#finally learning to drive at 23 and it's going so well

[frosty--giants]

Shout out to everyone who's also hitting milestones later than society says you should. Take your time, move at your pace. It'll be okay and I fucking LOVE YOU. SO MUCH.

[mizxeclipze]

Bad idea

dbf!joel x f!reader.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

main masterlist

summary: teasing joel while on a road trip to houston for a concert was a bad idea. especially with your father tagging along. 3.9k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (23/40), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, dirty talk??, shit load of pet names, banter??, gas stations, no use of y/n, cursing, readers father is oblivious ofc, not beta read we die like losers, uhh idk what else so if i missed anything lmk !!

a/n: omfg this took way longer to write than i'd hoped for but it's here !! it's not the best and it's truthfully my first fic i've completed, written, and posted so if it's horrible that's why. that and i've also never written smut before so this was definitely a learning experience, hopefully as time goes on i'll get better at it but for now it's fuck it we ball, live and learn, anyways enjoy this and also happy birthday to joel miller the loml <3

The tree leaves dance in the wind, a few cars crushing the ones that have fallen and blown into the street leaving only tiny pieces to scatter in the air. It's only the middle of August but the leaves have already started to change colors and fall. at least it's still warm out.

You've watched at least four cars pass since the time Joel was supposed to show up, your dad planned some overnight trip to a concert in Houston. You're all supposed to ride in Joel's truck – he'd offered to be the one to drive there and back – but he still isn't here.

Be nice if it was just you and Joel. It would be like a date, the two of you alone together, spending the day together and having the hotel room all to yourselves for the night.

But that could never happen.

You can hear him from where you're sitting on the porch. your dad. He's been on the phone for the past hour arguing with whoever, he'd gotten loud enough you'd sought reprieve outside, it's proven useless.

You're thankful when you spot the familiar black truck pull up along the sidewalk, you stand from the steps and make your way over to him as he steps out of the truck. “You're late,” you say.

Joel grabs up your bag, tossing it into the bed of the truck. You're not entirely sure how safe that is but you don't bring it up yet.

“Sorry baby, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic.” When he turns to you he leaves one hand on the bed and the other on his hip, you watch the way his hands flex, like he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

But your dad could walk out the door any second, so he doesn't.

You nod, giving a slight raise of your eyebrows. “Traffic,” is all you say.

“What?” He cocks his head, raising his own eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mutter when you hear the screen door open and your dad's voice travels through the air.

“We ready?” he tosses his own bag in the bed, eyeing you two curiously. You both nod in confirmation. “Alright then, let's go.” He rounds the truck, hopping in the passenger's side.

You look at Joel who gives you an apologetic look as he opens the door behind the driver.

This is going to be a long trip.

Joel was right about the traffic, you spend thirty minutes waiting for it to move along the highway. You'd understood the plan of it being an overnight trip but at this rate it might as well be a two day trip.

“God damn, the hell’s takin’ so long?” You hear your dad say, finally breaking the silence that filled the car. “might have to stay longer at this rate, if we even make it,” he mutters.

“‘S why we left so early,” Joel says, there's a hint of agitation laced in his voice, no doubt from the traffic.

You feel the need to make it worse, poke the bear if you will.

“You were late,” you mumble, but you can tell he heard you from the glare you receive through the mirror.

The concert doesn't start till seven, you'd left early – far too early if you're being honest – enough so there was time to get ready, you aren't too sure how that will plan out now from the traffic but Houston isn't very far now.

You honestly wish it was just you and Joel. The car ride so far has been pretty boring, if it was just the two of you the ride wouldn't be so dull. Instead you've listened to your dad talk about sports and work while Joel nodded along, occasionally replying with a sentence or two.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you that all of Joel's attention was elsewhere. But you'd also be lying if you weren't about to make his life impossible.

Because that's exactly what you do.

It's honestly not a good idea, it's risky, but you're beyond caring at this point.

You reach over for your bag, grabbing out a few snack foods you'd packed earlier. You opt out of the chips, they're probably not the most sultry thing you could eat, instead you reach for the cream puff you'd bought a few days ago and forgot about.

You'd packed it for that reason, but now it has a new purpose.

The sound of the wrapping catches the two men's attention, your dad turns in his seat to see what the noise was when he spots the pastry between your hands. “Be careful with that, don't go makin’ a mess in Joel's truck,” he says, scolds almost.

You roll your eyes slightly. “I won't,” your eyes meet Joel's in the mirror, you smile at him as you take a bite of the puff.

His eyes track you, occasionally flitting back to the road. You can tell he's trying to figure out your game, not that it's too complicated to figure out.

You pull the pastry from your mouth, your other hand coming down to cup under your chin slightly. Joel's eyes are like daggers on you as he watches you, you can see the moment he spots the cream on your lips – you spotted it too.

Your tongue darts out slowly to lick at your lips, cleaning the mess left behind running your thumb along your bottom lip for extra measure. Joel stiffens in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking to the side as he watches your little performance.

You smile innocently, but you both know what you're doing.

“Light’s green bud,” your dad's voice booms, breaking Joel from his trance as his eyes move from the mirror back to the road.

You’ve stopped for gas twice now, the first time was before you’d left because Joel forgot to fill his truck up the night before. You’d be worried about not making it on time but you’ve made pretty decent time.

You’re about half way when Joel pulls into a gas station, pulling up to a pump and shutting off the car. The sound of the passenger door opening catches Joel's attention. “We all goin’?” he asks, looking back at your dad who’s already out of the car.

“Yeah, figured we could stretch our legs and all that,” your dad says, emphasizing his statement by stretching out his body.

You’re wondering about the candy section when your dad finds you. “Hey, Joel's outside filling the truck, you almost done?”

You scan the aisle one more time, snatching up a lollipop as you nod. “Yep, now I am,” you say, following him to the counter.

You swear the line takes forever, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a gas station so busy before, you stand next to your dad as he checks out, your eyes wander out one of the windows, you spot Joel almost immediately. His broad shoulders squared as he stands next to the pump.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see your dad gesturing towards the door. You follow him out, unwrapping the lollipop as you both make your way back to the truck. “Shit,” your dad mutters, ruffling through the plastic bag. “I'll be right back, forgot something.”

You nod, leaning against the side of the truck, watching as your dad jogs back into the store leaving you and Joel to finish filling the tank.

Your eyes catch Joel's, he’s standing at the bed of the truck his arms crossed along his chest, you watch the way his shirt stretches along with it.

You can tell he’s caught onto your game, has for a while now if the way the muscle in his jaw jumps says anything.

“The hell you doin’?”

You smile, pulling the sucker from your mouth with a pop. “What do you mean?”

Joel shakes his head, grabbing the pump and putting it back freeing up his pathway as he steps closer to you. “Don’t give me that, you know what I'm talking about,” he says, crowding your space slighting.

You look up at him through your lashes, doing your best to keep your expression unreadable. “You’re going to have to be specific joel,”

His jaw ticks to the side, scanning the area quickly before gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upwards more as he leans in. “Your little stunt in the car with the cream puff, tryna get me hot and bothered, hm?” He whispers, his tone dropping an octave sending shivers down your back.

This is the closest he’s been in hours and he still isn’t close enough.

“Wanna get us caught, hm? Is that it?” His hand slides to the base of your throat, “let your daddy find out i’m fucking his daughter?”

You part your lips, his eyes drop at the movement, you want nothing more than for him to kiss you right now to run your hands through his hair while he all but devours you. He’s thinking the same, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around your neck as his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes.

“Joel,” you breathe, you’re not sure what you’re trying to ask but you never get a chance before the sound of your dad’s voice causes you both to spring apart.

“Are we ready?” your dad asks, tossing his things in the car and looking at you both.

“Yep,” Joel clears his throat, running a hand across his face before getting in the truck.

Your legs are practically screaming at you, sitting in the back of a pickup for hours and then climbing a set of stairs is leaving your calves burning in the worst way.

You’d finally made it to the motel you’d be staying at for the night with plenty of time to spare thankfully. When you walk into the room you’re immediately met with the ac, it’s a relief on your skin from the hot air outside.

The room’s what you’d expect a motel room to be, two double beds spaced apart with two dark night stands next to them. They’re neatly made, meaning it’ll be a battle to get into. You venture further in the room, passing by the bathroom and heading towards another door within the room.

When you open the door you’re met with another room, it’s slightly smaller with no other way out of it than the main door, there’s a single double bed in the center of the room that’s made up the same way as the other two.

Conjoined rooms. It makes sense, you toss your things on the bed closing the door. You rummage around in your bag looking for the dress you’d packed, you didn’t pack a whole lot given that you weren’t staying for very long but now as you’re searching for something to wear it feels like you did.

You end up dumping the bag, your pajamas and make up layed out on the bed as you flatten out the wrinkles of your dress, it wasn’t anything too extravagant just a simple dress that fell just above your knees.

You’re just about to put your hair up to do your makeup when the door opens, you turn to see Joell standing in the doorway, his broad frame practically taking up the entire space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d shown up this morning in, — save for the flannel he’d stripped himself of — a dark blue shirt that hugs his arms paired with dark washed jeans.

He stands leaning against the frame in silence as  his eyes rack up your body taking you in. “Y’look pretty,” he says, finally pushing off the frame taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

You watch his movements stood in the middle of the room, your heart rate picks up heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach from the way he’s looking at you. The atmosphere in the room is thick with need, you have half a mind to ask where your dad is.

“Oh, now you’re worried ‘bout your dad?” your eyes widen, you hadn’t thought you’d said that aloud. Joel crowds your space, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb under your chin as he tilts your head slightly.

“He left to get food, won’t be back for a little while,”

“It’s just us then?”

“Mhm,” 

You all but drag him down to your lips, your hands locked together around the back of his neck. Joel stumbles at your eagerness catching himself before he can fall, his hands falling to your waist bunching up your dress as he squeezes your sides.

You gasp softly when Joel pulls you closer, the prominent bulge of his cock digging into your hip, you grind your hips upwards seeking some sort of friction for the ache already forming between your legs.

Joel pulls away, you whine at the loss. “Should finish gettin’ ready sweetheart,” he mumbles, putting distance between you, his hands still firmly in place at your waist.

He’s teasing you now, getting you back for the car ride. But you’ve lost the patience to be teased right now, your core practically throbbing already and Joel is looking at you with a smug smirk well aware of the state you’re in.

“Joel,” you whine out, trying uselessly to pull him back towards you.

He raises his brows, keeping his distance. “Yes babygirl?” He says, rubbing circles along your sides.

“Please,” 

“Please what, darlin’?”

You groan in annoyance, if you weren’t so worked up you’d strangle him for making you beg, but you are. “Please, fuck me,”

Joel hums, looking up as if he’s contemplating, you’re certainly starting to reconsider strangling him. “Dunno know baby, might just make you wait til we get home,”

You could honestly start screaming, you’re running out of time and he’s just messing with you. You look up at him, his eyes already on you an almost amused look on his face.

You lay your hands on his shoulders as you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything just, please,”

“Yeah?” He steps closer, leading you backwards towards the bed, you nod slowly carefully walking til the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Joel lays you back, pushing whatever's on the bed to the floor as he follows you down, he nudges your legs apart so he can nestle himself between them. You wrap your hands around his neck again, pulling him down once more to your lips.

His mouth slots over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your body is on fire as his hands wander, sliding lower to where you need him most.

You moan into Joel's mouth, your hips grinding upwards as one of his hands slip under the hem of your dress finding your clit through the fabric of your underwear, damp from the slick leaking from your core.

He rubs gentle circles against your clit, kissing his way down your neck. You run your hands through his hair gripping the strands as you gasp and moan.

Joel pulls his hand away from your core, you whine at the loss, he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your legs. His fingers slip under your waistband, pulling your underwear down off your legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Joel,” you squirm under him, his eyes flick back up to yours, he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides back up your leg spreading them so he can nestle between them again.

“I know,” he rasps, two of his fingers running through your arousal, collecting the slick before sliding the two digits past your entrance slowly, your head falling back against the pillows as you moan softly.

He thrusts his fingers, a slow back and forth rhythm, curling them upward on every inward thrust. Your hips rock up encouraging him to move faster, every inward thrust paired with the rock your hips has Joel hitting the spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His thumb finds your clit rubbing circles on the bud, your hands seek purchase on his shoulders, rumpling his shirt as you ball your fists. “This what you wanted, baby?” He taunts, pulling his fingers almost completely out then thrusting them back in.

You nod, your voice lost to the moans and gasps. “Could've asked ‘stead of teasin’ me all day,” Joel drawls, his voice thick with lust, his hips slowly rutting into the mattress.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You finally breathe out.

You hear Joel grumble something under his breath, you don’t catch what before he’s back to thrusting his fingers at a fast pace, his hips grinding down matching the rhythm of his fingers.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, the warmth building at the bottom of your stomach. Joel can sense it too, his fingers working more determinedly, his thumb applying more pressure on your clit as he works to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum?” He drawls in your ear lowly, placing delicate kisses below your ear.

A soft moan elicits itself from your throat, nodding your head quickly, your toes curling up as your orgasm approaches. “Words darlin’,” he nips at your earlobe.

“y– ha – yes,”

“That's it babygirl, let go,” he coo’s gently, encouraging you, and you do. You grip Joel's arms, tossing your head back, your mouth agape, a chain of moans escaping. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

“There you go, good girl,” Joel praises softly, slowing his fingers as you come down from your high. He watches the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body relaxing into the bed. You haven’t fully come down from your high before beginning to fumble with the button of his jeans, Joel's hand lays over yours stopping your movements. “Woah, slow down darlin’,” he chuckles.

You groan in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillows once more. “Joel.” you grumble.

“Ask nicely,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You groan again looking up at him again. “Please,” 

He pulls your hand away, carefully pinning it above your head as he deftly works open the button of his pants, swiftly pushing them past his hips along with his underwear. You can tell he’s running out of patience — and time — to keep teasing you from the way he all but hurriedly frees his aching cock.

You watch as he strokes himself, a careful back and forth motion, his brows furrowed in pleasure. He nudges your legs further apart nestling his hips between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him pulling him closer to you. The head of his cock nudges against your clit eliciting a gasp.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, closing his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together slightly.

He lets out a breath, composing himself, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, sliding the tip along your folds and through arousal using it to slick himself up. Holding your breath everytime the tip catches your clit.

He does that a few more times, his cock only catching your entrance before pulling away. “Just, fuck me,” you huff irritatedly.

“Bein’ a real brat, y’know that?” Joel grumbles, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Should leave you like this, let you go to the concert soakin’,” he never gives you the chance to say anything before he’s pushing his hips forward, stretching you open.

You moan out your legs tightening around his hips, he sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping upwards, the head of his cock pushing further on every thrust.

Your hands find their way to Joel’s hair, pulling the strands as you toss your head back in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards. Joel groans, his head falling on your chest, his hot breath ghosting the skin there.

The room was filled with both of your breaths, soft moans mixing with heavy groans as Joel fucked into your heat. His hand slides down your side, his thumb finding your clit once more drawing tight circles, your moans growing in pitch. Joel slots his mouth over yours, muffling your moans slightly in a heated kiss, your teeth clashing together.

“Be. Quiet.” He manages to gasp out between kisses. You mumble out what sounds like an affirmative, he moves down your neck leaving open mouthed kisses along the skin there, his teeth lightly nipping there. But he knows better than to leave any marks.

His hips continue to ground into you, his cock pushing further and further, his tip grazing against the spot inside you that leaves you breathless. “Yeah? Right there?” He quirks an eyebrow, watching as you bite your lower lip in an effort to muffle your moans.

You nod your head, unable to form any words, your walls tighten around him, you can feel yourself getting closer. His pace quickens, his hips pounding into you faster working vigorously to get you there before him. “Go on baby, le — fuck — let go,” he stutters, his hips faltering slightly.

Your legs tighten around his hips as your orgasm gets closer, the feel of his cock pushing you over the edge. Your walls clamp down, your legs practically going numb as your eyes rolling as pleasure washed over you. Joel’s movements slow as you come around him. “That’s it babygirl, there you go. Cum around me, good girl,” he soothes, a desperate moan escaping.

When you finally come down from your high Joel’s movements pick up speed again, working desperately to push himself over the edge he’d been teetering on for a while now.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, trailing kisses up his neck and below his ear, lightly biting the lobe as his hips begin to stutter. “Fuck darilin’, so fuckin’ pretty it hurts,” he rambles, his head falling to your shoulder.

He groans, his hips stopping as he cums, his warm load coating the inside of your walls. His body slackens slightly, careful not to put his weight on you. For a while the only sound filling the room is that of both your breaths.

After a few more bouts of silence Joel finally speaks up. “Should get cleaned up and finish gettin’ ready,” he says, groaning as he slowly pulls out, carefully tucking himself away before extracting himself from the bed. “C’mon,” he pats your leg, moving towards the door.

You sit up on your elbows, watching him from the bed. “What about my underwear?” You ask, Joel turns to face you from the doorway.

“What about them?” He doesn’t say anything else, never gives you the chance to say anything either before he’s out the door a smug smirk plastered across his face.

You stare out the door at a loss, eventually falling back against the bed, you know you should get up and finish getting ready before your dad gets back, but if you’re being honest you don’t think you could get up right now.

Instead you lay there staring at the ceiling, a ridiculous grin spread across your face. Teasing Joel with your dad around may have been a bad idea, but you’d do it again if it got you here.

[rafaelsilvasource]

Husbands (we love typing that as much as you love reading it) T.K. (Ronen Rubinstein) and Carlos (Rafael L. Silva) are coming into the fifth and final season of 9-1-1: Lone Star (premiering Monday, September 23 on Fox) already dealing with the unsolved murder of the latter’s father. But there’s more drama to come.

Carlos’ obsession with that investigation is going to put their marriage to the test. T.K.’s half-brother, Jonah, is coming to Austin (which is sure to affect Rob Lowe‘s Owen as well). Below, co-showrunner Rashad Raisani previews that and more that’s ahead for the fan-favorite couple.

Carlos is investigating his father’s death. What can you preview about that investigation? That’s also going to involve Campbell (Parker Young), right?

The way we’ve been talking about Campbell and Carlos is that they’re like two brothers, the big brother and the little brother. Carlos comes along, and in Campbell’s mind, he got kind of a free pass because of who his dad, Gabriel Reyes, was, the legend, and to go to the front of the line and become a Texas Ranger. The first episode is about these two brothers both fighting for daddy’s love and daddy being Chief Bridges, their boss. But what’s gonna happen is they learn to respect each other and they’re gonna discover that they’re so much better when they work as a team and they really complement each other brilliantly, not just as investigators, but as characters and frankly to me, as actors. I think just they have a wonderful dynamic that only gets richer as the season goes forward.

Carlos’s father’s murder is a thing that Carlos is not giving that up. It is the central driving force in Carlos’ life. And there’s no way we’re going to end the series without giving that poor guy some answers. So there will be some answers at the end of the day on that.

The season description says that T.K. and Carlos’ marriage is put to the test because Carlos becomes obsessed with solving his father’s murder. What can you tease about how we see that play out and how tough things are gonna get in the middle of that for them? I do have faith that they’re gonna be okay by the end.

A big part for me about their marriage was I really wanted to treat it like a real marriage, and by that, I mean that even though these guys are so wonderful to each other and they’re so handsome, life isn’t perfect no matter who you are and everybody has real struggles that affect even great relationships. And the true strength of a relationship isn’t the absence of challenges and problems, it’s how you grapple with them and encounter them and if they make your relationship stronger or weaker.

And so for Carlos, this burden of his dad’s murder is going to sit there and take up a lot of oxygen in the room and T.K., who is an incredibly supportive husband, is gonna try and be patient and graceful and allow Carlos to have that space. But at a certain point, he’s got to advocate for them to have a future together, and that’s part of what you were talking about with Jonah. I like to think that little boy, in some ways, represents the future of their relationship and Gabriel’s murder represents the past of their relationship, and there’s gonna be a tension between those two things and that’s gonna be their central dynamic this year, is that one person is struggling to get answers in the past and the other person is struggling to move on and build a future, which I think is a very relatable human experience.

All of this makes me think about kids, and that has been a bit of an issue for them in the past. How does that come into play?

I think that’s another pressure point because Carlos was very upfront with T.K. about, “Hey, I’m not ready to have kids and I don’t know if I ever will be,” and then now that his dad’s been murdered, in his headspace, that’s the last thing that he’s got the bandwidth or the emotional energy to deal with. But like I said, T.K. is feeling like life is happening right now, like we don’t get moments back, and especially as a first responder, they see that you can’t take anything for granted. And circumstances are going to align that are going to [lead to] a situation where T.K. is like, I know that you were uncomfortable with taking this next step as a father, but I feel like it’s something powerful that I need to do, and to make that a crisis point for them as well.

I hope that the audience can see the argument from both of their points of view and just go, “S**t, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I would do either.” That’s what I hope because I feel like people have real problems that aren’t so simple as to say, well, he’s right, he’s wrong, whatever. We just wanted to put them through that.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: August 23/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Finally going on my 2 week holidays, so I'm glad I have some great fics I can read if I get bored!! Check out what's on my radar this week! Enjoy!!

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[positivexcellence]

Interview: Jared Padalecki on Walker Season 4, The Show’s Future & More

KSITETV’S CRAIG BYRNE: What can you tease about The Jackal, particularly in relation to his history with certain characters?

JARED PADALECKI: The Jackal is a serial killer who haunted then-Ranger James and Ranger Walker five years prior when they were partners, and before Ranger James became Captain James. The Jackal, and his choice of kills and the victims he left behind, really tortured and tormented James and he took it personally. We were never able to solve it, and the Jackal;s case went cold, and we have kind of assumed he had died or stopped or something. And then, as we found out during James’s wedding of all times, someone with a similar M.O. to the Jackal surfaced, and because of how dark it sent James five years prior, Trey and Walker decide to look into it low-key with Detective Luna from Corpus Christi, who Walker and James had worked with back in the day.

We find out in Season 4 that sure enough, the Jackal is back, And so, Walker finds himself stuck in a position. We’ve learned in the first three seasons that keeping secrets among Rangers is not a great idea, but Walker thinks he’s doing what’s best for James. He doesn’t want to him spiraling. James just went on his honeymoon, and he’s married, and he’s going well. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe this is a coincidence. But we soon seem to settle that it is the original Jackal, and the Jackal is back. Walker takes it on himself to save James from that same torment that he went through five years ago., but the question is how much can Walker take on on James’ behalf, without falling prey to the same feelings himself?

Twitter made me ask you this: Is there any chance that The Jacckal might be played by an actor that you’ve referred to as “Jackles” before?

[LAUGHS] No. All But that’s a great question!

The readers of KSiteTV loved Walker Independence, and it’s great that hopefully we’ll be seeing more of Justin Johnson Cortez as Detective Luna. Is there any chance we might see more people from the show in new roles in the present day, or maybe another Hoyt flashback?

JARED: Let’s say yes. We will be seeing some of our our Windy family. We loved the show as well.

And is there any chance we’ll see those classic characters again?

The answer, again, is yes.

Jensen [Ackles] and I used to have something funny during Supernatural. We did several seasons with 23 episodes, and we likened it to sports analogies. We’d be like “you know, if you’re going to shoot 23 three pointers during a game, you’re not going to make ’em all. If you’re gonna drive the lane 23 times, or go to bat 23 times, then you’re gonna put some air balls. You’re gonna strike out sometimes. But with 13 episodes, they’re all knockouts. They’re all home runs.

We didn’t waste any time this year [on Walker]. We have 13 episodes to make an amazing season of television. I’m on set right now shooting the finale, and I can say with confidence that this is our strongest season.

Are you feeling good about the possibility of a fifth season?

I am. I don’t know… I mean, even during Supernatural’s last season, something can always happen. There can be a strike. There can be COVID. There can be a merger. There can be something.

My career for the last 25 years has been based around not really knowing what’s going to happen. You know, “is Gilmore Girls gonna go? Am I going to get an option to do it again? Oh, now it’s CW instead of Warner Brothers. Oh, now we have a new showrunner. Oh, now we have another showrunner! Now we’re changing nights. Now there’s COVID. Now there’s a strike.” [Last year’s strike] was the second strike I had been through in my career. So, all I can speak to is the quality of work we’re putting out, and there’s nothing I could change.

I will say that I have no reason to think that we we will not carry on. I intend to do the show for another 10 years, so hopefully the powers that be feel the same way. I know our cast and crew all hope for the same. We’re willing and able. Our writers are incredible, with the stories they come up with and the speed with which they can come up with great storylines and great arcs for each and every character… and our crew that makes it… if I was a network, then I would want this show to go as long as everybody who’s making the show would go.

I couldn’t be more proud of the work that we’re putting out there. I think we kind of stand alone, as far as new scripted hour-longs out there. We’re a great combination of heart and action, and trying to mimic reality as best as possible, which I think is needed and necessary. I’ve certainly heard from fans on the street and via social media and whatnot, how much they appreciate it and enjoy it. I’m very optimistic.

How are things with Cordell and Geri as we get into Season 4?

They’ve had five months together since Larry and Kelly’s wedding, snd things have been going well. Things have kind of cooled off; the Jackal’s trail went cold, and so maybe it was not a big deal. They’ve kind of been enjoying the summer with August and Stella and Bonham and Abeline, and they’ve had some time together.

There’s been work for Cordell and for Geri, obviously, but they’re on the same page. They’re living together, and they’re enjoying each other’s company, and they found a place.

Obviously, they both went through some hardships in their prior relationships. Luckily, I think with a lot of great relationships, when they become romantic, they start as friendships. Because Geri and Cordell started as a platonic relationship for many years, they’ve seen each other as friends, and they kind of know who each other’s hearts are. I think they’re enjoying that time and chance to breathe together, and just be with each other.

Is it hard for Cordell that Stella and August are both growing up, with Stella already off to school and August approaching senior year?

It’s very, very hard, and I think you’re more prescient than maybe you even realize; we kind get into that in Episode 2, and as the season goes on, of what it’s like to be to be preparing to be an empty nester, especially without your spouse. So we certainly do see that, and again, going back to what I said earlier about Walker’s storylines imitating life as best as we can, we certainly do see Walker going through that very real [situation].

At work, he is this big Texas Ranger who gets to go in and save the day and all as well, and then at home, he wants to be a Dad, but the clock is ticking. One of his kids is already gone, and the second is a senior in high school, and presumably soon to be spreading his wings. So what does that look like and feel like for this big tough dude?

Will we get to see Walker’s reaction to the situation that Stella got into at the end of last season?

Oh, yeah. And that storyline doesn’t stop, because it’s not all over. Obviously, months have passed and there have been investigations and there is conclusion of sorts, but as with most things in life, it brings about a whole new set of problems that we will deal with through the entire season.

Why should people check out the season premiere on Wednesday night?

I think a lot of us, myself included, have been dying to see what the whole Walker clan is up to. Not with the Walker clan with with the last name Walker. And we get a great catch up with a friend we haven’t talked to in a while. We have action. We have comedy, we have drama… but also, it feels like a dear friend that I haven’t caught up with in way too long, and I get all the ins and outs of what’s been going on their lives over the last period of time

ksite

[wild-dagon]

Sometime I think about totk taking place after the Linked Universe adventure finishes.

Wild is 17 in LU. I don’t know if it’s official cannon but most works I’ve read have Wild join the chain around two weeks after his official quest ends.

So with that in mind Wild is with the chain at 17.

Totk takes place about 6 years after Botw. Making Wild and Flora around 23.

So let’s say Wild went on his adventure with the chain. Who knows how long it takes 1 year? Three years? Who knows but they all have to part ways when it’s over. Maybe the mailman can run in between timelines still but they can’t.

Wild’s back in his era helping Flora rebuild. It’s going well and he’s as happy as he can be with out his family.

But then TOTK happens. The story goes as it does and it ends with Flora returned to her Hylian form.

Flora who has traveled to the distance past once. Flora who had 10,000 years + as a dragon to have her powers grow. Flora with a sacred stone of time.

Maybe Flora has she watched over all the prior eras and saw some of the Chain and their adventures. Maybe she saw Lullaby and Time’s adventures with the Ocarina. Or maybe once she’s back she works really hard to master her time powers.

Either way she decides to surprise her knight with a trip. A trip through time.

Flora was always a little jealous that Wild got to meet and learn from other hero’s it’s her turn to meet other Zelda’s. She rationalizes the trip to Impa as an opportunity to learn how best to help her kingdom from the Zelda’s who came before. And if Wild gets to reunite with his family well that’s a bonus. (In reality this is the only reason they are going)

What have the others been up to during their time apart?

Have Sky and Sun gotten married?

Do Time and Malon have kids yet?

Has Twilight found the pieces of the mirror or has he moved on with his life?

What is a grown up Wind like? Has he established New Hyrule yet with Tetra?

Does Four still travel or has he settled down and running his own blacksmith shop? What of Shadow?

Has Hyrule found peace or is he still being hunted?

Has Legend finally moved on from Marin (maybe with a certain merchant?) is he still adventuring or has he been able to let go and relax?

What is Warriors life like with no war? How will Cia handle multiple Links and Zeldas traveling through time?

It’s so fun to think about. You can make it super slice of life where Flora is hang out with the other Zelda’s while the Links reunite. Or you can add a driving problem and plot.

You can make it so only Wild and Flora can move through time. But where’s the fun in that. Obviously not all the Zelda’s can travel but you can bet Sun and Tetra are all over this adventure.

I personally think Flora and Wild’s first stop is the period of Twilight to pick up their wolf.

What do you guys think.

[jayholdenworld]

The poll ended. And we have “Accidental Marriage (Las Vegas ‘23 version)” as the winner!

While I write it. Here you have the second part of the short writing ideas that didn’t make it into the top 10 ideas.

Second Poll’s Last 4 Ideas

1. Sad One Night Stand

His eyes finally move away from the screen when he heard screams from his best friend and former teammate at McLaren. Lando was walking back from the medical area with a look that could kill as he approached Zak, Andrea and the rest of the team with anger. His clear eyes indicated the rage in his being.

-You knew it! You knew that the car had a malfunction and yet they let him drive like nothing happened! Oscar could die because you cared more about a fucking trophy than people's lives!

That statement was enough to break the heart of the Spaniard man. Although the Australian was not a saint of his devotion, he had been one of the few people who had written to him wishing he would find a team that would appreciate his ability when Ferrari announced the switch with Hamilton. Because he knew what it was to give your blood, sweat and tears to a team while said team was not interested in you at all.

Oscar had been one of the few people who had sent him a detail when he was still recovering from his operation. And he had gone to his hotel room with unhealthy food, but allowed on his diet, to celebrate his victory in Australia.

Both had learned to have a different relationship to any other in the Paddock, because the youngest was able to leave the problems of the track on it. Like the one in Miami, where he had forced Carlos to do the same after their talk at Monaco’s podium. From there, they had learned to get along, or at least better than before, their words in Hungary last year reflected that.

But here he was now. Listening to Sargeant's drowning cries and Lando's claims. Everything was the same as with Jules. They were about to lose a driver again because of the decision of someone else who was playing their lives with their hands on the wheel.

That was his third signal for disaster.

How terrible that he realized so late what that meant. How awful it was to hear that the team who was supposed to protect the pilot had left him to his fate with a car they knew would fail, all for a worthless trophy.

But above all, how tragic for the new Mercedes driver to realize his feelings for the young McLaren pilot just after receiving the news of his death.

Life never really favored Carlos Sainz Jr.

2. Fluff Wedding

-You want to Marry Carlos?

-Yes. I know our relationship is still young. But I want to be with him for the rest of our lives.

Oscar kept his eyes moving from Reyes to Senior. He was nervous, terrified even, but he knew what he wanted and that was to marry Carlos, his Carlos. So, he was going to give everything for his parents’ approval.

Reyes smiled happily after hearing him confess his love for her son, but Senior was still looking at him. Like he wanted to find something to deny the request he was hearing.

But the Australian knew he won’t find anything outside love. Because that was all he has for Carlos. Pure love.

-What are your plans to marry our son?

Oscar smiled. That might be the easiest part of all the reunion, because he knew perfectly well what he wants.

He wants a forever with Carlos Sainz Jr.

3. Driver Carlos x Fem! Singer Oscar

Carlos kept his eyes on the girl in the Williams’ garage. He had listened to Charles and Lando fanboying over meeting her again. They were into her concert recently and they couldn’t stop talking about it.

He knew, he was there. Specially when someone insulted her music and she just acted like she didn’t hear a thing while they were in the meet and greet. Logan was ready to jump against anyone, but she looked like she didn’t care at all.

-They will hate me no matter what.

Carlos wishes he had said something different in that moment, but he was an idiot and had to open his mouth to make the pretty girl mad.

-They kind of have a point.

The Spaniard managed to get the girl to look at him. With hidden fury, of course, but at least her eyes were on him.

4. Multiple Past Lives

He will survive. He has done it until now. Oscar has been working hard to keep him alive. The Australian even promise his father that this time was going to be different. That he was going to save his life.

They are no longer Leonardo and Alessandro, with one of them having a car accident. They are no longer Nikolay and Konstantin, with one of them as a Russian soldier about to die. They are no longer Bastian and Étienne, with one of them as kids about to die at the hands of a Serial Killer. They are no longer meeting for a second and watching one of them die in the next one.

Oscar has met Carlos through all of his past lives, even if they don’t cross paths, Oscar always knows Carlos is there somewhere, even if he doesn’t see him, he can feel it.

Oscar and Carlos were not lovers, were not even friends. They only met each other once per lifetime, and then, Oscar had to wait a couple of seconds before Carlos died in a specific way while Oscar is there, not able to do anything.

Some people would call them soulmates but Oscar doesn’t think that term sticks right with them, he thinks that they’re just two guys who happen to bump into each other’s lives forever, but that doesn’t mean they’re soulmates.

Because what kind of God would make Oscar know and met his soulmate before they die in front of him with him unable to do anything?

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 26

Hancock x Nora - A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

//

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

//

[ 1 ] <- [ 21 ] [ 22 ] [ 23 ] [ 24 ] [ 25 ] - [ 27 ]

//

No matter how busy Nora kept herself, time seemed to be at a standstill. With Arlen’s help, the water purifier was finished, tested, and tweaked to perfection. The machine, though a bit noisy, worked like a dream. After their little project was deemed a success, they worked to log a finalized list of the materials and instructions into the Pip-Boy. It felt like hours of work. Nora was sure that half a day had passed – the clock mockingly informed her that she had only burned a couple of hours.

Yippee. 

With a muttered thanks to Arlen, she migrated to the garden to pull weeds and harvest produce. Keeping busy was the only way she was going to get through the day. Keeping her body moving kept some of the anxious jitters away, and occupying her mind became a necessity.

If she wasn’t deliberately steering her thoughts, they took a turn for the worst. They would immediately veer towards John, and her throat would feel tight, and she would imagine all of the potentially awful outcomes... So Nora kept herself occupied by reviewing ancient, outdated, study material. The Information that had been engraved into her brain for all eternity was now totally useless, but there was comfort in the familiarity so long as she could stay focused. 

Unfortunately, what would start as a steady flow of law overviews and associated court cases would take a dark, dark turn the very moment it was able. Tort law to criminal law to Good Samaritan law to — John. John getting hurt. John ending up dead. Or worse.

Talking helped keep things on track. So she took to talking to herself. Well, grumbling mostly. And as crazy as it made her look, she quite simply did not care. The ghouls at the Slog had witnessed her mutterings frequently enough. 

As soon as the weeds in the garden were eradicated, MacCready decided it was time to take her out for a bit of a breather. The man approached her slowly, hesitantly, eyebrows a little scrunched under his hat. Without so much as a word of warning, he took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet. And he didn’t let go as he announced that they were taking a walk. It was only when Nora started to resist — “Hold on, let me get my gun.” — when he pulled her along with a little more force and authority.

“Why don’t you have it on you? Know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll protect you, okay? Now let’s get the ffff-heck out of here for a bit. You’re driving me crazy with all your grumbling.”

With a little more complaining, Nora fell into step and followed his lead. The exercise immediately helped. Expending a little bit of the pent up energy soothed the harsher edges of her nerves. Committing her attention to surveying their surroundings quieted her thoughts. 

MacCready was a thorough scout as he walked. While he kept the conversation running he would stop to survey their surroundings, occasionally peering down his scope of his rifle. It was done with practiced ease. When a threat presented itself, he was all business. The chatter stopped, and he took aim. On more than one occasion, he suddenly crouched down and passed Nora the rifle. With his presence at her side, his voice a gentle whisper, he walked her through taking aim, controlling her breath, and eventually taking the shot.

For being such a punk, he was a surprisingly good teacher. He was patient, but also a bit mouthy when she messed up. Nora accepted the criticism with amused silence, and did her best to learn and do better.

“He’ll be fine, ya know,” MacCready said as he slowed to a stop. They had drifted out of the wooded landscape and out towards the remnants of a roadway. He took a seat on top of the hood of the skeletal remains of a car. With his rifle draped over his lap, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack with his lips, then shook out one for her.

“No thanks,” Nora murmured, taking a seat beside him. “I don’t smoke.”

“Heh, give it time. This place will drive you to do more than just start smoking.” They sat in silence, as he lit up his cigarette and enjoyed the first few puffs. When Nora shifted back along the hood and started sifting through the contents of his rucksack, he said nothing but allowed her to pull the straps from his arms. A mostly empty bottle of water was pulled free. She took a quick drink before passing it to him. 

“I meant what I said, Nor. Hancock knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine.” He took the bottle and finished the contents with a hearty gulp. 

Nora sighed, “I just wish he had someone with him.”

“He would usually take someone with him for this sort of thing, but for this Cecil guy? Sh—tuff is personal.”

“Personal might be a strong word for it.”

MacCready sighed smoke. Nora waved it away, frowning at the ground as he glanced her way. “Someone in your little settlement was selling information on you, ya know. That’s why I’m up in your neck of the woods.”

“Selling information…”

MacCready, glanced at her, adjusting his hat to keep the gradually setting sun out of his eyes, “Yep.”

She turned to face him, eyebrows knitting together. Someone sold information on her, selling it to – who? Who would care? Of course she already knew the answer. It was the reason why those two scumbags at the drive-in seemed to know about her. 

She’s fuckin’ crazy, the creep had said. They didn’t say she was crazy.

The anxious tension that gathered in her shoulders was nothing compared with the rage that made her eyes sting. She blinked hard once, twice, to push the feeling away.

“Oh.” She had assumed that at worst there had been rumors that someone had crawled out of an otherwise dead vault. “I… Why?” Why sell information? Why sell information about her?

“People buy and sell people out here all the time. There are folks out here who would pay good caps to get their hands on someone fresh from a vault,” MacCready replied. 

Nora’s jaw worked. People selling people. People selling information about people. For slavery; for sex. Industries, products, as old as time, withstanding the test of time. And nukes. Because why wouldn’t they.

He nudged his shoulder against hers, jostling her out of her darkening thoughts. “Hey, I took care of it. Nothing to worry about, okay? And lucky you, you got a soulmate who is taking care of the rest.”

Nora suddenly wanted more than just a cigarette. She wanted a drink. She wanted to scream. “I trusted those people,” she said, her voice weak.

“Gotta be careful who you trust, Nor,” he said, swaying back into her shoulder, then leaning away, only to come swaying right back to nudge into her. She cast him a side-long glance just as he leaned into her again. “You can trust me, though. I’m good people.”

“Uh huh.”

“And not all of them were bad.”

Nora tried to avoid the next collision from his shoulder, but he became rather deliberate with his assault. When she leaned to avoid him, he leaned further in pursuit. And when Nora finally gave in, and went to shove her shoulder into his, he veered away, dodging her with ease. Nora huffed and was just about to try again when she noticed that he had redirected some of those darkening thoughts, and building anger with playful antics. And he’d done it with total ease. What a brat, she thought fondly. 

“Was it Marcy?”

He guffawed, “Ya know, it’s funny you say that. Lady is meaner than a pissed off rattlesnake, but the second I started asking her about you she told me to fuck —frick, frick — off.”

“She did not.”

“Oh yes she did.”

“Huh. Guess I need to apologize,” Nora grumbled. She let silence hang between them before continuing. “Hey, you wouldn’t mind tagging around for a couple of weeks, would you?” she asked as she slipped from the hood of the car and to her feet. “I was going to head back to Sanctuary, make them a water purifier. I have to get the materials for another one, though, and—“

“Sure.”

She turned to face him, brows raised in surprise. “Really?”

“Well you're going to pay me, right?"

RJ asking for payment almost hurt. Whether it was because he was John’s guy, or because she had thought that they had become fast friends, she had assumed that he would have just agreed to help. Would she even be able to afford a mercenary? What kind of price did something like that run for?

"Nor, I'm kidding. Hancock is paying me." He slid from the car, gripping the butt of the rifle as he propped the length against his shoulder. She took his rucksack to split the burden, lacing her arms through the straps. "That didn't sound much better," he said distantly. "He's paying me because he understands that I have to make a living. We’re buds, but a man’s gotta eat.”

That was fair. Nora could accept that. She trusted John, she wanted to believe that he wouldn't send some easily-bought mercenary to watch over her, and MacCready seemed earnest.

“Maybe think twice before telling me I can’t play games on the Pip-Boy, though.”

Nora rolled her eyes as hard as she could for the sake of dramatics, pressing her palm into his chest and giving him a shove. “You’re such a brat.”

-

Nora couldn’t sleep. 

Anticipation built every hour that passed. It grew later, and later, and Nora found herself waiting for that dreadful, familiar, gut-wrenching pain to render her soul to shreds. Every second, every minute, every hour was bringing her closer and closer to the inevitable. The universe would chew her up, and spit her back out, and she’d be left broken and in pieces but forced to keep going. 

The unrest was so terrible that Nora found herself pacing the perimeter of the tarberry pool. It was approaching three in the morning when she felt John’s end of the bond tentatively brush against her senses. A beat later and she was groaning, as she crumbled to the ground. Pain erupted along her ribs, her arm, her whole chest. It was hard to breathe, hard to think – she struggled to block out the pain. 

Her vision swam, as she managed to warble, “J-John?”

"Hey, honey," came the exhausted whisper. "Just... wanted t'see if you were a...wake..."

"What happened?" She reached for him, trying to sift through her own wavering vision of the Slog’s pool, and the drifting vision of too bright lights and a far away ceiling. He was on his back, he was– in so much pain–

"Everything is... fine. Got my shit rocked though. Fucking asshole witha baseball bat… sonnovafuck.”

The more John spoke, the weaker his voice became, until he faded off with a final expletive. Nora called after him, but there was no response. It was at that moment, when she came to terms with that fact that all she could do was sit and wait… 

//

Tag/s: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl  / @yamatra / @bubblegum-bee-otch

//

Note: Two more, friends!

[strangedreamings]

S3E4 (spoilers abound)

Portia, Prudence, and Philippa listening at the open door while Debling calls on Pen. The three of them are anything but subtle.

Aww, he gave her a potted plant so she can have nature indoors with her. I hope somebody in this house has a green thumb. He is sweet but he'd better be honest with whoever he ends up marrying about his actual reason for finding a wife.

Has Pen truly given up on Colin? It's sad if that's true.

"I will surely eat all of the biscuits" You mean we FINALLY have an appearance by Colin's bottomless pit of a stomach? It only took what, TWO AND A HALF SEASONS?!

Violet knows when something is up but she also knows a dismissal when she hears one.

Benedict and Lady Tilley. Yeah, she's this season's Siena, though I will say I like her a lot more than I liked Siena (which isn't hard). She won't last but at least they'll be fun to watch while she's around.

Agatha and Marcus. Their dynamic is interesting -- "Do whatever, I'm too busy to get involved." I doubt he'll last beyond S3, but you never know.

"to become the new Marquess Samadani" OH MY FUCKING GOD, SHONDA, YOU DID NOT!!! The wife of a marquess (or a female marquess in her own right) is not called a marquess, but a MARCHIONESS! I know marquess isn't a common title in the British peerage but Shonda, you have access to Wikipedia, FUCKING USE IT!!!

"You read me too well." God, I love Charlotte and Brimsley.

Violet, El, Fran, and the kids are expecting Lord Samadani but Maybe-John has dropped in instead. We'd better learn his name soon, this is driving me nuts.

"John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin." FUCKING FINALLY!!!! I don't care that his accent is wrong, I love this guy already! Is your cousin Michael in town too, John? Or is he earning his title of the Merry Rake elsewhere?

John and Fran are simply enjoying the silence and the rest of the family is completely baffled, I love it. And here comes Samadani, lovely. John, your timing is awful.

Samadani seems like a nice enough guy, he's just wrong for Francesca.

Love the library, hate Portia's internalized misogyny. I really feel for Cressida now. Can Debling marry her once Colin finally gets his head out of his ass and marries Pen?

I take "revelry" to mean Colin's friends are going whoring and want him to come with, lovely.

Debling is finally being honest? Well, not directly, but still, I'll take it for now. Oh, he's being subtle but he is being direct, got it. Poor Pen, she's torn between the life she wants and a good life that's being offered to her.

Colin with his two ladies again but this time, he's not into it. If you've already paid, Colin, you could've just bid them goodnight and left, you didn't have to stay.

Francesca running into John on the street. These two are a little too quiet for their own good, but I'm sure they'll be fine, maybe with a little help from Violet.

The Cowpers' sitting room has to be the most depressing room on the planet. Lord Cowper's forbidding Cressida from being friends with Eloise? Is it because of Colin? Or Pen? Or maybe he thinks she's putting too much effort into the friendship and not enough into finding a husband. Cressida, I'm guessing you're the same age as Daphne, so I believe that makes you 23 now. You're a legal adult and have been for two years. It would be highly irregular but you could move out of your parents' house. I'm sure the Bridgertons would take you in if Eloise explained everything.

Uh oh, the Mondriches' pub needs saving (again). We'll have another last-minute save by a Bridgerton by the time S3 is over, I'm sure. Frankly, most of the ton can fuck themselves, and that includes Colin's "friends," especially Fife. Pig.

Colin wanting more out of sex is a great sign of both his maturity and him falling in love.

So Debling's serious about proposing to Pen. Poor Pen and poor Cressida.

BTW, I love how the subtitles keep calling the music this season "pensive," it feels like an unintended pun.

For a woman who can't come up with a decent metaphor to save her life, Violet is very wise when it comes to her kids. Oh, she is playing Colin like a fiddle! Go, Violet!

I really like her and Marcus together, he seems like a great guy, though apparently somewhat estranged from Agatha.

Cressida came to Eloise. El really brings out the best in her, something her parents really try to keep hidden. I swear to God, Shonda, if you don't give Cressida a happy ending, I will.

Be careful, Fran, especially with the Queen watching.

Colin has finally outgrown his "friends," halleluiah!

Well, at least Debling bowed out gracefully. And Cressida still has a chance, as slim as it is.

Oh, is this THE carriage scene? Not quite how the book one went but hey, if we get the same outcome, I'm all for it.

Aww, Colin looks like he's about to cry.

"Are you going to marry me or not?" Colin, I could kiss you but I'll leave that to Pen. WE GOT OUR BOOK PROPOSAL!!!

And we don't even get an answer before the episode ends.

Nice cliffhanger, Shonda.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

per @bluthmodelhome’s request (and for anyone else who would like to read this), rant below the cut because i have had it:

for a little backstory, i started watching the rags again in 2022 when they were making their playoff run. i didn’t watch a whole lot of games, so i couldn’t call myself a fan, but i started making more of a commitment to learn about hockey & the team itself.

i’d say i started watching routinely during the 2022-23 season. i didn’t have a favorite player in the beginning, as i was starting to get to know everyone & their roles. i believe it wasn’t until later in the season when i started having my eyes on 1 player in particular:

and that player was jimmy vesey.

and it wasn’t because i found him attractive or because of his sexy voice, but because i saw how noticeable he was on every shift he took, and how much effort he put into each one, whether it was the consistent forechecking, clearing the puck, and as always, missing his shots on the net :)

not to mention, he’s one of our best penalty killers & defensive forwards.

and so i decided to take him under my own wing, and he instantly became another favorite player of mine, next to lindy.

and as i continued watching him, i originated the nickname “baby man” from his young-looking face. although i hope he knows to never ever grow facial hair again because it looks terrible.

and many have said it before, how critically undervalued he is on this team, and i’m sure that’s why he chose to sign a 2 year extension in 2023. it’s because he proved himself enough wanting to stay in new york.

but now that he’s in the 2nd and final year, and for him to be injured during preseason and then sidelined for the first few weeks of the regular season due to still being on LTIR, you would think after missing that much time, he’d be able to get back into his role.

which he did.

that was until last week, when lavi decided to healthy scratch him, and my first initial thought was “why would you do that?”

because not to mention that the team is not doing very well right now, and instead of having the star players take accountability and them being scratched, we’re gonna place the burden of it on a fourth liner that plays <10 minutes a night and hasn’t made too many mistakes since he came back. got it.

i get one game. one game is fine. whatever, i’ll get over it.

until they lose.

and then he got scratched a second time.

and then i started wondering: “this can’t be a coincidence, right?”

and i know berard just came back from injury, but i didn’t think he’d be moving down to 4th line. i thought he’d go back to 2nd. guess i was wrong.

so yeah, i wasn’t too thrilled.

and guess what? they lose again.

so THEN i think “okay, obviously, something’s not working. i’m sure he’ll be back wednesday and everything will go back to somewhat normal.”

wrong, wrong, wrong.

jimmy’s scratched for the third time in 5 games.

and at this point, i’m completely agitated, and i’m fucking pissed off, because it’s not fair.

it’s not fair that he has to travel with the team & participate in morning skate only to end up sitting in the press box for the night.

yet he still has team dinners with them, gets dressed up in his suit, brings along his phone & water bottle for the ride, and doesn’t even step foot on the ice once.

and then he meets with the team after the game ends, giving them all fist bumps if they win and perhaps pats of reassurance if they lose. the one thing he keeps wishing, no matter how selfish it may sound, is how he would’ve loved to be apart of the game, whether win or lose.

finally, he & the team take either the bus ride back to the hotel after an away game or he drives himself back to his place after a home one, and i’m sure he feels the waves of sadness, defeat, self-sabotage as if it’s his fault.

but it’s not.

there are plenty of other players on the team playing a lot worse than him right now, so why are they not being benched?

it just doesn’t make sense to me how he has to take ownership for the team’s continuous inconsistencies.

he deserves so much better than what he’s getting right now. i know it’s december, and i know he’s gonna play again. he’s 2 games away from his 600th, and it should’ve been tonight.

but it’s not, and it makes me sad.

more importantly, it makes me sad for him.

and so god help me if they lose tonight.

because if lavi doesn’t connect the pieces together, where he’s essentially setting jimmy up as a scapegoat to overshadow the problems stemming from the top players, he might not be around much longer. not to say it’s his fault for how the team is playing, but that’s how it usually goes.

and i find it funny how no one has even bothered to ask lavi as to why jimmy’s been scratched. wouldn’t that be one of the first things you think of? guess not.

save me the aggravation, and let the fucking man play.

but don’t forget: if lavi can’t fully appreciate jimmy’s contributions, we here on rangers lb always can.

because at the end of the day, jimmy vesey is not the problem. he never, ever will be.

[airenyah]

Get to Know Me Tag :)

was tagged by @telomeke, @ranchthoughts, and @callipigio <3

do you make your bed?

not usually. both in my room at my parent's flat and now in my own flat as well i don't have a couch to hang out on and so i tend to spend a lot of time in my bed during the day bc it's more comfortable there. why make my bed in the morning if i mess it up soon enough anyway? i'll only make my bed when i'm trying to feel/look neat (like for example when people who i don't really know come over)

what's your favourite number?

23! elementary school me was veeery creative in choosing this number.... (my birthday is on a 23rd) anyway this number stuck with me and now it's just part of my personality hahaha

what is your job?

i'm a uni student and i don't have a "fixed" job where i'm employed and get money every month, but i have been working at a specific theater every summer since 2022. this year i'm actually the official assistant director. the rehearsals haven't properly started yet, but i've already one or the other task for it. can't wait for june when we're finally starting with the rehearsals!!!!!!!

if you could go back to school, would you?

depends... compulsory schooling that they make you go through from age 6 to age 15?? HELL NO. adult education? catch me taking 434353 courses on 434353 things

can you parallel park?

i don't have a driver's license

a job you had that would surprise people?

i haven't had many jobs in my life and none of them seem very surprising tbh? if you know me, at least i've worked as a graphic designer before, but i don't see how that would be surprising. also, i'm sure that i've mentioned this a few times in my tag ramblings

do you think aliens are real?

i don't think aliens are real but i also don't think aliens are not real. basically, i don't think aliens exist in the way they are depicted in movies, but if nasa came up to me and told me they found some sort of life somewhere else in the universe i'd be like "yeah i'll believe that". the universe is so vast, so it wouldn't surprise me if there really is something out there, but i don't really think about it tbh

can you drive a manual car?

as i said, i don't have a driver's license. but if i did, the answer would be yes. bc as a european you WILL be taught to drive a manual car at driving school. you could also choose to learn how to drive an automatic car, but that's really the exception to the rool. besides, idk what it's like in other countries, but in austria you're allowed to drive manual cars only if you got your license with a manual car. so getting your license with an automatic car limits your options quite a lot

what's your guilty pleasure?

i don't really feel guilty about my pleasures?? i don't always tell people that i'm really into thai bl, but that's less about feeling guilty and more of a "know your target audience" kind of thing.

tattoos?

nope. my brother has a couple of tattoos and he'd love it if i got one (i think he'd like to have a matching tattoo with me), but i can't do needles. but if i ever did get a tattoo, it would probably be something related to sicily. my brother actually has a tattoo of the trinacria

favorite color?

a really shiny dark blue and a really shiny darker red!

favorite type of music?

uhhhh.... good question?? i grew up listening to classical music and i still really like it, but i don't really listen to it anymore. these days i listen to pop music quite a lot? but that's also a very hit and miss for me, bc i tend to get overwhelmed easily with pop music. idk, just show me a song of any genre of music and i'll tell you if i like this particular song or if i dislike it my playlists tend to be full of song i have some kind of emotional connection too, though! so for example, songs that have been in series/movies that i watched or songs that my loved one's have/had in their playlists and that remind me of them, etc...

do you like puzzles?

i don't dislike puzzles, but it's not something that i would think to spend my time with

any phobias?

spiders!! i've had a phobia of spiders all my life. it's gotten a little better now, and how freaked out i am really depends on the size of the spider, where it is, if it's moving, and also how i'm feeling that day. the worst thing that could happen is a spider touching me in any way, so as long as i have enough distance between me and the spider and the spider is stationary, i'm good. i really dislike spiders right above my head, though i also have a phobia of needles. when i was 12 i had to get my blood drawn when i was sick once and i had a panic attack (or something along those lines). i've tried to avoid needles as best as i could ever since... and as a child i also had a fear of vomit. people vomiting still makes me uncomfortable, but at least i no longer run away and hide behind the door of my room hahaha

favorite childhood sport?

i've never been really athletic but i liked swimming!

do you talk to yourself?

in my own flat when i'm all by myself? yeah!

what movies do you adore?

der schuh des manitu is my problematic fave <3 apart from that, i also adore stardust and tangled and the emperor's new groove and i'm also up for marathoning high school musical, how to train your dragon, pirates of the carribean (1-3), and lord of the rings (extended edition of course) at any given point in time

coffee or tea?

tea!!!!! i LOVE tea!!!!! i had a cup of tea only an hour ago!!!! i'm not big on coffee, apart from a cappucino every once in a while which i also only drink when i'm in italy bc i just don't like it enough to spend 3-4€ on it in austria. coffee flavored things are mostly fine, but coffee as a beverage? not a big fan

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

i don't remember the first thing i wanted to be that wasn't a suggestion by my parents. possibly an actress????

tagging @newyearknwwme @moonkhao @visualtaehyun @celestial-sapphicss @cornflowershade @dimplesandfierceeyes @wack-overflow

as always, feel free to ignore!

[goncharov-propaganda-factory]

Mishapocalypse: what the-

Hey, former redditors! Welcome to the hellsite, we're all glad that you're here (especially you 196 folk you warm my dead, frozen heart). While on the whole you seem to be adapting AMAZINGLY fast to site culture, if any of you are confused over one of our founding myths this may help.

(or if you're a veteran tumblrina and just want to read an essay that's fine too)

(others key parts of our national identity to learn about if you're curious include Goncharov, I Love You, Color of the Sky, My Three Girlfriends, and many more)

also if you don't want to read my entire fucking essay take this and run

but if you want to know the deal with this man, read on!

Mishorigins

Supernatural is a 2000s-ass TV series that ran on the CW from 2005 to 2020. It's about two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who are "hunters" that protect people from various supernatural entities. The show was originally planned to last five seasons, with an angel character named Castiel (this is important) slated to be revealed as God in the finale. Castiel (nicknamed Cass by the CW and Cas by objectively correct people) was introduced in S4.

left: Castiel, the gay angel of our collective dreams. right: Misha Collins.

The Man Behind the Mish

Misha Collins is a straight man who was forced by a cruel and uncaring god to play a heavily queer coded angel on a TV series intended for any demographic BUT gay teens (which is what it became). His performance as Castiel, and the large queer teen fanbase he drew, were a driving force behind a show would ultimately continue for three times longer its original plan.

I don't have anywhere else to put these facts so they go here

he was an intern in the Clinton administration during the Lewinsky scandal

he knows Tibetan throat singing

he was arrested for climbing onto a bank roof (he was trying to... read a book? 👀👀👀)

he probably made Jensen Ackles (the guy who played Dean less homophobic? Maybe?

he held a scavenger hunt called GISHWHES several times for his charity, Random Acts

cool guy

he later played Harvey Dent on Gotham Knights this very year (2023)

there's icebergs of this shit

he farted on an airplane once

Mishion: Impossible

April 1st, 2013 is a date that will live in mishinfamy. Tumblr a main hub of the SuperWhoLock fandom (a mega-fandom amalgamating Supernatural, Sherlock BBC, and Doctor Who), was the only place the Mishapocalypse could happen.

For boring deets I'll redirect you to the KnowYourMeme page but these images should sum it up.

left: a list of Tumblr users, circa 2013. right: a fine example of Misha culture

There are two takeaways here:

You cannot outrun Misha.

You will become him.

On April 1, 2013, a significant portion of Tumblr changed their avatar to the now-iconic Mishapocalypse photo and their handle to "Misha Collins", followed by similar waves of Mish across other social media sites.

above: the modern Prometheus

This beautiful event was emblematic of pre-Dashcon Tumblr, an era as far away from us now as 1200 AD was from 1208 AD. You'll be pleased to know that the Mishapocalypse returns every April 1st to grace these ancient halls, a small group of pilgrims tracing new paths on the well-worn floor of the Church of Misha.

(this isn't to say the Supernatural fandom is dead, it's just somewhat diminished from it's glory days.

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you liked. I'll leave you with a bunch of Mishimages of my own that I posted for Mishapocalypse 23 (the 10th anniversary). Shameless self-promotion!!!

in clockwise order:

The Mona Misha

Mishius

Misha's extra hour in the ball pit

The Mishian (with Mish Damon)

Future ideas include Salvator Misha. Feel free to ask any questions you have, and I hope you enjoy Tumblr.

Happy Mishing!

ps I have not actually watched supernatural you just learn all of this via osmosis

[pizzafishandchips]

23. "We can fix this, I know we can"

Fandom - Infamous IF Content warnings - strong language Summary - Three times Luna could fix a problem, and the one time she couldn't Relationship - Seven & MC

Growing up, Luna learned she had to fix her own problems herself.

When the lightbulbs needed replacing and her parents were away, she’d pull out the giant ladder, so tall compared to her little child self, and brave the terrifying heights herself. When the power went out, and she had no one to call, she’d trudge out to the fusebox and struggle through. Sitting through endless Youtube videos, frantic online tutorial searches, they became her normal. When something needed to fixed, or some problem needed to be solved, Luna could count on herself to find a solution and put it all back together.

She was out on a drive with Seven, a casual trip for fun to an event several hours away from home. Everything was going well, until they heard a loud pop, and the car began to teeter unsteadily. They pulled over to take a look, and Seven loudly groaned as she steps around to the back.

“Shit, tire got blown out by something,” she cursed. “We still have so much left to go. What the hell are we gonna do?”

Luna patted her hand, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay. We can fix this.”

They switch to the temporary replacement tire, managing to carefully roll their way home. Crisis averted.

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

The two of them were huddled outside in the nippy winter air, shivering as they try to pull the front gate to the apartment complex open. But they were stopped cold when the gate wouldn’t budge, and when Luna rifled through her key ring, she was dismayed to find that she hadn’t brought the right one.

“What the hell is wrong with your landlord? Why is he locking people out?”

“We technically have a curfew…” she hesitatingly tried to explain. Rummaging through her bag and rest of her pockets, she was relieved to find she’d packed her lockpicks. With some fiddling—not easy when her hands were trembling from the cold—the gate was pushed open. “It’s fine though, I’ve got it.”

Seven was flabbergasted. “You carry those around but not your own keys?!”

“I swear I normally do! I just didn’t think we’d be out this late so I thought we wouldn’t need it…”

“You’re so weird, Luna.” Her voice, while exasperated, was warm as she laughed.

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

The band sat together in a circle, heads bent down as their faces scrunch with concentration. Luna squeezed the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache creeping into her temples. It had been a difficult month when it came to gigs; they weren’t strangers to lean times, but it never made it any easier when the bills needed to be paid.

“Okay, well at least we have some stuff lined up for the future so this won’t happen next time, but we’ll need to figure something out for this in the meantime. We have a bit saved up to cover part of this at least,” she sighed.

“Got anyone we can cold call for something immediate?” Jazzy asked.

“Not off the top of my head, but if anyone else knows anyone.”

They discussed it a bit longer, and they were able to come up with some ideas before Luna dismissed everyone. Seven was the one who lingered on after everyone else left, her eyes filled with worry.

“We still might not have enough to cover it all.”

“I know. I’ll figure something out.”

And she did. With what they had saved, plus some extra last minute gigs, they were able to make it through that month. Of course, Luna never let anyone see the final accounting details; it was Seven in the end who figured it out, confronting her one night.

“You… You used some of your own money to pay off the rest of it, didn’t you?” she accused.

Luna shrugged. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t something to worry about. She’d need to take some extra work for herself to build it back up, but it was for the band. For them, it was all worth it.

“I told you I’d figure it out.”

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

The apartment was a mess.

Or perhaps mess wasn’t the best word to use. It’s half barren, so much of its life packed in boxes that had long been removed from the premises before Luna could protest. She’d returned that night, shocked to find it in such a state, the first time any kind of emotion was able to break through the fog she’d be wading through for the past several days.

And then the rest of the fog was immediately dissipated when Seven suddenly wheeled around the corner, the final batch of her belongings tucked her arms. She froze when their eyes met, a million unspoken words hanging like a guillotine above their heads.

“Seven, you’re not actually…” Luna, not knowing what else to do, reached out to her. Seven, her eyes stormy, stepped away with a look of disgust.

“Get out of the way, Luna. I’m going.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going? Do you really think you can just walk out like this?” Her voice was steadily rising as panic was setting in. This wasn’t real, she pleaded with herself. What happened at the party wasn’t real. What happened after wasn’t real.

Seven glares at her, a look so foreign she physically recoiled. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. I don’t even know why you’re complaining; you’re the one who wanted me to walk anyway.”

Her words cut like a thousand knives. “That is not what I said—”

“No, that is what you said! That’s what all of you said! You didn’t even need to say it to my face. For once in your fucking life, Luna, stop lying.”

“I’m not lying! I never lied to you! If you could just give me a moment to explain—”

“You explained plenty well the last time,” Seven hissed. Memories of the party came rushing back in spite of Luna’s wishes; a bitter taste filled her mouth, a rancid bouquet of frustration and anger and pain. It fills her veins like adrenaline, her pulse spiking as she desperately tries to grasp for life, for any kind of purchase in a situation that was spiraling well out of her control.

“Don’t put words in my mouth like that!” Luna argued, her patience wearing thin. “Yeah, I said some shit, we both did. But you’re so goddamn stubborn and you just see what you want to see without actually listening to the facts!”

“Facts? What facts? Take your fucking facts and piss off. The facts say that you wanted me out. The facts are that you didn’t do shit about it, and you still think I’m in the wrong here? What the hell was I supposed to do, Luna? What could I have possibly done about all of this? You’re the one they wanted. Weren’t you the one they would have listened to? Shouldn’t you have been the one capable of changing anything about this?”

Whatever Luna had to say, it died in her throat. Her hands were beginning to shake; the hard reality of what was about to happen was thundering at the door, refusing to be ignored. She didn’t want this. She never wanted this. This wasn’t what she asked for.

Seven contemptuously shook her head. She saw her opening, making a move to maneuver around her frozen figure. A terrifying fear suddenly gripped Luna’s heart. For some reason, she felt as though if she let her leave like this, she might never see her again. That something irreplaceable would be lost forever.

“Wait, please,” she whimpered, taking hold of Seven’s arm in a death grip. In that moment, she would have been willing to get on her knees. Bend her head to the ground and begged if she needed to. “Please, Seven. We can fix this. I know we can.”

The look she threw back at her chilled her to her bone, and it would haunt her nightmares for months to come. “No, Luna. You can’t. Stop thinking you can fix everything. You can’t fix this.”

Wrenching her arm out of her grasp, she stormed off. Luna could only stand there, staring at the place where Seven’s retreating figure had just been. Seeing both nothing and everything at the same time, lost in the broken, scattered shards of a world she could never piece back together, no matter how hard she tried.

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 23

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Warning for strong themes of suicide in this chapter because of Beth, and well, everything else.

Herschel left the farm all by himself while we was out.

As the sun sets behind the porch railing, Lori explains to Rick and Glenn that Beth's in shock — the thing I was in this morning. She tries to mutter it under her beath, but I hear just fine that she tried to kill herself by slicing her wrists up. Different to how Momma did it, but I know just about every way there is, and that's one of 'em. If I were Beth, I would'a just jumped out the window. Prolly would'a worked, but maybe she didn't want it to. Lori and Patricia found her just in time to save her. She's laid up in bed now, apparently still staring at the wall.

Rick keeps glancing at me throughout the whole conversation. I don't know why he's doin' it, but I wish he'd cut it out.

Herschel told us today he'd learnt what grit was, but I guess he ain't learned enough to deal with his daughter wantin' to die, 'cause he hopped in his truck and took a trip to town to get away from it all. Maggie begs the two of 'em to go bring him back, and they agree.

"You got any guesses where he might'a gone?" Rick asks, putting his hat back on. Always savin' people. "Parks, stores, houses?"

"Hatlin's." She answers unhappily. "Bar on main street. He practically lived there in his drinking days. If he's gone anywhere, it's there."

I can't imagine Herschel in a bar. My Daddy and Uncle Merle used to rot away in bars when they was angry or sad, but that was them.

Rick must be thinking the same thing. "I didn't take Herschel for a drinker."

"He gave it up the day I was born." She half-smiles. "Didn't even allow liquor in the house... But not anymore, I guess."

"I've seen the place." Glenn assures her, holding her shoulder and turning to Rick. "I can drive us there."

"Okay." Before they turn to leave, he murmurs to Lori, "Does Daryl know 'bout Beth yet?"

She shakes her head and glances at me, too.

He warns her, "Well, you're gonna want to. Harley's been havin' a tough go of it and I ain't sure how this is... gonna affect her."

She gives a look of understanding. "I'll go talk to him now."

When he comes down the steps, he crouches in front of me. He's got his Dad-face on, the one that's all nice and reassuring.

"Hey, you did good today." He tells me. "How 'boutchu go find Carl and read some comic books together or something for a while?"

"Alright." I lilt, watching him gently clap me on my shoulder before following Glenn down the path toward the cars.

But as soon as they're gone, I don't go find Carl. I take myself around the side of the house and slouch between two old barrels in the grass, hiding from everyone. I've gotten real good at swallowing down the need to cry, so that's what I do. At some point, the darn ringing returns.

I wish some little animal would cross paths with me, so I could take my knife out and stab it dead. That'd make me feel better.

Merle would smack me if he saw me like this. Don't cry, Harley. Don't cry. Been a long, long day, but you don't gotta cry.

The sun soon disappears under the earth.

"Sh, sh, sh. Baby, it's okay." The night is quiet, but our little tent is filled with my pent-up sobs. "It's okay."

I wish I could go to sleep like everyone else, but I can't. The day's finally caught up with me. Rick and Glenn still haven't returned, but the farm's been a mess without 'em all the same. Dad's been watching me like a hawk since Lori spoke with him, and dinner was spent in silence, and I been trying not to cry for hours. He keeps crooning the same thing to me over and over. It's okay. I hear that stupid lie every time things aren't okay. It don't get any more okay-er no matter how hard I bawl or scream into his shoulder, or wish with all my heart and all my body, right down to my toes, that I weren't such a little wuss. I wish Sophia was alive. I wish Shane made it to Fort Benning.

Seems I'm always hurting. If anyone asked me what I did best, I'd say this. Sometimes feels like all I was made for.

I did good faking my way through the day, but as soon as I laid my head down to go to sleep and realized that I couldn't no more 'cause of my ear, I finally broke. Can't shoot, can't hear, can't sleep. Everything, even the way I curl up at night, been stripped from me.

"It's not okay," I moan, hating that when I close my eyes, I can still see the things I don't wanna. "S'all wrong. It hurts."

"I know it does, chicken. But I'm 'ere. I'm always here." He murmurs into my hair, holding me even tighter to his chest. "Just get it all out."

I wanna tell him I can't, it don't work that way. If you could cry yer sadness out, I would'a lost all mine by now. But he already knows. Just like me, he's made up of sadness. Most people say we're alike 'cause our matching scowls, our little moles. But more than anythin', it's that.

I don't think I've ever been this type of angry before. There's just nowhere to put it. There's no-one to blame. It's just inside me. And I think it'll be there forever, like my bones are. There's no use being sour at Rick or Dad for killin' Shane. You can't get mad at people when there's no right or wrong to it, when they was just doin' what needed to be done. Shane was crazy, we've always said it. He done so many things he shouldn't have. No, I ain't mad at them for that. Or at Glenn, or T, or Andrea for helping 'em. Not at the bullet that shot my ear off, not at the Greenes' God for takin' all my friends away. I'm just angry at being alive.

"He said it was gonna be d-different this time." He said a whole bunch'a things, but that one I remember. "Daddy, I want it t'be different."

"It will be, baby. It will. I'mma keep you safe with everythin' I got, okay?" At least that one's not a lie. "You know that."

"But I'on care about me." I pull back, my fingers twisted in his tank top. "It's everyone else that's dead. It's Shane and Sophia a-and Momma and Merle and Morales and prolly Meemaw and Kyle and my cousins. I'm sick of it! Ain't no point in movin' on if people gonna keep dyin'!"

"Don't talk like that, Harley Dixon." He gently scolds, brows twitching into a frown. "Don'tchu ever. There is a point."

Well, I don't get it no more. "I ca-an't even sleep properly, Dad."

"Well, let's just try again. You can lay on yer other side." He offers. "Dad'll read you another story, huh? Or you want me to sing again?"

"No." I croak miserably. I don't want a story. I don't even want a song. "Even if I go to sleep, t-that's ruined, too. I get nightmares. And when I wake up, it's the same thing all over again. Eatin' scraps and cryin' and takin' ringing meds just for somethin' else bad to happen."

"That's the way life is, Harley." He tells me, a little stricter this time. "I can't change it any more than you can. People die—"

"People mourn," I quote him with a roll of my wet eyes, "Life moves on. I heard."

"Stop it." He don't like that I mocked him, not one bit. Not when it comes to this. "It's true. We move on. We keep livin'."

"Well, maybe I don't wanna. Maybe I'm done."

Herschel says I got a thing called grit. Dad says I'm his brave girl. Carl thinks I'm some sorta badass, but really I'm just a nasty, broken little thing called Harley Dixon. I don't wanna keep living if living's full of death. Maybe it's better the other way. Beth thinks so. Momma sure did, too. I never got to ask her if it worked out like she wanted and got all her sadness taken away, but I like to think it did. I like to think there's no bad things where she is, only good and happy things. She ain't watched Shane die. She ain't stood at Sophia's grave. She ain't hurtin'.

"Little girl," Dad's voice is thin and shaky like a whisper, but also very, very, very angry. "I know you ain't just said that."

I stare right back at him through my tears without a word, 'cause I did say that. Not to hurt him, but because it's the truth.

He slowly starts shaking his head. "Nah, I ain't raised you this way. I ain't raised a girl that gives up."

My wobbly frown deepens. "So that's what Momma was, then? She was weak?"

"Yes. Weak an' stupid." He says unapologetically. "And I won't have you talkin' like her. Over my dead body, girl, I won't have it."

"And how's that?" I challenge him. "You gonna make Sophia come back? You gonna fix my ear? You gonna make Shane—?"

"Weren't me that did that, Harley. Weren't Rick, weren't nobody but himse—"

"—Come back? You gonna kiss it all better and sing a song?" I taunt, shouting in his face, "They're all dead!"

"I know they are." He argues, taking a moment to suck in a breath. "I'm sorry I ain't find Sophia. I'm sorry 'boutcher ear. I'm sorry you're hurtin' and I can't do nothin' about it, but this type'a talk ain't what's gonna help you, Harley. It's bein' strong. You gotta be stronger."

"But I ain't," I tell him, and the tears are back now, streaming down my face, 'cause I'm right. I ain't strong. "I'm just nothin'."

"You're my little girl, is whatchu are." He says sternly, voice cracking. "I love you more'un anythin'. How you think hearin' that makes me feel?"

Probably makes him see the little traces of Momma on my face. Makes him feel like he's failing the same woman twice.

But I'm just so tired, and I just don't care. "I'on care how it makes you feel, Daddy. I'on care 'bout nothin' anymore."

Being empty must be worse than being full of somethin' like anger, 'cause this is the thing that really gets to him. Under his pair of twisted brows, his sharp eyes start to well up, his mouth curls into a sneer. The crickets outside chirp happily either way, dutifully filling the silence that comes. For the first time, I think my Dad is wrong about something. There is no point in moving on. Bein' strong, that's a waste. Shane said we deserve for things to go differently, go better in some way that ain't so cruel, but it didn't. It won't.

"You're fuckin' scarin' me, Harley." He utters thinly. "You ain't never talked like this."

I know. I ain't never stayed down after a hit, but I been strong for so long, I think it's just ran out.

I don't answer him. Instead I confess quietly, "I think I wanna go sleep in somebody else's tent tonight, Dad."

I need out this stuffy tent. If I could sleep alone in a hole somewhere, I would. I'm done arguing. And he's done, too. He wordlessly slides me off his lap and helps me gather my bedding, trying his best not to tear up more than he already is, muttering to himself, swiping at his eyes. He leads me back to main camp, where all the lamps are shut off and the fire pits are smoking. The night air cools my hot, red cheeks. 

He taps his knuckles onto a crate just outside the Grimes' tent, and before he even steps back, there's shuffling inside.

The zipper peels back, revealing Lori's sleepy, moon-lit face. She takes us in with a confused look. "Daryl? What are you doing over here?"

"Listen, I'm sorry for wakin' ya." He murmurs, putting on a level voice. "Came to ask you if... Harley can bunk with you guys tonight."

"Uh, sure." She agrees kindly, encouraging me to step inside by my shoulder, taking my sleeping bag from Dad. "Everything alright?"

"No." He answers gruffly. No point in lying. He don't give up anything else, and she don't pry. He places a kiss to my hair. "Night, chicken."

"Night, Dad." I force myself to say back, 'cause I'm grateful he ain't just kept me stuck in our tent, and that he really listened.

As he gives me one last glance and then leaves, Lori zips the tent up and lays my bedding down next to hers and Rick's. Carl snoozes away in the corner, an open comic book splayed out over his chest. I bet Lori knows what's the matter with me. Rick saw that thousand-yard stare I had after they killed Shane, knows how I been hating myself. He no doubt told her everything. But she's too nice to say anything.

"Here, sweetie." She takes my lumpy pillow and sets it down. I wiggle into the sleeping bag. "Comfy?"

I give a nod, even though laying on my back feels real strange and I don't got Matilda anymore.

She smiles blearily and crawls back under the covers. "Wake me up if you need anything."

And that's that. I stare up at the sky through the Grimes' tent, counting the stars through the black mesh until I fall asleep.

Sometime during the night, I bolt awake, sweating, crying, confused. Shane, I couldn't save him. I watched him die. Again. A gunshot, blood, shouting, dying, searing pain and a dog tag dangling from a broken mirror. Darkness, and then two little hands on my shoulders, shaking me. A boyish, worried voice telling me, hey, it's just a nightmare. I cling to them. Carl. He's here. I don't think before I let him hug me. I sniffle into his neck as he pets the soft spot between my shoulder blades like his Momma and Daddy do when he's upset.

"It was him again," I shudder. "Shane. I miss him. I miss all of 'em."

Life moves on, Daddy said. But how's it that mine ain't? When's that moving part happen?

"Me, too." His arms tighten around me as much as a boy's can. "You're allowed."

After that, I remember the sound of blankets shuffling, a flashlight clicking on, a comic book being quietly read to me. I remember my eyes closing, heart slowing, and I remember thinking he's gonna be the best big brother one day. In a way, he already is.

The next morning, my eyes flutter open to the sight of a quiet, empty tent. By some miracle, I must've slept in a little. I hear the fire crackling away outside, the clinking of spoons on bowls, muffled conversation. After taking a minute to yawn and stretch, I crawl out the tent.

"Ah, there she is." As I round the camping chairs, Dale sends me a warm smile. I take the seat next to him. "Just in time for breakfast."

I glance up at the second storey of the farmhouse, imagining Beth behind one of those pretty windows. I wonder how she feels about waking up this morning. I know I'm exhausted, and all I've done is open my eyes. Another day of eating scraps, crying, and taking pills. Ironically enough, Lori interrupts my spacing out by holding out two little white capsules and a water bottle to me. She's speaking, but I'm not hearing her. I throw both pills back and wash 'em down so I don't gotta look at 'em any longer. I hate that my body can't work on its own anymore.

"Harley." Lori's voice comes quick and sharp this time, startling me. "Are you listening?"

I glare up at her. She's standing so close to me that I don't know how I couldn't hear what she said the first time. "Huh?"

She looks at me like I've done something strange. "I said, 'You can't take those on an empty stomach'. Are you hungry?"

"Oh. Yeah." Now everyone's lookin' at me like that. I reach under my hair and nervously tug on my ear as she turns and fills a bowl with the creamy soup cooking over the fire. I've never not been able to catch what someone's saying like that. She hands the food to me. "Thanks."

As conversation picks up again, I struggle to pin certain words being said, especially when they're from Andrea, who's sitting the furthest from me, and Lori, on my left. S'like half the world's gone silent, and the other half's just a high-pitch squeal. God, it's makin' me mad. I claw at my ear again, as if there's somethin' stuck in there, like a wad of earwax or a cork, but there ain't nothin' in there but the ringing.

A scary thought crosses my mind. If you can't hear for no good reason, that means you're deaf. I can't be deaf.

When Andrea looks directly at me and says something that I think's meant to be a joke, I snap back, "I can't fuckin' hear you, Andrea."

Her smile drops pretty fast, but I don't feel bad. I feel frightened. To my surprise, I don't get told by anyone to mind my language.

Lori just looks at me all pitiful-like and hesitates to guess, "Is it the ringing?" 

I'm tired of hearing about the ringing almost as much as I'm tired of hearing the ringing itself. "It ain't the damn— I just can't hear proper."

She glances side-long at Dale. "Herschel did say..."

He sighs, looking a little stressed, before scooting his chair closer to mine and clicking his fingers on my right ear. "What about that?"

It sounds like a far-away thud, thud, thud, where it should actually sound like a snap, snap, snap.

"S'dull." I mutter unconfidently. 

He moves to my left ear. This time, there isn't even any thud, thud, thud at all. It's just silence.

When I say nothing, he leans back. "I'm no doctor, but... It seems very obvious to me."

I'm not a doctor neither, and neither is Lori or T or Andrea or Carl, but it's all rather obvious to us, too. I can tell, 'cause they're all lookin' pretty uncomfortable, like this discovery has already ruined the rest of my life as I'm just sitting here. I'm losing hearing in my left ear. That's what it is. As soon as Dad mentioned my hearing to Herschel, and when it got worse at shooting practice, I was scared this would happen.

Ain't nobody shocked. I was never gonna walk away from a gunshot to the side of the head with all my hearing intact.

I guess whenever somebody talks, I'll just have to try reading their lips.

"I had a teacher who was deaf." Carl offers this up like it means anything. "She was really nice and smart. Everyone liked her."

I almost feel like scoffing at him, Wow, thanks so much, Carl. You've cured me.

"It's really nothing." Lori's quick to reassure me, covering for his shitty attempt. "Hundreds of people live like this and they still thrive."

"Hell, I think I'm going deaf sometimes, too." Dale jokes. "And I'd say I'm doing alright, wouldn't you?"

"Sure, Dale." I try to chuckle, staring down at my cold soup.

Nobody mentions the fact that having sharp senses is what keeps you alive nowadays. If a walker sneaks up on me, I won't hear it.

It's then that Dad walks into camp, looking nearly as tired as I feel. He mutters a good morning to everyone, and Lori reluctantly stands to go collect my bedding for him. I waste no time hopping out my seat and going over to hug him, locking my arms around his neck as he kneels to hold me close. I said a whole lotta things last night, and so did he, but I don't think either of us is angry at the other over it. We can read each other well enough to know. He kisses my cheek before pulling back and taking my things from Lori.

Clearing his throat like he does when he might cry, he asks me, "You sleep well, chicken?"

Instead of answering, I just hug his waist and Lori changes the subject. "Daryl, just a heads up. That thing Herschel spoke about..."

"Damn it." He sighs when what she's implying clicks. He reaches down to soothingly pet my hair. "And they still ain't back, are they?"

"No. But we both know Harley and Beth are... in some type of way. We need him."

"And y'all want me to go and fetch him, huh?" He guesses, taking a long moment to consider. Then, "Y'all be grateful you been good to me."

"Thank you, Daryl." She exclaims. "Thank you. We've always been able rely on you."

He scoffs. "Maybe not always."

"Well, enough." She smiles. "They said they were headed to a bar in town called Hatlin's. I think you'll wanna head there first."

"There even gonna be anythin' he can do?" He mumbles so I can barely make it out. "I mean, the guy ain't David Copperfield."

"Well, in the old world, I might've suggested trying out a hearing aid, but now... I'm not so sure."

He grunts. "Them things need batteries, don't they?"

"I think so, but not any standard ones we'd have. You're thinking of finding one, aren't you?"

"I'd turn the whole fuckin' country upside down to get her one, if it's what she needs." He says. "Maybe some old dead guy's wonderin' around with his. Maybe I find one in a doctor's office. Either way, ain't no bill attached to 'em these days and if there's one out there, I'll find it."

She admires the determination in his eyes, lips twitching into a smile. "Rick will help you. I know he will."

"Best I go find officer goody-two-shoes and company, then." He agrees. "Look after my girl for me."

She nods. "That goes without saying."

"I love you, baby." He tells me, which is how I know I done messed up. Takes a lot for him to randomly tell me he loves me, and I guess all that talk last night about giving up was enough. He even places another kiss to my cheek, pinching it after. "I'll see you later."

"I'm sorry, Dad." I mutter.

"I know." He understands I can't help what's happening to me, or how I feel. "I'm gonna get whatchu you need. It's gonna be alright."

I'm not quite sure what I need, but at least the adults seem to know. At least some part of me can be saved.

After he leaves to put my bedding back in our camp, I climb back into my seat and watch the blue truck bumble down the drive and eventually, through the trees. Dale encourages me to finish off my soup in that annoying way my Dad always does, but I only eat a spoonful or two before my stomach shrivels distastefully and he tells me I've tried enough for this morning, so I take to curling up and staring at the fire.

I know if Shane was alive to see what he did to me, he'd be that word Lori likes to say, appalled. He never wanted to hurt me.

A hearing aid. It's one of them things I've never had to think about until now. If I had to go back a couple months and tell seven-year-old Harley, with her long, straight hair and chubby cheeks and bright, green eyes, that I look like a boy, got half an ear, and need a hearing aid, I think she'd hit me upside the head for being a liar. But I know now that you gotta be ready for anythin', like dead people in barns and a last-minute gunshot, and now, I guess, the need for a hearing aid. I have to try squash that feeling of shame. It ain't good for me, but it's always there.

I almost make myself chuckle imagining Carl tryna make being half-deaf badass. He's so relentlessly supportive. They all are.

It's too bad, then, that I still feel this way. This numb and hollowed out, alive but-also-dead way.

The way Carol must feel, and maybe the way Dad felt after Momma died.

"Thank you." Maggie tells Lori and Jacqui in the kitchen, as I stand in front of the fireplace in the next room over. "This is nice of y'all."

I see what Glenn was talkin' about now, about Maggie's great grandfather lookin' like a bald Georgie Washington. He's sitting all proper and important-like inside a photo frame on the mantle, like all people from forever ago do. But there's also newer photos, ones with color, like Maggie and Beth as little girls, posing with horse riding trophies and smiling together at old Thanksgivings and Christmases. I feel happy just looking at them. Baby photos, kind-looking people, school photos. We never knew the Greenes before, but I feel like now I might.

"We just thought you could use some help." Lori replies. "It's been a difficult time for all of us, especially Harley and Beth."

"I appreciate it. Sharin' your supplies, that means a lot these days. You wouldn't mind helpin' me toss it all together will you?"

"Not at all." Jacqui pokes her head around the arch and calls out, "Harley, you wanna come help Maggie finish cooking?"

With a little flinch, I turn to face the three women, remembering why we came here in the first place. We had some tinned vegetables and whatever else left over from breakfast, and Lori thought we'd offer them to Maggie, who's in the middle of cooking a meal for Beth.

"I guess." I hum as I head into the kitchen. It ain't like I got anything better to do. "What're you makin'?"

"Potato soup." Maggie pulls a few bowls from the worn cabinets with a smile. "Well, veggie soup, now."

"Hopefully Beth will feel a little better after a warm breakfast." Lori muses. "It always helped me."

All their words are muffled, as if I'm underwater and they aren't, but I can still just about make out what they're saying.

When Maggie places the bowls on the counter and sees me peering over the ledge, she chuckles. "Let me grab you a stool, huh?"

She grabs a mini wooden step-ladder leaning against the pantry, pulls it open, and sets it down for me. I step onto the lowest rung. She fills a bowl with water from the faucet and slides it in front of me, instructing me to how to rinse off the fat, muddy potatoes and lay them on the dry rag afterwards. It's an easy, mindless task. I get to work while they start slicing up the vegetables and opening the tins. 

As Maggie scrapes carrot into the pot, she jokes, "I been makin' so much soup recently I think I forgot how to make anything else."

"Good thing we've taken a liking, then." Jacqui smiles. "I've never tasted a tater soup good as y'all Greenes'. You know your stuff."

Feels like I'm back at the quarry again, helping prepare our next meal from whatever scraps we had, listening to the women gossip.

"Pssh. I'm tellin' you, as kids, Beth and I loathed the day Wednesday came around and Momma'd make her famous potato soup." She scoffs, grinning at old memories. "She always put too much salt in, said it was good for us. But all it was good for was makin' us barf."

Lori makes a sassy face. "I'm taking it the recipe's been tweaked a little since then."

Maggie smirks. "Wouldn't be eatin' it if it hadn't."

"Must've been nice, growing up with food on the table that's straight from your garden."

"Yeah, it was. Fresh peaches and apples to take to school, home-made bread and the like. We've always lived this way."

"Pretty perfect, if you ask me." Jacqui agrees. "Me and my fiancé were always eatin' take away all the time. God, I miss it sometimes."

"A nice greasy burger sounds so good right now." Lori moans, like she can almost taste it. "Oh, and some curly fries on the side."

They all laugh. It's a little funny. I remember her back in the beginning, braggin' about how her family never ate fast food. Now look at her.

As the conversation drifts to more boring things, I find myself thinking about Beth again. We sure grew up different, but we got broken the same way, at the same time. We clearly been thinking about the same things. She was just brave enough to actually pick up a knife and do something about it. I wonder if she knows now her Momma and step-brother been dead a long time, that they weren't sick at all, and were just bodies needed mourning. The Greenes were a little late to that, but it's like Meemaw used to say, better late than never.

I wonder if Beth regrets what she did. She could be dead right now, in a mound of dirt right next to her Momma.

When I was littler, I used to think Dad could read my mind when I was thinkin' unsavoury things like this, and that he'd give me in trouble right away. I thought that's how it worked with adults and kids, but it ain't. I can think whatever I want and it's safe inside my head.

The potatoes get peeled and diced and thrown into the soup like everything else, and then my new job is to help wash dishes.

When we're down to the last few, Maggie says I should take the bowl of soup up to Beth, 'cause they've got this handled.

"Sure." I agree before hopping down, wondering why my heart's beating so fast all of a sudden.

The door to Beth's bedroom creaks open.

I don't bother waiting for her to give me permission to come in. I just creep in all on my own, because from what I've heard, she hasn't talked all day. Her room is exactly like I would'a guessed. Like something out a trendy teenager's magazine, with a nice white desk covered in perfume bottles and hair clips and crumpled paper and books, blonde pop star posters stuck to the walls, a fluffy, cutesy rug, a teddy bear thrown on the lounge chair sitting by the window. Even the Mp3 player Maggie was telling me about, laying forgotten on the floor.

I carefully set the hot bowl on her nightstand, but something keeps me curious, and I don't turn to leave just yet.

Beth's staring at the wall like they said. Not out the window or anything. Just at the wall. I can't imagine her humming sweetly and letting me borrow one of her shirts, giggling at something I said from the other side of the bathroom door. She looks like a totally different girl.

"I went into shock too, yesterday." I randomly muse. "Or at least that's what Rick said. He's the one with the cowboy hat."

I think I might still be in shock. I'm talking and walking around, but inside, I feel like whatever statue Beth's turned into.

"I ain't sure if anyone's told you about it, but you prolly heard the screamin'. The man my Daddy stabbed, Shane, he took me away. We got pretty far. Sometimes I think about what would'a happened if we got even further, but... he was meant to die. Some people just are."

At that, she breaks her gaze away from that spot on the wall and looks me right in the eye. "Do you think I'm one of those people?"

"I... I ain't smart enough to know." I say honestly, before an awkward pause takes over. "'Cause I was only in grade two, y'know."

Carl seemed to find that funny when I first told him, but Beth just looks uninterested.

"And you?" She hides her bandaged wrists under the covers when she catches me looking. "What're you meant for? Dyin', or somethin' else?"

"I think, um... All I'm meant for is suckin' up hurt." I confess. "Like, there's all this bad in the world, and when there's nobody left for it to go to, it goes to me. Maybe I'm just unlucky. Maybe I done somethin' wrong. That's how life is, my Daddy says. So if that's the 'something else', I think I'd rather just be the type meant for dyin'. That's what my Momma did. She was in pain, and then one day... She wasn't."

"She killed herself," Beth says as fact.

"Yeah." I mutter, feeling the weight of the locket crush down on my chest as I take a seat on the edge of the bed. "She did."

"Was she the sort meant for dyin'?"

"No. She weren't." That much, I'm sure of. "She was just meant to be my Momma."

Beth's pretty eyes gloss over as she says very dully, "Our Mom's dead, too. Right before I thought I was about to die, I imagined what she'd think of me when we'd meet in heaven. She'd be ashamed, I know. Somehow, that was so much worse than the thought of going to Hell."

"Well, maybe your God made sure you didn't die." I guess, hoping it's comforting. "Maybe he wants you to live for everybody else."

A tear beads up on her waterline before sliding down her pale cheek. "I just don't know what to do. I think I'm ashamed, too."

"My Dad says you just gotta be stronger, but I don't know how." I wish I did. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I did."

"It's okay." With a sniff, she sends me a tiny smile. "You know, you're kind. I can just tell."

That makes me smile back. Something about my rugged hair, my mean face, my missing ear must still be soft like it was before.

Author's Note.

Sorry for the longer than usual wait between chapters! I've been dealing with intense writer's block recently so it just took me a while to get this out, but I'm pushing through!

I hope you're ready for a familiar face to return next chapter! ;)

PS. I wanted to thank you all for the touching dms and messages I've received recently, both on here and on ao3. It's still so mind blowing to me that there are so many people out there who hold a special place in their heart for this story just like I do. I'm so grateful for you all :) 💙

[thepromptswhisperer]

Bad Date Prompts

1. “I’m not even looking for great anymore. I just want someone decent.”

2. A and B go home (together)/say goodbye to one another after a bad date.

3. A and B go on a date together despite having had an awful argument just hours earlier/etc. (e.g. The tickets to a concert would have gone to waste otherwise.)

4. A is on a date when they run into their ex/crush B (who is on a date as well).

5. “I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there again. Even if—"

6. A meets up with/calls friend B after having been a bad date.

7. A and B’s date takes a turn (for the worse) when A hurts themselves/has an allergic reaction to something/etc.

8. A and B’s date went badly. Luckily, it has come to an end and they can part ways. Right? (e.g. On their way down from the restaurant, the elevator gets stuck.)

9. A and B have been busy lately, their relationship suffering because of it. A date is supposed to bring them back together, but things don’t go according to plan.

10. “This is going badly, isn’t it?”

11. A notices that something is weighing on B’s mind during their date. The latter, however, does not want to talk about it (as to not ruin the date).

12. “I want to apologize for the way my date’s behavior earlier.”

13. A and B alternate making plans for their dates. A always puts a lot of effort and thought into it, and is disappointed when they notice that B isn’t doing the same.

14. “Oh, I wouldn’t know. Never been on a bad date (before).”

15. A sets friend B up for a blind date. When it goes badly, the latter blames it on A.

16. A asks their friend B to fake an emergency so they can leave the date earlier. (The emergency turns out to be very real.)

17. “Dating is freaking exhausting.”

18. A and B are on a date when they get confronted with a topic that has led to arguments between them before/etc. (e.g. a marriage proposal at the neighboring table)

19. “How come every date I go on is plain awful?” “You just haven’t found the right person yet. (Or maybe you have, and they are currently sitting right across from you, waiting for you to finally realize it.)”

20. A date drives A and B (even further) apart/etc.

21. Friends A and B are on a double date. It is not going well. (e.g. their dates are exes)

22. A and B are on a date when they run into B’s family/ex/etc. (A is not ready to meet them (just yet).)

23. “Sorry, that was… Do you think we could have a do-over?”

24. A and B swap stories about their worst dates.

25. A and B have been getting closer. Yet, when they are on a/another date, A notices that B is pulling away from them.

26. A had a few bad dates lately. So, before going on another one, they question if it is/will be worth it (to get excited and ready. To put themselves out there).

27. When A’s date doesn’t show up, friend B, who is in the neighborhood, decides to join them instead/etc. 

28. A thinks the date is going well – until their date states that it isn’t/etc.

29. “You need to stop comparing everyone to B.”

30. A’s date is going badly, and they try to build up the courage to cut it short.

31. A and B enjoy their date – until another couple/etc. nearby starts a loud argument.

32. A and B see/run into each other again after having been on a bad date together.

33. A notices that stranger B is uncomfortable on what they’ve learned is a first date. (So, they strike up a conversation with them to make them feel better/get them out of their current situation/etc.)

34. A sets friend B up for a blind date with someone the latter has a complicated relationship with/etc.

35. “Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”

36. A and B’s date is going badly until something happens/A makes a comment that lightens the mood instantly.

[thistransient]

Something possessed me to go to the Keelung Ghost Festival parade last night- perhaps literally, as I woke up that morning at an ungodly hour (for me at least) unable to fall back to sleep, and decided to simply get up and go about my day. Somehow by the time afternoon rolled around I had still not taken a nap, and decided to start looking at the best way to get to Keelung (today I learned 基隆 was actually 雞籠 until the govt changed it around 1875, which explains why the signage all said 雞籠中元祭). I hate the Taipei Main Station crowds with a passion so I took the bus from Yuanshan instead. Only the back row was still completely empty. The guy who sat down on the other end from me buckled his seatbelt and on a whim I followed suit; he turned out to know what was up because the bus driver was also driving like he was possessed, and executed some maneuvers that led other passengers to clearly wish they had secured themselves as well.

The bus went directly to the square near Keelung Station, it was already quite crowded with people having claimed their seats on the curb, but there was still over an hour before the parade was set to begin and I couldn't see whatever was going on with some sort of dance performance amidst the crowd so I walked around the harbour and got dinner to pass the time. When I came back to the main road at the designated time it was even more noisy and crowded but nothing seemed to be happening beyond some fireworks and much blowing of those raucous dissonant horns (嗩吶, ikyky). I do not particularly enjoy a disembodied ruckus, so I decided to just walk to 主普壇 (third photo) to see the lights before I got overstimulated. Thus I discovered I could simply amble along the road and peruse the trucks and floats as they were waiting. Eventually I came to the turn off to go up the hill to the park, which was fairly serene (there were some tents with statues set up, but the main event there is tonight) and allowed for some recharging. They've even built a new (at least not there when I visited in 2020) observation bridge sort of thing which gives a nice view, although I walked back down again instead of taking the elevator.

I had planned to just go home then, but the parade had gotten underway by now and I was transfixed by all the illuminated vehicles, lights, lanterns, and blaring music, to which one old lady was dancing maniacally in the street. The photo doesn't do it justice but there was even someone in an oversized gorilla suit on a truck with a stripper pole:

(I wish I had gotten a clear photo of the person in a frog suit beating an absolutely ginormous drum being wheeled along in a procession.)

The amount of old guys managing to pull around these carts without losing the prodigious amount of ash accumulating on the cigarettes hanging out all their mouths was also impressive:

It was all certainly a sight worth seeing, although eventually I was feeling a bit sore of foot and deaf of ear, and decided to return to the station and take the train home before everyone had the same idea. (The final event of the night was the burning of water lanterns at Badouzi Harbour around 23:00, but I wasn't going to be able to take public transport home and didn't feel like staying in Keelung overnight either.) By now the party had reached the square where I was initially milling about and the crowds were enthusiastic. I contemplated staying a bit longer to watch but thought better of it, which was good because it was standing room only the whole way back on the train and metro and I was exhausted by the time I finally got home (mainly from being out n about for so long on so little sleep).

All in all, a worthwhile adventure. Next time I might consider staying the weekend in Keelung to see the late night stuff, but for now an evening was certainly enough.