets down on a knee, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Look, kid”, he explains to his nephew, “The whole "monsters in the forest" thing is just a local legend, drummed up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that.” He points to a sweaty tourist, who was way too invested in a bobblehead in his hand. Having made his point across, he gives the signs to Dipper. “So quit being paranoid and put up the signs!”

__________________________________________________________________

Klunk-Klunk-Klunk!

Dipper couldn’t believe he’s doing this. Not only does his grunkle not believe what he was saying about the sensation that he got from being in this town, but he also forced him into putting up the signs up around the forest. Honestly, he just wants to get this done so he could head back because the forest is making him feel unnerved. He’s just finishing putting up another sign on a tree before grabs his minipack to put the remaining arrows and tools in before continuing to trek deeper in the eerie forest.

“Ugh, of all people, it had to be me going out to the scary parts of the forest”, he complains, as he looks across the various trees that sway with the wind, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling, if anything, it started to slowly magnify. Honestly, what is up with this place? Why does it seem to be him who can feel this disturbance? Why was-

“Oof!”

He suddenly trips on something that scraped his knee as he lands face first. Dipper winces as he shifts onto his back as he looks at the scrape on his foot. “If I only had my first aid with me”, he complains to himself, forgetting the tool that might come in handy in case something like this happens. Just as he’s about to pull himself up, he notices a shining glare near his foot. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he starts digging with his hands to pull out the object and holds it up, with one hand on top, the other at the bottom.

“What is this?”, he asks himself, fascinated at the object he’s holding. Said object is silvery and smooth on the surface, it has the look of an oversized pearl if Dipper wants to make a comparison. It’s also very sturdy, due to him lightly knocking on the surface, and as far as he knows, there weren’t any lines anywhere it could be opened, same with having no buttons. Its size isn’t as big and as small to fit in both of his hands. “Hmm.”, he contemplates for a moment. Should he really be taking this with to the shack after this was done? He doesn’t know what this object is or what it could do, but at the same time, this can help figure what is up with this place. After a few minutes of hard thinking, he decides to carry the sphere under his armpit, continuing to do his work.

An hour passes, yet Dipper still had to put in a few more arrows. He hammers in an arrow in a tree, starting to feel exhausted from doing this. He stares at the sphere next to him, still in the same place he left before he looks at three more arrows. He started to get annoyed and remembers that he was still in the deeper parts of the forest. He looked up at the trees, which looked darker and more sinister. He grumbles before grabbing the sphere and the arrows, head to last trees. He puts down the sphere on the side of one of them, before heading to the first one, oblivious to the fact that he touched the sphere on the sides. The sphere starts to glow green on the points where his fingers touched it for a brief moment. It continues to do it until the sphere opens with a quiet hiss revealing something.

Dipper finished hammering the arrow in the tree. He walks over to the last tree, tired to the point that he wants to call it quits and head back. But he knows if he does that, Stan would chew him out. He sighs as he gets the hammer nail to put the arrow in place. “Ugh, Grunkle Stan. Nobody ever believes anything I say.”, he grumbles, clearly annoyed that his grunkle with everybody else not taking heed to his words and he hammered the arrow, hearing a clang in the process…..

…….

Wait.

“Huh?”, Dipper is stumped. He puts his ear near the tree trunk and taps his hammer again, hearing another clang. He wipes away some dust and finds a line that opens the trunk. It acts as a secret window, revealing a mechanical box with two control switches on the top. He tests one control switch but nothing happens. He does it again with the other one; he hears the ground shifting and Gompers the goat running away. “What the?”, he turns around to see a hole in the ground and in it was an old book. With the same curiosity he had for the sphere, he picks up the book and lays it on the ground, looking left and right for people to be around before opening it up. On the first page of the book, there is an eye-glass in it. He picks it up before putting it down and continues to flip through pages. Dipper goes to the next page to find some writing. “It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.”, Dipper reads aloud, from the page confused by this. “What is all this?”, he asks, confused by the content he’s finding and what they mean.

He keeps flipping through the pages seeing various creatures and phenomena. until he hits a particular page. He is intrigued by this page because of its content: On this page, is a picture of a being made entirely out of crystals, posing as if it is ready to battle something, with a blade of a right hand. But what catches his attention the most with this page is the name on top.

Petrosapian.

He stops at the next page, reading these words

TRUST NO ONE

“Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust”, Dipper finishes reading, before closing the book and digesting its word. “No one you can trust.”

Hummmmmmmm-Hummmmmmm

“Hu-?” Dipper turns around at the noise, only to see something green and glowing charging at him. “AAAAHHHH!!!!!!” He puts his left arm up in defense before the object tackles him to the ground hard, dropping the book. He groans in pain before getting up, rubbing his head to ease the throbbing he felt and slowly blinks to bring his vision back.

He felt something on his left arm. More specifically, his wrist.

He looks down to see a watch. Once his memory came back, he starts screaming frantically, trying his hardest to pull this thing off, using sticks and rocks to remove it somehow. But it was all moot. After trying multiple times to get this thing off him, he does his best to calm himself down, breathing very slowly and sits down on the ground. He takes this moment to look at this….”watch” on his wrist. It is slim and sleek, with a green wristband, and the face of the dial is black and green hourglass. He brings the watch close to his face, inspecting it. It doesn’t look like a bomb or anything. Could it be a parasite or a virus? It is too early to say but he feels normal. No pain except the dull throbbing in his head and he didn’t feel sick at all. He starts pulling on the watch itself until it started to hurt him. So it confirms that whatever this thing is, it’s attached to him. Okay, that’s the easy part.

Now, what could this watch do?

Looking at the first time, he knows it can’t tell time. So what is it? He looks at the watch before getting the journal he found and looks through some pages. So far, there’s nothing in here that can explain to him what this thing is. He gets up, grabbing the journal and looks at the watch again, having no idea on what it can do. He looks at it slowly putting his finger to press the hourglass part of the watch. Maybe there was something he has to-

“HELLO!”

“AH!”, Dipper screamed almost dropping the journal and instantly hid his left arm behind his back, turning to look at his twin sister. “What’cha got there, some nerd things?”, Mabel inquires, curious as to what her brother has on him. This is making him nervous. How is he going to tell his sister about this?

“Uh, uh, it’s nothing!”, he nervously chuckles, hoping his half-attempted lie would steer him clear.

“Uh, uh it’s nothing!”, Mabel playfully imitating her brother, laughing at her brother’s fidgety response. “Come on, are you not gonna show me?”

“Uh..”, Dipper wants to make a retort but he can’t find one. Honestly, Mabel is the only one he can trust with something this big. Whenever there was something that was going on with, she was the first person he would go to, so why is he afraid to tell her something like this? He was pulled out from his thoughts as he turned around to see Gompers nibbling on the journal.

He turns to his sister, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

__________________________________________________________________

As Mabel sits on the recliner with her brother explaining what he found in the journal, she keeps taking a few glances at Dipper’s new watch. She was curious as to where he got it because she really liked how cool it looked.

“It's amazing, Mabel!”, Dipper exclaims, finally proven right about the weirdness he felt in this town. “Grunkle Stan said I was being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has this secret dark side.” He shows her various pages that he found. “And get this! After a certain point, the pages just stop, like the guy who was writing it... mysteriously disappeared.”

“Wow, that’s awesome”, she’s amazed by this, she really couldn’t believe there is something odd about this town. But now, she wants to know something else. “But where did you find the watch, bro? It looks nice.”

The air grows tense.

Dipper rubs his arm in nervousness, he really doesn’t know how to explain this to her: this obviously wasn’t a watch but he really doesn’t know what it is. And he really doesn’t wanna lie to her. He guesses he can figure it out later on. He inhales deeply before closing the journal looking at his sister.

“Mabel.”, he starts, already feeling uneasy as he holds up the ‘watch’. “When I was putting up the signs, I found this weird looking sphere. As I left next to put up the rest of the arrows, I was reading through the journal until this thing-”, He points to the ‘watch’. “-latched onto my wrist. I can guess that this was what was in the sphere the whole time.” Mabel takes in what he says and her eyes linger on the object latched to her brother’s wrist, curious as to what it is.

“Have you tried pulling it off?”, she asks.

“Yes”, he answers.

“Did you try pulling it off with a stick?”

“Yes.”

“Smash it with the rock?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try to-”

“Mabel, anything you’re about to say I tried”, he cuts off her questioning, “Whatever this thing is, it’s near indestructible. I smashed a hammer on it and it didn’t have a dent. That and, for whatever reason, it’s latched on deep in my skin. No matter what we do, this watch isn’t going to come off.” Mabel starts to understand what he’s saying, but she still looks at it. What could this thing do? She looks at her brother for a brief moment to see him looking deeply at this mysterious object, as it glows an ominous green…..

She tries to press it.

“Hey!”, Dipper is snapped out of his deep thought and quickly moves his left arm away from his sister. “Mabel, what are you doing?!” “Just wanted to see what it could do.”, she admits, looking at her brother’s astonished face.

“W-wha-? Mabel, we don’t know what this is!”, he protests, upset that his sister couldn’t understand the danger this watch can hold. “For all we know, this could be a bomb of sorts or a virus, or it could be a parasite, o-or-” He stops rambling and feels his sister holding his cheeks, with a pout etched on her face.

“Dipper, calm down.”, she tells her brother, “Breathe.” He does what she says, feeling his heart slow and his mind clear up. “Thanks, but this still doesn’t change what I said.”

“How do you know it’s a bomb? Or a virus?”, she questions, “Has it ticked? Do you feel different?”

“I….”, Dipper didn’t really have a response for that. As far as he knows, the watch didn’t do anything aside from glow when it latched onto him. His body feels normal and the object didn’t give off any signs that it was gonna blow up. His sister’s right.

Huh.

“I guess you’re right.”, he admits, staring at the watch, “But as of right now, let’s not touch it or do anything with it...just to be safe. And I really think we should keep this to ourselves. I don’t how Grinkle Stan would react to something like this.”

“Okay”, she agrees, respecting his decision, to which her brother thanks her. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, making Dipper jump. “Huh? Who’s that?”, he asks, perturbed to who’s ringing the doorbell.

“Well, time to spill the beans.’, she confesses as she pushes a literal can of beans. “Boop. Beans. This girl's got a date! Woot woot!” She falls back on the recliner, giggling at the fact that she finally might have a chance at a summer romance. Dipper just looks at her like she’s grown a second head. How was she able to get a date so quickly, let alone actually find the boy that would agree to go on one?

“Let me get this straight”, Dipper recollects, repeating himself just in case he missed something, “In the hour I was gone, you already found a boyfriend?” He’s stumped when it comes to finding a logical explanation for this. There’s no possible way she was able to get a boyfriend like this. Something is off.

“What can I say, Dipper?”, Mabel asks rhetorically, pulling her arms into the shirt to flail her sleeves, “I guess I'm just IRRESISTIBLLLLE!” The doorbell rings again, twice.

“Oh, coming!”, she runs to the door.

He sighs as his sister leaves, shaking his head at the idea of her getting a boyfriend in a day, an hour even. He sits on the recliner, reading the journal. He really is amazed by what he’s finding in the journal different monsters, various items, rare phenomena, heck, even aliens like the crystal man he found. But as he was enamored by the journal, he takes a moment to look at the watch on his wrist. Honestly, he wants to know more about it but right, he doesn’t wanna risk it. Maybe some other time, he’ll try to figure out what it can-

“What'cha reading there, slick?”

Dipper jumps before hiding the journal. “Oh, nothing”, he lies, trying to keep the journal hidden from his grunkle and immediately picks up a magazine. “I was just catching up on, uh….Gold Chains For Old Men Magazine?”

“That’s a good issue.” Stan guarantees, taking a sip from soda before looking at his nephew’s left wrist. “Where’d you get the watch?”

Dipper looks at the watch on his hand before looking at his grunkle. “Oh, uh, I found outside. I cleaned it off and polished it to make it look better than it did before.” That was a good enough lie, right?

Stan seems to buy it. “Hmm. Looks good.”

“Hey, family!” Dipper and Stan turn to look at Mabel and a stranger in a black hoodie.

“Say hello to my new boyfriend!”, she introduces her date as he turns around to be a brunette in a hoodie with a mysterious red liquid on his, giving a casual “S’up?”

“Hey….”, Dipper greets, already feeling suspicious about this boy.

“How’s it hanging?”, Stan salutes with a finger pistol.

“We met in the cemetery. He’s really deep.”, Mabel clarifies, as she starts to feel up his bicep, “Oh, got a little muscle there.” She’s getting flustered by how strong he must be. Dipper doesn’t like this guy.

“What’s your name?”, Dipper inquires, ready to know more about this guy.

“Uh…”, the stranger hesitates, “Normal….MAN!”

“He means Norman’, Mabels says dreamily, hugging his arm.

Dipper looks at the red liquid on his face. “Are you bleeding, Norman?”

Norman looks at the red substance before looking at Dipper defensively, “It’s jam.” Mabel gasped at this. “I love jam!”, she cries out, swishing her hand between her and her boyfriend. “Look. At. This.”

“So, you wanna hold hands...or whatever?”, Norman suggests, delighting Mabel to no end. “Oh, oh, my goodness”, she giggles, clearly excited at the prospect of holding hands as she runs outside. “Don’t wait up!” Norman finger pistols Dipper and Stan before smacking his head on the wall several and leaving out. Dipper didn’t like this at all. This guy comes out of nowhere and asks Mabel out on a date but he looked suspicious.

There’s something off about Norman and Dipper is gonna find out what.

__________________________________________________________________

He spent a large amount of time within the attic to find out what Norman is. So far, he’s got nothing at hand to give any inkling as what he truly is and what his motive maybe. He keeps flipping through pages until he finds something that may help him.

“Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes these creatures are often mistaken for... teenagers?! Beware Gravity Falls's nefarious...” Dipper reads aloud, only to pause in fear of the page before him, showing a hooded undead figure. This means that Norman is a….

“ZOMBIE!”

__________________________________________________________________

Stan pauses what he’s doing in the bathroom to look in the mirror. “Somebody say "crombie"? What is that, crombie?”, Stan asks himself, confused by what he’s saying. “That's not even a word. You're losing your mind.” He just finished washing his hands, afterwards.

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper has to calm down. He has to calm down or else, he’s going to panic. And he doesn’t want that, so he breathes slowly and turns to look out the window to see his sister, Mabel sitting on a log outside, swinging her legs…..and Norman limping towards her, his hands outstretched and ready to eat her. “Oh, no! Mabel, watch out!”, Dipper calls out to his sister, scared for her safety. Norman inches closer towards her and wrapped his hands behind her neck……

Only to put on a necklace of daisies. Mabel gasps, at the sweet gesture and is smiling at him.

Dipper sighs in relief before laying down on the windowsill, thinking. Was he wrong for assuming the worst out of Norman? As far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything to harm her. But at the same time, his behavior doesn’t seem to be normal at all. Dipper grumbles as he puts his hands on his. “Is my sister really dating a zombie, or am I just going nuts?”, he asks himself, not even sure if he had the answer.

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Dipper jumps up from his spot to see Soos putting up a lightbulb. Seriously, how many people are gonna keep sneaking up on him like this? He's surprised he hasn't got a heart attack.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talkin’ aloud to yourself in this empty room”, Soos clarifies, pulling out the screwdriver in his tool belt. “Soos, you’ve seen Mabel’s boyfriend, right?”, Dipper hesitates, trying to get a better answer from the handyman of the Mystery Shack. “He’s gotta be a zombie, right?”

“Hmm’, Soos thinks for a minute, twisting in the bulb. “How many brains didja see the guy eat?”

Dipper looks at Soos, before looking down embarrassed. “Zero.”

“Look, dude, I believe you.”, Soos reasons. Like Dipper, he has suspicion on what’s really going on in this town. “I’m always noticing weird stuff in this town. Like the mailman? I’m pretty sure he’s a werewolf, but you gotta have evidence. Otherwise, people will think you’re a major league cuckoo clock.” Dipper nods, understanding that he needs evidence in order to convince his sister that Norman isn’t what seems.

“As always, Soos, you’re right.”, Dipper acknowledges.

“My wisdom is both a blessing and curse.”, Soos replies, solemnly.

“SOOS! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

“I am needed elsewhere.”, Soos backs out from where he came. Dipper looks at the camera next to the journal. Looks like he’s got work to do.

__________________________________________________________________

Like Soos advised, Dipper takes as much evidence as he can between Mabel and Norman. He heads to his and Mabel’s room, replaying the recorded material he had as said sister is brushing her hair. So far, Norman always seemed to stumble, like his body lacks any motor control and his sense of balance, like when he’s walking or when he failed to catch the frisbee Mabel throws at him. And when they’re running in a grassy field, he seemed to have the behavior of pulling himself out of a grave like an undead being. He also has no respect for using doors properly so that’s a clue also.

“Mabel, we’ve got to talk about Norman”, Dipper insists, really wanting her to listen to the evidence he has.

“Isn’t he the best?”, she asks wistfully, “Check out this big smooch mark he gave me!” She turns face to show a giant red cheek mark, making Dipper scream in horror. She laughs at his response.

“Gullible. It was an accident I had with the leaf blower.”, Mabel clarifies, remembering how she was trying to do kissing practice with it but instead had the machine stuck to her face. “That was fun”

“Mabel, listen to me. I’m telling you there’s Norman isn’t what he seems.”, Dipper explains, showing the journal to emphasize his point, to which his sister gasps.

“You think he could be a vampire”, she asks, enjoying the idea that her boyfriend is a handsome vampire. “That would be awesome!

“Guess again, sister….SHA-BAM!”, Dipper exclaims, opening a page in his journal making Mabel scream. Dipper checks the journal to realize he was on the page of gnomes. “Oh, sorry, wrong page...Sha-bam!” He shows her the page of the undead, making his sister roll her eyes.

“Ugh, a zombie? That’s not funny, Dipper.”, Mabel doesn’t appreciate the revelation, thinking her brother is trolling her.

“I’m not joking, Mabel!”, Dipper persists, not allowing Mabel’s disbelief sway him in the slightest. “It all adds up: the bleeding, the limp. He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he’s blinking when you’re blinking.”, Mabel suggests, not really getting why her brother is getting paranoid about this.

“Mabel, have you forgotten what the journal said about Gravity Falls?”, Dipper reminds her, “Trust no one….”

“Well, what about me, huh? Why can’t you trust me?”, she asks, putting on her star earrings, “Beep. Bop.”

“Mabel!”, Dipper grabs his sister, shaking her in the hopes that she'll come to her senses, “He’s going to eat your brain!” Okay, Mabel has had enough of her brother’s paranoia. She firmly removes her brother’s hands from her shoulders, pushing him away.

“Dipper, listen to me.”, her voice being firm when she addresses Dipper, refusing to let him voice his concerns, “Norman and I are going out on a date. And I’m going to be ADORABLE”-she points her firmly on her brother’s chest-“And he’s going to be DREAMY” She does it again as she continues walking up to as he keeps walking until he walks out the room. “And I’m not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy CONSPIRACIES!” She slams her, leaving Dipper speechless. He took a moment to look at it from Mabel’s perspective: This is her chance at getting a date and she may not be able get another. But does this mean he’s wrong about Norman? Is he right? What is he missing?

He just sighs in defeat. “What am I gonna do?”

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper keeps looking through the videos but not with the determination he had earlier, no. He had the expression of forlorn permeate on his face. Maybe he is looking too deep into this and just allowed his paranoia to cloud his judgement. Maybe Norman is just eccentric. Maybe he just wants to look for love like Mabel does. And he is getting in their way.

The clock dings 5;00 and the doorbell rings.

“Coming!” Dipper hears Mabel shouts, looking up from the camera to look at his sister running downstairs, fixing her sweater and making herself presentable before opening the door beau. He hears Norman saying how shiny her sweater is before he sees them leaving the house and head out to the forest.

Dipper watches the video he collected from spying Mabel and her date. “Soos was right. I don’t have any real evidence.”, Dipper laments, realizing his mistake. He watches as the video shows Mabel teaching Norman hopscotch, only to fall over. He unconsciously fast forwards to Mabel and Norman with Norman's arm around Mabel. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and— Wait, WHAT?!” Dipper watches Norman's hand fall off, giving a glance around reattaching it. He rewinds the tape and watches it again, just to be sure he wasn’t being crazy, which only confirmed what he saw. Shocked right now, he screams and accidentally tips the chair backwards.

“I was right! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!”, Dipper freaks out, running outside to get his grunkle, “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan!” He keeps trying to get his grunkle’s attention, but he’s too focused on showing tourists one of his attractions, so he looks around to see the mystery cart. He runs towards to see Wendy taking the key out of the ignition.

“Wendy! Wendy! Wendy! I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my sister from a zombie!”, Dipper explains, hysterical at this point, to which she gives him the keys before heading off. “Try not to hit any pedestrians.” Dipper gets in the cart and starts the ignition. But before he can drive off, he sees Soos waiting for him.

Soos gives him a shovel. “This is for the zombies.” Dipper takes the shovel. “Thanks.” Just as he’s about to leave again, Soos gives him a bat. “And this is in case you find a pinata.”

“Uh...Thanks?”, Dipper takes the bat, weirded out before driving off.

“Better safe than sorry!” Dipper hears Soos yell out, but he hardly focuses on it as he only cares about saving his sister.

Who knows what could be happening to her right now?

__________________________________________________________________

As Mabel and Norman stand in the forest by themselves, he turns away from her nervously, like he was hiding a dark truth.

“Uh, Mabel”, Norman hesitates, holding his zipper, “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, there’s…” he exhales “...there’s something I should tell you.” The passes by as the tensity rises in the area.

“Oh, Norman, you can tell me anything!”, Mabel says in mock concern. Please be a vampire, please be a vampire!, she thinks, excited by the prospect that her boyfriend might be what she always desired.

"All right, just... just don’t freak out, okay?", he insists, making sure she doesn't get appalled by what's going to happen. "Just... just keep an open mind, be cool! He unzips his coat and throws it off and what Mabel sees surprises her. Underneath, the coat…..

Are five gnomes standing on top of each other.

“Is this weird? Is this too weird?”, the top gnome asks, concerned, “Do you need to sit down?” Mabel just stands there with her mouth hung open, completely in shock that her date is something else entirely than what she expected.

“R-r-right, I’ll explain. So! We’re gnomes.”, the gnome higher up makes clear, “First off. Get that one outta the way.” His response doesn’t really help as Mabel still fails to process what is transpiring in front of her.

“I’m Jeff”, the top gnome introduces himself before introducing his other colleagues, “And here we have Carson, Steve, Jason and... I’m sorry, I always forget your name.”

“Shmebulock!”, the last gnome answers.

“ Yes!”, Jeff snaps his fingers before looking at the dumbfounded Mabel, “Anyways, long story short, us gnomes have been lookin' for a new queen! Right, guys?” To which, the other gnomes started to chant “Queen! Queen!”, really wanting to have her as their royal subject.

“So what do you say?”, Jeff asks her, before tapping his foot to cause the collective to make the body kneel and hold out an engagement ring. “Will you join us in holy matri-gnomey? Matri...matri-mo-ny! Blah! Can’t talk today!”

Mabel is honestly dumbfounded by what is happening right now. She honestly never expected that her date would end up like this and now, it ends up like this: her being in the middle of the forest with her boyfriend, who was not human, not a vampire…..but a bunch of gnomes asking about for her hand in marriage. She thinks it would be better to let them off easy.

“Look... I'm sorry, guys.”, Mabel apologised, feeling awkward in explaining how she feels about the situation, “You're really sweet, but, I'm a girl, and you're gnomes, and it's like, ‘what?’ Yikes…” Mabel holds her arm, just explaining makes her feel uncomfortable.

“We understand.”, Jeff accepts sadly, seemingly understanding that Mabel didn’t want this “We'll never forget you, Mabel.” The gnomes look melancholy, Mabel smiles appreciating their decision. Maybe they weren’t so bad-

“Because we're gonna kidnap you.”

“Huh?”, Mabel takes double before Jeff leaps at her, screeching to, which she screams in terror.

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper drives as fast as he can to get to his sister and so far, he couldn’t find her. Where could she be? Regardless of what happens, he still had to find her no matter what happens.

"Mabel, where are you?!", Dipper calls out. She's gotta be close, right?

"Help!", he hears his sister calling for help and heads to the sound of her voice, driving near a path that leads downwards. He stops the cart to grab the shovel and charges to the source of Mabel’s cries for help, leading him witnessing her being surrounded by gnomes as she punches some them away.

Wait…..she wasn’t getting attacked by a zombie but rather gnomes?

“What the heck is going on here?!”, Dipper demands to which a gnome passes by him hissing.

“Dipper! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they’re total jerks!”, Mabel explains to him while trying to keep the gnomes away from here before a starts pulling on her hair. “Hair! Hair! Hair!”

“Gnomes? Huh, I was way off.”, Dipper feels awkward that he got the wrong creature at this moment. He takes the journal out of his vest and reads the relevant page. "Gnomes: little men of the Gravity Falls Forest. Weaknesses: unknown.". No weakness? That might be a problem. When Dipper lowers the book, he sees that the gnomes have managed to tie Mabel to the ground.

“Aw, come on!”, Mabel complains, not liking her situation at all. This makes Dipper walk towards Jeff with the shovel at hand.

“Hey! Let go of my sister!”, Dipper commanded, holding the shovel close

“Oh! Ha ha, hey there!”, Jeff greets, weakly. “Um, you know, this is all really just a big misunderstanding. You see, your sister's not in danger. She's just marrying all one thousand of us and becoming our gnome queen for all eternity!” He turns to the ensnared Mabel. “Isn't that right, honey?”

“You guys are buttfaces!”, Mabel protests, only for a gnome to cover her mouth.

“Give her back right now, or else!, Dipper threatens, pointing the shovel at Jeff.

“You think you can stop us, boy?”, the gnomes warns, narrowing his eyes. “You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the—ah!” Dipper scoops him up and tosses him aside before he uses the shovel to cut Mabel free, to which she kicked the gnomes away and runs with her brother to the cart before driving off.

Jeff gets up, looking miffed.

“You've messed with the wrong creatures, boy! Gnomes of the forest: ASSEMBLE!”

__________________________________________________________________

The cart drives as fast as it can across the forest. So far, it seems as if they managed to get away from the little men of the forest.

“Hurry, before they come after us!”, Mabel begs her brother to speed up, worried that the gnomes will come after them. Dipper, on the other hand, was unapprehensive about that notion.

“Mabel, I wouldn't worry about it. See their little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”, Dipper chuckles, finding the idea that the gnomes catching up to them impossible and hilarious.

He is wrong on both fronts.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump!

Dipper stops the cart and turns around to see a giant gnome, comprised of every gnome found in the forest. It roared in absolute fury.

“Dipper, step on it!”, Mabel commands her brother. Dipper wastes no time and steps on the gas pedal. The cart drives as fast as it can before the Gnome Giant smashes its fist on the ground, causing some gnomes to fall the formation only to get back in. The giant gives chase and follows them.

“Give us back our queen”, Jeff shouts from atop the Gnome Giant, controlling like a robot.

“It’s getting closer”, Mabel shouts, making Dipper wish the cart can go faster than it already can. The Gnome Giant starts to shoot out gnomes at the cart, to which they start biting at, along with attacking Dipper and Mabel. Mabel punches off a gnome hanging on the side while Dipper slams Schmebulock’s face on the wheel, making him fall out. Dipper sighs in relief, only for another gnome that jumps out of the cart to scratch him.

“I’ll save you, Dipper!”, Mabel declares, punching the gnome while also hitting her twin brother’s face until it falls out with his hat.

“Thanks, Mabel”, Dipper expresses his gratitude despite feeling dazed from the punches.

“Don’t mention it”, Mabel returns it, happy to help.

The Gnome Giant roars in indignation. To slow down the cart, it pulls out a giant tree and throws akin to a javelin at the runaway vehicle.

“Lookout!”, Mabel points to the tree that’s flying through the air before crashing, blocking their path. Dipper and Mabel scream as he swerves the the avoid crashing into the tree but only causes the cart to crash onto the ground near the Mystery Shack. Dipper and Mabel themselves out the totaled cart only to see the Gnome Giant towering over them.

“Stay back, man!”, Dipper warns, showing fear towards the hulking beast before grabbing a shovel and tosses it, only for the Gnome Giant to crush it, the scared Pine Twins hold each other close.

“Where’s Stan?”, Dipper asks

__________________________________________________________________

“Behold!”, Stan shows a swirly pattern on a stick to the tourists, “The world's most distracting object!”

“Oooh”

“Just try to look away, you can't!”, Stan chuckles as he pulls the string making it spin. Eventually, everyone, Stan included, becomes distracted by the object. “I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

__________________________________________________________________

“This has gone far enough kids. We’re done playing games.”, Jeff declares, controlling the Gnome Giant into getting closer to the Dipper and Mabel. The Giant gets close enough to snatch her into its giant hand. “Mabel, it’s time for you to come back with us. This’ll be much easier if you accept being our queen.”

“Ah! Dipper!”, Mabel cries out, trying to break free from it’s hand, only to fail to do so once it starts to leave.

“Mabel!”, Dipper exclaims as he tries to catch up to the “Let go of my sister!” The giant just keeps walking away, blatantly ignoring to his pleas of both Pine Twins. Dipper pulls out his journal to see if there’s something he missed on the gnomes, but finds nothing. He tries again, again, and again. Only to find nothing. His sister cries for help ever present in his ears. What can he do? There’s nothing he has on hand that can help him.

Except…..

Dipper looks at the mysterious watch and back at the Gnome Giant as it keeps walking away, having his sister in it’s hand as she kept trying to escape while also calling out to her brother. He looks back at the watch with a mix of nervousness and determination before pressing the hourglass symbol on it, making the watch spring up (much to his surprise) showing a hologram of something. Something he found in the journal earlier.

The crystal being. The Petrosapian,

Dipper hesitates before pressing the hourglass symbol down.

In a massive glow of green light, getting the Gnome Giant’s attention, Dipper’s entire anatomy starts to change. His body starts to harden as cyan crystals start to cover him entirely. He feels himself starting to get stronger. Stronger than he’s ever felt before and he started to become taller than he was previously. Dipper’s physiology is exponentially nonidentical: He’s 7 feet tall with his body, no longer skin and bones, entirely composed of cyan-colored diamond with a darkish blue jumpsuit-like uniform with a red-orange stripe down the center, black boots, two sharp crystal shards on his back with a sharp head and yellow eye And to top it off, there's an hourglass symbol on the center of his chest. And to top it off, there’s an hourglass symbol on the center of his chest.

Mabel is shocked to see what brother turned into. “D-Dipper?”

The Gnome Giant was stumped. “What the? He can turn into a walking chandelier?”, Jeff asks, confused as to what just happened. Unfortunately for him and the rest of the gnomes, this “walking chandelier” is not interested in answering questions.

Dipper’s yellow eyes go to his sister before glaring at the colossal conglomerate of gnomes. He speaks, despite being full of bass, with determination and anger, “I’m going to say this once: Give me back my sister. Or you’re gonna regret it.” Mabel is blown back by how tough her brother sounds.

The Gnome Giant, on the other hand, laughs. This walking chandelier is supposed to intimidate it? Jeff wipes a tear, laughing. “Yeah, right! There’s a thousand of us and only one of you. What are you gonna do? Reflect some light to make yourself shinier? Pull some of yourself off to trade for your sister?”

Dipper’s eyes narrow. “No.”, he simply answers, “I’m gonna do this.” He pushes his left arm out and shoots speeding crystals at the Gnome Giant, as it roars in pain. He runs forward, continuing to shoot at the colossal Gnome while turning his right hand into a blade and cuts the beast's left leg, breaking off some of the beast’s formation. The Gnome Giant struggles to keep itself together, while at the same time, blocking the crystals as Dipper keeps shooting at it. It tries to move away but sees that Dipper is now punching at its leg, causing some of the gnomes to fall out.

"Hey! Stop doing that!", Jeff yells out, trying to make sure Mabel stays in one hand while trying to crush this annoying gem with the other, who keeps rolling out the way and avoids getting stomped on, smashed with the other hand, and takes the shooting gnomes without even flinching.

I gotta find a way to get Mabel free, Dipper thinks as he continues to avoid all of the Giant Gnome's attacks while also continuing to attack the on the leg he damaged. There has to be a weak spot in the formation. If I can’t find one, I'll make one. With a boost in adrenaline, Dipper delivers a powerful hook to the left leg, causing the it to explode and by extension, the gnomes to fly off in different directions. The Gnome Giant falls on a knee, holding itself up with a hand that didn’t have Mabel in it. Dipper takes advantage of this and plants both hands on the ground, causing a giant diamond piller to uppercut the giant’s chin, causing the behemoth to fall to the ground letting Mabel go in the process.

“AH!”, Mabel screams as she keeps falling until she feels a pair of crystal hands catch her. She looks to see Dipper caught her by summoning a pillar underneath him. The pillar goes back into the ground and Dipper puts her down. “You ok?”, he asks her sister, wanting to make sure she’s alright.

“Yeah.”, Mabel nods, impressed by what her brother is and what he can do. “At least we know what that watch can do.”

Dipper looks at his diamond hands and toward the hourglass symbol on his chest. “Yeah, at least we know.” Before Dipper can ask himself what this means for him, a roar is heard, causing the crystalized Pine and his twin sister to see the Giant Gnome, fully reformed and charging at them, or specifically, the transformed Dipper. He grits his teeth before pushing both hands out, shooting out speeding crystals at the behemoth’s face, making it slow down and cover it. “Mabel, get back inside!”

“But what about you?!”, Mabel doesn’t want to leave her brother behind, even if he is a rock monster.

Dipper turns toward his sister, not relenting in his barrage. “I’ll be fine! Just get outta here before-URK!!” Dipper isn’t paying attention, until the Giant Gnome comes in and punt kicks Dipper into a couple of trees.

“Dipper!”, Mabel shouts, appalled that her brother got sent flying from that attack.

“You know, we were going to let off easy, kid”, Jeff explains, his aggravation reaching its peak. “But you have been a thorn in us gnomes’ side one too many times! It’s time for you to-Ah!” Jeff is interrupted as diamond shard whizzes past him, leaving a scratch on his face. This gives Dipper the opportunity to charge at the behemoth and smash his hands, which are now spiked balls, on the right leg.

But the opportunity never came. The Gnome Giant is prepared and grabs him before smashing him into the ground hard to leave a crater. He tries to break free, only to be punched into the ground and gets more stuck.

“Alright, that’s it! It’s time for this walking chandelier to be shattered!”, Jeff growls, controlling the conglomerate of gnomes into getting ready to punch Dipper into smithereens.

“Stop!” Giant Gnome stops what it’s doing to see Mabel standing in front of his transformed brother. She can’t take her brother getting beat up because of her mistake.

“Alright, Mabel! It’s time to make a choice: Either be our queen or watch your brother get crushed!”, Jeff makes her choose, having enough of these obstacles preventing him and his gnomes from having their queen. Mabel looks at the giant beast then her brother, who is struggling to get himself free, only for the hourglass symbol on his chest to beep, blinking red before he turns back to normal. She realizes what she needs to do.

“I’ll do it.”, Mabel hangs her head in defeat, she accepts her fate. Dipper looks at his sister in shock.

“Mabel, what are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”, Dipper exclaims in confusion and dismay. Why is she doing this? Mabel looks at her brother with a forlorn look on her face.

“Dipper. Trust me.”, she simply responds. Jeff takes a 180 and is ecstatic by her decision.

“Hot dog!”, Jeff cheers. “Help me down there, Jason!” He climbs down from his gnome brothers and approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring. “Eh? Eh?” Mabel smiles and holds her hand out, to which he puts the ring on it. “Bada-bing, bada-bam! Now let's get you back into the forest, honey!” He walks away with a pep in his step.

“You may now kiss the bride!”, she announces, making Jeff stop and turn around.

“Well, don't mind if I do.”, he says, before using mouth spray, smiling at his bride-to-be, who gave one of her and eyes fluttering. They lean in to kiss, only then for Mabel to take out a leaf blower and aim it at the gnome.

“Ah! Hey, hey, wait a minute!”, Jeff is shocked by this. He gets sucked up in the leaf blower “Whoa, whoa! Wh-what's goin' on?!” Jeff struggles but just gets more sucked into the leaf-blower halfway.

“That's for lying to me!”, Mabel yells, angry at the little man. She increases the sucking power. “THAT'S for breaking my heart!”

“Ow! My face!”, Jeff groans, painfully as he slowly gets sucked in further.

And THIS is for messing with my brother!”, Mabel declares aiming the leaf blower to the immobile Gnome Giant, before looking at Dipper. “Wanna do the honors?”

Dipper smiles at her. “On three!”

“One, two, three!”, they chant in unison as they blast Jeff towards the gnome monster, causing all the gnomes to fly out in multiple directions. After threatening them with the leaf blower, they all retreat within the forest. As they all left, Mabel looks at her brother remorsefully.

“Hey, Dipper? I, um...I'm sorry for ignoring your advice.”, Mabel apologizes, feeling sorry for not listening to her when she had the chance. ,“You really were just looking out for me.”

“Oh, don't be like that. You saved our butts back there.”, he encourages her.

“I guess I'm just sad that my first boyfriend turned out to be a bunch of gnomes.”, she says.

“Look on the bright side.”, Dipper proposes “Maybe the next one will be a vampire!”

“Oh, you're just saying that!”, Mabel smiles, valuing her brother’s gesture.

“Awkward sibling hug?”, Dipper asks, his arms out. Mabel smiles and accepts it. “Awkward sibling hug.”

“Pat-pat” “Pat-pat”

__________________________________________________________________

Stan is counting money when he sees the Pine Twins walk in, fatigue and untidiness .

“Sheesh. You guys got hit by a bus or something?”, he laughs at the kids, who scowl at him before walking away. Seeing them like this, he decides to give them something to cheer them up.

“Hey.”, Stan calls out to them, getting their attention, “Wouldn't you know it? Um, I accidentally overstocked some inventory, so, uh... how's about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house, y'know?”

“Really?”, Mabel asks, happy at getting something.

“What’s the catch”, Dipper questions, suspicious as he crosses his arms.

“The catch is do it before I changed my mind.”, Stan grumbles, really just wanting to do this simple gesture. Dipper and Mabel look across for different items on the shelves and grab what they wanted.

Picks up a cap with a pine tree on it and puts it on, looking in the mirror impressed. “”

“And I will have a…..”, Mabel says before grabbing something out the box. “Grappling Hook!”

Stan and Dipper look perplexed.

“Wouldn’t you want a doll or something”, Stan asks, not really why she wants the item picked. Mabel just shoots the grappling hook into the air, knocking down a shelf in the process. “Grappling Hook!”

“Fair enough”, Stan shrugs.

As Dipper sits in his bed reading the journal while his sister keeps jumping on hers, he starts to think about what happened earlier in the day. The journal said to not trust anyone but thanks to his sister, he would probably be dead despite turning into that crystal being. Speaking of the crystal being, he wonders what the watch can do and how it can do it? So far, he can assume the watch can do more than give him just one transformation but how many are there? Did the watch have aliens that can be found in the journal like the Petrosapian? These were another addition of questions he has for the town of Gravity Falls. Dipper takes a look at his sister using her grappling hook with glee to catch a stuffed animal. She really is the only one he can trust with the secrets they have.

And he has no problem with it.

“Hey, Mabel. Can you get the light.”, Dipper asks.

“On it!”, she replies, aiming and shooting the grappling hook on the lamp, breaking it. “It works!” The Pine Twins get a laugh before heading to sleep.

For these two, the mysteries and strangeness in this town were only beginning.

#omni falls #chapters #dipper #mabel #stan #soos #wendy

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 6 years ago

Note

Can you do a newt au?

Day 11: Character A is pretending to be their friend’s lover for the sake of the friend’s family. Character B is said friend’s sibling.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

A/N: this is going to be a modern college au in which the gladers are the said siblings

❄ ❊ ❄ ❊ ❄ ❊

“No!”

“Come on, Y/N,” Minho pleads with you.

“Absolutely not!”

“Please” he starts to beg, hands clasped together. “It’sonly going to be my family and the Gladers.”

His group of friends from high school call themselves ‘the Gladers’. You’re not sure why— you vaguely recall him telling you about something to do with a school team.

“Wait- is Newt going to be there?”

“Uh…” That response in itself is enough to make you groan in defeat. “You’ll still come though, right?”

“Minho, he hates me!”

“He does not!”

“Yes he does!”

You feel that it’s fair for you to assume that the guy hates you for no reason seeing as you’ve never done anything to him— or at least that you can think of. It’s frustrating because he seems so happy and cool around literally everyone but you. Whenever you’re around, it’s all one-word replies and averted gazes.

“Please, Y/N, he’s my best friend—” You shoot him a glare with daggers in your eyes. “O-Other than you of course- look, you’re both my best friends, and it would be great if you can get along- for me, please- I’ll owe you big time for this!” The way Minho is looking at you, you can make it through one night to help your best friend out. He really needs this.

“All right, whatever, just text me the details.

"Trust me, Y/N, Newt definitely doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss him, not believing that for a second, but he’s never looked so relieved and you’ve always wanted to meet his family— however you had imagined it under different circumstances.

You just hope you won’t regret your decision.

❄ ❄ ❄

By the time you and Minho arrive to his family home, the party is already in full swing. Food is laid out on tables and counters, the smaller kids are running around, the gladers are taking shots with some of Minho’s uncles, and his parents and aunts are quick to grill the two of you with questions.

In fact, they didn’t even let you inside until you kissed him under the mistletoe that hung over the front porch. You simply pecked him on the cheek, like you have many times before.

You love your best friends family, but how are you supposed to proceed after this? What are you supposed to do for the next family event? And what happens when one of you actually starts dating someone and then you’re reintroduced as his best friend? You and him clearly didn’t think that through. As you watch him goofing off with the gladers you decide that it’ll have to be a problem to deal with later on.

“Minho!” His mother calls out from across the room. “You need to move your car!”

“You are definitely not in any condition to be getting behind the wheel,” you state, watching him hiccup with a glass of Gally’s moonshine in his hand. He chuckles in agreement, and almost stumbles in the process of rummaging for his keys.

“Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best girl-friend ever!” He slurs, laughing at his own pun as you head out, not bothering to put on your coat.

Gritting your teeth at the cold leather seat freezing you through your pants, you move his car so that his aunt can leave, waving goodbye to her as she drives by. You’re very temped to stay in Minho’s car, long enough so it can heat up and you can just bathe in that warmth for a bit before returning inside to play the role of his significant other.

But you don’t. You leave the car and try not to slip on ice as you make your way back in, however a tall figure stands in front of the door and doesn’t move out of your way.

Given the sub-zero temperature and how the said tall figure has been going about his usual routine of ignoring you in social interactions but then glaring at you, it’s fair to say that him standing in your way irritates you.

“Hey Newt,” You don’t bother to hide the annoyance in your voice as you try to non-verbally cue him to move out of the way. But he doesn’t. “Okay, what the hell is your problem?!” You aren’t sure what snapped inside you, but you get along so well with the rest of the gladers that it’s just too frustrating that you’re not being treated like the rest of the group. At this point, you just want to get to the bottom of whatever the issue is. “Why do you hate me- what did I ever do to you?!”

“N-Nothing—” He blinks a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“Oh really?” A small part of you kinda feels bad because he looks like a deer caught in headlights— completely helpless in an adorable way, his big brown eyes hitting you in a soft spot you didn’t know you had— but that’s not the point here. “Then why is it that you can’t even look at me in the eyes- or-or say more than two words to me? What did I do to make you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” he says in a voice so small you have to do a double take to make sure you heard right. “I-I’m sorry if I gave you that impression- wow I-I’m so embarrassed- and surprised Minho hasn’t told you.” Your pissed-off expression quickly turns into a puzzled one as you try to decipher what he’s going on about. “I don’t hate you- it-it’s quite the opposite, actually.”

“Newt, what are you saying?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply giving you a shrug and a sheepish lopsided smile as he nervously scratches the back of his head.

“I suppose I just don’t know how to act around you- I know it sounds like a load of klunk, but—” You don’t wait to hear the last of his sentence before cutting him off by capturing his lips with yours.

You’re not quite sure what came over you— maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas, the mistletoe you had just noticed has been hanging over your heads, or your plummeting body temperature begging you to get warmer, but you’ve managed to take him by surprise yet again tonight— as well as yourself. He doesn’t respond at first, standing frozen and shocked with his eyes wide, and you pull back before he gets a chance to.

You watch him, trying to gauge his reaction as your panted breaths cloud the air in front of you.

“Wh-what was th- why- did you—” he stutters, still completely shocked and frozen.

“Th-the mistletoe—” You gesture upwards to the hanging branch, and his gaze follows.

“Ah, r-right,” He nods nervously, still not knowing how to feel about what just happened.

“D-Did you really mean what you said before- a-about not hating me?”

Seeing that he’s not the only nervous one here, a small smile curves his lips. He slips a hand around the back of your head, his long fingers lacing through your hair, and he leans down to connect his lips to yours once again. His mouth moves slow, but insistently and— holy shit you’d never had imagined that Newt of all people would be the one leaving you breathless under the mistletoe.

He pulls back only a little, his hand still supporting your head and you can still feel his long eyelashes skimming your cheeks. After catching your breath, you allow your eyelids to flutter open and melt into his gaze.

“I’ve sort of been wanting to do that for some time now,” he admits, biting his lip.

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner!” You slap his arm, and he seems stunned at first, but then a sheepish grin replaces the shocked expression. “You let me think that you hated me for two years when we could have been dating!?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles as you roll your eyes.

“Well, better late than never I suppose…”

With that, you grab him by the collar and pull him into a bruising kiss before smoothing your skirt and heading back inside.

Entering the party the once again, you and Newt try not to give anything away, and spend the rest of the night stealing glances that would have the rest of the gladers raising their eyebrows if they weren’t too tipsy to notice.

*BONUS ENDING*

Minho stumbles his way to the upstairs bathroom where he assumes no one else will be, and opens the door to reveal your lips attached to Newt’s jaw, and his hands pulling you tight at your waist while you're sat on the counter.

“wHAT THE FUCK GUYS!?”

You and Newt break apart, stumbling and you brush yourselves off— as if that would make this scene any less awkward.

“When I said I wanted my two best friends to get along I didn’t mean like this at my family Christmas party!”

You and Newt share a sheepish glance; he can’t wipe the goofy smile off his face and his hair is sticking up at odd angles, and you don’t even want to know how much of a mess you must be.

Looking back at Minho, you raise your hands, shrugging, “Uh, we can call it even?”

#newt #christmas drabbles #tmr newt #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #tmr #tmr imagine #tmr drabble #newt imagine #tmr newt imagine #12docotp #potatowrites #newt drabble #tmr newt drabble #drabble

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its-artsy-author · 6 years ago

Text

Purple Comes From Red And Blue Chapter One

prologue

chapter one: in which the Naughty Boi takes the Pure and Nerd Bois on a ride, and aliens happen (part one of two)

ship(s): klance as a fusion, eventual klunk

word count: 3,883

tws/cws: running away, being yelled at/ridiculed by authority figures, aliens??? is that a trigger???, syringes, medical experiments, non-consensual experimentation

Our story begins with a flight simulator in the most prestigious astro-explorer academy in the world, the Galaxy Garrison.

A dark-haired boy in an orange, white and grey flight suit grabs a walkie-talkie from its stowage point above him, “Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission.” He tilts the control stick on his dashboard forward.

“Ugh. Klance, can you keep this thing straight?” A large Samoan boy in the same flight suit exclaims, hands moving frantically over a screen in front of him. He retches, nauseous, as the ship swerves.

Our pilot, Klance, is a tall boy with dark brown, almost black, hair and pale brown skin. “Relax, Hunk,” presumably the engineer behind him, “I’m just getting a feel for the stick. Besides, it’s not like I did this!” Klance jerks the control stick sharply to the right. The ship swerves in that direction, tossing its contents around wildly.

“Klance, stop it, unless you want to be stuck on cleaning duty again! I will throw up!” Hunk grabs the dashboard in front of him, stomach lurching. Klance huffs an annoyed sigh, but complies, shifting the controls for a smoother flight. A disruptive beeping sounds from the walkie-talkie that the communications officer has hanging on a small perch above them. The smaller figure, pale and slender with wide owlish eyes, calls out to the rest of their team, “Klance, we’ve picked up a distress beacon!” they peer over at the pilot, who somehow manages to exude an aura of nonchalant confidence while also having taut muscles and a focused expression.

“Look alive, team! Pidge, track coordinates.” The communications officer- Pidge, their name was- turns back to their console, muttering their assent, just as the ship begins shaking again; the overhead fluorescent lights flash red and alarms blare from every speaker.

Hunk groans, clutching at his mouth and pushing his monitor away from him. The craft rumbled and shook again, “Knock it off, Klance, please!” he complains, lurching in his seat.

Klance sends a sharp look Hunk’s way, “Oh, this one’s on you, buddy. We’ve got a hydraulic stabilizer out, and, last I checked, that was your area of expertise, not mine.” He turns back to the front window of the craft.

Hunk pulls his monitor back to himself before leaning forward and clamping a hand over his mouth. “Oh, no-” his stomach lurches again and Hunk barely avoids retching. Klance groans, running a hand through his dark hair and rolling his eyes- a kind-of dark indigo-blue.

“Nope! Fix now, puke later, Hunk!” He refocuses intently on the screen. Pidge calls out to their team that they've lost the signal because of the shaking. “It’s interfering with our sensors!”

Klance drives the base of his palm into his temple, chastising his nauseous teammate as he returns to the screen in front of him. “Ah, nevermind, boys, thar she blows!"

Fatal last words, he thinks, standing in front of Iverson and taking his shit yet again.

"You are the most incompetent officers I've ever seen in this program, and what's more, the worst team! This kind of shit is what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos mission!" Klance (literally) glowed in anger at that, their two souls dangerously close to splitting. Keith nearly punched Iverson, and Lance barely held them together and shoved a hand over the indignant mouth of his crewmate, Pidge. "Tomorrow'd better be the best run you've ever had or so help me god, you won't live to see the end of this program!" Klance winces at his harsh tone, flinching as spit falls on his face with the end of his sentence. "Get out of my sight," he growls.

"NEXT!"

That night, Klance and Hunk sneak out.

Hunk bites his fingernails, looking around nervously as he and Klance creep down the halls. "This is a bad idea- This- This right here? This is a really bad idea." Klance makes an offhanded, nonchalant noise in response, opening the roof door with a creak. Hunk winces at the sound, head whipping back to see if anyone heard.

A lone figure rests there, hunched intently over a bright screen of numbers. Large headphones engulf a good bit of their head. Klance tiptoes over to them, eyes widening in surprise at the figure being Pidge, then smiles impishly, reaching out one hand to yank off the headset. "You come up here to test your cryptid theories?" Pidge's head turns so fast it gives them whiplash, flailing in the air and losing their balance onto the concrete roof.

"Wha- I- No- What are you doing here? You're the one always complaining about your beauty sleep."

Klance mumbles to himself, "Keith's the one who never washes his goddamn face, but sure,"

Hunk looks at him weirdly, "Dude, what'd you say?"

"Uhh, nothing?"

"Sure, Jan."

"Anyway, what're you doing up here? Shouldn't you be, uhh... Doing... Something? Look, I'm not good at this, okay?" Klance rambles, reaching down to his waist to fiddle with something, but it's not there. He looks almost worried before seeming to remember something.

All this is observed by Hunk, resident goofball, and crusher on friend of Klance. He and Klance met on the first day at Garrison, and they've been roommates ever since. Granted, they were governmentally mandated roommates, but they got along happily besides! Hunk has a moderate anxiety disorder, and Klance is usually great with helping him out with it. (In the sims, he got really weirdly focused and couldn't deal with anyone's anxiety but his own, but otherwise he was really good about it.) Hunk suspected that Klance had some sort of behavioural disorder, as he displayed symptoms of ADHD, but found it difficult to remember social cues occasionally.

However, that didn't stop him from being an absolute living meme, and Hunk truly enjoyed being in his crush's friend's company.

"So, what're you even doing up here anyway?" Hunk is jolted out of his reverie by Klance peering over Pidge's shoulder at their code.

"You wouldn't understand. Or take me seriously, for that matter."

"Try me."

Pidge sighs, "We're not alone in this universe. Now, I know what that sounds like, with me being an avid cryptid fan, but, seriously." They grow somber. "I've been scanning the solar system, and picking up alien radio chatter."

Hunk shook his head, "What? So- so you mean, like, aliens? They exist?"

Klance looked both skeptical and enthused at the same time, if that was possible. He settled on enthused. "Ahh! Oh my gosh, really? That's so cool! Show me!" He slips on a pair of headphones, his eyes growing brighter as he hears the supposed '"alien radio chatter."

"They've been repeating one word: Voltron."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Awesome!"

Their nerding out is interrupted by a bright spot on the horizon. Klance snatches up a pair of binoculars of Pidge's, staring up at the dot of fire. "That ship is not one of ours!" He exclaims, Hunk panicking in the background. It crashes with an explosion behind a hill near the Garrison building.

"We've gotta go check it out!" Pidge jumps up, packing up their tech and running back to the roof door.

"I don't know..." Hunk mumbles.

"C'mon, Hunk! Think of it as a team-building excercise!" Klance dashes after them.

"Oh, this is the worst team-building excercise ever." Hunk grumbles, reluctantly following the pair.

They set up shop on a cliff ledge overlooking the place where the ship crashed. Pidge has their tech out, graphing data from the crash; Klance looks at the crash site, overrun by med techs and officers, through binoculars; Hunk bites his nails worriedly behind them, occasionally commenting on their collected data.

"What the heck's even in that ship?" Klance asks himself, wincing as Keith has a different opinion than Lance. His- Their fingers glow, and hethey struggles to keep it together.

"Dude, you good?"

"Uhh..." They pull their sleeves over their fingers. "Yeah, all good!" Klance says, high-pitched with the lie, feeling the glow subside as they reassimilate. They- he's going to have to defuse soon. Staying fused after nearly unfusing isn't good for them- him.

"Sure, Jan."

Klance leans over Pidge's shoulder. "How's it coming on that security footage?"

Their eyes are trained completely on the screen. "Almost there... c'mon... got it!" The screen fills with a live feed of inside the ship.

[Shirogane struggles against restraints.]

'You've got to listen to me! Aliens are coming!'

"Whoa." Klance jerks back from the screen. "That's Takashi Shirogane! The best pilot at the Garrison!" Pidge looks like they want to argue, but stays quiet as Klance continues his rant. "And is that Matt Holt? And they're not even going to listen to them? How dumb can you get?" Klance is shushed and the quartet trio returns to the screen.

"The subjects appear to have cyborg prosthetics, sir. One with an arm, the other a leg."

"Put them under until we find out what those things can do."

"No, no, don't put me under! You have to listen to me! Listen to me-"

[Shirogane's voice cuts off, strangled, as a med tech injects a syringe into his arm. Next to him, another humanoid flails wildly, being put under a similar procedure. The second subject is identified as Matt Holt, though he stays silent.]

Pidge looks up, wide-eyed, to Klance- except Klance isn't there, he's sprinting towards the ship. Pidge calls out to him, but he's too far. As Klance knocks out the guards with a few well-placed punches, Pidge settles for watching the live feed of the med room.

The med techs inside are taken out swiftly, and Klance lifts both of the patients up- seriously, this guy has the strength of two men- and hefts them out of the ship.

Pidge watches as they exit. Klance picks up a small, round item out of his pocket and lobs it in the opposite direction. A small explosion rocks the area there soon after. He makes his escape swiftly, grabbing an unused Jeep and tossing the pair in. "Pidge! Hunk! C'mon!" He hops in the driver's seat, and Pidge and Hunk race down the hill to meet them.

Sometime along the bumpy journey over sand dunes and rocks, Pidge realizes something. "Do you even know where you're going?" They shout over the motor, sand spraying their face.

He yells back something garbled that sounds like, "No, but Keith should!" and they know they've misheard.

"What?"

"I said, uh, I think I should!"

"Oh, okay!"

It's got to be three in the morning, the moon shining over the Arizona desert, when they finally reach a little middle-of-nowhere, dilapidated shack that looks like it's falling apart slowly under sand spray and wind erosion.

Pidge gives zero fucks, however, and drags Matt in, collapsing on a couch and passing out. Hunk does similarly on a loveseat. Klance situates Shiro on the floor, dragging a couple blankets onto him before going to Keith's tiny, cramped room and defusing.

Lance barely stumbles into Keith's arms before dragging them both into the tiny double trundle bed and tangling their legs together, kissing him sloppily once and passing out five seconds later.

Pidge wakes up with a crick in their neck and a taste like old lemons in their mouth. They yawn and open their eyes blearily, pinching sleep out of their eyes. They snatch up their glasses, smiling in relief at Matt's sleeping form, silhouetted by the desert sunrise. Shiro is curled up next to him, and their hands are clasped together like a lifeline. Pidge chooses to ignore that fact, looking around the small, shabbily furnished room. Something looks a little off, though, and it takes their sleep-addled brain a second to catch up to their surroundings.

Where's Klance?

Memories from last night come rushing in. How did Klance even know this was out here? Is it his?

Pidge shoves themself up forcefully from the couch they passed out on, wandering on unsteady legs down a tiny hallway that has three doors. One is ajar, grimy tile and porcelain visible in the dim light of a bulb on the ceiling that fizzles out soon after they turn it on. The other is a small closet, filled with supplies like rope, a ladder, and is that a hatchet?

The last room is firmly shut, and, upon further inspection, is locked with a rusty bolt used well beyond its years. A strong scent of coffee wafts from the room. This must be Klance's room. They knock, "Klance? Y'in there?"

Klance's voice shouts back at them, "Uh, yeah! Be out in a bit!" His voice seems off. It's too gravelly, too masculine, although that could be attributed to waking up.

Inside the room, Keith sighs in relief in tandem with Lance. "C'mon, Lance. Let's fuse." His voice is bored and tired, but the creases in his face light up when he says the word fuse. For them, it's the ultimate form of intimacy and closeness, something physical contact just can't compare to. Opening your mind, being vulnerable to your partner and sharing your entire self with them- it's perfect to them.

Lance makes grabby hands at Keith, pulling him close and giggling at his truly elegant squawk of surprise. Lance presses himself against Keith, and then they're not Lance and Keith, not two separate beings, they're one. Klance.

Klance shrugs on a black t-shirt and Lance's green army jacket, undoing the bolt on the door and stretching. He slips on a pair of flip-flops, trudging towards the kitchen and setting a pot of coffee. He mutters a greeting to Pidge, dutifully ignoring their questions about their location, and fries up some bacon and scrambled eggs. Toast? In the toaster. Plates? On the table. Hotel? Trivago.

Pidge pours the coffee on Klance's request, refilling the pot and handing out mugs to people. Hunk is shaken awake, and Shiro is woken up by the smell of coffee. He and Matt sit quietly in the corner, sipping coffee and watching their surroundings warily.

The strange congregation perches on various bits of furniture, eating quietly, when Pidge pipes up, "Okay. Enough's enough. Where are we?"

Klance sighs. "This belonged to my parents." It's not technically a lie.

Pidge raises an eyebrow, "I thought your parents were from Cuba. They pick you up every year."

Lie, lie, lie. Deflect, deflect. "Uh... a couple generations ago, the conquistadors came here and a couple eloped?"

"The conquistadors were Spanish."

"Fuck."

"It's mine," Shiro puts in. "I gave it to K- Klance before I 'went off gallivanting into space,' as your mother would put it." He smiles weakly.

Pidge rounds on him, "You know Klance? From where?"

"Hey, hey, let's calm down. We don't need to know all the answers at once," Matt puts in sleepily. Pidge practically vaults over the table to get to him.

"Matt! You're okay! What happened to your leg? I knew you were alive! They kept saying you were dead but I never believed them, oh my god, Matt, you're alive!"

"Yeah, I noticed." Matt says tiredly, giving Pidge a sloppy hug and ruffling their hair.

After breakfast, Klance puts their ragtag team into employ to... drumroll please... Clean the cabin! They all work together, and, with some music from Klance's iPod (all his stuff is purple, red or blue. It's creepy, almost. Like those colours mean something. -Pidge, making observations as they enter the rich life of a Garrison student.), they make quick work of it.

After they've finished cleaning, the group drapes themselves over a variety of furniture. Pidge spies a sheet covering something in a corner. Unable to sate their curiosity otherwise, they walk up to it, yanking down the sheet and gasping at the board behind it. Pictures connected by strings and charts and graphs cover the corkboard. Star charts depict the exact date and time that Shiro and Matt arrived. Pictures and data readings of a giant mechanical thing litter its surface.

"Hey, Klance?"

"Yeah, Pidgeotto?"

"What's this?"

"Shit."

"Alright, everyone! Gather round, children, because it's time for Uncle Klance to tell you a story," Klance calls the group to sit in a semicircle around the closest chair to the corkboard. "Okay. So, I've been sneaking out at night." It's not technically a lie, because Keith had been sneaking out to the shack and Lance had entertained his "crackpot conspiracy theories." "But, while Hunk-a-burnin'-love over here thought I was sucking dick, I was actually coming out here. There's this crazy energy out here. It felt... Almost like it was calling me to search. So I did. And I found this cave with these weird lion carvings."

Pidge jumps up, "Do you think that that's Voltron? Weird energy, that could be aliens."

Hunk hums, considering. "Could be. Do you have proof?"

"Yeah. I've been tracking the energy. It's a tangible thing, like something on the periodic table. It's not any element I've ever seen before, though."

"Maybe I could build something to look for it, like a Voltron Geiger counter."

"Sure. The wavelength is so weird. It looks like this." Klance holds up a sheet of graphing paper with a seemingly random red line on it.

Matt snaps his fingers, "Give me that!" He snatches the paper, muttering an apology as he lifts it up to a picture of the cliffs near the cave. The red lines up with the outline of the cliffs almost exactly.

Hunk whistles. "Creepy, my man."

------

The group treks through craggy terrain made of crumbling reddish rock. Hunk and Pidge have a complicated setup of wires and junk parts going. Although the sound of the makeshift tech is annoying, the group follows with minimal complaint (apart from Klance, who says what Keith's thinking with Lance's attitude.). They approach a cave, Klance leading the way once he starts recognizing landmarks ("Ooh! I remember busting my ankle on that rock!" -Klance. "Dude, that's why you couldn't walk for a week?" -Hunk. "Oh, I thought he just got really fucked out." -Pidge. "Language!" -Shiro. "Yeah, watch your fucking language, kiddies." -Matt.)

The group stands at the mouth of the cave, peering down into the dank, dripping gloom. "Well!" Klance bounds forward, "This is the cave, so, if you'll excuse the miscellaneous coffee cups, various pieces of tech and other junk lying around, let's go!"

Matt shoves his hands into the pockets of his borrowed hoodie, looking at the cool carvings everyone is gawking over. "I don't see what's so special about carved rock," Matt says, wiping the dust and rock debris from one of the carvings of a lion.

A piercing noise, not unlike a sound effect in a show or movie, emits from the walls, and the carvings glow bright blue. The blue energy spiderwebs across the cavern floor like cracks, and that's about when the floor collapses and they all splash down into a lower level in the cavern.

In a gigantic blue bubble- the same colour as the carvings glowed- lays an equally gigantic blue mechanical lion. Klance hums and steps forward. Shiro gasps. "So this is what's been causing all this crazy energy out there."

Pidge gulps and rubs their eyes, "So this is it? This is the Voltron?"

Klance shrugs, "Must be-"

Five lions, a voice rumbles in their minds, deep and timeless. Five lions become one. Six souls, one bond. Deeper than life itself. The bond of the lion. Voltron.

"Did everyone else just see that?"

"Voltron is a robot. Voltron is a huge, huge, awesome robot!"

"And this is only one part of it. I wonder where the rest of them are!"

Klance steps forward, pressing his hands against the bubble, "Now, I wonder how we can get in here."

Matt shrugs. "Maybe you just have to knock?" He raps his fingers against the bubble, jumping back when it disappears and the lion's head moves down to him, opening its jaw. He laughs. "Well, alrighty then," smirks, and walks up the platform.

Klance glows blue and red behind him.

-------

"You," Klance says between gasping breaths. "Are the worst. Pilot. Ever!"

"Pidge has told me that you thought I was one of the best pilots at the Garrison, so, like..."

"Shut your fuuUCK!" Klance trips on his own feet in the cramped cockpit.

Iverson and a lower-ranked officer stand on the roof, a pair of binoculars shared between them.

"What in the Sam Hill is that?"

"It appears to be a flying blue lion, sir."

Matt grins back at the others. "Isn't this awesome?"

Hunk makes a motion as if to vomit. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"I'm not doing anything. It's like it's on autopilot!"

The blue lion soared ever higher.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

"I just said, it's on autopilot!"

"Hey, what's that up ahead?"

"Holy crap- is that an alien ship?"

"They found us."

Matt tries to steer the lion as best he can. He feels a rumbling in his chest- like the lion is trying to speak with him- and he listens. "Guys the lion is talking to me. It says we need to fight the alien ship."

"Okay, you're crazy," Klance grumbles.

"What did it say, exactly?" Pidge asks, short of breath.

"I- It's not like it's saying words, more like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of."

Hunk spoke up. "Well, if this is the weapon they want, why don't we just, like, give it up? Then they'll leave us alone, right?"

Shiro glares at him. "You don't understand. These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path. They won't stop until everything is dead, and giving them this weapon won't help anyone."

Everyone turns to look at Hunk.

"...Oh. Nevermind, then."

The Galra ship, which previously was lying cold and dead in space, opens fire at them as they breach the atmosphere.

"We have to get that ship out of here!" Pidge says frantically.

"Okay, I'll try!" Matt says, shooting lasers and avoiding recapture, moving away from Earth.

Inside the ship, a Galra officer faces a large screen. "Lord Zarkon, the escaped prisoners and their people found the lion. It attacked us and is heading out of the system."

On the screen, Zarkon's magnified face says, "Follow that Lion and alert all ships in the area to intercept. Capturing that Lion is your first and only priority."

"Yes, your majesty." The call ends, and the galra turns their head back. "FULL POWER AFTER THE LION!"

The lion speeds away, the Galra ship in close pursuit. Hunk bites his nails. "Oh, no!"

In front of the lion, a huge circle of swirling bluish-purplish light opens up in front of them. "I think the lion wants us to go through there!"

Pidge furrows their brow, "Do we know where it goes? Matt?"

Matt defers to Shiro. "I don't know. Shiro, you're the highest-ranked officer here. What do we do?"

Shiro picks at his cuticles. "Um- Okay. Whatever's happening, the Lion probably knows more than we do. If we don't listen to it, we might die in this ship. I say we follow what it thinks, but we're the only humans up here. We're a team now."

Matt nods at him, shoving the controls forward and blasting through the air to get to the wormhole. Klance shifts nervously.

"Guess we're all ditching class tomorrow."

next chapter

#Purple Comes From Red And Blue #klance #fusion au #voltron #fanfiction #voltron fanfiction

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randomfandomimagine · 8 years ago

Text

It’s A Secret (Minho x Reader)

Character: Minho

Fandom: Maze Runner

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: It’s A Secret

Requested by anon:

hi I love your imagines so I was wondering if you could write one with Minho how he is usually sarcastic and such but when he is around y/n he acts all different and all the gladers tease him about it and try to set them up. thanks!!

Requested by newtmybby:

Hey I love your imagines! Could you make one minhoxreader where they really like each other and they flirt each other? And then at the bonfire Minho gets drunk and tells her how he feels?

A/N: I had an idea so changed it up a bit, hope you guys like it! ;)

I froze when I saw Minho walking my way, and I averted my gaze, mortified. It was very hard liking him and being treated like klunk in response. So I just preferred to make myself invisible and maybe then he wouldn’t pick on me.

And because I wasn’t really looking where I was going, I bumped into him. My shoulder collided with his sturdy frame, which made me sore.

“Look where you’re going, Greenie!” Minho told me off, being temperamental and sulky as usual.

Sometimes I did wonder why I liked him when he was that much of a jerk. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he wasn’t like I thought he was and I was idealizing him, thinking he was so great in his own way.

“Sorry” I lowly mumbled an apology, carrying on wandering around the Glade.

“Bloody hell, Minho” Newt smirked at his friend, coolly leaning on a tree as he watched us. “Be nice with the lady”

The Runner threw him a very intense and fierce death glare that didn’t seem to bother his friend in the slightest.

“Don’t listen to him, love” The blond still ignored Minho and walked over to me to put a friendly arm over my shoulders. “He’s like a child, deep down he likes you”

“Newt!” Minho angrily stomped over to us.

“In fact…” The second in command kept talking, not listening to him even if the Runner kept complaining and telling him off.

However, before Newt could finish his sentence, Minho had trapped him in a headlock.

“Don’t you dare, shuck face” The Asian took him away, lingering on that position.

I watched Newt wink at me before he was dragged away from me.

I sighed in bewilderment, my eyes following Newt and Minho as the latter let go of the blond and shoved him, accompanying the gesture with what it seemed like very angry words. But Newt just laughed in amusement, for whatever reason.

Chuck –the only guy in the Glade who I actually got along besides maybe Newt –exchanged a glance with me. We both shrugged, not having a clue what just happened.

I had been in the Glade for almost an entire month, but I never could understand those boys, especially Minho.

The next day I awoke with a completely different outlook on the said that made it hard for me to sleep.

After a whole month of trying to be charming, cute or just friendly... I was exhausted. So I figured I could stop trying since it seemed like Minho wasn’t interested in me.

It wasn’t even about playing hard to get, I was fed up and wanted to forget about it all. Forget about my huge crush on him and focus on other things.

So I was calmly doing my chores, putting the supplies in their place. Then someone startled me by tapping me on the shoulder.

At first I thought it was Newt, because he had actually done that before. But when I turned around and saw Minho, I couldn’t help but to frown in confusion.

Then I just showed him my exasperated and angry face to let him know I wasn’t really in the mood to put up with him.

Before I showed him nothing but kindness, friendly smiles and gentle gestures. But I just got fed up with his attitude, something within me clicked that made me realize I wouldn’t bear it anymore.

He had also dissapointed me, which was another tough blow.

“What do you want?” I didn’t even bother to look at him, I just carried on with what I was doing before he appeared.

“Hear me out, Y/N” He began to say before I interrupted him.

“If you’re here to get on my nerves you can leave me alone now, because you already did” I dedicated him a sarcastic grin, still not laying my eyes on him.

I left him speechless, he definitely was not expecting that kind of demeanor from me. But he recovered pretty fast.

“Don’t be so shuck angry and childish!” Minho complained in annoyance.

“Why shouldn’t I be? You hate me, right?” I faced him just for one moment to show him my disgust and determination before I turned back round. “Might as well hate you back”

“I don’t hate you, okay? Slim it” With the corner of my eye I could see how he gestured vividly in frustration before leaning on the wall.

By that point, I realized that my anger was just a way for me to avoid showing weakness. Yet I carried on being sulky and defensive.

“Oh, so you don’t hate me” I finally stopped saving the supplies to give my complete attention to that shuck face and clarify the situation once and for all.

“I don’t!”

“Then why are you being such a slinthead to me?”

“It’s a secret!”

I sighed with a slight head shake and once again carried on doing my chores. I should have known it was no use talking to him. It never was.

“Just go away, Minho…” I clenched my jaw, trying not to show that I was actually hurt by his behavior. Even if there had been sadness in my voice.

However, something told me he noticed. By the way he moved and stood there watching me in silence, I knew.

Then he startled me once again by stepping in front of me and slapping his hands against my shoulders in desperation. I couldn’t help but to cringe in astonishment and shrink back in response.

“I like you, stupid!” He exclaimed loudly, apparently very flustered and frustrated. “I think I’m falling in love with you!”

I pursed my lips, trying not to squeak happily when hearing those words. To avoid getting my feelings hurt, I kept up that tough demeanor.

“If you liked me you wouldn’t be treating me like this!” I replied in the same tone.

“It’s just…” Minho groaned in annoyance. “I didn’t even know if you liked me back, shuck face!”

He was just staring at me expectantly. Almost like he was waiting for an answer from my part. Leave it up to him to ask me if I liked him without really presenting a question.

And to be honest, I didn’t know anymore. I knew I liked him before, but him being a total slinthead was a huge turn off. So I was a little confused and didn’t know how to feel.

“What does it even matter, Minho?” I resolved to say in the end, standing my ground. “It’s not important if you’re gonna be a shuck face”

His eyes opened wide in surprise. Not only had I replied wittily and flawlessly, I had also used his own personal insult against him.

However, the Runner recovered quickly once again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, awkwardly, and displayed that tough pose and demeanor he had mastered.

“Is that a yes?” It was both amusing and oddly endearing to see how much he insisted.

“It’s a maybe” I quickly finished talking and before he got his hopes up or I lost that sudden burst of courage and confidence. “If you were ready to be sweeter”

“Do you realize why I behaved like that or not?” Minho exclaimed, deeply frustrated. “I can’t just openly express my emotions like that in here, especially if you’re not interested in me!”

“Again” I gulped, trying to hide the fact that I was slowly falling out of it so he wouldn’t notice. “If you liked me that much, you’d be nice to me. You wouldn’t care about the others”

That said, I left the room and tried to go onto a different chore. One in a far off place of the Glade, away from Minho.

There was a bonfire we needed to prepare.

The next day I avoided Minho.

Not only because I honestly didn’t want to see him after our disagreement. But also because there was no trace of that determined and strong Y/N that faced him yesterday. I wouldn’t have the heart to repeat the scene, hence I wanted to avoid the possibility of it happening.

Yet somehow my eyes kept following him around, even if I lowered my glance as fast as I could when I saw him looking in my direction.

Since I was too busy focusing my attention on Minho despite it all, I was mildly startled when someone placed an arm over my shoulders, but I hid it well.

“Today you finally stop being the Greenie, Y/N, you should be excited! You seem quite upset, though” It was Newt, who definitely noticed my behavior. “Anything bothering you, love?”

“No” I lied, trying my best to keep my gaze away from the source of my problems.

“The bugger keeps talking about a certain girl, you know?” Why was it that the boys were always so damn witty and cheeky?

“Is he drunk?” It was a rhetorical question that meant to hide my surprise and bewilderment while I mocked that statement. Yet Newt answered it anyway.

“Minho? No bloody way” The blond chuckled to himself. “He has only gotten really drunk once, and it was a long time ago. He knows what he’s doing now”

I glanced at the Runner, watching how he was at least a little bit tipsy, his cheeks red and filled with energy and squirmy movements.

All of a sudden, he turned to me. But it wasn’t like the other times during the bonfire in which I looked away as soon as his eyes fell on me and he got resigned. Instead, he built up some courage and was walking towards us this time.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it” Before he left my side, Newt winked an eye at me.

The two friends patted the other’s back as they passed by. Then Minho stopped in front of me and stared.

I opened my mouth to say something. Maybe try and ask him to go away again, or to stop trying. But he piped up first.

“You want me to show you how serious I am about it, right?” Even with no context given, I knew he meant about his feelings for me.

“Well, yeah…”

“That would convince you that I’m not lying” I nodded, so he finished talking. “And you would make up your mind to go out with me”

“I guess so, I mean-“

“Everybody listen up!” Before I could even finish my sentence, Minho had already pulled me up from my sitting position and was holding me next to him.

All the boys in the Glade turned around to look at Minho and listen to whatever he had to say. Something told me it was gonna be embarrassing.

“I’m crazy for Y/N!” He kept shouting, loud enough to make sure every living thing heard him. Minho even ignored the subtle laughter from a few Gladers. “I want all of you shuck faces to know!”

I covered my face in embarrassment, even if it was oddly endearing that he would openly voice his feelings. In his own Minho way.

Everyone soon got back to whatever they were doing when he sat down and brought me with him. I stared at him with wide eyes, and more likely blushing.

“It’s not a secret anymore” Minho raised an eyebrow coolly, almost smugly.

“You really don’t care what the boys think about it?” I tested him, staring at him expectantly waiting for his answer.

“To hell with it, I like you a lot” Charmingly and definitely showing me that smirk of his, he placed an arm around my waist and held me tight.

“Well, that’s better” I felt slightly embarrassed and bashful seeing as he liked me that much, that he was really trying for me.

“Of course it is” Minho chuckled smugly. “It’s me we’re talking about, Y/N”

“You still have to be a slinthead about it, don’t you, Min-“ My words were interrupted by his lips on my mouth.

His hands were firmly settled on my back as he gently yet passionately attracted me closer to him.

I had already managed to make him treat me better, to actually confess that he liked me and prove it. I knew there was so much I could do to change Minho’s attitude, so I relaxed and gave in to the kiss.

#reader insert #minho x reader #requested #imagine #oneshot #minho imagine #minho oneshot #tmr #tmr imagine #tmr oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner oneshot #the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner oneshot

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boyfriem-moved · 8 years ago

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A thing on the Voltron fandom

I didn’t realize how bad the Voltron fandom was until I joined other ones. Voltron was my first major fandom, and for a year as I graduated my old anime and warrior cats fandoms and started looking for new ones, Voltron was all I had. I thought the amount of discourse it had was normal. I thought fans of most things were mean to each other over every little thing. It wasn’t until I was able to compare it to my other fandoms that I realized just how horrible it was.

The first new fandom I joined was for Six of Crows (which is a wonderful duology that you should all read by the way), and entering it was like a jarring reality. Not just because it was a normal fandom, but because it was so nice. And I don’t just mean in comparison to Voltron either. The Six of Crows fandom is notoriously full of some of the most kind and polite people on the internet. It’s a small community of artists and memelords with three canon ships for the six main characters and very little to argue about. When they do argue, even that is respectful. The closest thing I’ve ever seen to discourse in the fandom is a short disagreement that panned out like a Voltron discourse post but a lot shorter. And that’s it. And I’ve been in this fandom for almost a year.

After immersing myself in that for a few months, with my only contact with Voltron being whatever came up on my dash, I decided to go back over to Voltron for a little while. Season two was due to come out soon, and I wanted all my attention on Voltron when it was released. Season two happened, I pulled an all-nighter watching it, I mourned the lack of Klance moments, I got maybe too excited when Keith said Shiro was like a brother to him, I screamed during the galra Keith reveal. It wasn’t the best thing I had ever seen, but I enjoyed it. Maybe that’s just because Keith is one of my favorite characters, and I was glad he had gotten so much attention, but whatever my reasons were, I liked the season. I rewatched the last few minutes of the last episode in mute fascination, did a quick shitpost doodle of Keith, and went to bed.

The discourse started the second I woke up the next morning. Lance and Hunk hadn’t gotten enough screen time, the writers were spoiling Keith, Kallura was going to become canon and we were all gonna die, and a thousand other little things that I hadn’t even noticed.

It was like the fandom couldn’t stand to enjoy themselves for even a second. There was even discourse over the Pidge bathroom scene, which was a fun bit of comedy that people were using as a jumping off point to explain why everyone else was wrong about Pidge’s gender. It was insane.

The biggest argument was that the amount of screentime Keith had gotten was largely disproportional to the rest of the characters, Lance and Hunk specifically. And yes, it was, I’m not going to argue with that, but people don’t seem to realize that you can’t develop all five paladins plus Allura at once. It was be a horrifying mess. Season two was Keith’s character arc, and from the amount of screen time he got in the trailer, it looks like season three might be Lance’s. Whoever gets the next season, it doesn’t matter, because there’s going to be four more (if I remember correctly, it might be six), and there’s time to develop everyone else. Even now, we’re still talking about it, and it’s ridiculous! There’s so many more seasons left for them to get the screentime they deserve, so just let it go.

But the worst thing about the Voltron fandom is, dare I say it, the ship discourse. I, personally, ship klance, but I’ll try not to let it affect my judgement.

Before we get into the different types of shippers, I would just like to say that of the klance shippers, I like to think I’m one of the better ones. I stay in my corner of the fandom, I make a mean spirited shalladin joke every once in awhile, occasionally I reblog some discourse, but mostly I keep to myself. The perfect thing to do would respect people's differences and ship what I want while letting other people do the same without issue, but I doubt there’s any klance shipper who’s that great of a person. The problem, I think, isn’t that I express my distaste for shalladin shippers, because they do the same to us, it’s that in the Six of Crows fandom, for example, what I’m doing would make me rude and unlikeable, which in the Voltron fandom, my opinions seem relatively tame.

The thing about klance shippers is that even the best of us are mean. We just are, and we are in a way that none of the other shippers (besides maybe Sheith) seem to be. We think we’re better than everyone else. We believe that the other ships are so much more massively flawed than ours that ours is the only one that could ever happen. I’m not going to pretend I don’t do this. We write long rants that no one wants to read and spout the same anti-shalladin drivel over and over again as if anyone is listening. We’re the biggest ship in the fandom, and we know it. We bash ships shamelessly with little regard for the people actually doing the shipping and how our words could affect them. We are not nice people.

A subsection of Klance shippers, and the worst kinds, are the ones who ship Shallura and Klance. Most Klance shippers shipped Shallura, and their biggest argument against Shalladin was that you’re shipping Shiro, an adult, with the paladins, who are teenagers. Once it was revealed that Allura was a teenager by Altean standards, most Shallura shippers apologized and dropped the ship, but some of them kept going. It proves that they never actually had an issue with the pedophilia aspect of Shalladin, they just wanted an easy way to say they were right and everyone else was wrong. They have no moral code, they just go with whatever will support their ship.

Shalladin shippers, specifically Sheith, aren’t much better. I don’t think they’re quite as mean as Klance shippers (though they could be, I haven’t spent as much time on that side of tumblr so I’m not sure), but they have their own problems, the biggest one being that they refuse to admit that they’re shipping an adult with teenagers. I’m sure a lot of them will stop reading at this, and probably call me a “biased Klance person” or something along those lines. But I’m not just saying that, there’s video evidence of the writers saying that Shiro is an adult and the paladins are teenagers nearly word for word, and if anyone challenges me I’m fully prepared to find that video and shove it in their face.

And then there’s all the other ships. Shklance is a horrifying mistake that I won’t get into (I don’t think Klance or Sheith shippers like it, and if we can agree on something, you know it’s probably not a good idea), and despite the hate we give them, Kallura shippers are actually pretty nice (from what I’ve seen, at least, I don’t see much Kallura stuff on my dash and I’ve never dared to search for it). That goes for most of the minor ships, actually. Klunk and Hance shippers have never given anyone a single issue, and the other ships are so tiny that they couldn’t give anyone problems if they tried.

There’s no real conclusion to this. There’s no way to tell everyone to be nicer, nothing I can say that will make you change. Every ship has faults, some of them more than others, but in the end we should all respect each other. Keith, Lance, and Shiro seem to be the most “important” of the paladins, and we’ve been promised LGBT representation, which means some combination of them will most likely become canon eventually. We gain nothing by arguing with each other, so the best thing to do is wait it out and see who’s right.

The voltron fandom is an awful place. They argue constantly, blame the writers for every little thing, and I’ve never seen anyone accept that some people will think differently than them and just let the little things go. It’s a horrible place to be. I could keep going, but I’ve reached the three page mark on google docs, and I think if I talk anymore about this, I’ll die of stress. Just… be nicer to people, for the sake of every new fan who has no idea what they’re getting into. It’s a shame that we’ve ruined such a great show with our endless arguing.

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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Everything came crashing back into his mind. The Glade, the Grievers, the stinging needle, the Changing. Memories. The Maze couldn’t be solved. Their only way out was something they’d never expected. Something terrifying. He was crushed with despair.

Groaning, he forced his eyes open, squinting at first. Chuck’s pudgy face was there, staring with frightened eyes. But then they lit up and a smile spread across his face. Despite it all, despite the terrible crappiness of it all, Chuck smiled.

“He’s awake!” the boy yelled to no one in particular. “Thomas is awake!”

The booming sound of his voice made Thomas wince; he shut his eyes again. “Chuck, do you have to scream? I don’t feel so good.”

“Sorry—I’m just glad you’re alive. You’re lucky I don’t give you a big kiss.”

“Please don’t do that, Chuck.” Thomas opened his eyes again and forced himself to sit up in the bed in which he lay, pushing his back against the wall and stretching out his legs. Soreness ate at his joints and muscles. “How long did it take?” he asked.

“Three days,” Chuck answered. “We put you in the Slammer at night to keep you safe—brought you back here during the days. Thought you were dead for sure about thirty times since you started. But check you out—you look brand-new!”

Thomas could only imagine how non-great he looked. “Did the Grievers come?”

Chuck’s jubilation visibly crashed to the ground as his eyes sank down toward the floor. “Yeah—they got Zart and a couple others. One a night. Minho and the Runners have scoured the Maze, trying to find an exit or some use for that stupid code you guys came up with. But nothing. Why do you think the Grievers are only taking one shank at a time?”

Thomas’s stomach turned sour—he knew the exact answer to that question, and some others now. Enough to know that sometimes knowing sucked.

“Get Newt and Alby,” he finally said in answer. “Tell them we need to have a Gathering. Soon as possible.”

“Serious?”

Thomas let out a sigh. “Chuck, I just went through the Changing. Do you think I’m serious?”

Without a word, Chuck jumped up and ran out of the room, his calls for Newt fading the farther he went.

Thomas closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. Then he called out to her with his mind.

Teresa.

She didn’t answer at first, but then her voice popped into his thoughts as clearly as if she were sitting next to him. That was really stupid, Tom. Really, really stupid.

Had to do it, he answered.

I pretty much hated you the last couple days. You should’ve seen yourself. Your skin, your veins…

You hated me? He was thrilled she’d cared so much about him.

She paused. That’s just my way of saying I would’ve killed you if you’d died.

Thomas felt a burst of warmth in his chest, reached up and actually touched it, surprised at himself. Well … thanks. I guess.

So, how much do you remember?

He paused. Enough. What you said about the two of us and what we did to them…

It was true?

We did some bad things, Teresa. He sensed frustration from her, like she had a million questions and no idea where to start.

Did you learn anything to help us get out of here? she asked, as if she didn’t want to know what part she’d had in all of this. A purpose for the code?

Thomas paused, not really wanting to talk about it yet—not before he really gathered his thoughts. Their only chance for escape might be a death wish. Maybe, he finally said, but it won’t be easy. We need a Gathering. I’ll ask for you to be there—I don’t have the energy to say it all twice.

Neither one of them said anything for a while, a sense of hopelessness wafting between their minds.

Teresa?

Yeah?

The Maze can’t be solved.

She paused for a long time before answering. I think we all know that now.

Thomas hated the pain in her voice—he could feel it in his mind. Don’t worry; the Creators meant for us to escape, though. I have a plan. He wanted to give her some hope, no matter how scarce.

Oh, really.

Yeah. It’s terrible, and some of us might die. Sound promising?

Big-time. What is it?

We have to—

Before he could finish, Newt walked into the room, cutting him off.

I’ll tell you later, Thomas quickly finished.

Hurry! she said, then was gone.

Newt had walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. “Tommy—you barely look sick.”

Thomas nodded. “I feel a little queasy, but other than that, I’m fine. Thought it’d be a lot worse.”

Newt shook his head, his face a mixture of anger and awe. “What you did was half brave and half bloody stupid. Seems like you’re pretty good at that.” He paused, shook his head. “I know why you did it. What memories came back? Anything that’ll help?”

“We need to have a Gathering,” Thomas said, shifting his legs to get more comfortable. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel much pain, just wooziness. “Before I start forgetting some of this stuff.”

“Yeah, Chuck told me—we’ll do it. But why? What did you figure out?”

“It’s a test, Newt—the whole thing is a test.”

Newt nodded. “Like an experiment.”

Thomas shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. They’re weeding us out, seeing if we’ll give up, finding the best of us. Throwing variables at us, trying to make us quit. Testing our ability to hope and fight. Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down was only the last part, one more … final analysis. Now it’s time for the last test. To escape.”

Newt’s brow crinkled in confusion. “What do you mean? You know a way out?”

“Yeah. Call the Gathering. Now.”

CHAPTER 49

An hour later, Thomas sat in front of the Keepers for the Gathering, just like he had a week or two before. They hadn’t let Teresa in, which ticked him off just as much as it did her. Newt and Minho trusted her now, but the others still had their doubts.

“All right, Greenie,” Alby said, looking much better as he sat in the middle of the semicircle of chairs, next to Newt. The other chairs were all occupied except two—a stark reminder that Zart and Gally had been taken by the Grievers. “Forget all the beat-around-the-bush klunk. Start talking.”

Thomas, still a bit queasy from the Changing, forced himself to take a second and gain his composure. He had a lot to say, but wanted to be sure it came out sounding as non-stupid as possible.

“It’s a long story,” he began. “We don’t have time to go through it all, but I’ll tell you the gist of it. When I went through the Changing, I saw flashes of images—hundreds of them—like a slide show in fast forward. A lot came back to me, but only some of it’s clear enough to talk about. Other stuff has faded or is fading.” He paused, gathering his thoughts one last time. “But I remember enough. The Creators are testing us. The Maze was never meant to be solved. It’s all been a trial. They want the winners—or survivors—to do something important.” He trailed off, already confused at what order he should tell things in.

“What?” Newt asked.

“Let me start over,” Thomas said, rubbing his eyes. “Every single one of us was taken when we were really young. I don’t remember how or why—just glimpses and feelings that things had changed in the world, that something really bad happened. I have no idea what. The Creators stole us, and I think they felt justified in doing it. Somehow they figured out that we have above-average intelligence, and that’s why they chose us. I don’t know, most of this is sketchy and doesn’t matter that much anyway.

“I can’t remember anything about my family or what happened to them. But after we were taken, we spent the next few years learning in special schools, living somewhat normal lives until they were finally able to finance and build the Maze. All our names are just stupid nicknames they made up—like Alby for Albert Einstein, Newt for Isaac Newton, and me—Thomas. As in Edison.”

Alby looked like he’d been slapped in the face. “Our names … these ain’t even our real names?”

Thomas shook his head. “As far as I can tell, we’ll probably never know what our names were.”

“What are you saying?” Frypan asked. “That we’re freakin’ orphans raised by scientists?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, hoping his expression didn’t give away just how depressed he felt. “Supposedly we’re really smart and they’re studying every move we make, analyzing us. Seeing who’d give up and who wouldn’t. Seeing who’d survive it all. No wonder we have so many beetle blade spies running around this place. Plus, some of us have had things … altered in our brains.”

“I believe this klunk about as much as I believe Frypan’s food is good for you,” Winston grumbled, looking tired and indifferent.

“Why would I make this up?” Thomas said, his voice rising. He’d gotten stung on purpose to remember these things! “Better yet, what do you think is the explanation? That we live on an alien planet?”

“Just keep talking,” Alby said. “But I don’t get why none of us remembered this stuff. I’ve been through the Changing, but everything I saw was …” He looked around quickly, like he’d just said something he shouldn’t have. “I didn’t learn nothin’.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute why I think I learned more than others,” Thomas said, dreading that part of the story. “Should I keep going or not?”

“Talk,” Newt said.

Thomas sucked in a big breath, as if he were about to start a race. “Okay, somehow they wiped our memories—not just our childhood, but all the stuff leading up to entering the Maze. They put us in the Box and sent us up here—a big group to start and then one a month over the last two years.”

“But why?” Newt asked. “What’s the bloody point?”

Thomas held up a hand for silence. “I’m getting there. Like I said, they wanted to test us, see how we’d react to what they call the Variables, and to a problem that has no solution. See if we could work together—build a community, even. Everything was provided for us, and the problem was laid out as one of the most common puzzles known to civilization—a maze. All this added up to making us think there had to be a solution, just encouraging us to work all the harder while at the same time magnifying our discouragement at not finding one.” He paused to look around, making sure they were all listening. “What I’m saying is, there is no solution.”

Chatter broke out, questions overlapping each other.

Thomas held his hands up again, wishing he could just zap his thoughts into everyone else’s brains. “See? Your reaction proves my point. Most people would’ve given up by now. But I think we’re different. We couldn’t accept that a problem can’t be solved—especially when it’s something as simple as a maze. And we’ve kept fighting no matter how hopeless it’s gotten.”

Thomas realized his voice had steadily risen as he spoke, and he felt heat in his face. “Whatever the reason, it makes me sick! All of this—the Grievers, the walls moving, the Cliff—they’re just elements of a stupid test. We’re being used and manipulated. The Creators wanted to keep our minds working toward a solution that was never there. Same thing goes for Teresa being sent here, her being used to trigger the Ending—whatever that means—the place being shut down, gray skies, on and on and on. They’re throwing crazy things at us to see our response, test our will. See if we’ll turn on each other. In the end, they want the survivors for something important.”

Frypan stood up. “And killing people? That’s a nice little part of their plan?”

Thomas felt a moment of fear, worried that the Keepers might take out their anger on him for knowing so much. And it was only about to get worse. “Yes, Frypan, killing people. The only reason the Grievers are doing it one by one is so we don’t all die before it ends the way it’s supposed to. Survival of the fittest. Only the best of us will escape.”

Frypan kicked his chair. “Well, you better start talking about this magical escape, then!”

“He will,” Newt said, quietly. “Shut up and listen.”

Minho, who’d been mostly silent the whole time, cleared his throat. “Something tells me I’m not gonna like what I’m about to hear.”

“Probably not,” Thomas said. He closed his eyes for a second and folded his arms. The next few minutes were going to be crucial. “The Creators want the best of us for whatever it is they have planned. But we have to earn it.” The room fell completely silent, every eye on him. “The code.”

“The code?” Frypan repeated, his voice lighting up with a trace of hope. “What about it?”

Thomas looked at him, paused for effect. “It was hidden in the wall movements of the Maze for a reason. I should know—I was there when the Creators did it.”

CHAPTER 50

For a long moment, no one said anything, and all Thomas saw were blank faces. He felt the sweat beading on his forehead, slicking his hands; he was terrified to keep going.

Newt looked completely baffled and finally broke the silence. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, first there’s something I have to share. About me and Teresa. There’s a reason Gally accused me of so much stuff, and why everyone who’s gone through the Changing recognizes me.”

#MazeRunner

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