#did you hear someone yodeling in the distance?

[tickle-page]

Tickle tag

Summary: The girls were at it again, tickling the boys till they pass out all because of some stupid game they made up.

**********

“Dude, RUN!” Jude shouted out, as he skated by Duncan who was as confused as ever.

“What… why?” The greenette thought he could hear laughter from the distance and he was thinking who it was, then it clicked. It was Cody’s laughter, and it wasn’t a normal laugh, it was his tickle laugh. Which means the girls are at their mischievous ways, playing their stupid game. Duncan had to leave and fast.

If Harold wasn’t out with the flu, they could’ve teamed up and use one of Harold’s machines to get them both out of the daycare. He resorted to plan B, using one of his “escape pods” he uses to break out of the daycare.

He went to the one in the bathroom and realized it was blocked off, so he went to the one in time out, and that was also blocked off. ‘Did the girls thought of this plan beforehand, therefore all my holes are sealed? No, it can’t be, what about the one in the middle of the room? Ok… The one in the castle? The one outside?! THE ONE IN THE VENTS?!’ Ok… now he was officially screwed, but wait. He has one more plan, Chef! “CHEF!! OPEN YOUR DOOR PLEASE!! THE GIRLS ARE AT IT AGAIN, YOU GOTTA SAVE ME!!!” Then Duncan looked at the sign hanging in the door that reads ‘Chef is not hear right now, he’s doing… man things, yeah!’ That was such an obvious lie. “CHEF, YOU CHICKEN I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! OPEN UP!”

Then he heard Cortuney’s voice, “Don’t bother, Duncan, he doesn’t want to be in the middle of our game~” He looked up, down, left, right, couldn’t see her, so he ran outside and into the tree house.

Owen was too running for his life, right beside Noah, until he saw a cupcake placed on the ground, it wasn’t suspicious at all… “Ooo~ Look Noah, a cupcake!”

“No, buddy! It’s a trap-!” Then Noah heard Izzy’s yodeling, swinging from the rope that was attached to the cloud on the ceiling.

She pounced on him, nearly knocking the air out of him, “HAHAH, got you now, Owen!”

Lucky for Owen, he actually enjoy’s getting tickled, so it’s not a mega competition, “Agh! Noah! Save your self buddy! She’s got me AHAHAHAH!!! NOT MYHYHYHY DEATH SPOHOHOHOT!!”

“Don’t worry, Owen, I know you like this.” Izzy scratched all around on his stomach, lifting his shirt up and squeezing his pudge.

“WHOHOHO TOLD YOU?! NOAHAHAH?!” Owen withered, but isn’t really trying to get away.

“Relax~ no one has to tell me, it’s your actions that give it away.” Izzy said in the most sinister voice possible. “You were all like, ‘Noah save yourself!’ And ‘She’s got me!’ It was so funny, hahah!”

Noah was just standing there, scared to move, contemplating if he should help his best friend or run. Then he saw the other girls, Courtney, Leshawna, and Bridgette, creeping up on him with wriggling fingers, and he chose to run, “Sorry buddy, I’ll come back once I shake these girls off.” His voice began to grow quieter the farther he ran away from Owen.

Owen just kept screaming, “AHAHHAAHAH, SHE’S KIHIHIHILLING ME!!!”

“Relax friend, you’re in good hands, get Noah ladies!!” Izzy laughed dipping her finger in his navel.

After Izzy got done with Owen, he sat on the sidelines with Cody. Now the girls just gotta find Noah.

“Sorry buddy, I had to leave you like that.” Noah told himself, while he was panting in the cubbies. Yes, he was hiding inside of his cubby, in hopes no one would second guess themselves of someone hiding inside of there, but Leshawna and Courtney was a little too smart.

“Hey, Guys, He’s not in the toilets,” Beth came out all drenched and stanky.

“Did… you, check inside the toilets?!” Courtney looked at her with disgust.

“Well, yh, ofc, they could be hiding anywhere…”

“We’re looking for Noah right now… our best bet is to find him in some type of germex factory.”

“Wtvs, The toilets are clean… of the boys… like does Chef even clean them?!”

“Ewww, gross…” The girls were about to throw up, even Noah was going to until he kept his eyes on the prize.

He got a little too cramped and moved his leg a little too much, making a very obvious knock in the cubbies, but which one?

“You hear that girls?” Bridgette turned her attention to the small storage spaces. “We got our selves a mouse…”

They walked over to the cubbies, and opened everyone of them. Leshawna got to Beth’s and it made her stop in her tracks, “Ewww, Beth, so not cool. Clean your cubby.”

“Where else am I gonna keep my booger collection?”

“Shush, everybody, the last cubby is Noah’s~ Let’s see~” Courtney opened the box slowly, to find a scrunched up 4 year old, with his mouth covered by his hand.

“Haha… You found me…”

With the power of team work, they grabbed him out, while he was protesting, “Girls, girls, ladies.. COME ON, Please don’t tickle me.”

“Too late, Noah, U’re dead meat…” Courtney held up his arms pinning them down, Leshawna sat on his waist, Beth sat on his left ankle, while Bridgette sat on the right one, and they just went to town tickling him.

Courtney skittered her fingers inside of his shirt, on his armpits, while she’s teasing him how she knows best, “Awww~ your giggles are so cute~ Maybe, with the help of us, you won’t be so ticklish, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll help u, Noah.” Bridgette, lifted his leg, and skittered five fingers on the back of his exposed knee. Since he was wearing shorts, it didn’t protect him any less.

“GAHAHAHAH!!! STAHAHAHP!! CHEF!!!” Noah wiggled to the left and to the right, he even bounced up and down as much as he could trying to relive the girls tickle torture, he didn’t want to hurt them, but he didn’t want them to continue at the same time.

“Sorry Noah, he barricaded himself in his office.” Beth laughed.

“Yeah, no one to help you now!! HAHAHAHAH!!” Corutney joined in on the teasing.

“Plehehehehase, girls!! I’m behehehehging you!!” Noah tried to yank his arms down from Courtney’s ruthless attacks, only to find it was inevitable. Boy was she strong.

“I didn’t know you had an outie, Noah. Now how am I gonna tickle your belly button?” Leshawna questioned, alr knowing how, just wanted to build up suspense.

“Youhuhuhuhu don’t!” Noah was squirming more than he use to. It may not be his death spot, but it’s his second death spot, still bad.

“Oh well, guess I’ll tickle the little bump. You wouldn’t mind, will you?”

“YES!! YES I WILL!!”

“You won’t? Well that’s just great! Dw, I’ll give u a 5 star experience. Hehehehe” Leshawna chuckled evily. She skittered her finger where his outie was, and it still messed him up.

“LeShAhAHAhahahahAhahaHahahahHAHAhnaw, stahahahp! PlehheheAhshae, I’m begging youuhuhuhu.”

“You know what? I want you to combust with uncontrollable laughter, and good thing Owen, your best friend~ told me where your death spot is.” Leshawna moved down to his thighs, giving them air tickles. Obviously Noah couldn’t see her hands, but he knew where she was talking about. This point, Noah was really about to start throwing hands, he was so scared. No thanks to his buddy.

“No!! LESHAWNA!! I’M WARNING YOU, TOUCH ME AND YOU’RE DEAD!!! IT’S NOT A THREAT IT’S A PRO-AHAHAHAHA!! LESHAWNA!!” Though Noah’s promise grew on death ears when Leshawna started rapidly squeezing his thighs like there was no tomorrow. And for Noah, there won’t be.

“Oh, wow~ Owen wasn’t kidding!” Beth stopped, looking at Leshawna going ham on his unbearably ticklish thighs. With the other girls, Bridgette and Courtney, doing the same. Now Noah just had to focus on the thigh tickles, and how to escape from them, but Leshawna made it very obvious there wasn’t.

Until…

“GOHOHOD, LESHAWNA!! STOP, I’M SHEHEHEHRIOUS!!!” Noah threw Leshawna on the ground, managing to release his limbs from the other girls when, Leshawna hit a particular spot where his hips meet his thighs. He quickly got up and ran away.

“Well… that didn’t really work, who’s our next target?” Leshawna got up from the attack, rubbing her arm.

“We have, Jude and Duncan left.” Courtney said.

“Hahahahah!!! This will be great.” Leshawna laughed.

~Meanwhile with Duncan and Jude~

Duncan was hiding in one of his holes, thinking that he was safe and alone, that was, until Jude came in pursuit.

“Get your own hiding spot, Jude!! This is my turf!! I marked it!!” Duncan exclaimed quietly as to not alert the hounds, while pushing his rival out of the hole, but it didn’t really work.

“You, what?”

“I’m joking. Get. Out!”

“No way dude, I’m not gonna risk being tickled just so you can be ‘safe’ in your holes.” Jude is usually this melatonin guy, that was until he was threatened with tickles.

“You’re gonna bring the attention to the girls if you-“ he was interrupted by Beth peeking down the hole they were hiding in.

“Checkmate~” She sang, as she jumped down the hole with Bridgette, Courtney, and Leshawna hot on her trail. It looked like termites had invaded their new home.

“No… no. NononononoNO!! JUDE, WHY?!” Duncan ran to the left of him, while Jude followed him, because going right will just make an obvious target out of him. Hence, it was a dead end. “QUIT FOLLOWING ME!!!”

“NO WAY!!! IF I’M GOING DOWN, YOU ARE TOO!” Jude broke character.

It was too late for the skater dude, tho. Beth jumped on his back, slamming him to the dirt, knocking his breath out. He was later revived when the girls pinned his limbs down. With Courtney pinning his wrists down, Leshawna sitting on his waist, and Beth and Bridgette sat on both of his ankles.

“Any last words~?” Leshawna wriggled her fingers above him in a very teasy and menacing way.

“Please don’t tickle me!! I hate it so mu-AHAHAHAH!!! Stahahhap!!” Jude was soon to be erupted with his own fit of giggles when Leshawna scribbled her baby fingers on his pudge.

“Wow, Jude, U’re really ticklish.” Courtney skittered her short fingers on Jude’s bare arms all the way down to his armpits, and back up.

Jude was having a laugh attack, he was trying with all his might to pull his arms down, but the girls were so strong when they’re determined. He was about to lose hope, when a miracle popped out of the hole. It was Noah?!

“Dude!!! Get out of here.” Noah screamed as he jumped on Leshawna pinning her to the ground. This scared the other Lers making them lose their focus, causing Jude to get up easily and ran for it. Noah hates getting tickled, but he’ll save his friends w/o question… well, before he grew up😭.

“Thx, dude!!! I OWE U ONE!!” And Jude curried off with his short legs.

Leshawna managed to pull Noah off of her, and looked at him eviliy. She was not happy one bit. “So help me, Noah, I’m gonna get you and Jude back if it’s the last thing I do. In the meantime, I gotta find our last target, Duncan. Noah? Do u know where the said Duncan is?”

“I never rat out my comrades!”

“I promise not to get revenge if u just tell me.”

“He’s in the bathroom.” Then Noah scurried off.

And here they were again, going on a wild goose chase.

“Ha! This is brilliant, they’ll never find me in here!” Duncan spoke too soon when he heard Izzy’s maniac laughter from above him.

“Got u now Duncan!” Izzy pounced on him, knocking him to the bathroom floor.

“Ugh, so unsanitary!! Let me up!!! Please, let me go!!!” Duncan was moving a lot, so much that Izzy couldn’t take him down. Thank God the others were hot in pursuit.

They helped her pin him down, with the girls taking their same place on his limbs.

“Omgomgomgomgomg…. AGH!! STOP!!” Duncan was freaking out when Leshawna’s nimble fingers were about to prod his vulnerable waist line.

“Ha, we didn’t even start giggle freak. It’s so cute that you, the one who gets in trouble acting so cool, can be so vulnerable to tickles.” Courtney laughed.

“Ihihit’s not cute!! Tickling ihihisn’t cute!! It’s bheheheyond cuhuhuhute!!! IT’S TORTURE!! STAHHAHAP!!!” He laughed out when Izzy tickled his neck.

“Hahaha, ur neck is the most sensitive. Jude told me.” Izzy joined in on the torment.

“StAHHAHAHAHAP!!! STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!! PLEASE!!!” Duncan scrunched up his neck, but it was invalid since Izzy kept tickling both sides when he would scrunch up one and scrunch up the other. Then when he scrunch up both sides, Izzy will just tickle the back of his neck and his collar bone. Duncan wasn’t safe.

“Omg, Duncan, chill, U’re knocking us over!!” Beth screamed as she was clawing into his skin trying to stay on, but that was just way more ticklish to him.

“Ihihihi CAN’T STOHOHOP!!!” Duncan cried out, like… actually cried.

“Duncan? Are you ok?” Courtney asked.

“GET OFF OF ME!!!”

They did what he yelled at them to do, making sure he was still ok. “Umm… did we go over board?” Leshawna asked.

“YES!! YES YOU DID!!!” He got up and ran away crying to himself. He told himself that no one , not even his family would see him cry, but the dam broke. He just needed time to himself, and the girls respect that. Now… time for their revenge on Noah and Jude….

[spacejvnky]

The clock had struck midnight. The grandfather clock inside the fortress rang loud enough to be heard from outside. Loud enough, for a certain someone to hear..

And now that he was late.

He was never this late.

Especially if the reward was this big.

Crate kept her eyes on the dark horizon, and her nonexistent ears attentive to the sounds of the night. Besides the grandfather clock, of course. She hoped to hear the sounds of yodeling, or the sound of a million hooves striking the ground, or even the sound of rocks shaking from such a large herd.

Something…

“He’s still not here yet?”

“No… he’s never this late..” Crate growled in response to Mr. Hugs’ question.

“Well he better hurry. Folks are getting anxious and jittery.” Hugs warned as he headed back down to the rest of the mine.

They had multiple locations, but one of the most secretive was a massive market within a vast abandoned mine. They had multiple mines, but this one was specifically for Black Market livestock. Many desperate souls relied on this one location for cattle. Whether it was for food, free livestock, or good bulls to be betted on in a ring for bullfighting.

But now those souls were going to have to wait a little longer…

Or so Crate thought.

Her thoughts and concerns were drowned by the sound of distant yodeling. And she could vaguely make the shape of multiple.. cattle running in their direction in the distance.

“Well, it’s about damn time..” Crate growled, with a hint of relief.

She hopped back into the mine to spread the word..

And to have a little talk with their best cattle rustlers.

“Where have you been?” Crate demanded as the massive bear walked towards her.

“I apologize about the hold up, Miss Crate. Had a little.. situation with an old friend of ours..” Toy Freddy chuckled as he set his hat aside.

Freddy’s entire gang was inside Crate’s office, she called for a meeting with them.

“I see..” She said, “I suppose this ‘old friend’ was Charlotte?” She asked, setting down her large cigarette.

“Indeed it was..” Toy Bonnie sighed. “The boss here finally gave her the finger, and left her to hopefully rot forever..” He laughed as he set his guitar aside.

“...do you know where she’s going?” Crate asked, curious to what the gang knew about Charlotte.

“Beats us.” Mangle responded. “But if I had to guess… she’s probably off to her old home.. Ain’t nowhere else for her to go..” Her second head nodded to what she said.

“Excellent..” Another voice said. The toys looked behind them, Mr. Can-Do hopped his way inside the office. “She owes us for giving her that body.. And didn’t even pay for it..”

“Augh. If I had known you wanted her to pay up, I probably would’ve brought her to y’all.” Toy Freddy said sympathetically. “You ask me, somebody oughta teach her a real lesson…”

“But you did teach her a lesson, boss!” Balloon Boy said.

“Indeed I did.” Toy Freddy responded proudly. “But I think the little brat deserves a much more.. effective punishment.”

“Maybe we ought to burn away that metal body so everyone can see what she really is..” Toy Chica snickered, her eyes turned to black with white pupils.

“We will come up with our own punishment in due time.” Can-Do said. “But we have a special request for you all-”

“After we get paid!” Toy Bonnie cut in, earning himself a hard glare from the rest of his crew. “..what? We always get paid.” He said in response.

“Ain’t nobody cut into the leaders of the Black Market’s sentences.” Toy Freddy warned. “I thought you knew better, Bon.”

“Please, Freddy.” Crate stated as she pushed a packed briefcase towards them. “We take as a reminder, despite you all being late.”

The eyes of the toys lit up in excitement. Freddy reached for the briefcase, and opened it.

“Twenty thousand dollars..” Can-Do stated as he hopped past the toys. “Just as promised.”

The toys giggled amongst one another, this was their highest pay yet! Though, they were lucky to receive all of the money. Especially since their little interruption with Charlotte.

“Much obliged!” Mangle stated as she looked down at the money with the happiest eyes yet.

“Now.” Can-Do cleared his nonexistent throat. “About that little request we have..”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Toy Freddy said as he closed the briefcase. “Whatcha got for us?”

Crate and Can-Do turned to a large map behind them. It showed areas beyond the West, and the entirety of the West itself. Red tacks marking Black Market areas, and blue tacks marking towns and cities.

“We received word of a few criminals in our markets that a large herd is being brought in from the northeastern province.” Can-Do explained as he pointed towards the upper left part of the map. “Several farmers from the West requested a couple of dairy cows to compensate for the cattle you rustled.”

“Dairy cows?” Balloon Boy asked. “Oh.. this’ll be easy. A peanut operation!” The small animatronic exclaimed as he fell back onto his rear.

“..peanut operation?” Can-Do asked. “Oh no.. nononono! These dairy cows were shipped all the way from Europe. Specifically, from the king’s private stock.”

“You mean the monarchs?!” Toy Freddy exclaimed.

His gang had never rustled from royalty before.

In fact, nobody in the West ever had the guts to do so. Especially since the British always brought a large army along with whenever they were doing business.

“Yes, the monarchs..” Can-Do responded. “The prices on those cattle will be beyond your wildest dreams..”

“The king?” Chica asked. “Wait a second there, that’s a death wish. We all know that they have the firepower and strength in numbers..” She warned the rest of her crew. Then she turned to look at Crate and Can-Do. “Don’t you go ahead and send us off to our deaths now..” She growled while pointing at them accusingly.

“We are aware of the dangers that come along with rustling cattle from royalty.” Crate answered reassuringly. “Which is why you’re going to have help.”

“Help?” The toy gang questioned altogether.

“Well. I suppose that you both planned this for a whi-”

A cold shiver went up his spine

Then several bright white lights blared into his eyes, leaving him dazed.

The rest of the gang must’ve felt it too. Their faces frozen in complete terror and shock. As Freddy turned to look at his comrades, he saw other animatronics amongst them. Greenish and burnt and standing motionlessly, watching them.

They looked like Freddy, Chica, Foxy, Mangle, Balloon Boy, and a larger Charlotte.

They didn’t look real.. like phantoms...

“Fellas, I’d like to reintroduce you to your old friend.. or fiend.” Crate stated.

The door opened behind them.

“Allow me to welcome the one and only..”

The toys slowly turned around as Crate spoke.

Standing in the doorway, was a man with mostly purple clothing. And glowing silver eyes.

One of their creators..

“William Afton.” They all spoke at once.

The purple man walked inside the room, past the toys and towards the two Black Market leaders. The phantoms turned their attention to him.

“You’re too kind.. but the honor is all ours.” He spoke in a cold, British voice.

“..ours?” Balloon Boy asked shakingly.

Footsteps were approaching the door. The toys and Afton turned around.

Walking towards them were nine animatronics.

Terrible, withered, and jarring animatronics. The original Fazbear crew, minus Springbonnie, an additional black horrendous Fredbear.. Along with a horrendous looking Balloon Boy, Puppet, and Mangle.

Only now, they looked like something out of your worst nightmares.

“I’m sure you are all acquainted with one another?” Crate asked.

“...we are.” Afton and Freddy said at the same time.

no effin way but also YESSSSSS this is the one time i condone cattle snatchin

JSBHS ALSOO while i was visualizing this cinematic masterpiece you typed up, bless yer soul btw, every time one of the trash n gang speaks i just imagine it with 2010 youtube skit level of editing where they just record the object while doin the voice over with the shitty camera mic it’s so funny to me

[lexaprogemini]

how you meet | edward cullen

A/N: wowowow after being on Tumblr for 6+ years I would have NEVER imagined my first published writing to this site being Twilight dnvjdfjaskdlmfkl enjoy!! requests are open :)) I will write for Twilight (mainly the Olympic Coven, except Jasper romantically), Star Wars, and Harry Potter

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Reader gets unsolicited attention from teenage boys, swear words

when you moved to forks after spring break because of your dad’s work, you’re unanimously nicknamed new girl™ by all of forks high school’s students

and consequently, you’re the new eye candy for your male peers

Forks boys are, well . . . neanderthals douchebags

the ones you’ve met are egotistical, super immature, and super HORNY

. . . you decide to keep your distance

aNyWaYs

you get smooshed into ap u.s. history

apush, baby, apush HAAAAA

the teacher points you to an empty seat next to some pale blonde dude

he gives off weird kid energy at first but then he politely speaks to you

“i’m jasper. welcome to forks” and gives you an acknowledging nod

his eyes are topaz!!!?? woooooooah that’s so cool is that like a genetic defect or smth??

aaaaand your teacher immediately assigns a PROJECT

a fuckin civil war project

you swear you see jasper’s pupils dilate

you hear a chuckle from behind you

and when you turn around you see a pale dude w a dark brown buzzcut and some blonde girl smirking beside him

you later find out that those are his siblings

his fuckin goofy ass siblings

anyways a few weeks pass

you pop in at your dad’s job @ forks hospital and see him chatting w a fellow physician

yet another pale dude with blonde hair 

JESUS HOW FUCKING MANY ARE THERE

you approach them and your dad embraces you in a hug

“heeeeyyyy sweet pea! how’s it goin’!” 

the doctor he was talking to looks at you fondly

“hello, i’m carlisle cullen” and offers you his hand to shake, which you do

“y/n, carlisle was just inviting us to his house later tonight for some dinner”

dr. hotpants puts his hands in his pockets and humbly grins

“my son jasper tells me you’re his classmate”

oh god he’s one of those pta dads, isn’t he??

“oh, yeah, he’s my partner in history”

he smiles, “that’s wonderful. my wife esme and i would love to have you both over as our guests. it’s not often we have company for dinner. and i’m sure the rest of my children would love to meet you, y/n”

jesus christ how many kids does this guy have?? he looks THIRTY

don’t worry, in the car your dad tells you they’re all adopted lmfao

✰✰later that night✰✰

their house is HUGE jesus fuckin christ

alice knows (well they all know) about you because of jasper

IMMEDIATELY loves you!!

“hi! i’m alice!!!”

WHOLESOME AS FUCK UGH

i’m EVAPORATING. i’m YODELLING. it’s fine :-)

you thought you weren’t gonna make any pals in forks bc of the weird horny teenage specimens but here we are ;-;

alice envelopes you into a tight hug and you, in shock, grasp her arms to acknowledge this affection

your dad’s chillin near carlisle and esme and he’s silently chuckling

oh . . . they all have black eyes now?? must be the weather

or the fluorescence

you wave at jasper, rosalie, and emmett

you notice the last sibling

he’s very handsome

to you, everything about him was attractive

his soft hair contrasted against his hardened facial features

you could tell he was socially reserved when it comes to new acquaintances, just like you

he physically isolates himself from his family once you and your dad arrived

he was standing alone near a corner away from everyone else

you make eye contact with him and his mental barrier breaks down

he loses his cool

his face contorts

his lips twist into puckered lines

he claps his hand over his mouth and vacates the room immediately, running up the stairs

everyone notices his sudden departure

his family is shocked but tbh not really

✰✰✰ eddy boy is a lil shy around girls sometimes ✰✰✰

carlisle breaks the impending doom of silence

“i apologize for edward leaving us so abruptly. he hasn’t been feeling well as of late; please excuse his absence. . .”

you awkwardly pretend like that never happened

you feel it in your gut that your presence disturbed him

and not only did you disturb him

but you disturbed him so bad that he had to leave

for why?? you don’t know

you then realize that everyone else in the room knows he left bc of you

. . . anyway you all sit down at the table but you and your dad are the only ones who have plates

your dad notices this too

“hey, aren’t you guys gonna eat too?”

esme grins warmly at him

“oh, don’t worry about us. we just wanted to welcome you to town!”

uhhh, ok ma’am

alice talks to you for almost the entire time you were eating ;-; i love her

you’re also talking to jasper, cracking some apush jokes

you, jasper, emmett, and rosalie talk shit about your classmates and teacher

“why the fuck -- *carlisle glares at emmett* -- heck did mr. whatshisface give us a project RIGHT AFTER BREAK???!!”

“and he paired y/n and jasper!! they’re civil war  n e r d s!! they’re gonna get the best grade” rosalie chimes in

“not if we--”

alice  ❀politely❀  tells them to stfu

you giggle

bonding with your new pals <33

allllllright so it’s a few days later

you’re walking home from school

it’s drizzling, as always, but you know that it’s gonna rain harder if you don’t get home fast enough

and some asshole

some persistent prick from your class

keeps flirting with you

he’s talking about how he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you since you came to forks

he’s insisting he has your phone number, that he’s gonna take you out on dates. . .

you hate it

you’re so uncomfortable but you can’t really do anything about it

s u d d e n l y

a car pulls up beside where you and the guy are walking on the sidewalk and screeches to a stop

the window is rolled down and you see a familiar face

it’s edward cullen

with one hand on the wheel, he looks at both of you and clenches his jaw

“get in”

even though he was undeniably weird a few weeks ago, you concede

you never got to speak to him, but you knew that edward was trustworthy

you practically launch yourself into his silver volvo c30™

he shoots a stone-cold glare to the jackass on the sidewalk and drives away

honestly, it wouldn’t take much for anyone (not just a mind-reading vampire) to know how uncomfortable you are after what just happened with that guy

your body language is tense

your arms are crossed tightly

your body is pointed towards the passenger window as your knees touch the door

tears are welling up in your eyes

it would be mere seconds until you fully broke down

you’re embarrassed, to say the least

you’re embarrassed that you were put in a vulnerable situation, like a damsel in distress

and of all people, the handsome and mysterious guy--

the handsome and mysterious guy you began crushing on

--who feels seemingly indifferent towards you swept you off your feet and helped you when you needed someone

that made things even more embarrassing

and the tears started streaming down your heated cheeks

edward immediately sensed your unease (hmm wonder why, but also who wouldn’t sense it???)

he’s pissed. 

absolutely livid

that asshole had a  d e a t h w i s h

he knew you didn’t want to address your unsolicited encounter, so . . .

*awkwardly clears throat* “are you enjoying the weather?”

you choked

you did not expect him to ask that

nor did you expect him to talk at. all.

you smile through your tears and laugh

you can’t help but laugh

he’s just so awkward and cute

his half-baked plan of indirectly distracting you definitely worked

you started to excitedly talk about the rain and how much you love gloomy, cloudy days

. . . and then the elephant in the room

the inevitable first impression from a few days ago

“i’m sorry for my behavior from our first meeting. i wasn’t feeling well, and i wouldn’t have wanted for you or your father to be affected by my illness”

you’re a little skeptical at first

buuuuut you give him the benefit of the doubt and dismiss his apology

“that’s okay. it’s allergy season, anyway. i’m glad you’re feeling better”

you have no idea how bad i wanted to make a spanish flu joke right there

a small, soft smile lifts the corners of his lips “i’m edward cullen”

you look at him and return the smile

t h e  t e a s i n g  e n e r g y

“i’m y/n”

the car approaches your house after time seems to have flown by

your dad looks at you both as he walks to his car to go to work

he waves at edward

edward smiles and waves back at him as he enters the car

you gratefully thank edward for the ride, careful not to dwell on the prior circumstances

as you open the passenger door, edward grabs your wrist

!!he grabs your wrist!!

he insists on being your ride to and from school from now on

you object and exit the car

but

b u t

edward smirks, leaning towards the open door

“i’ll see you in the morning, y/n” 

your jaw drops

and then he closes the door and speeds off

you watch him drive away and your heartbeat becomes arrhythmic 

a garden of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach

blood rushes to your cheeks once more

you smile to yourself before heading inside

secretly anticipating tomorrow morning :’)

[peachypizzicato]

Hi, it's me, the evil Anon again. Today, I have for you...

- Ruvyzvat has also expanded the Royal Guard massively. He says the first thing he'll do after we get out of here is take his army, and personally hunt you down, and destroy you, - Boyfriend clutched the cellphone in his hand, remembering the head of the Royal Guard's strength, as Garcello continued, - Meanwhile... I've been knocking on the door to the Ruins. But that lady hasn't been answering me. Maybe, she's not feeling well?, - The ever so slightly noticeable waver in his voice, a mark of one last spark of hope could be heard.

But Boyfriend knew the man was grasping at straws. Desperately trying to comfort himself with a feeble lie that he knew was just wishful thinking. After all, the truth was less than desirable for both of them. He was a coward, he didn't want to Reset, so he ran ahead, and ran through the entire Underground, and ran until he reached the surface. It's what Olive would have wanted for him, she was kind, but he didn't really think he was worthy of it.

- Wait, did you say "child"?! Can I talk to him?!, - Annie's voice on the other end of the line snapped the kid out of his thought. He felt a stab of guilt again. Annie was so excited to talk to someone younger, someone her age, and someone she remembered as such a good friend. But... She wasn't allowed to. No. This time... Something was different.

- No, no. Sorry, Nie, you must be imagining it, I was speaking to a different friend, that's all, - Garcello laughed, - Go back to your post. Ruv did assign you an important duty. I think you're super good at it.

- Alright, then!, - No, no, this was wrong. This was very wrong. For some reason, Boyfriend felt like this, this wasn't meant to happen. He had to talk to Annie, and- Instead, he was left alone with the man on other end of the line. It felt like the phone exhaled chilling air. How else could the child explain this strange feeling of shivers, as if something was crawling on his back?

- She talks about wanting to meet you again, - He could have sworn another person started talking, that's how dry and cold the voice grew, as if someone snuffed out the light in that person, - But, truthfully, I don't. You know, I'd like to keep my Sister safe. From creatures like you, - Garcello's voice wavered again, but returned to the same tone as earlier. The child stared off into the distance with unseeing eyes, feeling dread grab a hold of his throat.

- When we get out of here, Ruv won't be the only one visiting you. Doctor Jade would like to have a word with you as well, - He would rather have his heart jump out of his chest and die here and now, - As for me... I'll be seeing you too, little man. Can't wait for our joyous reunion. I hope you have fun while you still can, - He laughed again without a hint of happiness, - Just kidding. Go to Hell.

On Boyfriend's end came a click. On Garcello's end came a slam. He sat down on the couch, and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. "knock-knock - whos there - old lady - old lady who - i didnt know you could yodel", his handwriting was abysmal. "knock-knock - whos there - aherd - aherd who - aherd you like knock-knock jokes", he could barely read it himself. "knock-knock - whos there - geemy - geemy who - geemy a kiss", that one. That was the last joke she said. And immediately left afterwards. And he didn't even know her name.

Garcello clutched the notebook in his hands, trembling. Thank whatever is up there Annie already left, allowing him to spend some time with the crushing misery, and she didn't hear him. She shouldn't have to watch him break down. He wanted to break something, though. Should have killed the kid, when he had the chance.

... Tomorrow? Who knows.

oh FUCK we stan a neutral ending

im just gonna pretend i didn’t see any sad shit, i am looking away

[radiojamming]

This a weird prompt but would you write jonmichael? Asking solely because I want to read Elias and the archives staff dealing with that

good-ish AU where sasha’s still sasha and everyone’s cool with stuff, i guess? :DDD

- - -

The door-that-wasn’t-there-a-minute-ago slams open against the wall, shaking the shelves and knocking one cheap vase to the floor in a small explosion of sad porcelain shards and accumulated dust. Martin lets out a high-pitched, “Jesus Christ!” in surprise as much as raw shock when Jon Sims himself staggers out the door like a teenager doing the walk of shame. Granted, he’s bleeding from his hairline and one sleeve of his sweater appears to just be missing, but he looks more sheepish than injured.

Just as he makes the last step over the threshold-that-shouldn’t-be, Martin sees a vague person-ish shape wobble in the mysterious beyond. And it is, in fact, wobbling, like a bobblehead or one of those playground toys shaped like horses that waver on oversized springs until they fling some unfortunate child headfirst into sand. Extended metaphor it may be, but the wobbly thing gives a high, wavering giggle before cooing, “Don’t forget this, love!” in a voice tiered in multiple pitches like an eldritch wedding cake. Jon turns just in time for an arm-that-shouldn’t-be-that-long-oh-my-god-what-the-fuck to come shooting out of the door, an iPhone clutched pinched between its enormous fingers. Martin might be hallucinating, but he thinks the razor-sharp fingernails are lacquered in sparkly purple nail varnish. 

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Jon gingerly takes the phone with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and the hand recedes back into the hellish landscape beyond the door.

“Of course!” garbles the wobbly thing. Then, with a range of voices topped off with an impressive soprano flourish as light as meringue, it yodels, “Call me!”

As abruptly and shockingly as the door appeared, it disappears with a sharp crack, causing the shelves to slam back into place with a small cataract of old books falling into the pile of broken ceramic.

Jon and Martin stand in the stuffy office, each caught in the awkward position of how the hell do you talk about that? 

Finally, Jon gives Martin the most soul-deep, weary look before quietly beseeching, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

All Martin can do is nod before Jon shuffles out to the hallway

- - -

Sasha sees him at the flower stall again. 

Through the warped windowpane, she watches him scoop up a great, garish bouquet representing nearly every spectrum in the visible rainbow, and some colours that might not exist save for the eyes of the mantis shrimp. When she gets to ground level and sees him semi-properly, he’s just a blond man in a beanie, carefully regarding a sorry bunch of daffodils held together by what looks like clingfilm cinched shut with twine. Rather than being all spooky and mysterious, Sasha thinks he’s actually deliberating. There’s a pinch in his brow as he lowers the daffodils in favor of prodding the drooping lower lid of a sorry little orchid suffering in London’s less-than-tropical climes.

Sasha kind of feels… sorry for him?

Granted, he’s a monster with terrifying monster hands and monster tendencies and apparently a taste for caffeine, but he really looks caught on what to get. That in mind, she does remember that he bought lilies the last time he was around. Maybe that was less of a coincidence and this Michael creature really does like flowers; or he may have some fellow monster friend that he deems worthy of buying flowers for. Honestly, Sasha doesn’t want to think of what kind of friends Michael keeps.

Against her better judgement and sense of self-preservation, Sasha walks across the street to where Michael forlornly weighs his options. He looks up at her approach, and the first impression she gets is that his eyes are more like spinning tops prone to rotate anti-clockwise. She blinks and sees stationary blue eyes regarding her with confusion, and then… relief?

Huh.

“Sah-shah Jaaayymeeesss!” he almost sings, lifting up the dying daffodils like a salute. “What a pleasure to see your radiant face again!”

“Michael,” she replies, a little colder than she intends. Last time they met, there were far more meaty hands and worms involved, and she’d rather get to work unscathed.

If he thinks the reply is chilly, he makes no sign of it. Instead, he flops the tortured flowers around in his terrible hands. “Actually, I was hoping to see one of you lovely little Institute-dwellers around. I think I gave Martin a bit of a fright laaaaast time!”

Sasha frowns, but can definitely picture Martin having to be peeled off the ceiling after a Michael encounter. “Oh,” is all she says.

Michael goes on, gleefully undaunted. “You see, you and I have a mutual acquaintance! And I think he’s in need of a little—” He gives the daffodils a vigorous shake. “—cheering up these days! But I just don’t know what he’d like! Silly me for not being obseeeeervant!”

“I… A mutual acquaintance?”

“Yeeeessss! Your lovely boss!”

“Elias?”

Michael laughs. Well, more like he laughs in a way that sounds like he laughed ten minutes ago and ten minutes into the future, and then layered the sounds over one another like phyllo dough in a hellish baklava. It’s impossible, but Sasha hears it all the same. “Noooo!” he giggles. “Not in a million endless cycles of time or those dimensions yet unperceiveeeeeed!”

Sasha won’t even start on that statement, except that it isn’t Elias, which means it has to be— 

Oh. Jesus.

Grubby, curmudgeonly, insomniac Jesus.

“Jon?” she gasps.

Michael laughs again, louder and higher so that a glass breaks somewhere in the distance. “Yeeeesssss! Poor Jonathan, always working so hard in that dismal cave you call an archive. I offered him office space that would appeal more to a sense of aestheticism, but he… Oh, what did he say? He thought it was a little heavy on the—” And here he speaks in an exact mimic of Jon’s dry voice when he says: “Impossible, improbable, and honest to God, Michael, my brain would shatter into a thousand pieces if I looked at that painting for another minute.” Michael dissolves into a fit of giggles before saying, “It’s just a lost Hieronymus Bosch painting, honestly.”

So Michael McMeatyhands is buying flowers for Jonathan Sims. Sasha’s having a hell of a time wrapping her head around that particular fact. 

The infernal giggling stops and Michael seems to circle (spiral?) back to his previous predicament. Dying daffodils or suffering orchids?

For a lack of anything more to say, Sasha wordlessly points to a bouquet of slightly more enthusiastic-looking daisies, bobbing peacefully in a tin pail of water. “Those,” is all she can manage to say. 

Michael looks thrilled. He actually hums some impossible tune (in full SATB with orchestral arrangement, all localised in his throat) as he puts the daffodils back, scoops up the daisies, and drops four quid into the stall owner’s hands with a wet, meaty thwap that the owner doesn’t seem to hear. Then, Michael swivels back toward Sasha and grins with the corners of his lips somehow curling up near his eyes like a particularly twisty Cheshire Cat.

“Thank you, Miss James!” he says. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re… welcome? I think?”

But Michael’s already walking away, taking steps in a gait that doesn’t seem to match the rhythm of the rest of his body, like two halves of entirely different people drunkenly attempting synchronicity. Sasha half-expects his legs to walk away from his torso.

Toward Jon. 

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face before heading in the direction of the Underground station.

- - -

The boss is dating someone. This, Tim is absolutely sure of. He’s watched Jon like a hawk for a week now, carefully comparing his moods in the morning with how early he left work the night before. Long work nights equal really bad mood. Long not work nights equal better mood with less shouting and calling people morons under his breath. This is good.

This is very good.

Tim is pleased with his enviable knowledge. Whoever somehow won the heart of the boss must be a pretty special person, or at least someone with an endless well of patience. Or maybe they’re Jon’s opposite? Either way, Tim’s got a hankering to send them a box of chocolate as a thank you for chilling the boss out and making him more tolerable to work with. 

He tries to picture who this mystery person is, as Jon’s definitely not the type of person to take his personal life to work with him, inasmuch as he likes to take work home. Tim pictures someone easygoing, like a Margaritaville type. They balance Jon’s stick-up-assery out, maybe giving him massages over the back of the couch while Jon watches dry documentaries about the actual speed of drying paint. In his mind’s eye, Tim gives this person a hideously neon Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, but a winning smile that melts Jon’s ice-locked heart and makes it so he can’t help but smile back.

Tim likes them, whoever they are.

And when he gives Jon a little wink after dropping off a follow-up report, says, “Had a good night?” in a way more than a tiny bit suggestive, he only relishes a teensy bit in how dark Jon’s cheek become and how he ducks his head down. He mumbles something before actually thanking Tim for the report.

Yeah, this is awesome. Tim owes Jon’s mystery partner a thank you card and maybe a cake. 

- - -

“Eliaaaaas.”

“Michael.”

Staring. Lots of staring. Cold, unflinching irises to a set of psychedelic, rotating disco balls set in a grinning face. Behind Michael, blue and purple streaks like the top of a wildberry Pop-Tart flash about and dance madly as Michael gives him the strangest of staredowns. Occasionally, his head appears to flip upside-down a few times on his swirly straw of a neck, and half of his teeth try to glitch through his lips in a way that Elias thinks of as an attempt at a sneer.

Finally, Elias sighs and calmly folds his hands on the top of his desk, ignoring the waves of tangible static pouring out onto the floor and possibly leaving a stain on the carpet. That’s going to be difficult to explain to the janitorial staff. “We may have to set some ground rules,” he says.

“I’ll bring him home by eleven,” Michael cackles in reply.

Elias narrows his eyes just as he feels Beholding roll its great omnipresent gaze in irritation.

“I mean to say that you’re not to interfere in Institute business any further than you are right now,” Elias retorts. “I should completely ban all Spiral-related statements on grounds of personal involvement.”

Michael grins. His smile rises up to his forehead like a crescent moon before rolling down the side of his face and hooking back up into the empty space where a normal mouth should be. “I can make this weirder. I can spiral any statement in this place. Every little word can bend in and around on itself like a pipe cleaner.”

Elias glares. “You won’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” Michael sings. “But I’ll keep courting your Archivist nice and proper as long as I’d like, or he’d like.”

“If this is an attempt to draw him into the Spiral’s influence—”

When Michael laughs this time, it seems to be drawn from every laugh that was ever laughed in the history of the muscular and diaphragmatic spasms that caused them. It’s so charged, so loud and explosive that Elias nearly winces at it. And when it’s over, there’s a vacuum of sound in its wake, so it takes a full minute for Elias to hear anything properly again.

Then, Michael taps his horrible fingers on Elias’ desk, eliciting a sharp tak-tak-tak-tak-tak that repeats in on itself fifty times over. “Not everything is about influence,” Michael hisses through too many teeth. “Not every attempt on a person is to draw them in and mark them, unlike what you do. Maybe sometimes, one of us can authentically like one of them. Is that too hard for you to understand, Man-of-the-Eye?”

Beholding tries to truly See Michael, but something about the Spiral’s nature twists the image. 

“No,” Michael goes on, followed by another round of tak-tak-tak-tak-tak. “I rather like the Archivist. And he likes me. Aaaand if you try to get in the way of us, I will peeeeerrrrsonallyyyyy claw your precious little eyes out of your sockets. Understand?”

Elias doesn’t have time to make a reply. Michael is gone in a gunpowder-bright flash of light and a shock of sound. If there was a door, it’s gone. So he sits alone in his office, staring at the space where the Spiral was, and he feels something terribly empty and terribly familiar.

- - -

Jon picks their next date and opts for something as normal as the last one was strange. He chooses a walk at St James Park, eating ice cream and admiring the pelicans while Michael regales him with some bizarre story that sounds more like a backwards recitation of the Jabberwocky poem. He pauses in between stanzas to eat more of his pistachio ice cream with a delighted gusto before he presses on in gibberish.

Something about it makes Jon feel oddly warm and content, even as the early spring wind chills him.

Their last date was to Annwn, which Jon had originally suspected was in Wales. He was half-right; it was Wales as much as it was also the traditional world of the afterlife in ancient Welsh rites. It was rather lovely and Jon thinks very highly of their honey cakes, although he suspects he probably wasn’t supposed to eat them. 

But Michael looks just as pleased to be in this park as he was to be in ancient Welsh paradise. His Jabberwockish story comes to an end and he finishes the rest of his cone before throwing the little paper ring into a nearby litter bin. Then, he stretches his arms out to the side and sighs in contentment. “Just bonny, as they say!” he cheers before reaching down and taking Jon’s free hand in his. It’s got a mind-boggling weight and an odd texture, while appearing to be a normal hand. At first, it gave Jon such an acute sense of discomfort that he found himself involuntarily withdrawing. Now, it’s just another aspect of Michael that he’s learned to like.

Love, maybe. He hasn’t thought on that overmuch.

Yet here they are, holding hands like all the other couples in the park. It’s so simple, so normal. Jon’s life has been so ridiculous lately that the fact he’s holding a Spiral avatar’s nigh-impossible hand on a date in a park is just… maybe the most normal thing that’s happened so far. Michael’s not trying to kill him or throttle his mind to the point of madness.

They’re happy.

Jon’s happy.  

He smiles, and so does Michael. Yes, Michael’s smile is making an attempt to summit his head like Everest before flickering back into place like he remembers where he is, but he does smile and it’s perfectly authentic. 

It could be weirder, and for once, that thought delights Jon.

[bobdylanrevisited]

Another Side Of Bob Dylan

Released: 8 August 1964

Rating: 8/10

Recorded in just one drunken night, the album sees Dylan distance himself from the protest scene and socially conscious songs of his previous two records. He did not want to be labelled or put on a pedestal, and even actively rejects these notions on certain songs. His writing really becomes more esoteric on this album, and it’s clear he is now moving in a completely different direction, away from traditional folk music. This would be his last recording with just his guitar, piano, and harmonica for 28 years.

1) All I Really Want To Do - There are two schools of thought on this song. One is that the list of what Bob doesn’t want - ‘I ain’t lookin’ for you to feel like me, see like me or be like me’ - is aimed at his audience, who he felt were looking to him to inform them on politics, rather than thinking for themselves. The other is that the song is about his recent breakup with Suze, and it has been classed as a feminist piece that questions roles within a relationship and between the sexes in general. Whilst I personally lean towards the former explanation, there’s no doubt that this is a fun song, with a country inspired yodelling chorus, and Bob making himself laugh throughout. 

2) Black Crow Blues - A classic 12 bar blues arrangement, this is a nice little song which doesn’t really mean much, which is unusual for Dylan. As there isn’t much to dissect, I’ll just say that it’s an enjoyable tune with some nice piano and Bob’s singing is great on the track. 

3) Spanish Harlem Incident - Whilst this is a great song that is essentially a straightforward love story, it’s a great example of the advancement of Dylan’s writing. The rhyming patterns and his vocabulary are a major leap forward into a more surreal songwriting phase, but it shows just how much the poetry that Suze had introduced him to was having an effect. 

4) Chimes Of Freedom - The only ‘protest’ song on the album, this is a fucking amazing track. Not only is it written like an apocalyptic poem, it’s almost biblical in its imagery and much more complex than anything he had written before it. Listen to any live version from 1964, and you’ll hear Dylan’s intensity as he roars for freedom. This can be seen as a turning point for the songs that he was about to release on his next three (best) albums, and is a masterful example of how he uses language to stir up emotion like no one else can. 

5) I Shall Be Free No. 10 - A ‘talkin’ song that harks back to ‘Freewheelin’, this is another surreal, Kerouac-esque piece. The improvised feel of the lyrics unfortunately makes the song hard to connect to, and despite there being a lot of words, few of them mean anything. Whilst the song is somewhat funny, I’m sure it seemed a lot funnier to those in the studio under the influence. This is definitely the weakest song on the album, but that’s not to say its a completely joyless 5 minutes of your life. 

6) To Ramona - This is a beautiful waltz, both tender and emotional, it delves into issues of confidence and conformity. Compared to the popular, vacuous love songs of the era, which relied on superficial platitudes, this is a stark look at attraction and relationships which feels eminently personal. 

7) Motorpsycho Nitemare - Based on the film ‘Psycho’, this begins as an absurd tale about meeting a farmer and his daughter. However, as the song progresses, the theme shifts to Cold War/Communist paranoia and the power of free speech, which ends up saving the protagonists life. Whilst not strictly a protest song, it does focus on topical social and cultural issues, to humorous effect. 

8) My Back Pages - Dylan uses this song to turn his back on his old self, and emerge a new artist. It is a brilliantly brutal rejection of the activism scene he was increasingly heralded as leading, and it even doubts his own former views and his career up until that point. It’s an incredible composition, with more self-awareness and self-analysis than a 23 year old should be capable of, and again proves this album was a stepping stone to a completely different Bob Dylan. The classic line, ‘I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now’, proves that he is striving for the innocence and enjoyment in his career that may have been taken away from him too soon, by those pushing him to be someone he didn’t want to be. 

9) I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met) - A song about emotional abandonment, following a passionate night. Whilst the album version is a good song with some great vocals from Bob, the song really came alive on the 1966 electric tour with The Band. That version is incredible, and I actually think Bob should have waited and recorded this song in ‘65/66 with a backing band, as it really suits that style more. 

10) Ballad In Plain D - The only song Bob ever apologised for. This is quite a cruel recap of his break up with Suze, and he uses it to publicly air their dirty laundry and insult her sister. It’s obviously a crime of passion, written in an emotional rage, but I agree with Bob that he shouldn’t have released it due to the content. It’s a shame, as the song is very well written and performed. 

11) It Ain’t Me Babe - Written originally about Suze, Bob is owning up about not being perfect (perhaps guilt from his Joan Baez affair?), and telling her she deserves better, which is an odd juxtaposition considering the song that proceeds it. However, I think you can also read into the lyrics that it could once again be aimed at his audience, much like the opening track. Whichever it is, this is another song that experiments with language and is, finally, a great closing number.

Verdict: The actual album itself is fairly sloppy; words are forgotten and chords are changed mid-song. However, it has this frenetic energy and urgency that makes you wish you had been in the studio that night, witnessing the transformation of a young, folk icon into a modern day Arthur Rimbaud. Whilst it isn’t as perfect as the previous two albums, it’s an important one in the evolution of Dylan and gave us a number of classic songs. Incredibly, what came next was even further away from the mining town boy playing on MacDougal Street, and was about to challenge and change the musical landscape forever. 

[thekytchensynk]

Trial by Combat (Fictober Prompt 6)

Prompt number: 6

Fanfiction Fandom: One Piece

Rating: G

Warnings: No Warnings

Read this story at AO3

In other circumstances, this might have been kind of fun. Dropped into a gladiatorial arena, facing a variety of enemies -- it’s an interesting challenge to face for Zoro. Just a low-stakes place to test himself.

Except the stakes aren’t all that low. Which kind of sucks.

Most of the crew is back on Joyride, an island of “Extreme” entertainment and experiences that, predictably, turned out to be a little more extreme than advertised. They have been trying to dig out whoever is behind the whole thing, kidnapping people and injecting them with some concoction that turns them into massive, mindless killing machines. One trail had led them to believe the source of the concoction may be on the neighboring island of Little Flower.

It should have been simple -- still was, really. His captain sent him over here on the Mini Merry to take care of whoever was making the stuff while Luffy and the rest finished rooting out the folks who were using it. After all, the two islands were in eyesight of one another. Just a quick jaunt over, finish things, head back … simple.

Heck, he’d even seen a castle at the highest point on the island, and as his experience with both Hogback and Mihawk had taught him, the big castle was often where you could find the most dangerous people.

But the island was apparently a damn maze, and every time he tried to get up to the blasted thing, he found himself somewhere else, dealing with the increasingly long time this was taking and the increasing agitation of his teammate who was following him, and so when he saw a set of bleachers with plenty of people in them, he headed over. They HAD to know how to get to the castle.

But somehow that ended with him in the middle of the arena, fighting a series of these bulked up, mindless monsters. It was a strange, cross-shaped arena, with a round metal fighting area in the center and four seating areas, with walkways between each of them in the four cardinal directions, leading back out.

They said if he could survive the gauntlet, they’d give him audience with their boss. They also said if he left, he’d sign the death warrants of all the remaining prisoners, locked somewhere in the castle.

He’d considered it. Decided against it, but certainly considered just marching up to the gates and cutting his way in and through until he got the answers his captain wanted. The deaths would be awful, but awful people were going to do awful things. He has no way to know if they’d even honor the agreement, that they wouldn’t just kill the hostages anyway, even if Zoro did everything they asked.

But having decided to take care with the fighting, he’s had to move carefully. If he was going all out, he could cut loose, but for this he has to be precise, keep his collateral damage to a minimum.

“Hey! Get your head in the game!”

Oh yes. There is also Usopp to worry about.

Worry is probably the wrong word. The sniper is actually somewhat better equipped for this than Zoro himself, since his weaponry tends toward the less lethal to begin with. He is somewhat hampered by the metal floor of the arena though, which gives no place for many of his more creative ammunition types to take root. Zoro is reasonably sure he heard some old standards like tabasco star get called out.

And together they’re making good time through the waves of enemies. It turns out the entire arena is meant to be their challenge, with each member of the audience strapped against their will with an auto-injection device that can be triggered remotely, but automatically injects the victim if they try to take it off. And it’s fast. Zoro tried to cut the thing off one man’s arm. But it hadn’t been fast enough. The guy had bulked up like Chopper on a Rumble Ball and joined the fray.

“Are they adding people to the audience when we’re not looking?” Usopp mutters as their paths bring them close together. Zoro sweeps a practiced eye across the remaining viewers.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well it sure feels like it!”

They move apart, Zoro hopping over the unconscious forms of several defeated enemies whose bodies have begun to shrink to normal size again. The whole exercise is a bit irritating, but not terribly difficult. And maybe that’s what makes him look again. When it becomes clear this isn’t going the way their enemies wanted, they should change tactics.

And now he sees it -- what Usopp had seen as “more people” was the same number, but all moving closer, crowding toward the edge of the arena instead of remaining in their seats. He can see fear in some faces, a grim determination in others, and he just knows.

“Here they come,” He calls over his shoulder to Usopp. She sniper doesn’t answer, but he hears the man running across the arena to a new position.

And the final wave begins.

For a few minutes it’s all a blur -- face after face meeting the backs of his blades. Flashes of green and fire at the edges of his vision as Usopp does his work. And the wave becomes a crowd, becomes a few, until the arena is heaped with groaning people and only the two of them are standing.

Zoro stoops, checking on one still form at his feet, then turns to Usopp. “Let’s get moving,” he says.

Usopp starts to answer, but gets distracted. Zoro turns to see a fairly distracting sight, he has to admit. A large man, like the rest of these pumped-up freaks, but this guy seems to be in control of himself.

He also is in a strange, metallic rig that looks to Zoro’s eyes like some sort of complicated mining rig. Or maybe something for flattening uneven terrain. It doesn’t look built for combat, like something Franky might make.

Then the guy grins at him, and he sees electricity arcing between the machine’s two arms. Zoro pivots into a spin, swinging hard. The force of the strike doesn’t budge the guy in the armor, but it does sweep the unconscious men from the metal arena before the new opponent slams his metal hands down, electrifying everything.

Zoro can’t react right -- it’s like the electricity robs his muscles of their ability to respond. He’s rooted there, the waves of energy whiting out his mind. Then it stops and he comes to himself again, panting and twitching.

“Oi, Zoro!”

Usopp’s awake. That’s good. He must have gotten swept off with the unconscious guys by Zoro’s actions. Then something bonks off Zoro’s chest, and he looks down to see a pair of octopus-looking shoes falling to his feet.

“Wear those! It’ll hgk!”

The last isn’t a word Zoro recognizes. Though loathe to take his eyes off the enemy, he turns to check on his crewmate.

Who he finds scrabbling at the oversized hand round his neck, cutting off any further words. The new enemy has come up one of the walkways between the seating areas, surprisingly silent considering he’s enormous, bigger even than the guy in the metal suit. His hand encircles the sniper’s neck easily with room to spare -- for the giant at least. There’s clearly no room for Usopp, who’s struggling for breath.

He’s ready to strike the guy down, free his crewmate, but there’s a crackle, and a jolt, and again his movement is robbed from him. And when he gets it back, the massive man in front of him is drawing back one arm that would put a gorilla to shame, and he throws Usopp, throws a person the way one might toss a stick or a stone. This at least lets the sniper breathe again, just in time to release a scream that faces off into the distance. It’s a terrible, inhuman arc that the monster manages, and when Usopp lands on a low mountainside in the distance, it’s too far to even hear the scream anymore.

He’s all right. He has to be, Zoro thinks. His crewmate has been through worse than that. And before he left…

Zoro looks at the ugly shoes just as a crackle warns him another attack is coming. He just barely hops atop the shoes when the electricity charges the arena floor again.

And this time, doesn’t reach him.

Zoro grins. The canned man pales, his own smile falling away.

It’s the work of a moment to fasten the shoes on his feet, but it’s OK because apparently, the monster won’t climb up with his partner’s active electricity weapon in use. The metal man tries to lumber over, but his armor makes him slow, ponderous. The octopus shoes clung to the floor in a way that feels strange and makes his own footing difficult, but it’s a small price to pay. Zoro approaches. Leaps to cover the last of the distance.

Once he gets there, it’s the work of a few seconds to render the armor useless. And the best part is, he doesn’t have to hold back.

The moment the metal man is down, he hears the other climbing up to join the fight, in a show of either dedication or complete foolishness. Zoro turns, eyeing the man. “Leave,” is the only warning he gives.

The man grins. Foolishness. It has to be foolishness.

Zoro is about to finish this when the man bows forward a little, as though someone slapped him in the back of the head. A moment later, a flurry of vines arch out, wrapping around his head. He pulls at them, tearing free handfuls, but more keep growing. As he staggers forward a pace as though pushed again, Zoro relaxes his stance. Another set of vines begin wrapping around the guy’s torso, pinning his arms, and soon he falls over, wiggling but unable to free himself.

Zoro takes a moment to remove the weird rubber shoes. A minute later, a suction cup comes flying out of the sky and fastens itself to the center of the fighting area, trailing a rope. A rope that pulls tight. Another brief wait, and he hears Usopp approaching -- letting out a combination of a sort of yodel and a terrified scream as he slides down the rope by hooking the stem of his slingshot over the rope and clinging to it, one hand on either side. He lands in an ungainly heap, but hops up almost immediately, ready for the next thing.

“That was impressive,” Zoro notes, pointing to the suction cup dead center of the ring. Firing a suction cup couldn’t be an easy thing.

“Thanks.” Usopp grins. “Though it looked like you had that fight wrapped up without my help. How did you like the shoes?”

Zoro looks down at the shoes, dangling from his hand, and hands them back. “Useful,” he admits, before adding, “Not my favorite shoes.”

“Come on, I bet they looked great.”

“They stuck to the floor.”

Usopp laughs. And together they head toward the castle.

Whoever’s there has no idea what’s coming for him.

[twaaaaaa]

Race report: Ironman 70.3 Augusta

This is the first race report I've written for a U.S.-based race since college. And like a true American, I'm going to do it using bullet points. (Get it? Because we have an uncontrollable gun violence problem here?)

Also, I apologize for the lack of pictures here. Tumblr doesn’t play nice with photos in the middle of text, and figuring out the HTML for it is too close to my real job to be enjoyable.

PART 1: THE LEAD-UP

This was the first race I've done in more than two-and-a-half years. I took a hiatus because of burnout and an international move, spent 2018 building up a base and really started training again this year.

Going into it, I felt I was adequately trained on the bike. I hadn't done enough long runs, but that was balanced out by the amazing speedwork I've put in. Shoutout to Gerald and the Tuesday morning track crew.

My swim is also at the best it's ever been, though that's not saying much.

The race was in Augusta, Georgia. I have a bit of a shameful history with it – I registered for it in college in 2011. And then midterms happened, so I couldn't make it. To date it's my only DNS. Consider this time grade forgiveness.

I flew out with a bunch of teammates from Triple Threat. It's such a delight to race with a supportive team like this. Many of them were doing their first half-Ironman. They're so cute when they're new.

I got into the rental car with my teammate, Ann, and it took five minutes before I hit the first complication for the weekend. As soon as the speedometer hit 65 mph, WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP. Something on the front of the car was rattling. So we turned around and swapped it for a free upgrade to an SUV. Later, my coach would complain the same rental company was out of cars, and I'm partially to blame. Sorry, coach.

Most people paid $350 a night or so to stay at the host hotel. Screw that – do you know how much ice cream $350 can buy? The value inn a half-mile away had a soft bed, a warm shower and a stale continental breakfast. That's more how I roll.

Turns out the cheap hotel was ideally situated – two blocks away from the starting line, damn close to the transition check-in and right at the edge of the downtown area. No regrets.

Augusta is … not the most august location. It has a stench to it. From the river, I learned – the same river we were to start the day swimming in. Greeeeeat.

But at least it wasn't Waco.

We crowded into the Mellow Mushroom for dinner to give the newbies last-minute advice and reassurance. My advice in summary: it was going to be freaking hot, relax on the down-river swim and do a cannonball when you jump off the dock to start.

I found a Publix the day before the race! You have to understand what this means to a Floridian trapped in Texas. Texan friends, it's like finding a Whataburger and a Buc-ees next to each other in the middle of nowhere. Canadian friends, same but for Tim Horton's. UAE friends, imagine if a small town was entirely made out of malls. It just felt right.

I got my chicken tender PubSub and my guava pastries for maximum homeopathy to Florida Man. You could hear Jimmy Buffet playing in the background. Pitbull yodeled. The alligators lurking in the Savannah lifted their heads in praise. God shrugged and turned a blind eye. It was glorious.

At some point I bought a badass helmet with a visor that made me look like Judge Dredd. It was good for 15 minutes of confidence before Devon, who tests these things in a wind tunnel shamed me for it.

The morning of, we trudged down to transition for final prep and then made out way 1.2 miles upstream for the start. Three school buses were working as shuttles, but the line for them stretched almost as long as we'd have to walk.

Here's the nice thing about having a hotel next to the race start: instead of standing in line for the portable toilets before the start, you get to bask in the air conditioning and proper ventilation of your hotel room. Makes quite the difference.

This was my first time racing long-distance in a two-piece kit. I didn't realize you need to apply sunscreen to the small of your back, where the top rides up on the bike. This would later result in a sunburn tramp stamp.

PART 2: THE SWIM

The pros started off at 7:30 a.m., and us age groupers had to wait until 7:50 to start. Except it was a rolling start, with two people going off every three seconds. It took 90 minutes to get everyone in, as the sun rose ever higher.

I made friends with a guy in my age group while waiting in line (thanks to a fast seed time, we only ended up standing around for 35 minutes). His name was Houston, he told me, and he had roots around Delaware, Ohio. Sounded to me like he couldn't decide on a state. I declared I lived in Dallas and that made us rivals.

Oh buddy, you better believe I did a cannonball.

Augusta is a down-river swim. It ranges from easy to easiest, depending on the current. There are videos of them floating a coke bottle or bag of chips down the river and making the cutoff time. This year the current wasn't too swift, but a personal record was still a foregone conclusion.

I became best friends with some river weeds. Best friends hug each other and stick together, right?

I did not have to punch or shove anyone out of the way, thankfully. Guess all the breast strokers started behind me.

I popped out of the water in 33:49. That's a PR for me, but only enough to hit 67/135 in my age group. I aim for top 50% in the swim, so that was just baaaaarely acceptable.

3:55 T1, because I took some time to towel the grass off my feet before donning socks. This was not the most luxurious transition location.

PART 3: THE BIKE

My choice of a disc wheel and 50mm front was a good decision for the day. It wasn't too windy and the road conditions, while not amazing, were not enough to give me trouble. The 56-mile course starts off flat for 17 miles or so, then has a few hills, then goes back to mostly flat for the last 15.

Ten miles in or so I see a yellow jersey up ahead. Is that … yup, it's Houston. I ding my bell and whoop as I pass him.

Five miles later, I get passed by a dude in a yellow jersey. He waves back at me and compliments my helmet (yessss). We would continue to pass each other every few miles for the remainder of the ride. “Tag, you're it.”

Aid stations on the bike are chaotic. I've found the best way to let the volunteers know what you need is to roar it. It may scare the bejesus out of a middle schooler when some dude rides by on a spaceship-looking bike, points at her and screams “BANANA! BANANA!”, but that's part of the fun. Whatever gets me my potassium.

Nutrition-wise, I nailed it. The usual strategy of super-concentrating my electrolytes in one bottle and picking up water at each aid station worked perfectly. I head enough caffeinated gels to keep my energy going, and while I came close to cramping near the end of the run I never did.

I keep a bell on my aerobars, mostly because I don't want to waste the breath to yell “on your left” each time I pass someone. Because I'm a slow swimmer but a fast cyclist, and I pass a LOT of people.

You know what the bell is also useful for? Cheering a teammate on the other side of the road while your mouth is full of banana. You go, Jeff.

Years ago, star USF time trialist and all-around hammerhead borrowed my disc wheel and put an 11-23 cassette on it. I've never taken it off. You know what that cassette is good for? Flat land. You know what awaited me in the middle of the course? Not flat land.

In races, they say you only have so many “matches” to burn before your legs tire out on you. Most people burn their matches pushing up a steep hill or going fast near the end of the run. Me? I burn them to see if I can hit 40 mph going downhill. While screaming at the top of my lungs. I may not have the best time, but I'll be damned if I'm not having the most fun.

(Garmin reports my max speed was 40.1 mph. Yeeeeaaaahhhhhh.)

I RODE PAST A DUDE WITH A GOAT ON A LEASH.

Despite the hills, I managed to keep a steady heart rate for most of the bike course. Don't know about my power output because my P1 pedals have refused to play nicely for a while. I can finally send them in now that it's the offseason.

I'm happy to say I passed Houston a mile before the end of the bike. But I stopped for the bathroom in transition, so he still beat me to the run.

If there's no volunteer to jump out of the way of your flawless flying dismount, did it even happen? Conversely, if there's nobody around when you jump onto gravel in your socks, did you even scream?

Total bike time was 2:56:25, with a more than 19 mph average page. 57/135 for my age group – that's behind the upper-third that I aim for. I still have a ways to go to regain my bike strength.

PART 4: THE RUN. ALLEGEDLY.

By the time we got to the run, the sun was high in the sky and the ambient temperature was 95. With the humidity, it felt close to 99. A course record by a generous margin. Crap.

I caught Houston within the first mile, and for a while there were four of us 25-29 men within 15 seconds of each other. Every peer I passed got a fist-bump.

We had a nice chat for the next few miles as we admired the beautiful downtown course. It's a zig-zag through the street, with spectators lining the sidewalks. Many of them had water guns, hoses or sprinklers, and I love everyone who cooled us for a few precious seconds.

The very best, though, was the homeowner with a giant inflatable unicorn spouting water from its horn.

I was holding a steady heart rate and pace for the first four miles, but the heat got to me as it got to everyone. Houston dropped me at an aid station and went on to beat me by 20 minutes.

From then it was all about heat management. How much could I push myself before overheating and being forced to slow down? How much cold water could I take in? Was I balancing the right amount of liquid and electrolytes?

I began walking in the shade of every building and running to get to the next patch of shade faster. It served me decently for the rest of the race.

I came up on a cute girl around my age (they write it on your calf) and had fantasies of using a pickup line on her as I passed her. “Excuse me, can you remember this number for me? 727-555-1234.” Thank God I didn't, because a mile later she caught a second wind and dusted me. How humiliating would that have been?

After an hour or so I began to get some underarm chafing. I asked for a bit of sunscreen at an aid station and slapped it on. That hurt. Then the volunteer saw what I was doing: “You know we have Vaseline too, right?” Oh well, too late.

Speaking of which, the second-best sign on the course was “chafing the dream.”

The very best one, though, was a drawing of Marvel's Iron Man next to the words “MAKE STAN LEE PROUD.” At that point I was so worn down that I teared up a bit. And then I picked up my legs and ran for as long as my body would let me.

What stage of heat stroke is it when your body has no idea whether it's cold or hot anymore so it just tells you it's both? Because I had that starting around mile 8. Maintaining homeostasis is not one of my strong suits.

Three times I called out to the onlookers, “Hey man, can I pet your dog?” Three times I was denied. Augusta can burn in hell.

At some point around mile 10 (of 13) I did the math and realized I could still hit a sub-6-hour time if I pushed it. So began a frantic but calculated series of runs and walks.

Thank goodness I was in one of the run stages as I passed my coach and relay teammates on the sidelines. They got a decent picture of me – I'm only panting a little bit.

I made across the line with two minutes to spare. Then I grabbed a water and laid down under the pizza table with two other dudes. For 45 minutes. Good race.

Total run time was 2:20:39, and frankly I'm surprised it was that short. 53/135, which surprisingly was again better than my bike performance, comparatively. I blame my running coaches.

Total race time was 5:58:05. 53/135, which again isn't where I usually shoot for. But I knew I wouldn't hit the top third going into the race.

Total calorie burn for the day, according to Garmin: 5,200.

The overall goal of this race wasn't a time, but nor was it just a finish. It was to have my body do what I told it to – or at least what I could negotiate with it – without cramping, collapsing or bonking. And I did. I have my mojo back. The heat collapsed everyone's plan A, but I was able to pull off plan B without much of a struggle. I could not have done that a year ago.

Unfortunately, the deal with myself was that if I pulled this race off I'd sign up for another Ironman in fall 2020. So it's either Cozumel or Argentina for me next year. I'm going to try to enjoy my social life while I still can.

PART 5: THE AFTERMATH

I ran into Houston a bit past the pizza table and collapsed into the chair next to him. His mom and sister were there to cheer him in his first half-Iron race. He snuck the pizza and beer. Hooray for supportive families.

After collecting some teammates and nursing a pizza slice for an hour, I made my way to the rest of the team to yell at passers-by. And someone finally let me pet her dog. She was from Dallas – go figure.

The walk from my hotel to downtown takes ten minutes. The post-race walk from downtown to my hotel takes 30. The difference is staggering.

I came back to my second batch of car trouble: someone had backed my rental in the parking lot. No note or anything – just a bunch of scrapes and misaligned panels.

I talked to the hotel manager, who earned a great Booking.com review into pulling the security footage. We watched as a family three doors down from me backed their car straight into mine, got out, saw no witnesses and sped off. Thank God for my credit card's insurance coverage.

The geniuses were staying through the end of the week – the hotel had their driver's license and video evidence of them leaving the scene of an accident. Easiest police report the cop had ever filed.

As I was packing up the next morning, and after the policeman had talked to her, the woman approached me apologizing. I shrugged and wished her best of luck against the insurance and rental car companies. If I have to deal with this load of paperwork, so does she.

In the day after the race, I polished off three meals' worth of leftovers – including two different pizzas. Between those, the finish-line pizza and the week of carb-loading, I never wanted to eat another slice in my life.

That resolve didn't even last three days.

I bonded with a fellow athlete seated behind me on the plane ride back. Turns out his carry-on was not a suitcase, but a reusable bag of fresh vegetables and a half-eaten box of Life cereal. The absolute legend.

I learned later that day that over the weekend my Abu Dhabi friend Leanne had taken fourth place in Ironman Cozumel that same weekend in her debut as a pro. But I didn’t pee myself on the bike, so who really came out ahead there?

So now I'm in the off season. It's nice to get eight hours of sleep most nights. I'll be tweaking my workout schedule to build a base over the fall and winter, and then it's back to training. I'm looking at one or two half-Irons and a full next year, plus whatever local sprints and olympics bubble up.

When I came back to the US two years ago, I left important parts of my identity behind. Bunches of friends, a journalism career, my expat status. And triathlons were placed on hold. This past season has made me feel more like myself again, and it's a comforting feeling after so much doubt and uncertainty. It's good to be in love with the sport again after a few years of burnout.

The hardest part of the next year will be persuading my mom not to disown me if I get an Ironman tattoo after next fall. Wish me luck.

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 1

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

“so I’m a sentry in snowdin forest, right? I sit out there and I watch for humans. it’s kind of boring. fortunately, in the forest, there’s this HUGE locked door. and it’s perfect for practicing knock-knock jokes. so one day, I’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. I knock on the door and say ‘knock knock’. and suddenly, from the other side…I hear a woman’s voice.

“‘who is there?’ so, naturally, I respond. ‘dishes.’ ‘dishes who?’ ‘dishes is a very bad joke.’ Then she just howls with laughter. like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years. so I keep ‘em coming, and she keeps laughing. she’s the best audience I’ve ever had. then, after a dozen of ‘em, SHE knocks and says ‘Knock knock!’ I say, ‘whos there?’ ‘old lady!’ ‘old lady who?’ ‘Oh! I did not know you could yodel!’

“wow. needless to say, this woman was extremely good. we kept telling each other jokes for hours. eventually, I had to leave. Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story. but she told me to come by again, and so I did. then I did again. it’s kind of a thing now.”

The human is still listening, eyes wide and mouth full of burg. Its LV is at 5, meaning it’s still definitely a murderer. But it’s hard to remember that after seeing it pass through the puzzles his bro set up with a smile on its face, watch it engage with them. Watch it Spare.

“one day, though, I notice she wasn’t laughing as much. I asked her what was up. then she told me something strange. ‘if a human ever comes through this door…could you please, please promise me something? watch over them, and protect them, will you not?’ now, I hate making promises. and this woman, I don’t even know her name. but, someone who sincerely loves bad jokes…has an integrity you can’t say no to.”

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He can’t shake the boat in a meaningful way; everything is on a schedule, and nothing he does changes. But he has to know.

“do you get what I’m saying? That promise I made to her…do you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything? buddy…

You’d be dead where you stand.”

He didn’t mean to speak so forcefully; slip out of his font and use the tone he uses when he Judges. But the effect is immediate. The human’s eyes widen in fear and it runs still.

In a way, that’s all the answer he needs.

But then it starts crying. The other occupants of Grillby’s start to look at them, and he squirms under the attention. It raises its hands and starts to move them. It’s crude Hands, not helped by how much it’s trembling. He manages to get most of it.

Didn’t mean—accident—thought she would stop—didn’t know—not me—not myself--

How old was this kid anyway? It’s shorter than he is, and that’s saying something. Their hands shake too much and there are bruises on their legs and under their sweater. Old enough to kill? You don’t commit genocide on accident, but if they were half as upset about it then as they were now…

What did they mean by not myself?

I’ll fix, they sign. I’ll go back and save her. I promise.

*RESET

He sees it that time. The world stops. He watches it move backwards, like someone were rewinding a tape.

sans wakes up in his bed, like he always does. Usually, it takes him a long time to gather up the energy to restart the timeline again. He’ll lie in bed until Papyrus wakes him up and demands he go to work, and sometimes after that. This time, however, he jumps out of bed and makes some corrections to his notebook.

don’t trust them

Four are the Stars An Undertale/Gravity Falls crossover By the Poor Sap Advocate

Chapter 1

“How’d you think we ended up down here?” Dipper asked as he looked around.

“We fell, of course,” said Mabel, who was in the middle of making herself a daisy chain out of the more squished golden flowers. She gestured upwards, where just the faintest glint of blue skies and sunlight could be seen.

“Do you remember falling down somewhere?”

“Nope!”

“I don’t remember Gravity Falls having any mountains big enough for…this,” said Dipper.

He tried thinking back to what happened. He remembered Mabel was planning a party for the reopening of the Mystery Shack, they were hanging out in the gift shop…flashes of red and blue…then nothing.

“And how are these flowers growing, anyway? There’s like no sunlight down here!”

Mabel looked back down at her daisy chain in confusion.

“Do you still have your grappling hook?” Dipper asked. “Maybe we can—”

Mabel was in the air before he could even finish that sentence. She loved using the grappling hook, especially when she had a legitimate reason to use it.

Mabel scaled upward towards the highest ridge of the cliff. She grabbed onto the ridge with one hand, then jumped as she tried to grab the ledge above. Her hand stop on the sky. There was a loud booming noise, as though someone has struck a gong. The sky began to ripple like waves in a lake.

Mabel tumbled back down onto the golden flowers.

“MABEL!”

“What was that?” Mabel said as she sat back up, as though nothing had happened. “It feels like I just ran into a wall.”

Dipper’s mind started racing. There was something at the top of the mountain, something not normal. More Gravity Falls weirdness to investigate.

He took another look at Mabel and the distance she fell, and decided he would investigate it once they were looking down at it again.

“There’s a cave this way,” said Dipper. “We can probably hike our way down from here and see if there’s another entrance that’s not blocked by paranormal entities.”

Mabel pulled herself off the ground and dusted herself off.  “You lead the way, bro!”

She had a new sweater on, a blue and violet striped design with a red heart in the middle. And for some reason, it felt very familiar to Dipper.

Frisk found themselves in the woods once again.

It was not the Unknown again, they put together quickly. It felt too…different. In fact, if it weren’t for the heat and the sun above, they could have thought they had made it back to the forests in Snowdin. It felt like magic was in the air.

Another thing different from the Unknown was how quickly they were able to find humans. And how many there were in one place. The sounds of crowds and traffic were audible within seconds, and they wandered towards its source.

It was hard to describe what they found. It was less of a house and more of a hovel.

“Alright, step right this way! The first tour of the new and improved Mystery Shack!”

The Cat wouldn’t be able to find them for a while. They could kill time, at least. Frisk wandered into the group and hid behind legs.

They were actually surprised that they were found so quickly. The Mystery Man leaned close to them, one eye inspecting them closely.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ya sneak in, kid,” he said. “Your parents in this group?”

They shook their head and shrugged.

“You gonna pay your way in yourself?”

They had to dig through their pockets a bit, but they managed to find a gold coin from the Underground and handed it to him. What shock he had that a child was carrying gold wore off on him quickly. He inspected it carefully, even going so far as to biting on it, before deciding he was satisfied and turned back to them.

“I don’t see too many kids with solid gold on them,” said the Mystery Man.

Frisk responded by giving him another gold coin.

“Good answer! Right this way, kid!”

Dipper took a step, and fell through the floor.

This was about the fourth time he had done that, and frankly it stopped being funny after the second. Mabel propped herself up on the pedestal and waited for him to come back.

“Hey, Froggit, you’re looking good today!” She called.

The Froggit in question gave an embarrassed burble, dropped a few gold coins, and hopped on its way.

“Why do they have so many puzzles leading up to their house?” Dipper asked as he emerged from the vent system.

“Maybe it’s a monster thing,” said Mabel. “Did the journal have anything about a kingdom of monsters?”

“Not that I remember,” said Dipper. “I just wish Grunkle Stan had given the journal back before all this happened.”

He took another step, and fell through.

Mabel took a bite out of the spider doughnut.

“Ew…crunchy…”

Dipper tumbled back upstairs.

“No journal’s gonna make you good at puzzles, bro,” said Mabel.

“The answer’s down there,” said Dipper. “I just can’t remember it all the way. Here’s another question: why would monsters have puzzles that are so easy to solve?”

“Maybe they’re just waiting for a stupid enough human to solve them,”

“They wouldn’t be waiting for human down here.”

“Toriel was.”

“And you trust her?”

“What?” Mabel asked. “She’s a delightful goat mother, how suspicious can you be of her?”

“I’m just saying,” said Dipper. “We’re stuck in the land of monsters, you were literally bounced off a shield preventing us from escaping, I almost got killed by a flower, and there’s this nice old goat woman who wants us to be her children.”

“You’re just being over-suspicious. She’s perfectly fine!”

“There is something I must do,” said Toriel. “Please stay here.”

She put her book down and made a beeline for the staircase. Dipper’s blood ran cold.

“…perfectly fine….” Said Mabel.

“We’re going,” said Dipper, already running to catch up with Toriel.

“That was a pretty cool snail fact though!”

It was hard to describe the Mystery Shack. If Frisk had to, they would say it was not worth the 2G. The decorations were fake; some insulting so, and some just insulting. The real mystery of the mystery shack was how readily everyone bought it.

They exited through the gift shop, fitting considering the rest of the tour, bought a map of the area with what gold they had left, and returned to the woods.

They had hiked through the forest long enough that they were decently hidden when it started to get dark. The Mystery Man may have taken their gold, but it was unlikely that anyone else would.

There was still no sign of the Cat.

Once they found a clearing far enough away that they wouldn’t be spotted, they curled in on themselves and fell asleep.

They were only asleep for about an hour when they woke up to the sounds of the Cat’s low growl.

He stood in front of them, ready to pounce. His eyes were focused on the bush in front of him, so much so that Frisk wondered if he could even see them. When they shifted and waved at him, he jumped into the bushes.

A very human-sounding voice screamed out.

It took Frisk a few tries of trying to grab him and pulling his tail to get the Cat to withdraw from the bush. Something was in its mouth. No...someone.  They were humanoid, barely the length of Frisk’s arm. Most of their hair was tucked under a red cone of a hat.

It was some kind of monster, Frisk realized. A gnome, if they had to guess.

Frisk looked to the Cat disapprovingly. The Cat rolled its eyes, but put the gnome down all the same.

The gnome didn’t respond. It ran past before Frisk could ask it any more questions.

The Cat said something, complaining about the gnomes trying to capture him and ride him into battle, but Frisk was only half paying attention. There was magic in these woods.

Author’s Note:

[eurosong]

Eurosong's ESC '17 ranking and commentary

Good afternoon, folks! The clock is ticking down to the final and it's now about that time of the year where I unleash my commentary on all the songs. I tried to limit myself to a few sentences per song, but since there´s 42, this will doubtless be considered by some as a big read. Tongue in cheek in part but very candid about my views on some of the songs - don't proceed if you don't want to see a few songs savaged. As the ancient Romans said, de gustibus non est disputandum, and these are just my views and tastes.

1 Portugal From which planet did this extraterrestrial talent come and why do his people want to break our hearts so exquisitely? I cannot speak highly enough of these three perfect minutes of melancholy, longing, and yet, at the same time, love and hope. This performance speaks to the soul so intimately. It is a pure and timeless composition that I feel like I've known all my life, but have been waiting all this time to hear. Extraördinary and twelve cuts above everything else in the contest in my eyes. 2. Hungary How I love the fearless Magyars and their tendency to dance to the beat of their own drums, sending things that sound like nothing else in the contest. This is one of the most emotional performances in the contest and certainly one of the most meaningful lyrics - talking about the prejudice he faced as a Romani and the salvation he found in songwriting. The music is a sui generis blend of rap, traditional folk and other elements - and the pure passion invested into the lyrics and their delivery gives me goosebumps. 3 Belarus This is what three minutes of unshackled, care-free joy sounds like. Naviband are adorable, their chemistry pure, and their song is so full of joie de vivre. I feel like I’m out in the primordial forests of Belarus hearing the call of the ancients. 4 Armenia Another nation keen to exhibit its traditional music in curious new blends is Armenia, who this year bring us something that sounds at once distinctly Caucasian and East Asian. A curious mélange of genres and influences make this almost as far as you can get from the tired "Melfest reject" mould. I love the non-linearity of this song, and the æthereal feel that makes the song feel like a forgotten psalm to the gods. Great effort. 5 Iceland If you combine dark but infectious electro beats with some of the most subtly meaningful lyrics of the contest, you get this, in my book, one of Iceland's best contributions to the contest in some time. Svala's song is very personal to her and, through an extended metaphor, talks about struggling with accepting yourself for who you are. A very underrated track in my eyes.

6 Czechia Speaking of underrated, we have the perennially undervalued Czechs sending us one of the most understated and sincere offerings this ESC. Czechia's is a very subtle song about strength in adversity and human connection. The music is very pleasant, and the lyrics are sung with heart. 7 Belgium No matter the disastrous reaction to the rehearsals, City Lights remains for me one of the most unique and meaningful pieces in the contest this year. Whilst last year they sounded like a 90s girl group trying to emulate the 70s, this is year 3000, futuristic cool. There is a powerful minimalism in the lyrics that lets their many nuances sink in. "Are we going to lose it all?" 8 Romania You get instant ESC-snob credit by disavowing this Romanian effort, which on paper - a yodel-rap about breaking away from the 9 to 5 - sounds like it should be a ludicrous mess. But you won't see me doing anything but praising it as it is an instant ray of sunshine in a song. I love how much Alex and Ilinca, an incredibly cute pair, love their song and how they put their heart into each performance. I feel lifted up to the Alpine heights by each listen. 9 Azerbaijan For the first time ever, Azerbaijan stand to get into my top 10. They’re still raising my hackles by importing music from Sweden, but this time they’ve picked a credible and glacially cool artist with a mystifying and dark composition about obsessive love. A step in the right direction. 10 Italy The bookies’ favourite by far, and I can understand why - Francesco exudes cheeky chappie charisma and his song is one that can appeal across generations. Why only 10th then from this bonafide Italophile? I always found the chorus of the song to be very dated, sounding like the theme tune of an early 90s quiz show, whilst the verse and bridge has a much more monumental, anthemic air. I was more able to overlook the repeats of the chorus before they made disastrous cuts and excised most of the first verse and all of the second verse, leaving a song that is still fun, but a lot more repetitive. 11 Netherlands I’m honestly amazed that O’G3ne, a band with such a ridiculous name and a dubious pedigree, are on the cusp of my top 10 this year. They sing songs that are so dated that they wouldn’t have counted as fresh even in the early 90s. And yet, their song has a certain child-like naïveté in its lyrics about their ailing mother that it makes it unbelievably moving. 12 France A nice enough song from France this year, but nowhere near as good as Amir last year in my eyes. What really took the song down a notch was the clunky addition of unneeded, comparatively cacophonous English lyrics, which replaced the existentialist French chorus of the original with some throwaway clichés. 13 Macedonia Some fans consider the Macedonian entry fresh despite its reminding me of 3-4 different 80s’ songs blended together. What it is though is catchy and kitschy in a fun way. I have doubts about the live performance given her scandalous playback in London, though. 14 Finland As Holly Brewer  sang, “I wish I loved you more.” I should love a song like this, but instead I don’t enjoy it as much as I might because I feel they put a distance between themselves and the audience not fitting for such an emotional song. 15 Ukraine It’s no secret that I’m a rocker, but unfortunately, a lot of the rock at the contest has been sub-par in recent years - or has been “rock” in inverted commas. This is not a bad effort from Ukraine, but nowhere near the britrock-inspired heights of Georgia last year. It’s a bit too repetitive for my likes. 16 Latvia Something less to my typical tastes is this unexpected piece of 90s rave revival, a step away from the cool Aminata-penned electronica Latvia has sent in the past two years. It’s a welcome stylistical oasis in a desert of identikit pop ballads, but qualitatively isn’t great, and her nasal, oddly pronounced vocals are an acquired taste which I am yet to acquire. 17 Bulgaria Very nice, relaxing background music but I don’t think of it as much more than that. 18 Ireland This starts out so promisingly with a gloomy and mysterious beginning, but soon degenerates into an early 2000s B-side that was not only rejected by Westlife but also by an assortment of C-list bands imitating Westlife. It’s even complete with the obligatory key change that launches young Brendan into a register so high that it could shatter contact lenses while they're still on your eyes. Yet, I do find some charm in it, and this would be a contender for places 11-15 for me were it not for the god awful last minute. 19 Albania For once, Albania don’t completely destroy a song in its revamp - they maintain most of the rock-ish edges of the original, instead of neutering them like they did with Përallë. As is typical, though, they lumbered Lindita with a bewildering and clunky English translation that takes a lot of my enjoyment away from the song. 20 Germany This couldn’t be more middle of the road if it tried - so it’s apt, I guess, that it has a position almost precisely in the middle of my ranking. Levina was the best of a bad lot in Germany’s insane format of a national final and she soldiers through a song even she seemed like she preferred not to sing. The riff ripped from Titanium is so blatant - and the song is brought down too by some ridiculous lyrics. “Almost a sinner, nearly a saint.” So you’re almost exceptionally holy and almost someone who frequently sins at the same time? *Head explodes* 21 Switzerland An innocuously bland mid-tempo pop ballad. Not much to say about this one.   22 Croatia A man singing a duët with himself, giving a motivational message - to himself. One half in the quivery, syrupy upper ranges of an R&B tenor, the other half in a booming operatic baritone. It’s as ridic as it sounds and yet this Jeckyll and Hyde act is saved from the very bottom by its endearing barminess. 23 Denmark Disposable pop with a shout-sung chorus, albeit by a performer with some charm and connection to the audience. 24 Australia Musically, not so bad at all, but there’s something offputting about a chap young enough to almost be fœtal putting on a drippy voice and ridiculous puppy dog eyes, singing a song of a life of broken hearts and lost love more befitting of an old man. 25 Serbia Serbia used to be one of my favourite countries in the contest. They stuck to their own language and sang songs imbued with Balkan rhythm and tradition... now they send someone sending a poor rip-off of Katy Perry’s Firework. Каква срамота. 26 Moldova Evidently, meme status can open doors and can gift you a return ticket to the ESC. It’s a shame, as even in Moldova, there were better options than this rather misogynistic effort that seems to have been Bing translated, not even Google translated, and which sounds like it was based off a MIDI ringtone. Apparently bound for the final just because it’s upbeat. 27 Austria This exudes that relentless forced cheeriness that makes my blood run cold. It’s such a plim-plom song that bounces along whilst saying nothing. Most songs aim for the top and I can admire that, even if they have no chance - this aims for mid-table mediocrity in the final. 28 Israel Generic dance track with words plucked at random and thrown onto the paper. 29 Norway Robotically cold. Most songs make me feel something, even if it’s annoyance. This just leaves me numb. 30 Poland An oppressive dirge with lyrics that rely on a rhyming dictionary a little too much (rhyming fire, desire, wire and higher in the space of ten words!) and a bizarre song structure with an anti-chorus and no real progression, which make these 3 minutes feel very long indeed. 31 Sweden Predictable, repetitive pop with one of the most laughable performance routines (blokes trying to act “smooth” by doing very silly gestures) and lyrics that read as though written by Jay in the Inbetweeners. Let’s not romanticise uncontrollable lust. 32 Cyprus A rip-off of Rag and Bone Man’s “Human”, but without a message. Instead, some incredibly daft lyrics written by someone who failed physics even in primary school. Hovig likens himself to gravity because he will catch his paramour when she falls - when it is in fact gravity that pulls her down to her grizzly death. 33 United Kingdom Turgid rent-a-ballad delivered in a hammy style with not a whisker of sincerity - compare that with the virtuoso performance of her rival in the final, Holly, who sang like she felt the pain. I’ve been saying since the contest that it will do well, though, but I’m not sold one bit. 34 Spain Many of us Eurovision fans in Spain wasted money voting for other songs in the national final, only to find that the jury - 2/3 comprised of people with vested interest in one of the candidates - was able to override thousands of televoters when it came to a draw. They put the televote’s 3rd place, Manel, first, leaving a considerable bad taste behind. And what for? One of the most inane songs the contest has ever seen, in which either “do it for your lover” (do what?) or “just do it” are repeated on average less than every 4 seconds. It sounds like a homebrand Lazy Song and the songwriters sure were lazy. Playing this on a loop for just 15 minutes could make even the toughest commandos cry for their mammies. 35 Estonia Part of me wants to put this at the very bottom of the pile, but sadly, there are worse horrors yet to come. It’s really disappointing when your favourite ESC country in recent years throws aside a bunch of daring possibilities to represent them in 2017, in favour of something so aggressively bland, a cynical Eurosong by numbers with hackneyed, ultra-repetitive lyrics that mostly consist of entoning “á-a-a-a-à-a-a-a-á-a”, performed by a duo who have as much chemistry as two inert gases and spent most of the time hammishly gurning. 36 Montenegro How does one interpret it when one of the European countries with the biggest problems of homophobia - with 71% of the populace thinking homosexuality is a sickness and where a number of hate crimes have been registered just against people who support LGBT rights - sends such an OTT act with lyrics that are packed to the brim with single entendres? For me, it seems a cynical move. Slavko himself seems a cool guy but the song itself is a hot mess. 37 Lithuania And this is a hot mess, frozen then microwaved, then frozen then set on fire with a flamethrower. Be careful of watching this with pets or small children or they may well end up traumatised for life. Whilst unbelievably sweet in interviews, the lead singer of this act seems like a banshee possessed by demons whilst singing. Her bandmate seems like her creepy “keeper.” They sing a song with about 180 instances of the words “yeah, yeah” and some trumpets that sound like they were taken from Windows 95 sound effects. 38 Slovenia This has to be one of the most overblown and pompous entries in many a year. Omar claims he was waiting to unleash this on the unsuspecting public for over a decade - even back then, this grandiose attempt at a Broadway-style number would have sounded dated. 39 Greece I will never forgive the genius lyrics “rain falls from abooove!” Neither can I forgive the fact that such a completely generic track with lyrics written on the back of a Cornflakes box is probably destined for the final with the help of some gimmicky staging. 40 Malta This song fills me with all the energy of someone who’s been in a coma for 15 years. 41 San Marino Some folk are happy to see Valentina Monetta back for the fourth year. I’m sad to see a talented performer come back for scraps of infamy no matter how bad the song she’s offered. And my god, is this disco rehash fever dream bad. 42 Georgia Georgia is typically one of my favourite nations in the contest, because of their willingness to break away from the mould, to enter things that are very atypical of the contest and often do well with them - like the exhilerating psychadelic-Britrock of last year or the trippy folk of a few years before that. This year, they couldn’t have gone more off into the other direction, into the methane-scented hinterlands of mediocrity.  I find this song disasteful in so many ways. The overt and ham-fisted political nature of it. The creepy music, like the soundtrack to a cheap straight-to-VCR horror movie, which creates an oppressive atmosphere that makes me feel like the music is holding my head down under the ghoul-infested waters of a frigid lake in a winter forest. The ghastly, cliché-ridden lyrics, where “keep the faith” is repeated so many times that by one minute, my faith that the song will ever end is already shaken. Ugly composition.