#the cart before the ponies

[mlpoutofcontext]

[ponysongbracket]

Worst MLP Song Tournament

Please listen to both songs before voting. Remember you’re voting for the WORSE song.

Snips and Snails Rap Propaganda: As if they did not even try

Derby Racers Propaganda: has one line that gets stuck in my head from time to time but it isn't memorable at all. I could not tell you any other part of the song

[bronytshirt]

Snips and his dad =) so cute

[faarkas]

tagged by @arklay @aartyom @camelliagwerm and @morvaris to do this template (THANK YOU ALL♥♥♥)

I'll tag (no pressure): @vilkaas @rockerboys @eviefrie @trvelyans @denerims @scumpatrol @ugh-my-back @taliaferros @seraphfighter and @baldurians !

[sweetbeagaming]

After two vanilla perfection runs (and 1/2 a run heavily modded which I hated), I've found that I really enjoy the game as it is. I've put these mods into three categories: beginners, post-perfection, and bonus. This is because I truly recommend doing a completely vanilla run to perfection before modding. This game is a gem already! These are my must-haves to enhance Vanilla game play, rather than replace it.

Beginners 🌱 Getting started w/ mods article here and a video.

SMAPI- This framework will be needed

Content Patcher, Generic Mod Config and other framework mods When you download a mod at Nexus a pop-up will show if these are required and you can download from there.

Dynamic Night Time Adds sunsets and sunrises

Automatic Gates You'll never have to open or close a gate manually which the is second to only vanilla game mechanic I truly hate.

No Fence Decay Fixes the first game mechanic that I truly hate

Data Layers Shows the range of sprinklers, scarecrows, etc.

Billboard Anywhere Now you can look at the calendar whenever you need

Passable Crops

Pony W**ght Loss Program Really gross name, very helpful mod. Makes it so your horse can pass through areas you previously couldn't.

Post-Perfection 🌿

Clint Rewritten You should experience Clint as he is written at least once. After that overwrite him lmao

Rustic Traveling Cart

Better Friendship and Better Ranching Do your first play through without these mods, just use a guide if you need. Trust me it's part of the fun!

Chests Anywhere Access your chests anywhere you need. First play through should be partially about learning to manage IMO, which is why I recc for second.

Look Up Anything Don't you dare put this in your first play through, I will haunt you. I'm serious!!! Use a guide.

NPC map locations Say it with me... FIRST TIME, USE A GUIDE.

Bonus (mostly cosmetic) 🍄

Reshade of your choice I'm using Faedew currently because it doesn't drastically alter the OG coloring. The bright colors are part of the charm though unless you can't handle them or just want a general change.

Sweet Skin Tones Wider variety of natural skintones for your farmer

Shardust's Hair Styles Cute hairs for your farmer, including several textured hair options

Hats Won't Mess Up Hair- to keep your cute styles

Elle's Cuter Animals Just makes animals cuter. Comes in: Coop-Barn-Horses-Dogs-Cats

Toddlers Like Parents Genetics for your kids but in a one sided way

Seasonal Outfits (slightly cuter aesthetic) Gives characters a wider variety of seasonal clothing options. Pretty customizable to your desires.

Eventually I might make another list for super cosmetic or more intense mods, such as what I use with Fashion Sense which focuses on farmer customization, or asset replacement mods. These are super unnecessary and I'll likely only be playing the new patch with these above. Enjoy!

[dycefic]

The Hearthstone God

[The sequel to the God of Prophecy, and the Serpent God of Protection]

---

Fire is out of fashion, in this new age.

Some of my kind have found new homes, new names, in factories or forges, in the hearts of wildfires or crystals or volcanoes.

Most of us are simply forgotten.

I was a fire god, once. A god of gathering, a god of communion, a god of song and story. But there are no hearthstones now. No fires around which families gather to eat and talk and tell stories.

I am lucky. I am tied to a great flat stone near a lake. A lake that has survived all the wild exuberance of men, when they learned to change the world around them. Once, this was a place where travellers stopped to rest. At first they travelled on their feet, or on half-wild horses. Then there were carts, and a road. Much later, cars drove down the road. The road was paved.

But some things do not change. People need clean water to drink, and the spring here is good. They need to rest, when they are weary. And even now, when they come to camp in nylon tents, to fish in the lake, or to hunt the ducks, or drive camper-vans to the flat place, their ancient instincts wake, and they turn to fire once more. They light new fires atop my stone, so flat and safe, from which no log will roll to set the woods afire.

Not so many come now. Camping is less popular these days. But some still come. Some still light their fires, and settle around my stone, and talk, or listen to music, or tell stories. So I survive, just barely, on the edges of belief.

I feel it, when things begin to change. Something is happening. Something is drawing old gods back. Not the great ones, risen beyond mortal understanding, but the oldest gods, the small gods, those who rose when humankind were still learning what they were.

Far to the west of me, a god even more ancient than I wakes, and begins to hunt again. I remember the stories that were once told of that old serpent, and tell them over to myself in the long fireless nights.

A god of prophecy, not of this land, settles south and west, and I remember tales of ancient ravens, their wisdom and their guile and their sharp, sharp eyes. There was a raven clan once, who passed this way in the days of skin garments and stone tools, but I have forgotten their name. I only remember the symbol they wore, the black bird with its spread wings, marked in charcoal or charring on wooden talismans or leather garments.

I wait, to see who will awaken next.

To my great surprise, it is me.

The people who come this time aren’t like the campers. They come at night, a ragged family group with few blood ties between them, with a single tent and few possessions carried on devices I haven’t seen before. Bicycles, they’re called, slung over with bags the way ponies used to be. They come at night, and hide when cars pass on the road.

They light a fire on my stone, with wood scavenged from the forest, and huddle around its warmth. They don’t speak much, not at first, but they say enough. They have no home, I learn. They are travellers of a kind I have not known before, who are allowed to stop nowhere, but have no goal but a place to rest. They are thin, and worn, and so tired. So very tired.

They need a hearth.

I am only a weak shadow of a god, now, who once recorded the songs and stories of a thousand generations in my ancient stone, but I am still a god of fire. Their fire burns slow, their little fuel lasting well. The food they heat over it sustains them better. The water of that spring, my spring, puts a little life back in them. This stone has lain in this place since great monsters walked this world, since before humans spoke words to one another, and I came into being with the first fire that burned on it. I am old, old, and though weak, I am not powerless.

They stay.

I cannot speak to them. I am old, and weak, and they do not believe. But slowly, with the power of the fires they build every night, with the tiny offerings of scraps of food spilled into the flames, with their growing confidence in the safety of this place, I am able to do more. I give them dreams and they find the cave not far away, where they can hide. They dream of fish, and begin to try to catch some. A woman remembers that some of the local plants are safe to eat, when I slowly wake a long-forgotten memory of a camping trip from her childhood.

And then a child, a strange, quiet child who rarely speaks, a child without mother or father, in the care of an older brother who is exhausted to the very edge of death but cannot give up while she needs him… that child begins to hear.

She sits on my stone, sometimes for hours, not moving or speaking. It worries the others, but at least she is quiet, at least she is no trouble, and they are beginning to associate their hearth with safety. So they let her sit.

She is *listening*. She is listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of the forest, to the wind blowing. And because she is listening, where no-one else has listened for so long, I sing to her. I sing to her the songs of thousands of years. From the wordless music of the earliest people, who sang what was in their hearts without words, to the songs I have learned from the fishermen with their radios and bluetooth speakers.

I do not know if she hears me, for some time. But then, one night, while they sit around their fire and eat food the oldest have almost certainly stolen, she sings one of my songs. “In a cavern… on a canyon… excavating for a mine…” she sings in a small voice. The others are startled, confused, for she has not spoken aloud since some bad thing they do not name happened, but one of the older ones knows the song and sings with her.

I have always liked ‘Clementine’. It’s been popular with campers for a long time.

The next day, while she sits on my stone, she sings along to one of the wordless songs the Raven People whose name I no longer remember once sang. It is a lullaby, a soft croon to soothe an infant, passed from mother to mother, and she seems to take pleasure in it.

She can hear me. She can even answer me, as the voice driven away by pain and fear begins to return. And so I grow stronger still. Strong enough to make the raven sign on the stone, one day, in the ashes of the fire of the night before.

She takes a half burned stick, and draws the sign on the stone. Pleased, I show her another sign, a leaping fish. She draws that too.

Soon, I need not shift the ashes. I can show her the pictures in her mind, and she draws them. She draws the wheel of a cart, and into her heart I whisper the stories the travellers in covered wagons once told over my stone. She draws a fish, and I make her laugh silently with the jests of fishermen who boast of fish who escaped them. She draws a horse, and I tell her about the wild horses who once drank at this lake, about the men and women who captured and tamed them and rode them through the forest when it was far greater than it is now. She draws a long-toothed cat, and I show her the great cat that once slept on my stone, and denned in the cave where her new found family sleep.

One night, when all the others are asleep and my fire has burned down to coals, she creeps back to the stone and looks into the coals. “Who are you?” she asks. “Are you real?”

She is afraid that the voice in her mind is the voice of madness, a lie created by a mind that does not work like other minds, that has endured great hardship. I do not want this child to be afraid. To instill fear runs counter to my very nature, save in whoever might threaten those my hearth protects.

I am a god of the hearth. I am a god of food, and communication, and peace, and safety. I am all the things that fire used to mean, before humans learned again to fear the thing they had tamed. I do not often take a form, for fire is my form, but for her I must try.

There was a wise woman once, who knew me, whose clan visited this lake several times every year. I watched her grow up, and grow old. I watched her learn of the god of the fire stone, and I watched her teach others. She slept beside me as a child, and as a woman. She sang her children to sleep beside me, and her grandchildren, and dozed beside me as an old, old woman. To her, I was represented by a sign of a flame in an oval, a fire and a stone.

I build a likeness of her out of the light of the coals and the shadows of smoke, a child with straight dark hair and a simple tunic, and in lines of light I draw the sign of the fire and the stone on the outlined chest. “I am the fire,” I tell her, “and the stone. I am all the fires that have ever burned here, all the stories told, all the songs sung, all the meals eaten. I am the traveler’s hearth, and the rest for the weary, and this is my place.”

“Piedra de fuego,” she says, tracing the symbol with her finger in the air. “The fire stone.”

“Yes. I am the god of this place.”

She frowns at this. “My brother says that God is in the sky.”

“Many gods are in the sky.” I cannot continue to hold the form of the girl, but the coals shift to make my sign. “I am not. I am here. I have always been here, since the first people built a fire on my stone, and warmed themselves.”

She nods slowly. “You are… a small god,” she says thoughtfully. “A place god. Like in movies.”

“Yes.” I’ve heard of movies, which are a new way of telling old, old stories. “Old places, important places, often have gods. And gods who are forgotten return to their old places and wait, until someone believes again.”

“Will you protect us?” she asks. “When the police come, to tell us to move on?”

“I am not strong,” I tell her sadly. “I cannot make men go away from here, if they are dangerous, or even call game here for you as I once did. But what I can do, I will do.”

She sits watching the coals for a long time, thinking. “Can we make you stronger?”

I think too, and she waits patiently. “You have already made me stronger. You listened. You believed. If you can convince the others to believe, that will make me stronger still.”

She sighed. “They don’t believe in anything, anymore. Not good things.”

It is a sad thing, that she knows that. They’ve been trying to hide it from her. “Then,” I tell her, “that means there is a place in their hearts that is ready for me. I am not hope. I am not a happy ending. I am not a god in the sky. I am a stone, and a fire, and a song. I am *real*. They can believe in what is real.”

The next night, she asks for a story, and one of the adults tells her an old fairy-tale from a country far away.

The next night, again, she asks for a story, and another adult tells a funny story about his childhood.

On the third night, she asks her brother to tell her a story. He tries, but he is so tired - not physically, but emotionally - that he runs out of words. So she lays her hand on his arm and offers to tell him a story, instead.

And she tells them all a story about a stone near a lake, flat and strong, that people wearing uncured skins and carrying flint weapons built a fire on. She tells of centuries passing, of people coming to the lake on their feet, on horses, in carts and wagons, in cars and motor-homes. Of thousands of years of fires, of people gathered around them, of the great continuity of humanity, and the Piedra De Fuego that has lain in this place since time began, listening to the stories and the songs and the voices of people long gone. Somewhere in the stone, she says, laying her hand on it, all those stories are remembered. All those songs are still sung. And it will remember us too.

I don’t know if it will work. But I was right. People need to believe in something. They need something to hold onto, when times are hard, when the ties of community and family are broken and they feel alone. And a stone thousands of years old, and a fire endlessly renewed on that stone, always new… that is real. They touch me, and think of those who came before, of thousands of years of history meeting them in this place, and they feel less alone.

It’s not much, not yet. But it is something. My nature, my existence, as explained to them by my small, strange priestess, is a slender lifeline flung to those who are adrift, a tiny certainty in a world they do not trust. And the more they believe in that lifeline, that certainty, then the more they believe in me. I *am* growing stronger.

When the police come, I will not be able to make them leave… but I think I am strong enough now to hide my people from unkind eyes. And if I can do that, then their faith will grow.

Tonight, three more people come. A mother and two children, weary and beaten down with hardship. My people welcome them, give them fish and greens grown by the lake, speak kindly to them. And when they have eaten, my little priestess sits between the two children and tells them a story of a stone, and a fire, and thousands of years of stories and songs, and she sings a wordless lullaby six thousand years forgotten, but living again in a child who draws the sign of the Raven in the dirt while she sings, and the sign of the fire on the stone.

And I grow a little stronger.

[huggybearluvr]

hey! Can I request a fic with Luke Hughes? Like all the brothers and their friends are golfing at the lake house in the summer and they come across a girl that’s insanely good at golfing. They can tell that Luke seems to have a little crush and he’s all flustered and she’s super cocky about it???

love your work btw :)))

pretty boy | lh43

summary: While golfing with the boys Trevor introduces you to the group, and almost, immediately you can tell that the youngest of the boys has a little crush on you. You can't help but be a little cocky about it.

Masterlist

After Trevor texted you inviting you golfing. You got up from your bed quickly pulling your hair up into a claw clip. You headed over to your dresser pulling out a white golf skirt. You slipped it on heading over to your closet pulling out your grey nike tee. You slipped that on as well heading to that bathroom.

You threw on some light make-up and then brushed out your hair pulling it into a pony. You grabbed your visor and sun glasses heading to the living space to grab you keys.

You hoped in your car heading over to the valley club.

You pulled in beside a black range rover, the car Trevor told you he would be pulling up into the club with.

You hopped out of your car opening the trunk looking over to see the boys doing the same.

"Hey," Trevor greeted pulling you into a hug.

"Hey Trev! How have you been doing?" You asked with a smile on your face as you pulled back from the hug.

"Been doing great! Glad to be back in Michigan though," He smiled. You and Trevor had been friends for years. Playing golf together being one of your favorite past times.

Jack soon ran over pulling you into a hug greeting you. You greeted the rest of the boys, your eyes landing on one you hadn't met before.

"Hey, I'm y/n it's nice to meet you!" You greeted, as you pulled your clubs out of your car.

"I- uhm hey, It's nice to meet you!" The boy spoke as he cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

You smiled, "Your name?"

"Oh right, Luke," He spoke smiling back at you his cheeks continuing to blush.

You shook your head, heading over to Trevor and Jack.

"Seems, like my little brother has a crush on you," Jack laughed as you sat beside Trevor on the Cart.

"He's cute," You shrugged.

"Please dear god play with the little shits head," Trevor spoke laughing," We haven't beat him in weeks."

"Oh, game on, but I'll be winning," You smiled over at the boy.

-

As you drove up to the final hole, Luke was beating you only by 1. You decided now was you chance to win.

As he stood set preparing to send the ball off.

"You gonna hit the ball pretty boy?" You smirked as you leaned agains the golf cart.

You could see Lukes face flush, his eyes going wide, his cheeks now red.

He hit shook it away lining his shot, missing by a landslide.

Jack walked up to his brother asa you set up your shot.

"Look's like you have a little crushy crush," Jack teased his younger brother.

"I do not," He defended.

-

As you all made your way back to the cars, Jack invited you to come to the Lake house for a boat ride, dinner, and bonfire. You agreed.

Trevor and Jack were giggling as they walked over to the back of the truck.

"Lukey, you don't mind driving with y/n do you? The cars a little cramped," Jack said patting his brother on the back.

"I- uhm," He attempted but couldn't so he just nodded.

You smiled at the conversation closing the trunk as you walked over to the drivers side.

Luke got into the passenger side.

"I'm stopping at my apartment first," You informed, " loosen up Luke, I don't bite, unless you ask me too," You smirked looking over at the boy.

His cheeks flashing shades of pink for the third time today.

"Your cute when your flustered," You smiled over at him as you pulled into your parking spot.

"You wanna come in?" You asked to which he nodded following you up to your apartment.

You entered your room as Luke waited in the living area. You quickly changed into some more comfortable clothes before grabbing your back packing some extra clothes. You had your bikini on underneath your outfit.

You exited your room, "You okay?"

"Yeah, you're just really pretty," He smiled over at you.

"thank you, Luke," You smiled back.

"Can I take you out to dinner? before I head back to New Jersey?"

"I think that would be really nice," You smiled.

[rafescurtainbangz]

Rafe x Kook!Reader Blurb

Gahhh!!! Thank you so much for your ask. I’m sorry it took me so long.

Also, it's me and rafe 🥹

+18 (mentions of smut)

*lightly edited

Rafe x Female Reader

Tag list @randymeeksistheloml @gri959 @waywardsoul113 @juniebugg @drewstarkeyslut @humanvampire13 @akashababy @dckweed @marahgubler @jayla @romaescapes @joannamuns9n @redhead1180 @h34rtsformilli @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @beautifuldisaster88 @rafedrewandjjs @xo-billy-hargrove-ox @cutielando

You two haven't seen each other long, but when you show up to the course with a bag of Callaway REVAs, he can't help but get a little rattled, especially when he's used to his girls play caddie, if that. He watches you smooth out your Vouri dress, slipping on your glove and Callaway hat before pulling your pony through the back. His eyes double, as you lean down to tie your shoes, catching a glimpse of your dress’s built-in shorts where he would typically see lace, ass, or nothing at all.

“I didn't know you were a golfer, princess,” his voice wavers.

To which you smile and nod. “You didn't? Yeah. Since I was six.” He swallows hard as the stakes are quickly raised.

Suddenly, Rafe Cameron is nervous.

How would he impress you now? What if you won?

You came out of the front nine in the lead with Rafe at his wits end. He had no patience; his short game was a mess, too focused on what you would do next, which always seemed to be the right move. Not to mention you looked so good doing it, your focus locked on the game. Rafe found himself in a strange position where he was now fighting for your eye.

Halfway through the back nine, he found himself at a crossroads. There was no way he would win: play fair and lose to his girl or play dirty and knock you down a little… It started simply by disturbing your backswing or during a putt, a cough, or a sneeze. Normal enough. When that didn't work, he switched to praise. The type of praise that would make you feel nervous about the next shot. But you didn't falter.

There was only one tactic that remained. The one that could always throw him off his game. Rafe unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white polo, fingers curling around the leather steering wheel to let his biceps flex. Every movement was a little closer than before: your position on the golf cart, where he stood on the green, how long he'd linger for a kiss. He was talking sweeter too, his low tone deep and raspy as he leaned into your ear, holding your hips from behind as you took a few practice strokes.

“You look so pretty, baby.”

“Fuck, my girl’s so good at this.”

“Wanna take a break. Hmm? I know a spot, honey. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Need you so bad.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

PLOP.

Your ProV1 golf ball plunges into the depths of the murky pond as a sinister smile spread on Rafe’s lips. Your eyes narrow on his baby blues, catching him in the act, clocking his excitement as you put two and two together. The rest of the round plays out like the PGA tournament because, unlucky for Rafe, you didn't like to lose either.

“Wanna just call it, baby doll?” Rafe asks knowing his game was unrecoverable, but if it wasn’t in writing, did it actually count? You shake your head ‘no’, tapping your little pencil at the card.

“One left, baby boy.” Rafe smirks and shakes his head. “A bet?”

“You're already gonna win, baby,” he groans.

“Just this hole, Rafe. Winner gets whatever they want in the clubhouse.”

“Alright. Alright. Deal,” he agrees.

To no surprise, you close out the hole with a win. To which Rafe genuinely accepts defeat. The two of you walk up to the clubhouse hand-in-hand, Rafe still waiting for you to call him out on his bullshit from before but you don’t. He leads you toward the pro shop as he fishes for his Black Card but you pull him away fast, disappearing into the locker room with him instead, kissing your way into a bathroom stall. He lets out a devilish laugh as you undo his belt with a smile.

“Well shit, baby. What are we doin’ in here?” He whispers against your lips.

“Getting what I want.”

masterlist

Tag List

[imagines--galore]

Kili x reader angst where they're courting so reader has in the braids and beads et. But reader gets taken during a fight as a prisoner and they punish her by cutting off her hair n such and she's so apologetic and guilty to kili when he sees but he just sees red because whoever they were fighting violated his love (cuz in dwarf culture that's cruel). Angst comfort mega combo

Pairing: Kili x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Angst. Comfort. A bit of fighting and a bit of trauma but thats it.

A/N: Moving from one city to the other really takes it out of ya. Anyway! I am now back and writing again. Omg I LOVE this request so much! Much fluff. Much feels. :3

Also I am now taking requests so go ahead and send me stuff. You can find my rules here. Please send me stuff to write!

You couldn’t help but feel giddy. More then once your hand would raise to the newly formed braid in your hair. It rested beside your left temple and you could still feel the warmth of Kili’s fingers where he had braided it not even a few hours ago. It felt strange to have a new braid, but one you were more then proud to wear. The bead and braid both signified your status with the Royal Family. But more then that. It told the world that you and Kili belonged to one another.

Placing the last of the packs onto the cart, you gave a small nod to the driver who stirred the ponies into motion and began carting the now loaded goods back to Erebor. You had been traveling with the tradesmen to exchange goods with a nearby village. Your ailing father had not been able to make the trip, and being his only child, the duty had fallen on your head. Two members of the Royal Family, namely Thorin and Kili had decided to accompany the party in hopes of forming some alliance with the village Master.

It had been the night before that Kili had requested your presence. You had been confused at his strange behavior. Normally, Kili would be full of words and he never had a problem to articulate them. That night though, he had been stumbling over his words and when he had finally caught on to your confusion, he had simply held the bead out to you.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement.

It was true your feelings for the young prince were rather strong and deep, but you had never imagined that his ran just as deep as yours. Tears had filled your eyes, but you had blinked them away before reaching up to pull down the hood of your cloak. Kili had stepped closer, his fingers reaching out to take a section of your hair which he then began to braid. The two of you were silent as he expertly attached the bead with his family crest at the end of the now finished braid. The silence made the moment all the more intimate.

As soon as it was done, you gave him no warning before you had jumped into his arms had embraced him tightly. The small clearing now rang with joyous laughter as he spun you around, before setting you down and sealing the moment with a kiss.

You were so lost in reliving the memory of last night that you did not notice the strange dwarf approaching you from behind. Not until it was too late. 

Fleeing was not an option, as several dwarfs began to attack the ones she had come with. You could only struggle helplessly as you and several other dwarfs were thrown in the back of a cart and the thieves made quick work of escaping, taking whatever loot they had gathered, and whoever they had captured.

Including you.

                                              -------------------------

It had all happened rather quickly.

The dwarfs had taken several hostages, including you, but it had taken next to no time for the soldiers of Erebor to be dispatched to rescue everyone. However, the few hours you were held hostage was enough for a few things to transpire.

One of the kidnappers was tormenting an old dwarf, kicking him around to make him walk faster. Not being able to sit quietly, you had snapped at the abuser, prompting him to turn his attention to you. He had told you to shut up, before turning back to his previous task. You had picked up a rock and thrown it at his head, the small projectile meeting its mark.

Only once his attention turned to you, did you realize that perhaps you shouldn’t have done that. He marched over to you, before yanking you away from the group of kidnapped dwarfs huddled together for safety. You had kicked and screamed the entire time, yet your cries fell on deaf ears. Multiple kicks were aimed at your torso and face, yet they did not hurt as much as when the dwarf yanked at your hair.

Once his greedy eyes landed on the bead Kili had gifted you, his lips pulled into a menacing smile. Pulling out a wicked looking dagger, the dwarf carelessly chopped off the braid Kili had so lovingly braided. You barely noticed as the steel of the blade cut across your forehead, you cried in despair as the braid with the bead was thrown in a nearby fire where it smoldered to nothing.

It was only seconds later that the warriors sent to rescue you fell upon the enemy emitting blood curdling war cries. Yet you barely noticed as you continued to stare into the depths of the small fire, tears filling your eyes, as you mourned the loss of something so small, yet so significant.

Feeling a warm hand being placed on your shoulder, you glanced up to see Dwalin looking down at you with a kind and gentle expression. Slowly, you allowed him to guide you to where his pony stood waiting. He helped you onto the animal, before getting behind you. You barely noticed anything and anyone around you as the triumphant rescue party began to trek back to Erebor with the kidnappers in tow.

                                             -------------------------

To say Kili was beside himself with worry would be an understatement. The moment he had realized what had happened, and that you had been one of the dwarfs kidnapped, he had wanted to take the first pony and run after you. His uncle, however, had other ideas. Fear of this being a plot to draw the royals of Erebor out in the open, Thorin had decided to send his best warriors, led by Dwalin, to retrieve you and the other dwarfs. Still it did not stop Kili from screaming at his Uncle to let him go, neither did it stop him from telling Fili off for siding with Thorin.

His heart felt as if it would beat right out of his chest. His mind raced with thoughts of you. Every single moment you had both shared, before being replaced by the sight of you broken and hurt lying somewhere out in the open. For hours he paced the ramparts of the mountain, looking over at the horizon, to try and catch a glimpse of the returning warriors.

It was a few hours later that he heard the distant call of a horn. All over the mountain horns began to blow, signalling the return of the rescue party. Kili was the first one at the gates, straining to catch a glimpse of you as the small band of dwarfs approached. Dwalin rode at the very front and reached first. He was quick to dismount, before moving to help lift your trembling body from the back of the pony and set you on the ground.

A wave of dizziness overcame you, as you swayed on your feet, yet the feeling of two familiar arms wrapping around you and supporting your body, was able to give you a little strength. You raised your wide eyes to look at Kili’s face. The sight of him, looking so worried and relieved, broke whatever shred of control you had as you collapsed against him and began to sob over your loss.

“I’m sorry, Kili. I am so sorry. I-I lost the bead you gave me. T-th-they cut my braid and I tried to save the bead but they threw it in the fire. I-I c-couln’t-” Here your strength seemed to fail you as your knees collapsed underneath you. Luckily, Kili was there to catch you. Wrapping his arms more firmly around your frame, he pulled you close. Briefly the world around the two of you disappeared as he comforted you.

His face was buried in your hair as he whispered sweet nothings and reassurances in your ear. Tears streamed down your cheeks and onto his clothes as the trauma finally registered in your mind. So far you had been focused on protecting and helping the other captives. But now? With Kili’s arms around you, you simply could not hold yourself together. Your body shook with each sob as Kili pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

The Dwarf Clan that had decided to attack the citizens of Erebor were more then a little nervous now. They had no idea who you were. No idea that you were the betrothed of a Prince of Erebor. Each dwarf shuffled nervously as Kili finally raised his head to look at each of the dwarfs in turn.

His eyes held a rage that made his hands tremble as his gaze swept over the villains. They would pay. Every single one of them would be held accountable for the horror they had inflicted upon his beloved.

“My son?”

His attention was briefly diverted by the presence of his mother. Behind her stood his Uncle and brother, alongside many other dwarfs who were greeting their own loved ones that had been kidnapped. When they had arrived, Kili had no idea. Dis reached out to gently extract you from his embrace. Kili moved to protest but a look from his mother had him stay silent. “I shall take care of Y/N. See her injuries are not severe.” Her eyes flitted to the captured dwarfs. Kili could see fury in his mother’s eyes as well, mirroring his own. But he knew Y/N needed to be taken away. He had no desire for you to see what he was about to do the captured dwarfs.

Nodding, Kili reached out to press a kiss to your forehead. “I will see you soon, my heart.” He whispered to you in Khuzdul. You raised your tear-stained cheeks to meet his gaze as Dis gently pulled you away. You followed the motherly dwarf after a parting look to your betrothed.

Once you had safely entered the mountain, Kili turned his attention back to the Dwarf Clan that had dared take you from him. He glanced at his brother and Uncle. The former’s anger was equal to his own, since he considered you family and hated to see you hurt and in despair. His Uncle simply raised his hand and spoke. “They will be punished however you see fit, sister-son.”

The dark look that crossed over Kili’s features had the Dwarf Clan regretting what they had done, and praying he would show some leniency.

                                             -------------------------

As soon as you had returned to your chambers, Dis had shooed your handmaidens so that they may prepare a warm bath. The older female dwarf had held you close to her side as the handmaidens prepared the bath for you. Though as soon as everything had been laid out and she was in the large tub, you spoke.

"If you don't mind, Mother, I want to be alone."

You didn't want be in anyone's presence at the moment, wanting to grieve the small yet significant loss on your own. Dis seemed to understand the reasoning behind your words and gave a small nod. Once the handmaidens had departed, Dis leaned down to press a motherly kiss to your brow.

"If you need to speak to anyone my dear, let me know." With a parting smile she left.

You had no idea how long you sat in the tub for. Her hand hung around you, unbound and free, floating in the warm water. Taking a small breath, you submerged completely in the water, closing your eyes as you allowed the warmth of the water to envelope your tired aching body. You could've stayed down in the cocoon of safety forever, but you needed to breath.

Emerging from the depths, you took a deep breath.

You didn't know for how long you sat in the water, feeling utterly numb and refusing to let yourself acknowledge what had happened. Perhaps it would be wise to simply move forward from the event.

Pretend it hadn't even happened.

It wasn't until you started to shiver from the now cold water that you stepped out of the bath, and wrapped a warm thick robe around your body. Water trickled from your hair, leaving a small puddle as you walked towards the vanity. Your fingers brushed against the handle of your comb when your gaze shifted to look in the mirror. The sight of your empty eyes, and the lack of the braid Kili had so lovingly put in your hair was the breaking point.

A whimper echoed in your chambers, followed by the sound of sobbing as you let loose the pain and horror. It finally sank in just how frightened you had been. Terrified. And amidst what had happened, you had lost something so so so precious.

The thought only made you sob all the more harder.

You didn't hear the door to your room opening, didn't catch sight of the pained look that overtook Kili's features as he ran to gather you in his arms.

"What is it my heart? What hurts?" He asked, checking you over to make sure there was no serious injury. You shook your head, just clutching to him. It took a little while before your sobs subsided and you calmed down enough to take a deep breath and speak.

"I'm sorry." The word hadn't even left your mouth before Kili cut you off. "You need not be sorry for anything my love. Nothing is your fault." His hand gently caressed the small area near your forehead where your braid had hung just this morning. You averted your gaze, shame coloring your cheeks, but he grasped your chin, and gently turned your head to look at him.

"I ran into Mother on my way hear. And she gave me something." So saying, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bead. It was beautifully crafted, and she could see the skill behind it despite the tears still welling in her eyes.

"My father gave this to my mother, when they were betrothed. And now she wants you to wear it." Your eyes widened and you shook your head. "Kili, I couldn't this is your father's gift to your mother." You said, leaning away from him slightly.

He smiled. "She considers you a daughter Y/N, she offered this to you. But should you feel strongly about it you can wear this for a few days while I create another betrothal bead for you." He said, his fingers already grasping a new section of your hair. You were silent as he began to braid your hair anew. With each lock of hair intersecting, you could feel your soul being pieced together once more.

Finally, Kili clicked the bead into place, and smiled at you. "Just as beautiful as ever." He said, his eyes meeting yours.

An involuntary giggle fell from your lips at his shameless flirting. One of the many traits that had won you over. "Thank you Kili." You closed whatever space was left between the two of you and pressed your lips to his.

His fingers buried in the hair at the back of your head as he returned the embrace. It was sweet, slow and seemed to sooth whatever leftovers the both of your had. And as he held you, you couldn't help but feel safe and loved.

"I love you, Kili." You breathed against his lips. You could feel him smile gently in response before he whispered back his response.

"And I you, Y/N."

[diorleclerc]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

pairing - charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - just a tooth rotting amount of fluff, mentions of sex at the end

author’s note - giving you guys a little break from all the smutty content

charles would come along with you to a family party

pretty much all of your family was going to be present, including your niece and nephew

he’s met your niece and nephew before and he absolutely adores both of them

so before heading out to the party, he’d insist on stopping by a store so he could buy gifts for them

“charles, it’s not any of their birthdays or anything. you don’t have to get them anything,” you tell him but he doesn’t listen

“okay but what if i’m busy when it is their birthday and i can’t come to their party? this’ll be like an early birthday present from me!” he explains

and he wouldn’t just pick a simple toy for each of the kids; no he’d want to buy them at least three things each

“seriously baby, this is too much,” you sigh as he stands in the toy aisle and debates between two different stuffed animals for your niece

“too much? there’s no such thing as too much, my love. now, which is better? the pony or the cat?” charles holds up the two plushies

but before you could answer, he just tosses them both into the shopping cart

“charles-“

“nope. no protests. she deserves both,” he says and pushes the cart to the next aisle while you follow with a sigh

by the end of the shopping trip, he’d filled up the entire shopping cart with toys

“how are we going to fit all of this in your car?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you stand by his car with the shopping cart

“we’ll find a way. come on, the happiness on their face will be worth it,” charles smiles at you and you can’t help but agree with that

you end up having to hold a few of the toys that didn’t fit in his trunk on your lap for the drive

and when the two of you walk into your parents’ home, your arms are filled with gift bags filled with goodies

as soon as you walk in, the kids run over to you guys

well, more like to charles

“uncle charles!” “uncle charlie’s here!”

“i feel so loved,” you say dryly when your niece and nephew hug onto his legs

“sorry love. i can’t help it that i’m their favorite uncle,” he grins at you

“you’re their favorite because you bribe them,” you gesture to the gift bags

“nooo, they love me because i’m the best. don’t you?” he turns to them and they both nod excitedly

“see?” charles grins

“traitors,” you tell your niece and nephew and they both giggle but give you hugs as well

“but your auntie is right. i do have gifts for you,” charles tells the kids before handing them their gift bags

“oh my gosh! i love them! i love them!” your niece exclaims as she hugs the two plushies tightly against her chest

“I knew you would,” charles smiles

“uncle charles! can we build this right now?” your nephew tugs on his arm after opening his bag to see the multiple lego sets

“no! i wanna play with uncle charlie first!” your niece exclaims, holding onto his other arm

charles would somehow get them to agree that he’d play with one of them before the other

“how about i help you with building for a little bit the your auntie will while i play with your sister? and then we’ll switch off, sound good buddy?” he asks your nephew and he agrees

the entire afternoon, you both play with your niece and nephew, switching off every now and then

charles would help your nephew with his lego set for a little bit then he’d switch with you to have a tea party with your niece and her stuffed animals

you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at seeing how good he was with kids

and that led to you thinking about how he would be with your own kids

but you quickly shook that thought off, not wanting to think about it until you both talked about it

you had both talked about kids before and how you wanted them in the future

but you weren’t sure if now was the right time

except charles was thinking the exact same thing you were

while you were busy playing with the kids, you hadn’t noticed how he was watching you with a look of pure love on his face

after a few hours, you both say your goodbyes to your family before heading back home to your apartment

the entire ride, charles was pretty quiet but you assumed that he was just tired after the party

but really, he was just thinking about having your own kids

and how gorgeous you’d look pregnant with his baby

he finally broke the silence after driving for awhile

“i want one,” charles speaks up

“want one… what?” you turn to him, confused about what he was talking about

“a baby,” he says

“a- a what?” you ask, clearly surprised

“yeah. i want a mini you or a mini me running around,” he says

“does someone have baby fever after hanging out with the kids all day?” you tease

“you can’t blame me, love. seeing you with the kids makes me wanna have our own,” he sighs

“yeah, me too,” you agree

“really?” now he was the one who was surprised that you agreed with him

“mhm. besides, when we have kids i can finally refer to you as a dilf,” you smirk

“well in that case, why don’t i just pull over and we can get started on making a baby?” he smirks back

“absolutely not. we are not conceiving our child in a car in the middle of the road,” you shake your head

“oh please. how many kids would be able to say that they were conceived in a ferrari?” he scoffs

“not happening babe,” you say as he pulls over anyways

“charles–” you start to scold

“what? we don’t have to make the baby now. but we can still practice,” he smirks before pulling you onto his lap

and two weeks later, you take a pregnancy test and it comes out positive

and charles is probably ecstatic at the fact that you conceived your baby in his car

[mlpoutofcontext]

[ponysongbracket]

Worst MLP Song Tournament

Please listen to both songs before voting. Remember you’re voting for the WORSE song.

Derby Racers

Cutie Mark Crusader's Song Propaganda: The singing is off, the lyrics are clumsy. The writers really captured the 'grade school perfomance' feeling. I think this song is meant to be bad and it really succeds in it. (Imo) It’s objectively bad but also I love it because it’s so bad? Idk very full circle

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Hi, hope your doing well! Can you write (really anything) about odd duck! reader or arranged! reader? Thank you and have a good day or night!

"Mrs. Wayne," Clark said, opening the door to the office for you, "Pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise," you answer. Because you're supposed to. Really, you couldn't give less of a damn about any of this. The dog and pony show is exhausing. But Bruce was investing a lot of money in something or other in Metropolis and another thing in Star City and then something in LA and something else in Miami. So there were press junkets galore.

And like a good wife, you traveled to do the interviews. If nothing else, Bruce had given you carte blanche to go shopping... So that was something. It was nice being able to buy what you wanted and watch your mother squirm every time you walked into a party looking like a flesh and blood woman. And more satisfying to watch the vein in your father's neck twitch any time you spoke to Harvey Dent. Or Commissioner Gordon. It probably shouldn't be as fun as it was but- Bruce was a legitimate businessman. It only made sense he'd expect you to entertain his friends... And you were rewarded for doing it. He'd allowed you a studio and now you were allowed to redecorate your little suite the way you liked. The only problem being, you didn't know what you liked. Still. Shop clerks were more than willing to help. So far you hated minimalism. And Yellow.

"Our last meeting-"

"I'd imagine it does get tiring covering sports and doing puff pieces," you tell him waving away an apology. Just wanting to get on with it. "A word of advice?"

"Please," he said blinking. He'd expected you to be annoyed. Or perhaps tentative. But even though your voice was still soft, there was steel there that there hadn't been before.

"Don't paint people, women, especially into corners. It makes you look like a bully and it won't make you any friends."

"I wasn't trying to-"

"You were trying to play hard ball in a cutesy little profile piece," you tell him, giving him a meaningful look. "If that would have actually gone to press all I would have had to do was give a tearful statement and your entire career would have burned."

"I-"

"You're welcome."

[blueiskewl]

Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn’t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.

[ckret2]

I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter. It's got it all: angst, comedy, meaty plot progression, banter, Bill and Ford screaming at each other, Stan getting an MVP moment, Soos being Soos, and a grappling hook. And this:

It's admittedly harder to take Bill's stuck-in-a-human-body grief seriously when he's wearing a pony toga and goofy bug wing face paint.

Anyway here's chapter 5, and here's one, two, three, and four if you missed them.

####

The car had been on the road for several tense minutes before Bill announced his return to consciousness by startling upright, attempting to shout through his gag, looking around wildly, and then kicking Stan's butt through the back of the front bench.

"Hey. Hey! Easy!" Stan turned around to swat at Bill. Bill responded by headbutting his hand.

Trying to ignore Bill and keep his eyes on the road, Ford said, "Soos?"

"You got it." Soos leaned to the right, gently pinning Bill against the door.

Bill grunted, squirmed mightily against his fate, kicked the front bench a couple more times for good measure, and then started rubbing his face against the car door handle.

"Give it a rest," Stan said. "There's no way you're jumping out of a moving car. You're completely tied up and you've got a seatbelt on."

"Safety first," Soos said.

"Plus, the handle on that door sticks."

Bill gave them both a murderous glare, shot another at Ford just because, and resumed rubbing his face on the door handle.

It took a couple minutes for him to use the handle to peel the duct tape off his mouth. He spat half a wet sock at the back of Stan's head. "Where are we—Hey! Hey! Look at me! Where are we going?!"

Gaze never wavering from the road, Ford said, "You don't need to know."

"All that matters is you're not coming back," Stan said. "You're gonna be staying with some old friends of mine until we figure out how to deal with you. Real professionals. Not even you could find a way out of this."

"There's nobody to manipulate when nobody is listening to you," Ford said.

Soos, ever helpful, threw in, "Stan hasn't really told us much about these dudes? But I've been getting some 'prisoner pit in a serial killer's basement' vibes off of how he's talking about it."

The rage quickly drained from Bill's face, leaving behind a stricken look. "It's not that golf cart chop shop, is it?"

"What?! How did you kn—" Stan whipped around to gape at Bill, then stared at Ford. "How did he—?!"

"He has eyes everywhere," Ford said resignedly. "I'm sure once he got his claws into me, he started looking into my family's lives."

Soos considered this, nudged Bill, and said, "Hey. What kinda creepy stuff do you know about me?"

Bill didn't answer. He was staring blankly at the back of the front bench. Voice oddly flat, he said, "So. You leave me with a bunch of professional criminals. What's your plan then, smart guy."

"I don't know yet," Ford said. "And that's exactly why we're leaving you with people who can keep you contained—and keep your puppet alive, whether you like it or not. All they need to do is buy us time until we find a way to extract you from your puppet and destroy you for good."

"And what if you can't 'extract' me."

The car was silent for a moment. Finally, Ford said, "Then whatever poor woman you've taken over has already lost her life. Destroying you and her body would be a mercy killing." Stan nodded once, sharply.

Bill slumped back in his seat. He stared out the window at the dark trees passing by.

The car's headlights swept over a sign reading "Now leaving Gravity Falls."

Bill choked on his breath. His gaze whipped forward, staring out the windshield, eyes wide—and they got wider. "Whoa-whoa-whoa wait wait stop STOP STOP! WATCH OUT!"

Ford slammed the breaks.

"What'd we hit?" Stan leaned over the dash, squinting into the dark. "After you insisted you're a better driver than me—"

"I didn't hit anything—there's nothing in the road—"

Hysterically, Bill demanded, "Are you trying to kill me?!"

Which was such a fantastically stupid question that the whole car turned to stare at him. He was wheezing on the verge of hyperventilation, pressed as far back into the car seat as he could get, feet raised and braced against the back of the front bench, face contorted in fear.

Trying to sound irritated to avoid sounding rattled, Ford said, "What the devil is it?"

"Are you crazy?" Bill snapped. "You almost drove straight through the bubble!"

Soos and the Pines all looked forward. There was nothing but the dark road beyond their car. Ford gave Bill a wary look. "The what?"

"The—the bubble! The weirdness bubble! The barrier around this stupid town! You c—you can't see it, can you." Bill jutted his chin forward, gesturing out the windshield. "Well whether you see it or not, it's right there!"

Stan shrugged. "So?"

"SO?!" Bill's voice cracked. "So whaddaya think happens to me if I hit a weirdness barrier in a moving car?!"

Stan considered that a moment. "I dunno... That sounds more like your problem than our problem."

"Hey, it's your upholstery, buddy! But if YOU wanna see what happens when you hit a deer and it teleports inside the car—"

Stan snuck a foot over to the driver's side footwell and pressed the gas, making the engine rev. Bill flinched and yipped like a threatened chihuahua. Stan laughed.

Ford was staring hard at Bill. "The weirdness barrier shouldn't affect you from within the mindscape. And even if it did, it wouldn't affect the body you're inside. It would only affect you if... you have physical form?" He scrutinized Bill's face—not his eyes, but everything else, taking in his facial features, looking for something familiar. "You're... not possessing someone, are you?"

Bill's breath hitched.

Stan looked between the two of them. "You mean that's just him? He's a regular human now?" He gestured dismissively at Bill. "Why shouldn't we just hit the barrier, then. Take care of you now. I oughta get the ol' Diablo reupholstered, anyway."

"Oh! Oh! So that's how you want to play!" Bill let out a shrill, harsh laugh. "Fine, be like that! Do it—if you're sooo sure it won't just set me free! Do you like the sound of that? Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?" He leaned into Stan's face, baring his teeth, smiling viciously. "Go on, tough guy—think you can get me with another lucky sucker punch?"

Stan scowled—but instead of rising to the bait, he gave Bill a hard, considering look. "What's your game?"

"Ha! I'm playing games an idiot like you couldn't even imagine—"

On Stan's behalf, Ford tapped the gas, nudging the car forward a few inches.

Bill shrieked. "What's wrong with you, you maniac?!" Over Stan's guffaws and Ford's chuckle, Bill snapped, "I've had it!" The rear door swung open. Bill tumbled out onto the road.

"Hey!" Soos scrambled after him, but by the time he was out of his seatbelt, Bill was on his feet and running.

He was running very badly. He'd somehow managed to free his wrists and ankles—his ankles were raw and bloody and his handcuffs, still locked, lay innocently in the back seat—but his elbows were still chained to his sides and his knees were tied together. Stan jumped out of the car, saw Bill trip and sprawl on the asphalt less than twenty feet away, and laughed so hard he needed to lean on the car for balance.

Ford caught up just after Soos tackled Bill. "Well! There. Here you are." Ford's fists were trembling. "You couldn't have thought you'd escape, Bill. What was the point of that—that ridiculous demonstration!"

Bill's cheek was pressed to the ground hard enough that he had to squeeze one eye shut; but it didn't stop him from giving Ford a smarmy, smug smirk. "To be annoying," he said. "For you. Personally and individually."

"Fffp— For me?! Why? To what end, Bill?!" Ford knew Bill just wanted to see him angry. And it worked. "Of all the places in the world you could have gone, why are you back here! What could you possibly get out of harassing us again! After all you've done to us already!"

"What." The change on Bill's face was instantaneous. "After... what I... have done to you? WHAT I'VE DONE TO YOU?!"

He was screaming so violently that his body shook with it, threatening to throw Soos off. "I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO ANY OF YOU! Look at you all, you hale and hearty little animals, with all your dwindling decades left to you—what about ME?!"

He jammed a fist in Soos's gut to knock him off and lunged for Ford, clawing at his ankle and coat hem like a zombie reaching from the grave. Ford tried to stumble back, but tripped over Bill's hand and fell hard on the asphalt. Bill wrenched an arm free from the chains around his chest with a wretched bony CRACK, and crawled on top of Ford.  "I was perfect! I was a new god! I'm the most sublime thing your universe has ever seen! What am I now?!" Bill's bound knees dug into Ford's abdomen, his clawed fingers reached for his face. "MEAT! I'm MEAT, Stanford! My body is rotting off its bones as we SPEAK, in a few years I'll be dust! AND YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT I 'TOOK' FROM YOU?!"

His fingers closed around Ford's throat. "What did you lose! TELL ME what you lost! I gave you EVERYTHING you ever wanted—knowledge, magic, secrets, INFINITE worlds to explore! I offered you more! I offered you immortality! Divinity! So WHAT! DID! YOU! LOSE!" He punctuated each word with a furious shake. He was frothing with rage, choking on his rage, so furious he was nearly sobbing. "And do you REALLY THINK it comes CLOSE to the eternity you STOLE FROM ME?! You KILLED me today, Stanford! I DIED TODAY—"

A grappling hook whistled past Bill's face, nearly hitting his nose, smashing into the bark of a tree. Bill froze, eyes wide, the taut wire inches in front of his mouth, staring down at Ford. And then he let go. He didn't resist when Stan dragged him off, or when Stan and Soos wrapped their arms around him in case he lunged for Ford again. His knees briefly buckled before he got his feet under him again.

Ford stared up at Bill, rubbing his throat.

He'd never seen Bill angry like that before. He'd seen Bill angry enough to kill, and it had never come close to that. Bill's anger was always the petty tantrum of an entitled child who had been denied something he thought he deserved.

This was the anger that came from grief. Bill was grieving himself.

"This... really is you, isn't it?"

Bill's jaw tightened.

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper dropped to a knee beside Ford, grabbing his shoulder. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Dip—Dipper?" Ford stared at him, and turned to look at Mabel and the two bikes further up the road. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Following to make sure Bill doesn't try anything?" Dipper said. "Like he just did?"

Stan said, "Whoa, kids, it's way too dangerous f—aw, forget it. Just how the heck did you find us?" (He'd handed Bill over to Soos, learning nothing from the lessons of the last few minutes; but Bill didn't make another move to escape. He leaned into Soos for physical support, shoulders slumped, his whole face sagging with exhaustion.)

Dipper said, "We figured you wouldn't let us come, so Mabel bugged the car after dinner."

"She what?"

"I poked a hole in a bag of glitter and taped it under your bumper!" Mabel pointed at the sparkly red trail leading along the road to the car. She was trying to pull her grappling hook out of the tree it had smashed. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! We saved your life twice in one day! I think you owe us a pizza or something."

Dipper nodded seriously. "Definitely."

Ford rubbed his neck. "I don't think he was even trying to kill me. He was just..." Ford trailed off, staring after Bill. Out of that mad monologue of historical revisionism, the part that echoed in Ford's head was the last words. I died today. It was still that fresh to Bill?

Mabel frowned. "Aw, c'mon, Grunkle Ford. Lemme have this."

He dragged his gaze from Bill and laughed, ruffling her hair. "All right, all right. I owe you two a pizza."

"Yes!"

"No wonder you slipped these off," Soos muttered, holding the handcuffs in one hand and one of Bill's hands in the other. "You have delicate little baby hands. I bet it's really easy for you to get things out of jars."

"Sure." Bill sighed listlessly. "But it makes playing the piano a pain."

Soos more tightly handcuffed Bill's delicate little baby hands in his lap, considered how best to keep him from running off again, and finally wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders. "There. Buddy system!"

Bill endured this indignity with the vacant-eyed stoicism of a shell shocked soldier.

"So, what's going on?" Dipper asked, looking at the stopped car.

"We're at the edge of the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls," Ford said. "And Bill can't cross it. And, obviously, him slamming into it would be like driving into a wall. It would be fatal."

"To just Bill? Or the tourist, too?"

"There is no tourist. That's—him."

"Yeah," Stan said. "So he claims, anyway. I'm not sure I believe that."

Mabel gasped and grabbed Dipper's arm. "I knew it! Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan—I think he's telling the truth! When Bill possessed Dipper, he was all cold and gross like a dead body. But this time he's normal!"

Stan screwed up his face, tilting his head. "I dunno. Something's still fishy. He's holding something back, I'm sure of it. Sixer, you've had more practice figuring him out than anyone else, what do you think?"

Ford sighed. "Unfortunately, he's also had more experience manipulating me than anyone else. But, all the same, I... I've never seen him so..." He meant to say furious. Instead, he said, "hurt." 

Ford wondered if there really was something to Bill's anger that he had never seen before—or if it was just easier for Ford to see it now that it was on a human face. If there were other nuances he'd missed over the years.

Glancing toward the car, Ford didn't see any anger on Bill's face now. It was completely blank—not emotionally neutral, but empty, like he was too exhausted to feel. "Bill's a good liar, but I've never known him to be a good actor. I think that... outburst was sincere."

Mabel said, "I've seen him impersonating Soos, Dipper, and Blanchin Blandin, and—he's convincing when he's doing normal stuff, but I've never seen him try to fake having emotions."

Dipper said, "Yeah, he's not really big on emoting. Pretty much the only expression he knows how to make on purpose is the world's creepiest smile."

"Okay," Stan said, "so he's probably telling the truth about being stuck in a human body and being mad about it. What about that thing he said about setting him loose again if we kill his body."

(Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper mouthed Trojan horse, and Mabel nodded.)

"Because here's the thing," Stan said. "Say that's a lie, and killing him will just kill him. If he's half the liar you say he is, he woulda been trying to convince us from the start that his life is the only thing standing between us and the apocalypse. So why'd he only pull this out at the last minute, when it sounds like a stupid excuse?"

"He didn't need to tell us before," Ford said. "We thought he was possessing a tourist, we didn't want to hurt her."

"Ending the world's a lot scarier than killing one tourist! Why bother with the 'tourist puppet' schtick and then escalate? Maybe he's just not as good a con artist as you say, but—just—!" Stan flung his hands up. "Something about this isn't adding up!"

Ford said, "So you think it's a double bluff? He told us killing him would restart Weirdmageddon so we'll think it's a lie, kill him, and actually restart it?"

Stan paused. "No," he said. "No, that's not it, either. If it was, he coulda just let us drive into that invisible barrier without saying anything."

"Then what? What's he actually trying to make us think?"

Stan stared at Bill, still turning over their conversation in the car, trying to put his finger on what had seemed wrong about it.

Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?

He could see Bill's face yesterday, on the ground at Stan's feet, barrel of a laser gun aimed at his forehead, looking past it to stare straight into Stan's eyes. Go ahead, Stanley, let's find out what'll happen. He could have claimed then that killing him would end the world—or he could have forced Stan to shoot—but that was all he'd said. Let's find out.

Slowly, Stan said, "He's not trying to make us think anything. He's banking on us being too scared to gamble on what'll happen if he dies. Because he's too scared to gamble." Stan turned to stare at Bill. "You! You don't know if you can come back from this."

Bill blinked and focused on the Pines, glare darting between them.

"Do you?" Stan crossed his arms.

Bill's face twitched, and his defiance collapsed: "No! I don't know! I didn't get an instruction manual with this stupid body—I don't know if I'm free to go after I serve my sentence or if this is death row!" He forced a furious smile. "But if I don't know what's going to happen, then neither do you! Nobody does! So do you want to find out the hard way?!"

Bill looked from face to face; their silence was answer enough. No. They did not want to find out the hard way. He laughed loudly, reveling in his one tiny triumph.

"All right," Stan barked, "I've had enough of your crap." He cracked his knuckles, marched up to Bill, and socked his jaw.

Bill immediately shut up.

The other humans politely clapped.

####

If they couldn't take Bill out of the bubble, then for now, there was only one place to take him: back to the shack. Stan borrowed a phone to step off the road and have a quick, hushed conversation with his contacts about the change in plans, while Ford helped Dipper and Mabel attach their bikes to the roof of the car.

When Stan returned, Ford said, "We're running out of seats." What he really meant was they were out of seats that would keep the kids away from Bill.

"Just stick me in the trunk!" Bill—leaning against the car boredly while the humans rearranged his incarceration plans—had regained some of his usual pep now that one small thing had gone right for him. He had, somehow, got his hands on the bat Soos had stowed in the back seat, and had been holding it like a cane, unnoticed until he used it to gesture toward the trunk. "I'm a prisoner! Humans put prisoners in the trunk, right?"

Stan snorted. "What, and let you kick out the taillights and escape? I don't think so. And who let you have a weapon!" He snatched the bat from Bill and tossed it in the trunk instead. "Kids, you sit on the front bench." Stan and Soos slid into the back with Bill jammed in the middle.

The drive was very, very quiet.

The only noise was the quiet squeak as Bill took up steadily kicking Ford's side of the front bench. Ford's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he said nothing.

Stan kicked Bill's ankle. Bill kicked Stan. Soos leaned against the window in a futile attempt to escape them, and sighed.

And then the car was silent again.

"Say!" Bill said, loud enough the other passengers started. "What is it, about three? That's morning! Who wants to go get breakfast?"

"No," Stan and Ford said.

"Aw, come on! I think we're near that truck stop where Sixer had a psychotic episode!" Bill kicked the front bench more enthusiastically. "I thought you guys decided to keep me alive! You'll have a hard time doing that if you let me starve to death."

Ford said, "You're not going to starve to death between now and when we get home."

Soos blinked. "Hey, he slept through dinner, didn't he? Dude. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"Do socks count?"

Dipper and Mabel cast a suspicious glance at the damp half sock lying in the front footwell.

Soos shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"Then depending on which way of measuring nonlinear chronology you want to go by, it's either been a week, a year, or a millennium."

Soos furrowed his brow. Stan sighed impatiently and said, "Okay, wise guy, how long does your body think it's been since you last fed it."

"I've never fed it."

The humans stared in shock. Even Ford spared a glance in the rearview mirror.

"Ohhh right, I'm supposed to be doing that. That explains the ceaseless abdominal pain! And the vertigo when I stand up! And the mood swings!" Bill laughed, "Hey, Fordsy! Turns out I was just hungry!"

"I'll stop for breakfast if you never call me that again."

"Deal!"

Ford took a turn toward the Triple Digit Truck Stop.

####

[daisy-thetoxic]

DESERT ROSE | Kara Danvers

Fem gip spider girl- Phoebe Parker part 2

Part one

(I might make this into an actual Fic.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fluff, mentions of intimacy, possessives, golden retriever x black cat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe grabbed the glasses from the cabinet as she helped Kara prepare dinner for her and her annual friends night.

When she started dating the blonde superhero, she didn’t realize how different her and Kara actually were, but that’s what made them perfect together.

Kara’s golden retriever energy lightening up the room, whole Phoebe black cat energy threatens anyone who dare disturb Kara.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” Kara tells her, walking to her as she came back from the living room.

“This is important to you, babe, I’m fine. Just your friends.” Phoebe muses as she was her won boss anyway, her and Lena going 50/50 on the company due to both of them being billionaires and well Phoebe loved working, especially photography. Reporting just came with the job.

Phoebe rolled up her sleeves, revealing the tattoos she had prior to getting bitten by a spider. Her black silk shirt matching her dark aesthetic as a silver necklace hanged from her neck. It was a matching one with Kara.

She had supergirls symbol while Kara had a spider. And the some of the many rings Kara got her her littered her fingers.

“You get the door, I got the pasta.” Phoebe tells her as her hair was in a lose pony tail, her black curls showing off.

Kara stiffened for a second, signaling she was listening to the footsteps walking towards her door.

“Just a sec.” Kara tells her, grabbing her face and pulling her in for a lingering kiss knowing Alex would be too over protective to let her kiss her girlfriend. Older siblings were a pain in the ass.

“Your cute.” Phoebe muses, watching her walk off before taking the Pasta out the oven, mixing the salad in a giant bowl with a salad grabber thing? Phoebe didn’t really pay attention to what Kara told her it was. Too busy staring at the blonde.

She brought it all the to the table as Kara greeted her friends, opening the door for them.

“It smells great, Kara!” Winn hums as the smell hits their noses.

“Thanks!” Kara smiles widely, proud of herself even though Phoebe had to make 99%, the on 1% helping put the cheese on the pasta. Phoebe didn’t mind as long as it made Kara happy.

“Hey Miss. Patera.” Winn greets her, still not used to seeing his boss outside of work.

“Please, Phoebe outside of work.” Phoebe tells him, giving him a brief smile before walking back into the kitchen.

“Damn.” Kelly mumbles to Kara as her, Lena, and Alex gawk at the woman who was currently grabbing wine from the cabinet.

“I know.” Kara tells her, starring at her girlfriend as she could practically hear the cocky smirk she was wearing.

“Babe? Could you bring the ranch in here?” Kara asks her as she walks towards the table, setting the napkins out once she breaks her trance.

“On it.” Phone calls back out, grabbing the sauce before walking into the kitchen. The wine bottle in her other hand as she sat next to Kara.

~~~

“Uno!” Kara calls out as she leans back into Phoebe, sitting in her lap as she played Uno with her friends.

Phoebe on her phone as she went online shopping, buying more things for Kara, who could see it.

“Attached to your phone, much?” James comments, narrowing his eyes at Pheobe. His comment creating unwanted tension.

“Have something to say?” Pheobe looks up at him, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way.

“It’s friends night.” James laughs, although no one laughs with him. “Phones aren’t typically allowed.”

“James-“ Kara glares at the man, annoyed with his constant jealousy.

“It’s fine, he’s right.” Pheobe hits order on her shopping cart which was really a bunch of stuff for Kara before putting her phone down.

Lena looks at Pheobe knowing the woman well enough, hiding her smirk.

Pheobe grabs the cards, shuffling them through her fingers, slightly showing off.

~~~

“Reverse. Reverse again, plus four, change the color to red and uno.” Pheobe calls out her cards as she sets it down before setting her last card down, winning the game, and leaving James with about 24 cards.

“Should have warned you she was a pro at Uno, banned her from playing.” Lena laughs, as James looks at his cards and back up at the woman who kicked his ass.

Kara stiffens as she hears something in the distance, police sirens and crashing. “Babe. could you help me get the mail?” Kara turns to her.

Pheobe focuses on her hearing, hearing the sirens too. “Of course.” Pheobe smiles, allowing Kara to get up before following her out.

“Are they?” Lena turns to Kelly who smirks. “Go little Danvers.”

“Hey hey hey, they did not sneak off to…” Alex shivers in disgust.

Before she could get up, super girl flies past the window, with Spidergirl swinging behind her, showing off as she flung past the window.

“That explains a lot.” Winn muses, putting two and two together.

“What? How?” James rushes to the window, watching them swing and fly off.

~~~

Pheobe lands on Kara’s balcony, roses in her hand as she takes off her mask, walking into the building.

“You didn’t-“ Kara walks over to her, bringing her in for a hug, making sure not to smoosh the flowers.

“Here, my love.” Phoebe’s Russian accent showing as she grabs a box from her pocket.

Kara’s eyes widen in pure happiness, making Phoebe smile at her. “Open it.” Phoebe tells her, setting the flowers in a vase.

Kara opened it to find a rose ring, decked out in diamonds as a sapphire sat in the middle.

“Babe- I-“ Kara’s words got stuck in her throat as she put the ring on her right ring finger.

Phoebe walks up behind her, wrapping her arms around Kara’s waist.

“You deserve the world, Mon amour.” Phoebe kisses her neck, her black of her suit contrasting to Kara’s pastel clothes.

Phoebe pulls Kara back into her as Kara lets her head fall back onto her shoulder, enjoying the attention.

Kara gasps softly, turning around so she was facing Phoebe. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” Phoebe smiles, pulling her in for a kiss, her hands trailing down to the blondes waist, gripping it.

“Show me.” Kara tells her softly against her lips. Getting a smirk from the spider superhero.

“Jump” Phoebe mumbles against her lips as Kara wouldn’t let them part for a second. Following the command Kara jumps, Phoebe grabbing her thighs for her legs to wrap around the superhero’s waist as Phoebe walks them into the bedroom, not disconnecting their lips for a second.