#originally the last line was gonna be ''to rip a fat one'' but after i drew the panel i decided. its enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redwoodwrites · 4 years

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Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568

A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text. Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.

“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.

Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”

A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.

It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.

“Look out!”

Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.

A few days earlier...

The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.

Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.

Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.

“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.

“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”

“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”

Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.

“I think I saw a diner around here...”

“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.

“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”

Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.

There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.

The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”

They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.

“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”

A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”

“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”

They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.

The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.

The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.

But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.

The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.

A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch. A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.

“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.

“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”

“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”

They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.

The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.

Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”

“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.

“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”

“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”

“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”

The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”

“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”

Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.

“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”

Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.

The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.

Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.

Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.

“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”

“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.

This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.

“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”

“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”

“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”

“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”

Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.

“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”

The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.

“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.

“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.

“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.

“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”

He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.

“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.

He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”

“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”

“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.

“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.

She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.

“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”

Clang.

Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.

WHIIRRRR!

Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.

Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.

Ford hurried over.

The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.

The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?

He opened the book.

The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.

“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”

Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!

He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.

“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”

“HELLO!”

“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.

Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”

“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.

“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.

He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.

Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.

“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.

He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”

“Whoa, shut up!”

“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.

“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.

“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”

Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”

“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.

Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.

He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”

“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.

“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”

A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”

“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”

“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.

Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.

“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”

The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.

“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”

“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”

“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”

Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.

Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.

He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.

Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.

He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.

He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”

Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.

“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.

“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”

Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.

He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.

“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.

He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”

“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “Zero.”

She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”

Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.

“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”

“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.

She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”

Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.

Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.

A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.

It was time to collect some evidence!

“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”

Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”

“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”

Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”

“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.

Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...

He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!

“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”

They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.

Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.

“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”

“WAGH!”

Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.

Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”

Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”

Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”

“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”

Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”

Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.

Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.

Aaand that sounded wrong.

“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”

Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.

He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”

“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”

“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.

“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”

Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.

Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”

Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.

Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”

“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”

Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”

Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”

“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.

“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”

Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”

Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.

Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.

Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”

On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –

“Wait. WHAT!?”

He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!

“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”

He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.

“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. ��'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”

One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.

“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”

She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.

“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”

Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”

“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”

TWANG.

The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!

A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.

“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”

Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.

He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?

“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.

“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.

“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.

“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.

“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.

“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”

“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”

“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”

“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?

He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.

So why would Norman just...?

He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”

The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.

Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!

“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”

“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”

Stan blinked again, stunned. “There's more?”

“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”

Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”

“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

#gravity falls #relativity falls #smoll stan #smoll ford #grauntie mabel #gnomes #schmebulock #tourist trap #ria #ria ramirez #boyish dan #mystery shack

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bazzybelle · 4 years

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Carry On Countdown - Day Seven

Notes: Right... confession time.. So, I posted this fic yesterday... But, I’ve been having a really difficult mental health week (lots of self-doubt, self-isolation, and weeping) and it all came to a head last night when I spiraled and deleted this story (my depression/anxiety/Imposter Syndrome demon caught up to me, I guess). I was also close to deleting all my other fics and potentially closing my account, but @fight-surrender and my amazing husband talked me down from the ledge so to speak. It was actually their support, along with the amazing kindness of @giishu that convinced me to repost my story... so here it is.

Lyrics are inspired by “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles. However, I was inspired by the version from “Across The Universe”, sung by T.V. Carpio (Such a great movie and soundtrack).

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for their writing support and amazing beta-reads.

Also, this is the last story until the Angst prompt... I’m also gonna take it easy with my writing. Going back into it after 8 years of numbness and denying my passion hasn’t been easy and it’s beginning to take its toll on me. I have so many ideas, but I want to feel well enough in my head to be able to write them properly (in case you haven’t noticed, I like writing about healing and hopeful futures... kinda hard to do that if you’re spiraling). I’ve got a few more stories already prepared for the Countdown, but I’m not making any promises on writing for other prompts.

TW: Extremely minimal (like blink and you’ll miss it) reference to drugs.

Day 7 Prompt: WLW

Title: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

________________________________________________________________

Please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand. Now, let me hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand.

FIONA

The music here is bloody terrible.

So’s the alcohol. But what else can I expect from a dingy little pub in this dodgy area of the city? Besides, it isn’t the alcohol I’m here for, which is a shock, considering how much of it I drink.

Nor am I here for this horrid music. I look at the stage and a skinny little whelp is crooning a pathetic rendition of a Pink Floyd song. Kid can’t be older than 18, of course he’s singing a Floyd song. I swear, you listen to Dark Side of The Moon one time, and suddenly you think you know everything there is to know about music.

Good Lord… he’s doing a Floyd medley. News flash, boyo, you cannot transition from Wish You Were Here to Another Brick in The Wall without raising a few eyebrows.

He isn’t a bad looking bloke though. Shaggy brown hair, styled so it’s away from his eyes. He’s got a bit of a long, oval-shaped face, a little gaunt, but not too much. He reminds me of someone… Ah… George Harrison! He’s got a bit of a George Harrison vibe, I reckon. A part of me wants to snap a photo of him and ask Baz if he’d fancy him, but the last time I did that, he chewed my ear off for a week.

Dramatic little shit. I’m only trying to help. He’s so edgy all the time. Baz is about to head into his final year at Watford and honestly, he needs to let loose and have a little fun, before the pressures of being a Pitch crushes him…

Maybe I’m being the dramatic shit...

I leave George Harrison to his crooning (Christ, he’s moved onto Money. Does he only know the popular Floyd songs? Tosser), and direct myself to the bar. The person I’m here to see greets me with a wide, toothy smile.

“Well well, look who it is. How are you, love?” bellows Shannon Ryan (Shan for short). Shan is the annoyingly vivacious proprietor of the Golden Griffin Pub and Inn. She is all hair (bright, thick, ginger-red, with a generous amount of blond and strawberry-blond highlights, that falls in tight ringlets down her back) and little to no filter. She’s the kind of person that can decide in an instant if she’ll offer you a free pint, or if she’ll drag your sorry arse onto the curb. Most of the time, she’ll offer you the pint and a wink of her dark brown eyes.

I give her a half smile and take a seat in front of her. Shan pours me a glass of Chivas (Bless her, she knows I love the stuff) and leans her elbows on the counter. I salute her and nod at George Harrison.

“Heads up Shan, if your lad starts playing Comfortably Numb, I may have to murder him with his own guitar.”

Shan playfully punches my shoulder. Normally, I’d retaliate with a knife to the throat, but I’m not nearly so… angry when Shan’s around. I can relax around her and allow myself to be a little playful.

“Aw, come on now Prue, Mickey’s not that bad. A little rough around the edg-” She starts to laugh, because George Harrison’s begun to sing Comfortably Numb and I begin to crack my knuckles. Shan grabs my hands and gives them a pat. “Alright, very rough around the edges, but he’s a sweet kid.”

I met Shannon about 4 months ago. It was during one of my lower points. I had been on a wild bender, drinking, smoking up, everything. At some point, I lost all recollection of where I was and what was happening. I still don’t know how long I’d been out of my mind at that point, but I somehow ended up at Shan’s pub, trashed out and rambling nonsense. Shan took one look at me and she decided that she would give me a room and a bed, instead of throwing me out (a horrible decision, really). I woke up in an unknown room, in an unknown bed with her knocking on the door.

I nearly killed her.

Shan managed to calm me down and gave me some breakfast. Fat greasy bangers, perfectly poached eggs, fried tomatoes and back bacon. She had informed me that I had been out for quite a while. I remember feeling like a numpty had taken a beating to my head. She had offered to let me stay there so that I could recover from whatever was causing me distress. Instead of taking the hint and staying there, I gathered my belongings while she was gone and slipped out. That would have been the end of it, but I had returned a few days later to pay for my room and board. Shan refused to take my money, and instead asked that I pay her back by coming to see her from time to time. Originally, I was only supposed to come see her until the end of the month… But here we are, four months later and I still find myself wanting to come see her.

Shan doesn’t know my real name (She knows me by my middle name, Prudence… I swear my family gets its kicks from naming their offspring ridiculous names), nor that I am a magician from a long line of magical aristocracy. She does not know that I am embroiled in the middle of a war that threatens to rip my world and my family apart. Maybe that sense of escapism is why I keep coming back here, why I keep flirting with this Normal pub owner.

I turn back to her now. She is cleaning some of the dirty glasses that have been left on the bar counter. It’s a quiet evening tonight, not many patrons at the pub. Shan’s pub can gain a small gathering during the weekends, mostly young folks out on a crawl. Some tend to stay here on account of the atmosphere, and Shan’s personality. Tonight’s one of the quieter nights. I blame George Harrison mucking it up on the microphone.

“Where do you find these characters, Shan?”

“Beats me. They sometimes just show up needing a spot. Mick’s been tossed out from his home, poor child. I give him a room, he works the bar. It all works out.”

Shan sometimes uses her rooms to shelter people who may need a place to stay. I wasn’t a special case for her. Any misfit or vagabond has a place to stay at Shan’s. I suppose that explains George Harrison, who has just finished his set and has exited the stage, thank Merlin for that. She’s now turned on her online music playlist, an eclectic mix of punk, classic rock, and current indie songs. It makes no bloody sense, but the patrons aren’t mad about it.

“You’re too generous Shan.” She rolls her eyes and proceeds to serve some other patrons who have been waiting for her. Once George Harrison arrives behind the counter, she sends him off to prepare orders while she turns back to me.

“And you, my dear friend, are far too cold. What brings you here tonight? Chasing one of your hoodlums, again?”

With the war brewing between the Old Families and the Mage, I have been tracking down members of the magical community who have been shunned and cast away by the Mage and his reforms. The Old Families believed that we could find some support amongst the masses who’ve been mistreated by Davy and his band of Merry Men. If I’m in the area, I’ll stop by the pub for a quick drink and a chat.

Like I said, it’s been happening more often than not.

Today is different. I am not here because I’m in the area. I felt the need to be here. Maybe it’s the bitter heat of August in London; Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s August 13th, the thirteenth anniversary (plus a day) of my sister’s death that brings me here. Normally, I’d be home, drinking myself into a stupor until enough time has passed where I don’t feel the grief anymore. I never allow myself to drink on the actual day of her death, because I’m too busy spending the day with Basil and Malcolm (Basil mostly), making sure that they’ve kept their heads in one place. I look out for my nephew first and once the day has passed, I go home and begin my process of drinking and mourning.

For some reason, I didn’t want to be home alone today. I don’t know what came over me, but I felt I needed to be here, at Shan’s pub. But I’ll never tell her that. So instead I put on my classic Pitch smooth face and smile slyly at her.

“Who says I need a reason to be here? Maybe I just decided to come over.” Shan rolls her eyes at me. She faces me and leans over the counter, inches from my face. I have to look away, in case she notices the small blush creeping over my cheeks. I take another sip of my Chivas before looking at her once more. I tilt my head at her and smile. She places her hand on mine and pushes it down, until the glass is back on the counter.

“You’ve always got a reason, Prue. You don’t allow yourself to do anything simply because you want to.” Now, I roll my eyes at her. I down the remainder of my Chivas and slam the glass back down on the counter. I cross my arms over my chest and pull myself back from the counter.

“Oh? And what exactly do I want?”

Shan also steps back from the counter. She’s got her hands on her hips and shrugs at me. She takes the bottle of Chivas and pours me another glass.

“I am not nearly qualified enough to untangle the mess in your mind, Prue. I can only offer a listening ear and a reasonable amount of alcohol.” She leans back against the wall. I stare at her for a minute and take in how she looks in the pub’s dim light. Shan’s got incredibly light skin, but it isn’t entirely pale and the dim lighting in here is showcasing her pretty features. She’s wearing a black tank top under a dark purple vest that cuts just at her waist. She’s got on dark jeans and a light gold studded belt. Shan pulls her hair back into a very high, very messy bun at the top of her head. A few strands still hang loose and frame her face. I draw a shaky breath and take a sip of my scotch. I speak softly, more to the glass than to her.

“My sister died. Yesterday has been 13 years since she died.” Shan relaxes her posture and approaches me again. I don’t shift my position at all. If she thinks she can get me to open up more than that, she’s wrong. I won’t come undone by a pretty girl with bright red hair.

“You don’t want to be alone then?” Shan reaches for my hand. I don’t let her take it. I’m still focusing on my drink and the patterns of the wood grains on the counter.

“I am perfectly fine to be alone Shan! I’ve been alone for many years, what’s another one?” I straighten my back even further, attempting to close off my walls. They had been slowly coming down as I spend more time with Shan, but thinking about yesterday, about Tasha, about the losses in my life, have caused me to build them back up with a more reinforced metal.

Now, I’m here again, in front of Shannon, and the metal around my heart is starting to melt again. What power does this Normal have over me that she can make me feel this way? Shan exits from her side of the bar and she comes to sit down next to me. I want to turn away from her, but I can’t find it in me to do so. I’m running my fingers along the rim of the glass when I feel her tough, guitar-calloused hand lay on top of mine. I refuse to look her in the eyes. She gently places my hand on the counter and turns it over. I finally look at her as she clasps her hand in mine.

“What if you didn’t have to be alone?” Her deep brown eyes are staring right into my grey ones. I can feel my heartbeat beginning to pick up. My breathing becomes a little erratic. I have not felt this in such a long time. Not since my final year at Watford. Not since I had my heartbroken into pieces and decided to shut it down forever. I start to pull my hand away, but Shan holds it tight. I frown at her and glare at her a little bit.

“People like me are meant to be alone.” I try to make my voice sound icy and intimidating. But, Merlin help me, it sounds breathless, like I’m chocking it out. I take a sharp inhale of breath through my nose. Shan, the fool that she is, reaches over and grabs my other hand, she gently turns my body towards her and leans a little closer to me. She speaks in a soft and calm voice. I almost miss what she says because of the music in the background.

“You don’t have to be alone.”

She leans in closer to me. I feel a small flutter in the pit of my stomach. I want to lean into her as well, but something stops me. I can’t. I can’t. Not again. Never again. I pull away from her and jump out of my seat. I ignore the confused and saddened look on Shan’s face and I fumble in my bag for my wallet.

“I have to go.”

Shan grabs my arm and tries to look at me again. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me coming undone. I will not let another person into my heart only for them to destroy it again. I can’t handle more pain and misery.

“Wait… Prue I-” She’s going to beg me to stay, I don’t give her a chance to finish.

“Thank you, Shannon. I’ll see you soon.” I pull out some notes and slam them onto the counter. I yank my arm away from Shan’s grasp and stalk out of the pub, leaving her sorrowful brown eyes behind me.

I am meant to be alone. I don’t need anyone, especially not some nobody Normal. Even if the same nobody Normal is currently holding a key to my heart. I go home, fully intent on drinking my conflicting feelings away.

________

Six weeks.

Basil’s been missing for six weeks and I haven’t had any luck in finding him.

I have tried every bloody spell I could think of. I have poured over every single one of Natasha’s old books in that blasted library. I have even tried to contact some of the undesirables in my midst to see if any of them knew anything. None of them could tell me any information. Even though I threatened and screamed and even cast spells to force them to give me any information, none of them had any information to give me.

I was losing my mind. I wanted nothing more to march into Watford myself and threaten the bloody Mage himself, or even that stupid snivelling little magling, Simon Snow. The only thing preventing me from torching the damn school was the fact that The Mage knew exactly where Baz was and he could decide to retaliate by hurting or even killing him. He was not above murder, the bastard.

The latest call we got from the numpties had demanded wands from us. They must have been bloody joking. Malcolm, the fool, was already looking for spare wands. I called him a spineless idiot, and if he couldn’t see that this wasn’t about a simple ransom, well then he really was more feebleminded than I thought. I told him that my sister scraped the bottom of the barrel when she married a Grimm and stomped out of the manor.

The bloody numpties were holding him near some water, so I drew up a map of potential spots where he could be hidden. I was not going to rest until I searched each and every one, no matter how long that took.

I now find myself walking down a familiar dodgy street, towards a familiar pub. I have not been back since Shan grabbed my hand and I almost allowed her a piece of me. I decided that I would not go back there and risk anything more happening between Shan and myself. To go back would mean I would have to talk about what almost happened, and to do that would mean I would have to either lie to her or give into my feelings, neither option really appealing to me. Still, I need to start a fight. I need to yell at something and punch something. And the thought of Shannon throwing me out of her pub and her life because I caused a fight with her patrons is exactly what I need to revitalize myself on this search mission.

I storm into the establishment and see a few confused clientele staring at me. I should pick out which unfortunate character will be my target, but my eyes wander to the bar. I want Shan to be watching.

She isn’t there. But her pathetic little ward is. I march to the bar and before the weasel says anything, I grab his shirt sleeve and pull him over the bar counter. I roughly toss him to the floor. The boy yelps in surprise and lifts his hands up to protect his face. I am not done yet. I am about to lift him up, when someone grabs my arm. I spin around and I’m about to deck them, when I see her deep brown eyes.

“PRUE! That’s enough!” Shan looks absolutely murderous with rage. I have never seen that look on her face before. I give her a cold hard stare and sneer at her.

“Get. Your. Bloody. Hands. OFF. ME!” Shan returns my stare with a scowl of her own. She keeps her hand secured on my jacket and begins to drag me outside.

“We’re going outside, NOW!”

Well that was fast. I didn’t even get to have any fun.

Shan shoves me outside and practically tosses me onto the floor. I am astounded by the strength she has, considering just how skinny she is. But she does this for a living. She’s had to toss out larger folks than myself. I dust off my jacket and straighten out my jeans before turning to Shan, who is still wearing a livid look on her face. Her hair, although braided, has a frizzy halo that surrounds it. I already regret coming here.

“I like you, Prue. But I will not have you starting fights in my pub! Either you tell me what’s gotten into you, or you can kindly fuck off!” She points an accusing finger at me and then out towards the street. I should be honest with her, but I have a knack for self-destruction, so I push my luck.

“Oh fuck off Shan!” She steps back, shocked at first by my demeanor. But she then shakes her head and scoffs. She steps up to me and responds with a coldness of her own.

“If you insist! But this whole tough bitch attitude is getting bloody exhausting! Call me once you’ve calmed yourself” she says as she begins to walk away. I want to let her go back. I want to watch her leave and never see her again. But my damn head won’t let her leave. I call out before I have a chance to stop myself.

“My nephew’s missing...” Shan stops in her tracks. She turns to me, her furious face already changed to one of deep concern. “He’s been missing for nearly 6 weeks and I’m going out of my bloody mind!”

She approaches me cautiously. I know she is still very angry with me and my actions. She asks me smoothly, “Have they demanded a ransom?” Shan knows well enough to not ask about law enforcement. With the type of charges she takes in, the reality is that law enforcement will typically make matters worse.

I roll my eyes and answer her. “We don’t pay ransoms in my family!”

Shan stares incredulously at me, “Are you daft? I don’t know what kind of business you’re running Prudence, but I think the life of your nephew is worth a ransom payment, yeah?”

“This isn’t about a ransom, Shannon! It’s something more! Oh forget it! I’m wasting time, I could be using to search under bridges or in sewers!” This was a mistake. I never should have come here. I turn my back to Shan and start to walk away.

“Under bridges?” She asks me. I stop and turn back to her.

“The kidnappers sounded like they were near running water when they called. Which, considering this bloody city, could be fucking anywhere!”

“Christ…” Shan starts to shake her head. She put her hand to her face, as if she was starting to ponder something. It is enough for me to march right back up to her.

“What is it!?”

“I thought he was being batty…” Shan delivers that line in such a thoughtful way that I almost want to be gentle with her.

Almost. But Basil is missing and this is the first tiny morsel of a clue that I have had for six weeks. So I grab Shan’s shoulders and press her further.

“Who was?! What do you know Shan!?” She frowns at me and shrugs me off.

“Nothing, Prue! I volunteer at one of the homeless shelters in the city and one of our regulars was going on about how one of his favourite sleeping spots near the river was overrun with boulders. It looked like someone was trying to hide something there. The man’s a little mad. He claimed that some of the boulders were moving.”

Moving boulders?! Bloody fucking hell! That’s it! That’s fucking it! Six weeks, I’ve been going mad trying to find Basil, and all this time, the one place I should have been looking was amongst the vagabonds and the homeless. Christ, go figure I’d find my most important clue with Shannon fucking Ryan.

“Where is he now!!?” I demand of her. Maybe a little too harshly. I really couldn't care less if I hurt Shan’s feelings anymore. I need to find this drifter as soon as I can.

“Prue! You can’t be-” Shan tries to calm me down, but I am not having it. I am so close to bringing my nephew home, I am not stopping now. I get up to her face and nearly shout at her.

“You tell me where he is now, Shannon, or I swear to Christ…” Shan shakes her head at me, but she caves in and sighs at me.

“You are a lunatic, Prudence. But he’s most likely at Whitechapel. He’s been spending most of his time th- Prue!” I’m already walking away. I have all the information I need.

“I’ll see you later, Shan.” I say to her. Maybe if I survive this, I’ll come back and apologize for being a proper psychopath towards her. Maybe she’ll forgive me. For now, I have more important matters to attend to.

“Prue! Come back! You can’t do this alone!”

That’s where you’re wrong Shannon. I’ve had to do everything on my own. It’s what I’m best at. I can still hear her shouting into the night, even though I am far from the pub at this point.

“PRUDENCE!”

________

I am once more, back at the Golden Griffin. The pub has just closed for the night, but I know that Shan is still inside. She usually stays behind a few hours after closing time in order to clean up the place. I stand right in front of the door, taking a few moments to decide if I want to knock on her door, or if I should leave. I lift my fist to the window on the door. I’m about to knock when Shan’s head pops up from the side of the door. She looks surprised to see me at first, then… is that relief? She whips the door opened and pulls me inside.

“Prudence…” she whispers to me. She holds my hand in hers. Merlin, what is she doing to me? I let go of her hand and stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. I clear my throat and start to talk.

“He was alive. I found him in time.”

“Your nephew. I’m so relieved to hear that.” She’s got her hand over her heart and she sighs in relief. Has she truly been worried this whole time?

I feel guilty for not coming back sooner. But I had to make sure Baz was fine and then well, I wanted to start planning retribution for this attack on my family. I hadn’t realized that it was mid-November and I still had not gone to see Shan.

And so, here I am. At 2AM on a Tuesday. At this pub once more, in front of this Normal. This Normal who is nobody important, from a nobody family. Yet, all I’m hoping is that she can forgive me for my foolishness.

“You said I couldn’t do it alone. I did it alone. I found him, I got him back. I didn’t need anyone.” I just have to antagonize her, don’t I? I am a Pitch after all. Shan shakes her head, like she was ready for this to begin with an argument.

“I’m happy for you Prue. Truly, I am.” She responds with an icy sarcasm. Her arms are crossed and she is leaning away from me. She isn’t up for having a go at me. I take a half-step towards her and offer an olive branch.

“My real name’s Fiona. Fiona Pitch.” Shan drops her hands to her hips. She gives me a cold stare and shakes her head. She then raises her hands slightly only to cross them again. She’s upset and I can’t say I blame her. I’ve only been lying to her for several months.

“Fiona. Christ… Alright…”

“Prudence is my middle name. I didn’t know you.” I offer her an explanation. She rolls her eyes at that and continues to stare at me.

“Fine, Fiona. What do you want from me?” She waves her arms and points to her chest. I furrow my eyebrows. I don’t know how to answer her question. I also don’t like how she calls me Fiona with disdain in her voice. As if she’s talking to someone she doesn’t know or care for. I suppose I deserve that.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m perfectly fine to be on my own.” I take another half-step towards her.

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” She asks me again. She is challenging me. Her voice, while still severe, is more inquisitive. She wants me to answer her, to let her in. To allow her another piece of me.

I am not ready to answer her. Instead I continue to fight her and my own feelings.

“I do not want another person coming into my life only to destroy it again!” I turn my head away from her as I expose a tiny piece of myself. Shan now steps forward. She is a breath away from me now. I want to touch her hair, her face, her hands.

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” Her voice has now lost its edge, its icy tone. She is softer now, asking me to trust her. She reaches for my hand. I let her take it. I look down at our clasped hands, and I remember the last time she did this. I’m going to try and not run away again.

“But then you held my hand… You held my hand. And you told me I didn’t have to be alone!”

“I did.” She says so sincerely.

“And you helped me find my nephew.” I try to divert the conversation. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Merlin help me, I am not ready for this.

“I can’t take credit for that.” One of her hands has reached up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You helped me.”

“What do you want from me Fi-” She asks one last time. I feel her breath on my face. I give in.

This time, I am ready to answer her.

I lean forward and kiss her. Her lips feel so soft, if a little chapped. Shan responds and returns my kiss. One of my hands has moved to the back of her head. I feel her thick soft curls in my hand. She has gripped my face in her hands. I feel her tilt her head and start softly nibbling on my bottom lip. I respond by lightly running my tongue over her teeth. I’ve wanted this for so long. Merlin knows why I’ve been denying it to myself. Our kiss breaks apart and Shan leans her head on the crook of my neck.

“You. I want you, Shannon. Ever since you grabbed my hand and threw my world into bloody turmoil!” I whisper into her hair. She pulls away from me and looks at me as if I’m the most insane person in the world. She wouldn’t be wrong to assume that. I’m pretty sure there is a history of insanity within my family.

“Well fuck, Prue… All you had to do was ask. But instead you ran away and acted like a bloody maniac. You could have talked to me, you know!” She shakes me lightly.

“I bloody well could not!” I look away from her and shake my head. She wouldn’t understand. I am not the type of person who stands at the doorstep of a lover begging them to take them back or to love them. Even if I was, Shan’s life is wholesome and uncomplicated. All I am is one complication after another. She doesn’t need that in her life.

“Why not? Help me understand you, Prue.” She’s grabbed my face again and she’s staring me down. Merlin help me, in the light, her eyes look like pools of honey. I grab her wrists tight.

“I’m a bloody mess, Shan. I have no direction. I’m a disgrace to my family. A disgrace to my name.” Shan smiles at me. She runs her hands through my hair and I sigh. I’m a fucking mess. If my sister could see me now, she’d be so fucking disappointed.

“You don’t have to be FIONA PITCH with me.” I snort sarcastically as she says my name with a snooty accent. “With me, you can be Prue. I like Prue a whole lot. She’s wild. She’s intense, but she’s got a good heart. She’s bloody gorgeous to.” With that, she grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me into another deep kiss. My hands trail down to her hips and hold her in place. My thumbs tuck inside the hem of her jeans and run across her skin. It feels so soft. So perfect. We pull away again and I laugh a little.

“I can’t promise that I won’t run away or that I won’t be a complete maniac.”

“I can’t promise that I won’t kick your arse for being completely daft!” Shan flicks my white streak.

“This could be a bloody disaster…”

“Or not... Just don’t threaten my bartender again, or I may have to kill you.” She gives me a playfully wink, but I know she’s dead serious. I respond with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of my head.

“I’d like to see you try.”

With that, Shan cocks a half smile at me. She takes me by the hand and leads me away from the pub towards the stairs that lead to the Inn. She closes the lights as we walk up the stairs.

I am not ready to give my heart to another person who could very well break it. But with Shan, I’m willing to risk it.

Normal life be damned.

And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide.

#carry on countdown #coc 2019 #wlw #repost #because i'm a mess #fiona pitch #badass fiona #next day repost #i won't delete it this time #carry on #wayward son #no spoilers here #my writing #fanfic #piss off demon #I'm still here and I'm still fighting

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radabadabing-bing · 5 years

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Xander eats cake and gets ridiculously fat

Hey I sold you on the title eh? This is a pretty straightforward story. I pulled it off my deviantart and edited parts of it so people can read it without being a formatting disaster. I will be uploading two more, one on Niles, one on Keaton, in a bit. Don’t want to overwhelm people. I’m also gonna say this...gets pretty dicey. You should be 18+ if you want to read this. Or, uh, any of my stories here on out. I will tone things back a bit, but these three were kind of super super self indulgent and kind of shared on a whim. Anyways that’s enough of a tangent, you came here for Xander getting ridiculously fat and here it is.

Smart would be not eating a piece of cake that showed up out of nowhere.

That would be gluttony.

Why Xander felt so gluttonous that day, he did not know. Perhaps he had failed to eat breakfast or lunch while training his sword arm. Perhaps he had been busy in strategy missions that day. Or perhaps he really was just hungry. But either or, he ate that slice of cake.

The true unusual part about the cake was it's location. Xander had ended up in the ever winding basement of the astral castle. It spread on for miles...Each direction going on forever and ever. Just...dust and hidden things. And those hidden things...were not always kind. Most things in the deepest reaches of the basement were terrible artifacts or potions, made in an era long past. And those brews and artifacts had terrible effects on the users.

Xander didn't know this. No one could really blame him- it seemed rather innocuous at first. Of course, one may find basement cake...strange. However, to Xander, it looked and smelled fresh. The crown prince had gingerly used a fork located next to it, just as fresh as the cake, to take off a piece and eat it. It was the best cake he had ever had- far surpassing that of Camilla's or Peri's (The surprisingly good chef she was). He could not resist- he consumed every last crumb of that cake, leaving an empty plate in his wake. He began to wonder if there was more of said cake, but simply couldn't shake this strange feeling that washed over him. He felt so heavy- yet was the same size as before. He gave up on his cake conquest and was about to get back to his original task of finding a few steel weapons that were sent down a while back when it hit him. Intense gurgling from his stomach was the first hint of what would happen.

And it wasn't just a hunger gurgle. This gurgle was something that was...indescribable. Like a pot of water bubbling after heat was applied. Unnatural.

Next was a burp. Very un-prince like, but excusable. But he...really wasn't feeling good now. "Ygh...perhaps that cake was stale..." His stomach continued to burble and glub. He couldn't see, but for some reason...he felt it puff out? Of course not. It was just the cake. It was just a silly feeling.

But...he couldn't shake it. Everything tingled. Did his butt just swell? He turned to see it- a little more puffy than usual. No, no, he shook it off. It's just the cake. The cake...That could've been

lined with...? No, no. It couldn't be happening. Not to Xander.

His armor was not bulging out. That's how it always looked. His armor always made strange clanking noises as if it were falling apart.

His hips were always that wide. He was not getting fa-

The straps on his armor began stretching out.

Yes, he was definitely gaining weight.

His pants were getting tighter and tighter and so was his armor.

Whatever that cake did to him, it was bad. He took refuge by using the wall to support him, putting a hand on the wall. Another surge of fat hit him, and several straps failed around his body. "UURP!" He released a roaring bolk. "Uhng...this is really bad UUURP!" Clang! A piece of his armor fell off.

His pudgy belly spilled out. Clink clank clink, more armor fell off, more flesh spilling out. He scooped it up with his hands, feeling it slowly grow and jiggle as it grew out. Another piece of armor gone, more of his belly exposed. It was rotund, his navel deep.

It's grumbling was bad enough, but Xander forgot about how it wasn't just his belly- With a rip, he remembered his butt was blowing up too. Bwump, bwump, it got bigger and bigger,

tearing away at his pants. His thighs blew up, larger than Camilla's or anyone else in the army. More armor popping off, thighs chafing against one another. He was stripped of his armor now, wearing his light clothes, which were meant to be comfortable to a muscular Xander, not a Xander whose pectorals had been blown out of proportion and belly rode up the shirt. He was becoming a swollen caricature of himself, no longer in fighting form. He felt his pants tighten in the front...perhaps some sort of bloodrush, or the sudden movement of whatever that cake was filling him with. Pudgy and puffy, he put a hand to his distended belly. It gurgled and slightly trembled as it bloated out of control.

The zipper of his pants burst apart, the button holding it together wasn't doing so well either. He felt the growth emerge out from it, freed from it's constriction. The tear in his pants was growing larger and larger as his ass grew larger and larger. His shirt ripped in two, thanks to his set of perky manboobs, blobby and rounded. "I need to get huuuuuuarp!" His words were interrupted by another burp, "UUUUURP! Help!"

To even reach the cake in the first place, Xander had to enter it's own little "room". It had a normal sized door any normal sized person could enter through. Of course, at this point Xander was not normal sized. Regardless, he tried to go through the door, wedging his fattened

body in place, much to his horror. He continued to burp, along with grunting as he tried to jiggle his body free of the door. The button of his pants, which had been rather good in holding on for so long, finally failed, and with a ping blasted off the floor. He felt his face get chubbier as he

pried himself through the doorway, at least trying to. Embarrassingly, he was stuck- his swelling body not making things easier. Seams all around his pants were popping off, coming undone. Eventually, Xander was only wearing his underwear, which weren't doing too good- heavily intenting his plump and thick thighs.

Just as his arms began to expand out and grow to immense size, good luck was upon Xander, as he popped out of the doorframe with a stumble. His body wobbled and jiggled as it was freed, Xander nearly falling on his back due to his fantastic weight. His erection was really beginning to become noticeable in his tight, tight underwear. He bit his lip as the seam of his undergarments began tearing. "Mm...mm..." Something was welling up in his stomach. A big burst. Something bad. "Mm...mm...muuup, urp, urp..." He let out tiny burps first. And then... "Muh, muh, MUUUUURP, UUUUUUURP" Xander gave out his loudest bolk yet. His underwear snapped off with the loud belch, leaving him naked. It was a miracle he was standing at that weight, though given the pace of his growth he wouldn't be standing much longer.

How had no one not found him?...That might actually not be that bad. He shuddered to think what would happen if someone had seen him, especially like this. His belly was gurgling loudly now, growing very quickly at his freed pace. A wave of fat hit his butt, knocking him off balance.

He began to stumble, becoming too heavy to stand- and promptly fell on his squishy rump. "Guh..." He managed to let out a grunt in between his various belches and burps. And he really could not ignore his enlarged member, despite being hidden under layers of fat. It's growth was not ceasing…

He couldn't take much more of this. He was approaching the ceiling at this point. Xander felt like he could burst...Could...could he burst?

He didn't like that thought. His stomach was still expanding out, with louder and louder growls. Xander tried to reach for it, but found his arms were too large as well, too fat to adjust properly. Even his hands were hard to move, hardly able to close into fists. Everything felt so...big. Much, much too large. "Uhhhng...Mmm..." That feeling was welling up again in his chest again. There was a big burp coming. "Mmm! Mmm! M-UOOOOARP!" A final burst of fat hit him, pushing him against the walls.

"Uuuuhn...It's...over..." Sweat dribbled down his face. He felt disgusting.

"Ugh...So...Tired..." The groaning of his stomach lulled him to sleep, exhausted by his immense growth.

Xander woke up much, much later. And he was much, much lighter.

He picked himself up off the ground. He was still quite flabby, with a prominent belly, fattened thighs, and a rounded rump. Xander sighed, how could he explain this to the others? Being naked and fat. And his stomach...His stomach ached, still reeling from the cake...cake...the cake...he could smell it. He turned to the doorway he had been stuck in. There wasn't just a single piece of cake now.

There was a whole one. Just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. He looked down at his belly. He looked towards the cake. He was salivating...Xander shouldn't of eaten that cake. Any under circumstance.

But before he knew it, he was shoveling the cake into his mouth with reckless abandon...

#feeder emblem #kinda riding coattails there #male wg #male expansion #kinda just droppin tags here to share it around #hope yall enjoy my self-indulgent stuff tho

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neveratease · 5 years

Text

Have to go

Characters: Sam and Dean

Takes place between ‘Ouroboros’ and ‘Peace of Mind.’

If you haven’t watched s14 yet, don’t read it, please.

The story is on Ao3 too...

Big fat raindrops are finding their way to the concrete. If you listen, like really listen to the sound, you’ll know. The drops are integrated and have one pulse in them. With that beating pulse, they are finding their way.

Problem is when will I find my way?

The bigger problem is where am I supposed to go?

My eyes can’t keep up with them, it’s heavy and I know how it feels. But still, it hurts. The burning eyes hurt…

A lonely teardrop just has made its way to the pillow right with the beating of the raindrops. They are synchronizing. And I’m part of the symphony.

But where am I supposed to go?

———————————————————————————————————-

My fever-fretted brain cannot grasp in this curtains-drawn motel room if it’s night or day. But the raindrops prevail…

In the middle of nothing and everything in my brain, I hear a faint sound of a voice. I focus really hard on it. A cold calloused hand on my forehead. I suppose everything seems cold on my burning skin. But the voice with it, the concerned sound is trying to reach me. I know I have to go there. I try to leave this place that my brain is projecting over and over like a broken record. Like I get it, man! My life is a series of nightmares, nothing else. So what do you want me to do? I ask myself. Wow! Really not stopping at the full-blown psychotic breakdown drama, are we?

I ask myself once again.

What do you want me to do? I ask again.

Stay here. So what it’s all dark and sometimes you want to rip your heart out, just to not feel it even when you’re barely conscious. It’s predictable at least. Do you know what’s out there? No, you don’t. I do. More nightmares. But they will be real. It’s comfy here. Out there? Nothing good for you.

I contradict myself. It’s like arguing with a really stubborn ass. Dean says that all the time about me.

Dean! Dean! Dean!

I have Dean out there. I have to go there.

But where am I supposed to go?

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Okay, where was I again? Yeah, have to leave, have to go, can’t be stuck inside my head!

God! What’s on my eyelids? Stones? Mountains? Maybe I’m in the car. No, too quiet here.

Nope! Not moving my head! Bad idea! Uhh!

“Sammy! Sammy, you wake?”

I groaned, “noooo.” but I tried to open my eyes anyway and Dean’s face came to vision. It was hovering over me and I startled, moved too quickly.

Bad idea again!

“Uhhhh!” An unvolunteered teardrop made its way again... God! Not again.

“Hey, hey, easy there!” Dean pulled me by my shoulders and I was sitting against the wall on my motel-bed in no time.

A glass full of water and two Tylenol came under my nose and I said, “Dude!” But, it came out as a whine instead of a growl.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean spoke and handed the pills, “found you passed out on the floor! Fever’s 103.5.”

I gulped down the water. What is it? Desert in my throat? Man! This sucks!

“Hello!”

I startled again and looked up at a gawking Dean, “Ummm, what?”

He threw his hands in the air!

He’s looking at me, lips into a thin line, jaw clenched and big eyes.

Man those are some big eyes. Golf balls!

“Golf balls,” my broken voice came before I could stop.

“What?” That eyes again!

I’m not making any sense to him.

“You’re not making any sense to me!”

Bingo!

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah. And I’m Madonna!”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. That brought a smirk to his face, always does. Sadly, he’s tensed most of the times because of me. Everything is tied to me. It sucks to be me, isn’t it? More sucks if you are around me.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Did I say that out loud?

“Yeah, you did. and you’re still doing.”

A hand came to my head, removed the hairs on my face.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy. You rest. I’m here.”

Why is my brain is singing Africa? Good song though...”I seek to cure what’s deep inside. Frightened of this thing that I have become...” I hummed quietly...

“You weren’t going to,” I said without opening my eyes.

“I wasn’t going to what?” Dean was perplexed.

“Be here.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry Sammy.” A cool washcloth came to rest on my forehead along with the hand of my big brother. God! He still makes me feel like a five-year-old. I groaned.

“Not your fault...” I finally said, “Just don’t ever tell me to apologize for trying to save you.”

“Then stop blaming yourself for the deaths of other hunters,” he said. I can hear he’s grinding his teeth.

“Michael really screwed us over, huh?” A dry laugh came from me.

And silence from the other end.

After a while, I opened my eyes to look over and what I saw I don’t want to see ever but I have and still, I don’t get used to it.

A beaten Dean Winchester.

God! I so wished you never had to go through that. I’m so sorry.

I was thinking those things but I couldn’t say it to the bowed head.

“Michael used to taunt me when he’ll kill those monsters, he’ll give me a peek behind the curtains.” A broken chuckle cut through the silence, “He wanted to show me how I’m going to enjoy all that blood on my hand and at my core, I am a murderer, I destroy everything.”

I tried to speak up but he beat me to it.

“And I believe him. Because the opposite is so hard to believe that the people I care about are suffering and I still can’t do a damn thing about it...”

I was speechless. For the life of me, nothing came to me to reassure him. I couldn’t say it’s okay because it’s not and it never will be. He may not be physically tortured by Michael but being used like that and losing control- it’s a wound that never really heals. So, I did the only thing I thought I could at that time.

I took his hand and draped it over my head.

He looked up startled. I kept my hand over his, gave a light squeeze and he understood as his brows came back to their original place. I removed my hand and, “Massage it well, Jerk.”

He barked out a laugh and this time it was honest, “You bet your ass I will,” and pulled my long hair mildly. I howled in mock-pain. He continued to laugh.

I laughed a little too.

“Not your fault. You said it yourself once, angels are dicks. You could imagine how archangels can be,” I said.

He was quiet for a second, my focus was on his face which was still smiling “Yeah. It’s not your fault either...and thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not letting me die.”

What do you think I would have ended up if I had let you die? I thought to myself and said, “Don’t mention it.”

I closed my eyes. My head feels a little better. I should rest, I’m home.

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[I started to write it last month. But, then I was lost. Maybe I still am. Anyway, I felt that it should be ended. So, here it is. It may seem out-of-character. I don’t know. You tell me if you read. It’s not that good and maybe not even original. I’m sorry for the mistakes.]

#Sam Winchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #brothers till the end

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thedappleddragon · 3 years

Text

ugh im big stupid and haven't been posting my shit here for a while. I've still been typing it out in my notes, I just havent transferred them onto here lol. im putting it all under the cut, don't worry

Today was pretty dang nice! I spent a little time outside because it was nice and warm out, I drew a little in my sketchbook and digitally rendered a picture of Anna’s new princess outfit, ran an errand with my mom to pick up a graphing calculator and a pack of soda, ate some Wendy’s, and did a lot of sewing for my dress! I joined the bodice lining and exterior, and did a little over half of the sewing for the skirt. I’m doing French seams so there’s no raw edges on the inside, so I still have to iron it and go over the second round of stitches. My machine malfunctioned for a moment with the thread tangling up in the lower bobbin thingy, so I left it alone for like an hour and it fixed itself lol. I’m very happy with how the bodice came out after clipping all the extra fabric in the corners and test fitting it. I think it’ll be great when it’s done!! Although I may or may not need to seam rip a little bit of the skirt to extend the zipper down so I can get it over my fuckin DUMPTRUCK when putting it on. Right now there’s enough stretch to put it on, but Idk how well that’ll stay after attaching the 2 pieces. Also it might end up making me look fat/preggo in the end with how the skirt lays lmao. I also did a really quick test fit with the sleeves, and I might actually like it better sleeveless? I’ll put one on anyway and go from there to see which I like better. HOORAY this dress has pockets!! But I may have put them a little low lol. I wanted to do a big dress debut at prom, but turns out graduates aren’t allowed due to covid restrictions :( so that really sucks. But we’re still gonna hang out a little bit beforehand, and I can still do a debut. I made a little bow out of some scrap dress fabric, which I want to put in my hair for pre-prom. I think I’ll braid my hair, maybe get some fake flowers from dollar tree and ribbon to add somehow, and put the ribbon either at the bottom or the top, wherever the hair tie eventually goes. I’m so exited to work on it more. I’m kinda running out of white thread tho so I’ll have to get more. Later in the evening i got hungry and made ramen while my dad and I watched a documentary on some of the horrible shit that went on all around the world during 2020, some of which I had forgotten about, some that was really surreal and out of a dystopian movie, and some stuff that was just upsetting to watch. It was still pretty good tho. I got work tomorrow and I’m really sleepy even tho it’s only 12:30 so I think I’m gonna grab a snack and go to sleep soon. Gnight mwah

Yesterday I worked and sewed until I ran out of thread and drew a little bit. Spent most of my shift watering flowers, then I went home and ate for a moment, then watered more and picked dead flowers and talked about avatar and other animated shows with the highschool girl I work with. Came home and hung out for a while, that evening made some good pasta.

Today I justly hung out, then went with mom to pick up a bookshelf and went through strawtown which I thought was a very funny name for a town. There was a cute antique shop in there tho. On the way back we stopped in a sewing shop called Always in stitches. I expected it to be a very small shop, but it was SO much bigger than I thought it would be. They had tons of fabric and quilting supplies, and lots of old ladies working and talking. I picked up a cone of white thread and a fabric sample pack. Then I sewed my dress a little bit. I still have lots to do, and only like 2.5 days to do it. I’ll get there tho. All I have to do is add the skirt hem, add the pockets back in (I took them out so I could see them in normally), add sleeves and hem them, and add the zipper. And attach the skirt to the bodice. I think I’ll be able to do it. I had yogurt for the first time in forever today. Tbh I used just enough to hold together the strawberry and granola bits kgelgskgs. It was pretty good tho. I drew ELEVEN pages in my sketchbook, about 8 of them being a comic about the pony au of our royalty au. I could have done the comic with human characters but ponies are so much easier to draw aggsssdh. I spent 40 minutes typing out the dialogue and editing it on top of the rest of the comic so my friend could read it, but she still hasn’t read my text :( oh well that’s fine lol. The original plot was supposed to be Sam talking to an accidental illusion of me being mean about her blight, but then I accidentally made it something different. I might just draw the alternate ending instead. Update I just did

Yesterday I sewed and went to Menards to buy tile for moms bathroom.

Today was VERY productive, I feel like. I woke up and immediately took a shower and did laundry. I spent some one just sitting on my bed scrolling and researching while listening to medieval remixes of songs lol. At some point I went out to buy subway for everyone and stopped at dollar tree for nail polish and satin ribbon. I made the ribbon into a little choker and wanted to use it for the hem of the skirt, but I was too short. In total I spent HOURS hemming and pinning and seam ripping and ironing and sewing today, but it’s still not done. I gotta kick my ass into high gear if it’s gone be done by Sunday afternoon. I started sewing the bottom hem, but my machine has been doing this weird thing where the fabric scrunches up right past the sewing foot and leaves wrinkles and gathers so loose I can move it around with my hands easily. I think it’s just my tension being too tight or something, I adjusted it a bit and I’ll test it in the morning. I’m too tired and it’s too late at night to be doing that much sewing. I seam ripped the entire back skirt seam so I could extend the zipper a little further down, and I’ll sew it back up once the hem is done. After that all I need to donis connect the skirt to the bocice, fix the zipper, and hem the arm holes. I don’t want to use the sleeves I made because the edges don’t line up at all and I don’t think I would be able to lift my arms, the way it’s built. The nail polish I picked up works way better than I thought it would, leaving a pretty good metallic sheen after just one coat. Way better than I thought for a dollar. I helped mom lay down tile a little bit, ripping up one old tile and helping a bit at a time throughout the day. I kept asking if she wanted help with the actual tiling part but she said no. We also couldn’t get the fuckin box cutter I bought to work. It’s supposed to be easy to replace the blade, but we couldn’t figure it out lol. I’m falling asleep fun. Washed my face twice, trying to take good care of myself before prom so I look good in photos. Gotta wash hair tomorrow. Made hamburger meat

Spent all day sewing and listening to bardcore remixes. Dress is as done as I bother to make it rn

Tbh I was hoping for a little more for today. I’ve spent the last like week or longer working towards this, and going especially in depth the past 3 days. I got all silky smooth, worked for hours on my dress, thought about pretty much nothing except prom day. I was late because my dad had my neighbor come over to take pictures of me in my dress. I thought it was just going to be her holding my dad’s phone to get a picture of us together, but she brought her whole ass professional camera and spent several minutes taking pictures. Then I took the weirdest way possible to get to my friend’s house on accident because google maps said it was the fastest way to get there. But HEY when I did get there I enjoyed hanging out with my friends. We ate some dinner AND??? Sammie I’m sorry if you’re reading this but THE MASHED POTATOES?? WERE S O BLAND????? AFAJSTSTHJST ily but girl. Just a little salt could have gone a long way <3 the steak and especially the green bean casserole were good tho :) dinner was good with the sparkling juice and little desert. Overall everything was just very loud, but that’s to be expected when this is everyone’s first time seeing each other in a goddamn while: actually I think they’ve all seen each other at school without me but hey whatever. I think I fucked up my phone screen on accident by sitting on it while it was in my pocket with my keys, leaving a spiderweb crack in it. I checked and yeah it’s not just the screen protector :( eh I don’t care that much, It didn’t fuck up the lcd screen or anything. We went up to Sam’s room and hung out and talked while she did Liz’s makeup and took pictures, and I borrowed a little of her concealer before photos. There was a little photo shoot in their front yard, and looking at the photos I look a little fat in them but I LOVE all the photos taken in Sam’s room where we were all just hanging out. Idk why but whenever you have to do photos and they say to do a silly one, it never turns out good, but the fun ones you casually take always turn out way better. They’re more genuine :) but then it was time for everyone to go to prom and for me to go home 😔 we only hung out for like an hour and a half. I didn’t want to take off my dress, seeing as I put in so much effort to sew the whole dress and shave and look pretty, so I wore it around the house for a bit until I got tired and went to lay in bed. I watched the mitchels vs the machines, which is a fuckin DELIGHTFUL movie!! Everybody go watch it it’s so cute <3 I also played some Pokémon and watched a little YouTube in bed, but feeling unfulfilled and wanting to do something different, I just didn’t know what. So instead I started typing this up as my sister brought me a cupcake from prom :) I had a bite and put the rest in the fridge, since it was so big and in a plastic container. I texted a friend over Snapchat asking if they had fun at prom, and they said it was kinda ass. I tried relating and saying yeah all school dances are a little ass, and my friend group once had anti prom and played dnd instead, but they just said ‘that’s nice’ back and idk if that means they’re annoyed at me or they’re just tired and didn’t wanna text or what but :( idk. Either way it’s fine, right now all I care about is going to bed. Gnight I guess. Also I keep thinking about that textpost that’s like “diary of icarly” and she talks in these simple-ass sentences and now I feel self conscious about how I write these snafnfs. I already know I write like a child in these, but that’s just because I don’t wanna go through the effort of making this sound nice and professional every day lmao. So child writing it is. Also painted my nails really horribly and it took forever to clean up which made me late

Woke up, went to work, spent a little time stocking, watered indoor plants, then attempting to work the register, and organized plants the rest of the time. I stood behind one of my coworkers as she checked people out, kind of understanding what she was doing but not that much, and read the manual in down periods. She had me check out a couple people, and it was NERVE WRACKING AS HELL. Thankfully everyone was very nice, and my coworker stood by and helped, and right as I was getting my foothold, my boss called for me to work outside and bring in the new shipment of plants. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT WAS REALLY NICE?? I was actually able to help some people today!! :D I’m slowly getting better at my job which is nice :) originally I was only gonna work 4 hours, but there were more plants to get and I felt like I could keep going, so I ended up working 6 instead. Every time I come home from the end of my shift I feel bad for not working more and like I should have stayed longer. Tbh I think I could do it if I had a proper break! I’ve been doing 4 hour shifts with maybe a water break in the middle because i don’t know how to ask to go on break ;-; Ike my secondary boss in the garden center is super nice and approachable and friendly but the main boss is like. Terrifying. I never know when he’s joking or being serious and I don’t understand him and assffsfamms it SUCKS. But whatever, I went home and ate some Mac n cheese and laid in bed because my back hurt and played on my ds for the rest of the night. I tried a couple new games, none of which I spent very long on. I tried okami den where you’re the wolf puppy child of the precious games protagonist I think, and idk maybe I’ll give it a better try in the future, but I wasn’t feelin it. I spent like 30 minutes on a pro bass fishing simulator and couldn’t clear the first level because the fish wouldn’t get close enough to my boat lmao. Sonic and Mario at the Olympic Games was fun until I lost at table tennis to Mario. I’d play it again. But I have work again tomorrow so I gotta go to bed good night. Having to blast my fan and play drawfee on my phone to drown out moms tv again >:(

Ate a pbj for breakfast? Went to work, moved plants around, took my lunch break, went to subway with an expired coupon, ate at home and times it perfectly so I could watch one section of the new drawfee episode, went back to work, made myself sad thinking about the god girl homunculus from fullmetal alchemist, picked dead flowers off the petunias, left a little early, hung out at home, left to go get mom’s medicine, found my dad at the store, followed him around and shopped for a bit, can home to unload everything, talked with him about buying one of the cars from him so it would be under mom’s insurance after the divorce, talked about being able to hang out at dads apparent after we help him move, ate some of the stuff we bought, and now I’m hanging out in bed again. I picked up my Pokémon black save and played a while today which was nice. I think I’m gonna work more in the next few days, be really busy with shit for like a week, and finally have a breather after the 15th. I really need to switch brain gears back into college stuff soon so I can sign up for orientation and figure out finances and shit, but for now it’s midnight and I don’t have to think about it lol

Today was pretty good, but also pretty boring. I played Pokémon all day since I didn’t have work, cooked some hamburger meat, and went on an errand for mom but got the wrong thing so I went out later to buy the right thing. I got spicy chicharrones instead of regular ones oops. On my drive back from getting the right thing, I rolled all my windows down and loved the feeling of driving around right after sunset when the weather was nice but cool, especially after standing in mom’s loud-ass room trying to ask about her bank card. I thought about going back out to aimlessly drive around the park and back, but instead hung out in my kitchen as my cat fell asleep on my lap. I think I’m gonna get paid tomorrow, so that’s exciting :D I probably made a solid couple hundred dollars if I had to guess. Idk what I’m getting paid per hour, but it’s probably ~$10 and I COULD go through my texts again to see how much I’ve worked, but I don’t really wanna lmao. I should just start putting that in my notes app instead...

Just had probably the most involved, longest dream ever?? It was a mix of infinity train and dangenrompa, we were mostly stuck inside my house, one boy left for years to search for supplies, I tried biking along a tail that disappeared into tree roots and a ditch with grass, cried because we had been in the same car for so long I was afraid they were gonna make us kill someone to get past, and at the end we escaped or something and had to fuck up security cameras and get past loopholes and lots of cereal boxes were involved? Idk there’s just so much I don’t remember. I wasn't sure if I had to go to work today, so I sent my boss a text and just kinda hung out. was making hamburger meat for my mom when my boss called asking me to come in, so I took a shower and worked from 1-5. spent some time at the register, and got way better at checking stuff out :) I learned a couple things, and there was one old lady in particular who was very patient and nice to me while my coworker went to go find a smaller bag of birdseed. when it stopped being busy inside, I went ut to the garden center to help price plants and spent the rest of my shift out there. I got paid too! $9 an hour, 22 hours, $200 in total. hell yeah. not bad, although I literally have no frame of reference on if this Is good or not. after work I went home for a second, then got Hardee’s (or carls jr in the western states). I used a coupon for chicken tenders for me and my sister :) and while I was driving around today, I found myself wishing that everything in life could be as smooth and easy as driving my car through my neighborhood. and then I kinda laughed thinking about how I cried my first time driving on a major road asdjfasjdhf. but seriously I love driving my dad’s silver Volvo!! its so comfy with 4 wheel drive and good petal control, its like always driving on freshly paved roads <3 unfortunately that's the car my dad is taking when he moves into his apartment to use as his full time car instead of his shit-ass blue Volvo, and we’re gonna be stuck with the red Volvo with a really touchy gas pedal and slow break pedal. (idk if you've noticed but we really love old Volvos in this family. they’re all old and boxy as hell and I love em <3 ) then I played Pokemon black and beat the elite 4 and champion in one try with a lot of revives lmao. I was kinda underleveled, right at 48-50 range, same as them. I was angry about stuff and in pain earlier in the shower as I washed my hair, but I dont remember exactly what it was. now I have my soft Spotify playlist going so I can maybe go to sleep soon. oh wait I remember being angry that all I could thin about all day was work, even tho it only takes up a few hours of my day, and then I do nothing all day afterwards. idk it’s just weird.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #April 2021 daily #may 2021 daily #2021 daily

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thesoftkitty42 · 6 years

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I’m posting original content???

Hey there friends. So, I never actually post anything on my blog, but I wrote this for my Creative Writing class and I thought that people might like it, so I’m gonna share it with y’alls. Basically we had to write a How-To article, so I wrote one about How to be Emo. It’s really long and really stupid but it’s still kind of entertaining. Here it is lol

How to Become a MySpace Ready Emo God/Goddess Overnight in 5 Easy Steps: Welcoming yourself to the Black Parade

By Grace Burns Feb. 7, 2018

You know that feeling when you log on to the oh-so-popular website, MySpace.com and you see a super cool, badass, edgy emo queen on your feed, and then you look at your sad, boring, “normal” profile and it just looks lame in comparison? And then you start to think of how cool you would look if you attempted to take sick pictures at that same awesome angle, but when you try you just look like dumbass? Well, I’m here to teach you exactly what steps you can take to become the saddest, baddest, raddest emo of your nightmares.

1 Wardrobe is Everything

Alright, first things first. You can’t have that MySpace fame unless you look the part. You need to start off this journey with a trip to every emo’s favorite place on Earth (other than Warped Tour) Hot Topic. Hot Topic is a safe haven for our kind, housing all the band merch and aesthetically pleasing accessories that you could only dream up in your head. As you walk into the shop, notice the music they’re blasting through the speakers? If you recognize the song, dance along to the music in the store. This is an easy way to make a friend if you both happen to be rocking out to the same artist. Your first stop should be the jeans section. They’re all black skinny jeans, so you better get used to having all your leg fat squeezed into your body. But, you do have the option of whether or not you want jeans with or without rips in them. This will all depend on the aesthetic you are trying to achieve. For someone who is just transitioning to the emo lifestyle, I would suggest starting slow and steady and picking out some plain black skinny jeans without any rips in them. After you grab your bottoms, it’s time to consider the tops. Hot Topic has a cornucopia of band shirts at their disposal, so you have a lot to choose from. Again, I’d suggest starting off easy by picking a shirt from a more popular emo band, preferably something from the holy emo trinity, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! At the Disco, and then as you continue your transition you can start branching off into other bands. The last essential part of your wardrobe is the accessories. Chokers, studded belts, and lots of piercings are all good choices. And you can always get fake piercings to try things out before you commit to piercing lots of holes in your body. The last part of your clothing look is shoes. There are a few different options here. You could go with Vans or Converse, but many debate over which shoe encompasses the emo look more effectively, so to be safe I would go with a classic pair of combat boots. You can never go wrong with combat boots.

2 Hair and Makeup

The next step in becoming the emo nightmare you’ve been dreaming up is the hair and makeup. This goes hand in hand with your clothing and helps complete the whole look. The first thing to change is your hair. If you have soft, wavy, shiny hair, that is the first to go. Your hair needs to look like it’s been beat to shit, much like you have been beaten by your emotions over the years. Do you have bangs? No? Get bangs, they help block out the haters. Is your hair black? If not, you should probably dye it. And of course you need to buy a hair straightener so you can destroy your hair even further. If you aren’t experiencing long-term hair damage, you aren’t doing it right. Now, onto the makeup. Firstly, foundation. You need to make your skin look as dead inside as you feel. Buy a foundation a shade or so lighter than you normally would, and apply to the face and set with a powder. While your pale complexion is essential, your most important tool is and always will be your eyeliner. Eyeliner is what blinds you from the world’s sorrows. It is what gets you into character. Eyeliner is the single most important part of your emo look. Here’s how to apply it:

Grab a pencil or gel eyeliner from your local makeup store (you could even grab eyeliner from Hot Topic)

Apply along upper and lower lash line, making the lines fairly thick.

Smudge eyeliner to perfection

If you need extra tips or inspiration, look at pictures of pre-hiatus Pete Wentz, as he is the unofficial king of emo.

You could just leave your eye makeup as is, or you could take it one step further by adding eyeshadow. You could go for a dark black that matches your soul, or you could do a classic emo eyeshadow color, red. Emo God Frank Iero was famous for his red eyeshadow during My Chem’s “Revenge Era”. This era should be the inspiration for a great deal of your aesthetic. To apply the eyeshadow, all you need to do is take a fluffy eye brush, dip it in the shadow, and sweep/swirl the makeup all over your lid, almost touching the brow bone, and don’t forget to put some of the eyeshadow along your lower lash line as well. After your eye makeup is complete, add mascara to the lashes to finish it off. Lastly is deciding if you want to wear lipstick or not. Many emos choose not to wear lipstick and tend to leave the lips plain, but times are changing, and of you feel like adorning a color on your lips would complete your look, go for it! A big part of the emo mentality is expressing yourself and being who you are free of judgement. You could easily sport a sexy red or black lipstick, or if you dye your hair a fun teal color, you could pick up a matching lipstick from your local Hot Topic.

3 Music

The single most important part of becoming an emo is listening to the right music. The bands that you choose to listen to will be like a safety net. They will comfort you in times of need. The most important bands to listen to are, of course, the three bands that make up the holy emo trinity of music. Chances are you have probably heard the chart topping music created by My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! At the Disco on the radio over the years. Fans of these bands, myself included, have claimed that these artists have saved their lives with their music and their words. You must listen to all of their music like it is your religion, and slowly it will become your religion. You must obsess over these bands and their members. Gerard Way is your inspiration and reason that you are not afraid to keep on living, Patrick Stump is the small adorable man with the kindest words that make you feel better on a bad day, Brendon Urie is a talented man with lots of advice on how to deal with your problems. But, the most important thing to remember as you slowly slip into the bandom culture is that every band member is just as important as the others. Fall Out Boy is much more than Pete and Patrick, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley are just as amazing as their fellow members. The same goes for My Chem, while Gerard and Frank are fantastic people, don’t discredit the utter beauty of Mikey and Ray because they are just as worthy of your praise. When it comes to Panic! At the Disco, even though Brendon rapidly lost all of his members and can’t seem to make anyone stay in the band anymore, don’t forget about those who have fallen from Panic!. Ryan Ross is still an inspiration, and without him we would never have gotten the sheer beauty that is Pretty. Odd. which is debatably the best album Panic! has ever produced. You will listen to this music to the point that you know every last lyric, guitar riff, and drum beat. You will constantly thank God for Esteban and reference every single song on a daily basis. The majority of the things you say are emo references that no one else understands. You will be sad when you stumble upon a phenomenal emo meme on the internet and have no one to share it with. But that’s okay, because you can always cheer yourself up by watching old band interviews and by re-watching the same music videos that you’ve seen countless times before. You will count down the release of new albums, and you will cry when bands decide to call it quits. It will be a rollercoaster of emotions that will slowly consume your life.

4 Attitude

Your attitude is important. If you’re going to try and live that emo lifestyle you crave, you need to have the right attitude. Long gone are your days of cheerful comments and a sunny-disposition. The way you present yourself is a major part of living that dark, gloomy emo life. If you go about talking about pop music, or things that the general public find enjoyable, you will never be able to pull off being emo. You need to walk about as if you are dying inside, and present yourself as a self deprecating, pessimistic, depressing person that brings the mood down in social situations. If you are the token emo in your friend group, you have to try and convert your friends into the lifestyle. Start by getting them into newer Panic! At the Disco and Fall Out Boy songs which are more pop punk than they are traditional emo, especially compared with their earlier works. Once you butter them up with the more modern and radio playable songs, slowly start introducing them to older songs and see if they like it. If they do, you’ve got em. It’s only a short time before they too are emo with you. Along with converting your friends, you just need to talk about emo things nonstop to the point where your friends either need to convert, or they are constantly annoyed by your antics. If you go a whole day without mentioning the new Fall Out Boy album, are you really a fan? If you don’t own merch from every era of My Chemical Romance, can you even call yourself emo? You need to make sure that you have the right mentality, or you will never be able to be a true emo. Another important thing is making sure you have the right tools to protect yourself from harm. Haters are everywhere, and you can fend them off by just blowing them off, or you could spit a bunch of facts about why the emo culture is very important to you and many others.

5 Actually Becoming Emo

Last but not least, an essential step is actually becoming emo. While you might start off doing this ironically, or just to try something new, you will become trapped in the culture. By researching the bands and listening them to fit in, you will actually begin to become obsessed with them and you will really believe that they are the most wonderful people that God has ever created. The emos will trap you, there is no escaping once you start. Eventually you might buy some clothes will color in them, or some jeans that are a little baggier, and you might lighten up on the eyeliner, but anytime you hear that ear-piercing g note that opens up the song Welcome to the Black Parade, you won’t be able to control yourself and you will probably start getting emotional remembering the good old days. You might open up your closet and see that Hot Topic sweater with the safety pins in the sleeves hidden away behind your favorite top, and all you’ll be able to do is laugh at your old style, but you’ll still secretly love it. And years down the road you’ll drop your kids off at school and turn on the classic rock station. You recognize the song that’s playing, but you can’t quite place what it is, and then you hear the lyrics “Am I more than you bargained for yet?” and you will be taken back to your emo days and you’ll drive home and pull out you old albums and put them on, remembering how this music and lifestyle made you feel. You will always be just a little emo on the inside.

#emo #fall out boy #my chemical romance #panic! at the disco #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #gerard way #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #brendon urie #ryan ross

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inconnu--dreamscapes · 7 years

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ℭⱥȵđⅈȡ

Chapter 2 The Starting Line

Thankfully Calculus required his utmost attention. This meant he wouldn’t have time to think about the breakup that would eventually run through the grape vine. Quite a few different boys, and even some girls had a thing for Wendy, so word of her being available would catch wind fast. The same could be said for Stan, however he didn’t know if any girls would be asking him out due to his questioning sexuality; he was sure Wendy would tell her girlfriends, though keep it on the down low.

Stan shook his head. No thinking about it. He snapped out of it and focused on his work once more, finishing with time to spare. After turning his worksheet in to the teacher Stan returned to his seat and took out some left over school work that needed to be done. Time ticked by slowly, giving Stan plenty of opportunity to finish an essay and chapter review sheet. He tucked the work away and relaxed in his seat, taking in his surroundings.

Like usual Cartman had moved his desk next to Kyle in order to belittle and steal answers from, to which Kyle would reply with anger and a huff, all the while trying to adjust his body so the fatass couldn’t peek at his paper. The girls were texting while keeping to themselves so as not to raise suspicion for said texting. Jokes and snickers came from the small huddle of boys consisting of Clyde, Token, Craig, Tweek and Jimmy, who had formed a small study group with the teachers permission. He noticed Butters was having trouble with his homework and was obviously debating on weather or not he should ask for help. In the end he got up and went to the teachers desk, looking dejected.

The sound of rough screeching met his ears, the origin being Kenny who was scooting his desk across the floor. He stopped next to Stan and pushed his worksheet to the edge. Pointing to an equation, Kenny asked Stan in his muffled voice if he could help him.

“Sure dude.” He leaned over and began to help Kenny, who picked up on Stan’s teachings rather quickly. The blond managed to finish his work and turn it in before the class ended, giving him time to return to his seat and pull out a comic. This gave Stan time to himself again, something he didn’t exactly want. With all the fucked up things that went on in South Park it was hard to find a sane person to talk to about his problems; usually Chef would be the voice of reason, but that was no longer an option thanks to the Super Adventure Club.

Stan collected his math material and stood from his seat, the bell ringing only seconds later. Hoping second period would brighten his spirits, Stan made a quick pit stop at his locker and dropped his books off, heading to Physical Education. The locker room was still quiet when Stan arrived, Token and Craig the only two there.

Bee lining to his locker and stripping to his boxers, Stan changed into his athletic clothes. He wasn’t all that keen on staying in the locker room once Cartman showed up, who liked to twist towels and whip them at people. He didn’t want a repeat of the time Cartman nail him in the nuts. So he followed some fellow classmates to the gymnasium and took a seat on the bleachers, his gaze focusing on nothing in particular.

The teacher’s whistle caused Stan to snap back to reality, body straightening while roll call took place. They lined up to do their stretches and Stan found himself in the back row, muscles slowly stretching. His body twisted this way and that, joints cracking. “Mm. .” He rolled his neck and shoulders, getting all the kinks out. Now relaxed and ready for action, Stan went to the sidelines and asked the teacher what to do next. With instructions to wait on the other side of the gym Stan jogged over and took a seat on the cold ground, joining a few other classmates.

“Hey.” Craig was the first and only one to greet him, mostly because they were within close proximity.

“Hey.” Stan crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands, getting comfortable. “Know what we’re doing?” He knew they were being divided into teams but he wasn’t sure what the reason was.

“I think it might be dodge-ball today.” Craig pointed to a large rubber ball tucked away near the bleachers.

“Oh.” Stan tilted his head backwards in order to get a good look of the colorful rubber ball. “Weak.” He lifted his head and occupied his vision elsewhere, eventually landing on Craig. Even with his athletic clothes present Craig still wore his ski hat, dark locks poking out of the brim and flipping upward; Stan would bet dollars to donuts that Craig was sporting some kind of bed head, not that he was one to point fingers considering he himself didn’t actually brush his hair that morning.

As if he could feel the stare burning into him Craig turned his head and made eye contact with Stan, brow raising after a beat of silence. “What?”

Stan didn’t know what to say at first, the silence lasting another second before he finally responded. “What?”

“What were you looking at?”

Stan simply shrugged and replied with a growing smirk. “I dunno, your stupid face?” He laughed as he ripped on the other, which earned him the bird from Craig. This only fueled Stan’s amusement, laughter lasting a few more seconds.

Stan’s mirth came to a sudden halt when the whistle blew sharply, echoing ominously in the gymnasium. Reluctantly the students lined up and teams were chosen promptly.

“You assholes better prepare yourselves for my sweet moves!” Cartman landed himself a spot on the other side of the gym, opposite Stan, Kyle and Kenny.

“Your fat ass doesn’t have any sweet moves!” Kyle retorted with a roll of his eyes.

Stan maneuvered to the back of the gym, standing behind several other students so they would get hit first. It appeared that Craig had the same idea, for he was already standing in the rear. Without much thought to it Stan stood next to Craig, keeping silent while the game began.

WHACK!

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.“God I hate this game.” The opposing team had only whipped the ball across the court once so far and the result landed Red a blood nose. It didn’t stop there however. Stan watched the ball zip around like a pinball, taking out Butter’s and Kenny; it missed Kyle by a few centimeters.

Red got to her feet, tears falling as she held onto her nose with both hands, the teacher escorting her out pronto. Stan took this opportunity to escape. “Dude this sucks, I’m going outside.” It might be cold but he’d rather freeze his ass off than get injured. Obviously feeling the same way many of the other kids followed Stan, breaking off into their own little groups to do what they pleased.

Kyle and Kenny joined Stan, who just noticed Craig was still standing near him. Assuming Craig had nowhere to be, he invited the other to join them in a snowball fight, one that simply consisted of pelting Cartman with snow balls.

“Okay.” Craig followed the group to a makeshift snow fort that had been previously built by someone else. The four of them packed ball after ball, stacking them high off the ground. Stan and Kyle took extra time to scoop up hard snow, creating snow balls that teetered towards being balls of ice.

“Get ready.” Kyle could see Cartman trudging through the knee deep snow, and with his signal they all lifted from the fort and began slinging snowballs towards Eric, his screams and curses encouraging them to throw more.

“You guys! I’m seriously!” Cartman fell over and into the snow, his crawls doing him no favors in an attempt to escape. “You’re gonna get it! You hear me!?!” Slipping and sliding through the cold, Cartman managed to get onto his feet and stumble back inside the High School, profanity rushing from his mouth like a waterfall.

With their victory at hand the four teens howled with laughter, Cartman’s pissed off mug still etched in their minds.

“Dude that was awesome.” Stan plucked his wet gloves off and stuffed them inside his coat, wringing his hands to warm them up.

“I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Cartman’s revenge though.” Craig glanced over at the entrance Cartman disappeared through and began wringing his own cold mitts.

Wind began whipping at their red faces, temperature lowering as snow began falling from the sky. Kenny spoke from behind his hood and waved them off, heading back inside.

“See ya.” Kyle and Stan waved back before heading to another part of the School grounds, Craig following. Soon the trio came across the rest of the class, snow men and snow angels spread out on the field.

“Hey look, no one’s taken the sleds.” Craig pointed a cold shaky hand towards the cheap hunk of wood and metal that leaned against the School’s brick wall.

They walked up to the sleds and quickly found out why no one was using them. Covered in ice and snow, it took Craig and Kyle a good few yanks to pry them from the wall.

“Whoa dude, I dunno if we should be using these.” Kyle let the sled fall to the ground and took note of how easily it slid over the snow. “Could be dangerous.”

Thinking the same thing, both Stan and Craig replied with little worry for their safety, voices echoing together. “Pussy.” They laughed, Stan picking up the icy sled Kyle dropped.

“Don’t call me a pussy you fudge packers.” Kyle replied with a huff, scowling for a moment or so.

The two stopped laughing, though there was still a small smile on Stan’s face. Already in better spirits, Stan turned to Craig and challenged him to a round of sled surfing, to which Craig shrugged.

“Okay.” The two made their way uphill and stopped at the top, wind picking up and whipping their hair around, hats nearly flying off.

“Dude, this really could be dangerous.” Stan gazed down the steep hill for a moment before looking at Craig. “Wanna make it interesting?”

Craig rose a brow. “Like how?”

“First one to the bottom wins and has to buy the other whatever they want for lunch.” Stan plopped the sled on the ground and propped his boot on the icy surface.

“You’re on.” He tossed the sled onto the snow and stomped on the wood, ready whenever Stan was.

“Ready? Go!”

Both boys kicked off the ground and began sliding down the hill. The slippery surface of each sled seemed to worsen as they gained speed, the runners teetering greatly. Stan was the first to wipe out. His sled swirled out of control an flipped over, he landed face first in the cold snow, body rolling a few feet down the hill. Craig followed soon after, his feet losing grip on the icy wood which caused him to fall backwards and onto the snow.

“Ow, God damn it!” Snow had made it’s way into Stan’s pants and up his shirt, coat riding up. Scrambling to his feet, Stan saw Craig had abandoned his fallen hat in favor of finishing the race, running down the hill.

“Ha! I won!” Craig turned on the spot, a look of smug triumph on his face.

“You didn’t win with the sled, that doesn’t count!” Stan shouted, making his way down the hill, all the while brushing snow off his person.

“You said whoever gets to the bottom first wins.” Craig pointed an accusing finger at the other, scowling.

Stan thought for a moment, then muttered “Damn it.”

“Ha! Loopole bitch!” Craig’s scowl turned into a smirk. Stan picked up the ski cap Craig lost during the race and handed it back to him after sneaking some snow inside it. This went unnoticed by Craig and when he stuffed the hat back on he yelped and tore it back off. “You butthole!” Using his height to overpower Stan, Craig pressed his hands against Stan’s face and pushed him backwards into the cold snow. “See you at lunch.” Craig huffed softly and turned away, walking back inside.

Stan snickered to himself and crawled out of the snow, feeling much better compared to this morning. Like everyone else in class he headed back inside, the temperature differing greatly. The color in Stan’s cheeks, nose and ears remained bright well into third period, goo dripping from his nostrils and causing him to sniffle several times through the teachers lecture. Many others were like him, creating an orchestra of sniffs and honks, tissues crowding desks.

Behind Stan sat Craig, who tossed a piece of crumpled up paper onto Stan’s desk in the middle of class. Stan unraveled it and was puzzled when all the note contained was a number. He scribbled down a response and folded it in half, then passed it back to Craig, who replied instantly. With another toss the note landed back in Stan’s possession with said boy smoothing it out once more.

What’s this number?

How much my lunch is gonna be lol

Stan rolled his eyes and stuffed the note into a random spot in his notebook, hiding it from the teachers hawk like gaze. Now that lunch was on his mind however, Stan began to lose focus in class, stomach soon growling. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait too long for the lunch bell to ring. Packing up his stuff with the rest of his class Stan made his way into the cramped hallway and over to his locker, opening it and dispensing his things inside. He snatched his wallet from a pocket on his backpack and slipped it inside his jacket.

As he closed his locker door Craig came walking up to him, ready for lunch as well. They made their way to the lunch room and stood in line, hands stuffed in pockets to keep warm. The two made small talk while they waited, line moving every few minutes. Eventually they made it to the food and they picked out what they wanted. Stan chose the standard lunch, his own food budget lowered due to Craig’s excessive purchase.

“Geez Craig you’re gonna get as fat as Cartman with all that food.” Stan took a seat with his trey, mouth watering at the fried chicken and french fries that sat on Craig’s plate.

“You’re just mad I won the race.” Craig let the insult roll off his back as he opened his can of soda, drinking deeply from it. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Stan frowned but said nothing about it, beginning to eat his meatloaf and mixed vegetables. The table began to fill up and the volume rose to an all time high when Jimmy began telling an onslaught of new jokes. Roars of laughter echoed through the lunch room, milk shooting out of Cartman’s nose. Joining the noise by growling softly, Stan rubbed at his still hungry stomach, his small lunch obviously not satisfying him.

Suddenly and without asking Stan reached over and took a few fries from Craig’s plate and stuffed them in his mouth, the action causing Craig to shift his gaze to Stan and silently stare at him. They made eye contact and Stan froze for a second before Stan finished the greasy potatoes while staring straight into Craig’s blue eyes.

“What?” Stan suddenly asked, wiping his fingers off on his pants.

Craig said nothing and turned his attention back to the rest of the table, fingers picking at his meal. His cat like reflexes were in need however when he spotted Stan attempting to steal from his plate once more and he was forced to slap the boys hand away; this caused the rest of the table occupants to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to Stan and Craig.

“Haha! Stan got bitch slapped by Craig.” Cartman was the first to break the silence, eager to see if things would escalate.

“What did I just say Stan? Don’t be a sore loser.” Craig picked up a fry and ate it as he spoke to Stan, enjoying the food and egging Stan on subtly.

Stan frowned and looked around the table, eyes landing on Butter’s lunch. He plucked some chicken off the blonde’s tray and began eating it without hesitation.

“Hey!” Butter’s didn’t make a grab for the stolen food but he looked awful sore that he was Stan’s next victim.

“Sorry Butter’s but Craig’s being a fatass, hope you understand.” Stan finished the tender off and stood from the table, lunch tray in hand. “See you guys in class.” He walked away and tossed his trash into a large bin and left the lunch room, feet bringing him back to his locker.

“Hey dude.” Kyle had appeared next to him, standing at his own locker.

“Hey.” Stan grabbed a small paperback from inside his locker and shut it, ready for fourth period.

Kyle grabbed the same book from his own locker and began walking to their drama class. “Did you figure out what you’re gonna sign up for in class?” Personally Kyle wanted to do stage sets or props.

“Eh, I dunno dude. I guess lighting doesn’t sound that stupid.” Stan opened the door and entered the large auditorium. Both he and Kyle took a seat and waited for class to start, phones out and Youtube open. One by one other kids began filing inside the auditorium and taking their respected seats, theater director taking roll call a few minutes after the bell rang.

“All right students I’m going to have you write your name on this sheet of paper. Just sign next to the position you want to have for the play and we’ll get started for the semester.” The director passed the sheet around and waited for it to return to him. When everyone was accounted for he broke them up into groups and sent them to different parts of the theater.

Kyle and Cartman were sent to the staging area along with Tweek, Clyde, Token, Wendy and Kevin, their job of the day being to paint over the set from the previous play the school put on. Bebe, Red, Heidi, Nichole, Kenny, Jimmy and Butters were sent to wardrobe and make up, their task at hand involving a large messy room full of props and costumes. Stan and Craig were sent to the sound and light booth, director instructing them to read the entire manual for both the sound and lighting boards.

“. . .This sucks balls dude.” Stan and Craig had opened the door to the lighting and sound booth to find a stale smell waiting for them, flickering bulb and several inches of dust covering the room. On a nearby shelf they spotted two thick manuals, and upon further inspection they found that they were in fact the material that needed to be studied.

Craig snagged the seat behind the sound board and opened the old manual. The spine creaked as he flipped through it and before he could finish reading the first page all the papers fell out of the binding. “. .Fuck!”

Stan laughed from his own seat, manual sitting in his lap. The look of rage that formed on Craig’s face only fueled Stan’s laughter and he nearly fell over and off the stool he sat in. Without a word or warning Craig reached over and swiped the manual from Stan’s lap and threw it across the room, shattering the relic. Brown eyes stared in horror as paper rained down and covered the floor, leaving them both screwed. “Dude . . not cool.” Stan frowned, but found he couldn’t care less about the manual.

“Whatever man.” Craig turned towards the sound board and stared down at it. “We’ll just have to learn by pressing buttons.” He searched the board and flipped what he assumed to be the power button. Stan did the same and powered up the lighting board, turning on several different lights above the stage for the set designers.

With not much else to do Stan and Craig spent the rest of class collecting the scattered pages and stuffing them back on the dusty shelf, goofing off on their phones afterwards. Just as Stan was about to change the video he was watching his line of vision picked up the image of Craig’s hand holding out a packaged muffin, the very one Stan had bought Craig during lunch.

“What this for?” Stan asked, taking the baked good without hesitation.

“I got full at lunch and you left the table before I could give it to you.” It was as simple as that. Craig would have given it to Stan earlier but the manual incident put him in a temporary sour mood.

“Oh, well thanks dude.” Stan smiled as he ripped open the package and he devoured it during the last few minutes of class.

When the last class of the day rolled around Stan couldn’t wait for it to just end, the events of the day having worn him out. They were told to read Chapter 5 and complete the three page worksheet that went along with it, which meant Stan could go at his own pace rather than pay attention and take notes. Thankful that it was Friday Stan decided to finish the work over the weekend. He tucked the worksheet inside his Chemistry book and collected his things, leaving class when the final bell rang.

Once at his locker Stan began getting ready for the trip home, stuffing his backpack with any necessary books and folders. He slung the bag over his shoulder and waited for his friends to finish their business at their own lockers.

Within the crowed of people Token could be seen shuffling from person to person, a stack of envelopes in his hands. He walked up to Stan and Kyle and handed both of them a wrinkle free envelope, Cartman and Kenny receiving one as well. “Hey guys, I’m having a party tomorrow night, you don’t wanna miss it.” He had something pretty special planned. Without any other information he left them in favor of handing out the rest of his invitations.

The boys tore open the envelopes they were given and found that it was an invitation to a Murder Mystery party. Token’s parents would be gone so a list of alcohol and food was present on the card, along with a dress code and list of rules, the first being no breaking character. There also happened to be a P.S at the bottom warning everyone not to break any valuables.

“Hey this sounds pretty fun.” Kyle was already looking forward to going. He stuffed the invitation inside his backpack and started heading to the bus stop, friends in tow.

They filed onto the bus and sat down where they could find room, Kyle sitting next to Kenny while Stan found a seat for himself all the way in the back. He wasn’t alone for long though, Wendy had boarded the bus and made her way to the back, seating herself next to Stan when no other options became available.

“Hey Wendy.” Stan moved his pack for her, giving her more room to work with.

Wendy seated herself with a smile, greeting Stan quietly. “Hey Stan, how was your day?”

Stan shrugged and told her about his day, reporting that nothing special had really happened. She spoke of her own day and Stan found himself laughing when Wendy told him about Butters getting knocked over by a box of costumes during theater class. The two conversed some more and even made plans to study later after dinner, something Kyle found odd. Wendy waved goodbye to her friends and lifted herself from her seat, exiting the buss and heading up her snowy driveway. Kyle took this opportunity to sit down next to Stan and rose a brow.

“Did you change your mind about Wendy dude? How come you’re making plans to study with her?” In Kyle’s mind study meant more than just school work.

“What? No dude I told you we’re just friends now. We’re just gonna help each other with our school work that’s all.” Stan didn’t see what the big deal was.

“Oh. Okay.” Kyle let it go for a moment before continuing. “It’s just--it’s a little soon for ex’s to hang out. You sure you’re not gonna take her back, or whatever it is you guys do?” The details of Stan’s dating life weren’t all that clear to Kyle, so he simply assumed this was just how Stan and Wendy rolled.

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes. “No dude. We’re just friends.” He wondered for a brief moment how many times he would have to clarify this to people in the near future. He then wondered if he should tell Kyle his secret, the reason he broke up with Wendy. Eh, some other time. “Anyway dude I’ll see you later.” He exited the bus when it came to his stop and he headed inside his home.

Old but still full of spunk, Sparky barked when his master opened the door, tail wagging. Stan smiled and gave his dog love while he kicked his shoes off. “Who’s a good boy Sparky?” Stan shuffled his tired feet to the kitchen and fed Sparky a treat, then fixed himself something small. He spent a good hour in front of the television relaxing, a nap next on his list.

Turning the flat screen off with a yawn and a stretch, Stan headed up the stairs and into his bedroom. Over the years his room had gone through only a few decorative changes. His bed had gotten an upgrade and posters covered his walls. His chest of toys had been tucked away in the attic and in their place stood a chest full of comics and weapons, ones he used when playing with his friends. Stan closed his door and plopped down on his bed with a sigh. He unzipped his coat and tossed his hat on the floor, slipping under the sheet and blanket after. He stretched and rolled around, getting comfortable. When he finally found the mattress’ sweet spot Stan set an alarm and closed his eyes, relaxing further.

Sparky climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Stan, reassuring his owner that he’d have company during his napping session. Stan gave his dog a light scratch behind the ear, glad for the company. He turned over and almost instantly fell asleep, ghost of a smile still present.

❶ || ⓶ || ❸

#Fanfiction #Fanfic #South Park #Staig #Cran #Stan Marsh #Craig Tucker #mine

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rapfornication · 7 years

Text

A List of a Bunch of Songs We Liked by Siya Mbatha & Norman

2016, what a year. Included in this list are the emotions and memories that came with these songs. Here is a list that attempts to consolidate a most uniquely strange year .Fuck Donald Trump and enjoy the links to other pieces we thought you might enjoy too. And also fuck Donald Trump.

Danny Brown – When It Rain

Produced By Paul White Album: Atrocity Exhibition

One of the more left field songs that still somehow has an underlying jitty foot-light feel to it. It sounds like ‘Dip’ if it grew up in a dark basement and suffered from crippling anxiety. Danny Brown matches the atmosphere with some of his most vivid, impressive writing to date as he describes Detroit as a city that sees no change but gentrification, grannies getting robbed and more guns than necessary. Unforgettable.

Kendrick Lamar - untitled 02 | 06.23.2014.

Produced By Yung Exclusive & Cardo Album: untitled unmastered.

Cornrow Kenny brought out the circus tricks without losing his seriousness. The build-up is one captivating performance but once his voice swings into high pitched, the stunting and trumpets go into overdrive and you’re left pleasantly stunned. Get God on the phone.

Fat Joe & Remy Ma Feat. French Montana & Infa Red - All The Way Up

Produced By Cool & Dre & Edsclusive Album: Plata O Plomo

They say regionalism is dead but this all NY affair begs to differ. Cool and Dre provide the bass and unforgettable horns and the legends (plus Montana) rip it apart like a swaggier version of The Avengers. Remy Ma came back and ignited desperately needed fire.

Fat Joe & Remy Ma Feat. Infa-Red, Jay Z & French Montana - All The Way Up (remix)

Produced By Cool & Dre & Edsclusive

Lean Back left a lasting legacy, even for the millennials like my whack self who remembers slogans like Terror Squad, before Khaled was Billy Ocean, back when Fat Joe had the red parka in the video

"Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is". Lemonade the album that I still haven't listened to has just dropped and every beyhive fan on Twitter was up in arms mad that Jay Z was getting his lemonade from a woman named Becky -if you're into that kinda thing. And that’s all Hov was gonna do in terms of speaking on it. One more time, let it sink in. Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is. He pretty much ethered Beyoncé if you think about it.

Rihanna – Needed Me

Produced By Kuk Harrell & DJ Mustard Album: ANTI

For the first time in her long career, Rihanna sounded liberated. ‘Needed Me’ amplifies the dark, sexual charisma she always displayed in ways that feel less put-on (Rated-R, basically) and more like self-expression. A fantastic wonky Mustard beat gives her room to remind her past flame who really was doing who a favour. Savagery personified in one song. Oh, that shot of Robyn in a lacy blue dress, gun in hand, looking out to the beach? Iconic

BBNG Feat. Samuel T. Herring – Time Moves Slow

Produced By BADBADNOTGOOD Album: IV

It’s been great watching BBNG grow into their own. The legendary Sam Herring lends his heartfelt voice to this perfectly crafted number. Personally, it got me through a messy situationship. Unreciprocated love makes it feel like time is moving slow.

Kid Cudi Feat. Travis Scott - Baptized In Fire

Produced By Mike Dean & Plain Pat Album: Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin'

This is the most Kid Cudi Kid Cudi has sounded for a long time. And it's scary to figure that your preference for an artist is derived in their articulation of their personal pain and struggles, I mean it's why we fuck with a Basquiat right? But here, here it's like Cudi just wanted to make his number one fan Travis Scott happy. The reserved role that La Flame takes in this feels like that, like he's soaking the moment in. The production overall sound is very reminiscent of Man On The Moon, if not a remake considering Plain motherfucking Pat, Mike Dean, La Flame and Cudder were all on this, SQUAD.

Schoolboy Q – JoHn Muir

Produced By Sounwave Album: Blank Face LP

Deadly basslines and triumphant horns score Q’s coming of age tale to churn out one of the best songs on ‘.Blankface’. Can’t help but poorly crip walk when this album cut comes on.

Kemba – Already

Produced By Frank Drake Album: Negus

Honestly, one could have chosen any song on Kemba’s often brilliant LP, ‘Negus’ but ‘Already’ takes the cake for two reasons: it’s Frank Duke’s hardest beat since ‘Fuckin’ Up The Count’ and the artist sounds angry, dissatisfied and wounded by the awful recurring problems surrounding race. Isn’t that how we all felt in this bizarre year?

Samiyam Feat. Earl Sweatshirt - Mirror

Produced By Samiyam Album: Animals Have Feelings

This song was supposed to come right after Faucet but looking in this in totality it's fitting that it only dropped in 2016, a year later. A resolute Earl spits his way through his insecurities and imperfections "despite how they praising your face I'mma make do!". Earl's raps are never really about us, mans just telling his story and again we find ourselves in it. Looking in the mirror, seeing the only the nigga we wanted to be. It's not angry, it's aggressively encouraging.

Isaiah Rashad – Park

Produced By Park Ave. & D. Sanders Album: The Sun's Tirade

Trying to follow the topics Rashad dives into is genuinely exciting. In lesser hands, it just wouldn’t work but he’s always saved by the mere fact that he’s a compelling writer. Over fluttering hi hats and knocking sparse bass, he compares himself to Nicki Minaj and Guwop, reveals sexual infidelity while denouncing his savagery and still sneaks in discerning bars about fatherhood and religion. What really trips one out is how effortless it all sounds.

Noname – Freedom Interlude

Produced By Phoelix & Saba Album: Telefone

Out the shadows, Noname took her spot as one the more talented rappers of her generation. ‘Freedom Interlude ‘ is all her strengths wrapped in one warm song. Her intricate soliloquies spill over some steady drums and calming chords as she wanders and aches about Bill Cosby, perception, motherhood, becoming and everything in between.

Jeff Chery – Salty

Produced By Stefan Green

The cliché goes: if you don’t have haters, you aren’t doing anything noteworthy. So, naturally, songs about them are probably my favourite. Nothing like glorious flexing as a defence mechanism to truly propel a song and Chery leans into his naysayers over woozy bass and autotune.

J. Cole – Neighbors

Produced By J. Cole Album: 4 Your Eyez Only

Certain people will always let prejudices rule their perception of others. As a young black man, the hurtful reminders creep up on you every time who walk pass a car and the white person inside frantically locks their door or when you call your friends for a get together and your racist nearby residents bring the police to your doorstep to break it up. Cole explores this reality in a way that’s both relatable and fittingly hopeless. No matter who or where you are, the burden of being black is sometimes too heavy.

DJ Khaled Feat. Drake - For Free

Produced By Jordan Ullman & Nineteen85 Album: Major Key

I didn't want Khaled and Drake to have another anthem so they made another anthem. And as audacious as Drizzy Drake Rogers might be, as irritating as his love "Serana, Rihanna and JLo in one year" life might be, this is a really nice song. Like those moments after when you're feeling yourself, appreciating your agility wanting to ask the person next to you “... Is this sex so good I shouldn't have to fuck for free?"

Ma-E & AKA – Lie 2 Me

Produced by: Brian Soko, Mr Kamera & Ma-E

Ma- E is basically your uncle who tries way too hard to look/sound ‘hip’ but still somehow pulls it without coming off corny. This ‘Township Counsellor’ gem hides the lingering insecurity of being rich/famous and always wondering if people like you for you or what you offer. Roping in SA’s erratic egoistic makes perfect sense as the pair smash this one out the park.

Ka – Just

Produced By Ka Album: Honor Killed the Samurai

Gangster turned firefighter, Ka writes like how one would imagine if they found themselves in a ‘I Am Legend’ type world. Even the pragmatic, bare-knuckle beats can’t dull the emotionally profound bars about backstabbers, dead loved ones, poverty and unfulfilled potential. Guilt more than anything invades this samurais’ nightmares.

Lil Yachty - One Night (Extended)

Produced by TheGoodPerry Album: Lil Boat

It's really the most pleasant mean way to tell a hoe she ain't no wifey, matter of fact to tell anyone she ain't no wifey. But the video is tight tho, very Odd Future 2011-esq and very much Lil Yachty's assertion that he's pretty much here to do whatever the fuck he wants with this hip hop thing, and even scarier is that you actually can't stop him. Hook hella catchy tho.

Cousin Stizz Feat. Larry June – Down Like That

Produced By Puff Daddy Album MONDA

Billed as a showcase of star potential, Stizzy breaks out of the seriousness that drives ‘MONDA’ for some old fashioned hijinks. But Larry June truly murks this sizzling beat with one of the verses of the year. Who else can deliberately rap off beat, admit and end the bar with cold ‘fuck rap’?

Belly Feat. 2 Chainz, The Weeknd & Yo Gotti - Might Not (Remix)

Produced By Merlin Watts, DaHeala & Ben Billions

Between the time the original and now Belly had delivered consistently cold bars embodied in solid projects twice. And hip hops heavy hitters and OGs aren't asleep to this, Belly's signed to Roc Nation. Everyone on here does their part but it's 2 Chainz who steals the show with his playful but vicious flow with audacious lines like, "IF YOU LOVE ME TAT MY NAME ON YOUR UTERUS!". Belly comes through cold tapping into the drug taking, model fucking persona The Weeknd had before he went full pop on us. And while Yo Gotti's verse is otherwise forgettable, mans didn't go down without a fight.

Young Thug - Digits/Swizz Beats

Produced By Wheezy Album: JEFFERY

Thug’s output makes it hard to pick a favourite but these two highlight why I love Slime’s style. He’s a unique, eccentric singular voice that constantly defies rap norms and conjures up memorable hooks with ease.

A$AP Mob Feat. A$AP Rocky, A$AP Ant, A$AP Ferg, A$AP Nast, A$AP Twelvyy & Juicy J - Yamborghini High

Produced By Hector Delgado Album: Cozy Tapes Vol. 1: Friends

First off, s/o and daps to A$AP Mob for executing skits on a tape the way we remember skits on a tape, niggas too fucking cozy. It's the type of contextualising taking us back to Pesos. A corner store in Harlem. Second, you gotta want to believe that Yams in heaven tripping the fuck out not only watching the most tumbler-esque video but fact that the whole tape is not only an ode to Yams but also the preservation of his legacy.

Denzel Curry – ULT

Produced By Finatik N Zac, Nick Leon & Ronny J Album Imperial

The most gifted pick on 2016’s XXL Freshmen List. ‘ULT’ is the perfect song if you’re unfamiliar with Curry’s work. It’s high tempo and ferocious coupled with unyielding intelligence. Denzel sounds unflinching in the face of racial profiling and police brutality as he basks in the idea of unity. The chorus carries its 2Pac influence proudly. Revolt music.

Chance The Rapper feat. Saba - Angels

Produced By The Social Experiment & Lido Album Coloring Book

Chance is that guy, he either irks you or like Obama he's on your playlist(s). So this song found its way onto mine. This is the soundtrack to my success, the background music to scenes of triumph, the sound of joy, a thugs prayer of gratitude ..that's this song. Pain is beautiful but it takes real skill to articulate happiness.

ASAP Mob - Telephone Calls Feat. Yung Gleesh, Playboi Carti, Tyler, The Creator & A$AP Rocky

Produced By Plu2o Nash Album Cozy Tapes Vol. 1: Friends

The best thing about this song outside the quotable, outside Tyler stepping his flow up, outside walk Gleesh walk and outside "POST MAN, who dis?" is A$AP Rocky's verified lyrics where he writes about Tyler "I wish I knew this nigga my whole life" ❤

Frank Ocean Feat. KOHH – Nikes

Produced By Malay Ho, Om'Mas Keith & Frank Ocean Album: Blonde

Frank’s writing displays vulnerable humanity that we all try and tap into on our best days. ‘Nikes’ is filled with hilarious shit talking, short eulogies to passed peers and kin, lines about doing lines and trying to stay young. Life in your 20’s captured in 5 minutes.

Isaiah Rashad - Free Lunch

Produced By Cam O'bi Album: The Sun's Tirade

Damn, I hate to say this but drugs and depression gave depth to this man’s music and made it interesting. After Clivia Demo, I had feared that under the shadow of TDE/Kendrick hype, that like other almost kinda famous sorta artists we were going to lose him, collateral damage so to speak. But instead Rashad in the most cliche of ways turned tragedy into triumph.

Skepta – Man(Gang)

Produced By Skepta Album: Konnichiwa

The appeal of grime is its ability to be entertaining and aggressively haughty simultaneously. Skepta comes for everyone’s head on this ‘Konnichiwa’ standout. Fake fans and friends, washed rappers &wannabe fashionstas; no one is spared. London boyz made noise in 2016.

Childish Gambino – Me & Your Mama

Produced By Ludwig Göransson Album: "Awaken, My Love!"

The signal to the stars. Sitting through this ever mortifying gospel-rock joint feels transient. A shift from dick inspired punchlines to channeling Parliament Funkdelic; Donald Glover is proof of the rewards of artistic progression.

Danny Brown - Dance In The Water

Produced By Paul White Album: Atrocity Exhibition

I'd like to think that this song would fit perfectly in a Tarantino film that's already been made, maybe that one about the car with Rosario Dawson and the lady who did stunts for Uma Therman. I'd like to think those things, a perfect middle between the old world and new. Danny Brown, at his peak, paints the most perfect picture of curated chaos..

Saba & Noname – Church/Liquor Store

Produced By Cam O'bi Album: Bucket List Project

Two of Chicago’s more gifted writers take us on a ride through their hometown. Saba is insightful, sorrowful and clear headed as he tackles addiction, gang violence, gentrification and the school to prison system. Noname acts as the perfect foil. It soars with gorgeous keys and beautiful choir worthy voices that only add to the misery

Earl Sweatshirt & Knxwledge – Balance

Produced By Knxwledge Album: 2016 Adult Swim Singles

A sensible union. Two talented non stars whose styles fit each other like big feet & AF’s 1.Earl’s attention to detail add a personal touch to universal gripes of being young, black & confused. His mumblings feel at home over Knxwledge’s lush, anxious phrases.

AKA ft Yanga – Dream Work

Produced by KJ Conteh

Sampling ‘Street Fighter’ should already make this a classic but AKA takes it a step further by rightfully staking a claim to SA rap’s crown. The hook is masterful; Yanga’s voice complements the thumping bass perfectly and AKA sounds focused, sharp and agitated. A continuation of a 5 year streak that doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. Long Live Supa Mega.

Terrance Martin – Valdez off Crenshaw

Produced by Terrace Martin Co-Produced by Robert “Sput” Searight

Modern music would be less great without Terrace Martin. One could go on an endless tangent listing countless accolades and contributions but rather we stick to this one moment on “Velvet Portraits”. It’s a mesmerizing piece of jazz leaning funk that contains an electric guitar solo that’s so beautifully over the top you can’t help sit in awe. An experience.

D.R.A.M Feat. Lil Yachty – Broccoli

Produced By J Gramm Beats Album: Big Baby D.R.A.M.

There's this phenomena taking place where new kids want to be their own, don't want to inherit problems, keen to dictate their own narrative. This song is a prime example of this. D.R.A.M is on here with his puppy hugging positive healthy outlook on life bars and Lil Yachty is here in his whole self. The millennials Big Pimpin', I’m calling it.

Kadhja Bonet – Honey Comb

Produced By Kadhja Bonet Album: The Visitor

‘Classical music’ can be an off putting label. But Bonet puts a modern spin on the genre and breathes new life into it. It sounds so good it possess the power to you cleanse all your proverbial sins. Gorgeous piece of music.

Solange Feat. Lil Wayne - Mad

Produced By Troy "R8DIO" Johnson, David Longstreth, Sir Dylan, Solange &Raphael Saadiq Album: A Seat at the Table

Very rarely are us folk, black folk, worldwide given the space to be angry. Our sorrow, our pain and small glimmers of happiness have their time, designated hours. So when you're mad, you're mad on your own, you're carrying it on your own .. and when you finally exhale it's a lot. Mad about inabilities and inadequacies of the self. It's always just too much to never have someone ask "why you mad son?". It's a relief to have a song like this affirm that anger. Affirming the experience of holding on anger only for it to be dismissed, invalidated to be "why you always be so mad"-ed. I praise Solo for speaking this truth.

Rae Sremmurd Feat. Gucci Mane – Black Beatles

Produced By Mike WiLL Made-It Album: SremmLife 2

Mannequin challenge aside, ‘Black Beatles’ was destined to be a hit. Swan Lee sounds like a fallen angel; cautious and courageous. Jimi admirably keeps up and Gucci is his outrageous melodic self. Mike Will brings out the trademark ear wormy tunes and you’ve got a stellar song that celebrates youthful exuberance like no other this year. Rae Sremmurd > The Beatles

Rich Chigga - Dat $tick

Easily the hardest bars and hardest beat of the year, or the 2nd Quarter. Upper Echelon bars. YOUR FAVORITE RAPPER WAS SHOOK WHEN HE HEARD IT.

DJ Esco Feat. Future & Rae Sremmurd - Party Pack

Produced By Southside & DJ Esco Album: Project E.T. Esco Terrestrial

If you questioned the longevity of Future's "glow up" or how Rae Sremmurd would navigate beyond being the cute small guys then this song stands as testament. On this song Future sounds energized, he sounds damn near competitive on a song that features another well executed Swae Lee hook and a very well placed Slim Jxmmi.

Boogie – Nigga Needs

Produced By Keyel Album: Thirst 48, Pt. 2

Boogie has a knack of simplifying nuanced thoughts and conflicting feelings. Coupled with a video of him as a bleeding centrepiece in an art gallery, The Thirst 48 rapper tries to come to terms the difficultly of self-improvement in a world that conspires against him.

Travis Scott Feat. NAV - Beibs in the Trap

Produced By NAV Album: Birds In The Trap Sing McKnight

Ay, millennials finally get our own cocaine raps, that tight. But say no to drugs. Drugs ruin lives. Drugs also cost way too much money to pick it up as a habit. Also, who actually does cocaine anymore. Isn't tripping on anxiety meds, though troubling cos clearly in the purest sense of self we have proved incapable of dealing with the realities of this world, the wave? I dunno, just don't do crack kids. That's not glamorous. Neither is crushed up Ritalin on your gums. Great song though 5/5 shout outs NAV for the harmonies and production s/o Justin Beiber.

Westside Gunn & Action Bronson – Dudley Boyz

Produced By The Alchemist Album: Flygod

Wrestling and food references? Boasting about hardness and superior garments over velvet soft chords? Why didn’t this collaboration happen sooner? Old heads need to pay more attention to Westside and stop complaining about mumble rap.

DJ Khaled Feat. Jay Z & Future – I Got Keys

Produced By Jake One, G Koop & Southside Album:Major Key

The God MC came down a couple of times this year to bless his subjects but this Future – assisted joint was a highlight. Not a world beater but admirable considering it is a 42 year old taking a jab at a relentless Southside banger.

2Chainz – Ounces Back

Produced By DJ Spinz Album Daniel Son; Necklace Don

This Christmas, I’m thankful that the most entertaining rapper on earth was inspired all throughout the year. A performance littered with ludicrous lines about forgotten apartments in Jupiter(???), expensive jewelry and his upper echelon sex game. The flow is never forced or out of pocket over dreamy bass and stuttering keys. How is he over 40 and more inventive than rappers half his age?

21 Savage – No Heart

Produced By CuBeatz, Southside & Metro Boomin Album: Savage Mode

The line between fantasy and realism grows blurry with each social media update. We continue to laud rappers who seem to draw from real life experiences more than the ‘posers’ and that what makes ‘No Heart’ so great.21 is way too specific & menacing not mean any of his threat- filled lines. Metro Boomin’ matches the dead eyed feel with his most minimalist work to date and the end product is as enthralling as it is terrifying.

Chance The Rapper Feat. 2 Chainz & Lil Wayne - No Problem

Produced By BrassTracks Album: Coloring Book

Chance The Rapper Feat. 2 Chainz & Lil Wayne - No Problem Produced by: Album: Coloring Book Coloring Book is one of those polarizing projects, you either felt it or you didn't .. I didn't. But he made songs like this that didn't make you feel like you were at Christian Rap Camp, some menacing statements were made on here echoed by your mum’s church choir. Wayne told us about freeing the choir, Chance threw threats about labels meeting the real south side and 2 Chainz? Man that man effortlessly floated just right on this pleasant song that even this weird iPhone class project video even is enjoyable. ZBo8QA/K2O8

Migos Feat. Lil Uzi Vert – Bad & Boujee

Produced By Metro Boomin Album: CULTURE

An ode to classy fly women that even Uzi Vert couldn’t ruin. Offset’s show-stealing hook sticks in your mind like a deferred exam. A shining example of the power of Migos as a hit-making collective.

Kanye West Feat. Kendrick Lamar -No More Parties in LA

Produced By Kanye West & Madlib Album The Life of Pablo

It's only fitting that the most flagrant and audacious bars would find themselves sitting on this masterpiece. It's almost felt like a battle rap, Kendrick urging Kanye to rap again and Ye coming the fuck thru, "that God for me!" Pablo declares triumphantly and the song is so good, it's such a Kanye signature sample old heads the energy in the recording studio is crazy with McDonald's and Hennessy. Crazy. Fucking magical is what it is.

G.O.O.D Music Feat. Kanye West, Big Sean, Quavo, Gucci Mane, 2 Chainz, Travis Scott, Desiigner & Yo Gotti - Champions

Produced By Kanye West, A-Trak, Lex Luger & Mike Dean Album: Cruel Winter

Briefly, for but at least a second it looked like Kanye, Pusha T, fucking Kid Cudi, La Flame, 2 Chainz and even Big Sean .. it looked like the gang were back together. This single came as a result of hysteria, a just released Gucci, Kanye West finally releasing an album, a Quavo in his prime on a fucking MIKE DEAN track. In this moment, with the whole world in a frenzy doing everything they could do to somehow get their hands on these super stars, we were reminded that this label, GOOD Music, is a home to champions.

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