#if anyone's new here and hasn't seen me joke about this before: he says it like 2 other times btw. fucking hilarious. I love AG.

[torchickentacos]

Reporting back to tumblr that "May and her brood of boytoys" is indeed an eng-dub only line and this is the sub line. Who on the eng team greenlit the change to 'boytoys'😭How did we get from point A to point B here? I will never get over this.

Eng dub, for context:

[sageofthestarz]

Dew walks in on Phantom trying to have some alone time and decides to help the quint out

Aka that first time Phantom fic I promised ages ago and forgot about

Dew can only smirk when he walks into their shared room at the hotel.

Dew had said he'd be out at some bar late with the others. Phantom having stayed behind claiming to be tired, Dew certainly didn't expect to see the younger ghoul borderline desperately humping his own pillow

Phantom was still rather new. To his knowledge he hasn't been wisked off to bed by anyone yet, so seeing him like this was a treat even if he was a little ashamed being there without permission

He cleared his throat and walked into the room further watching as Phantom froze, thighs shaking from where they were clenched around the much too soft and very wet looking pillow

"Well what do we have here?" Dew chirped out amused at the way he watched the quint try to pull a blanket over himself

"D-Dew I-" he goes to scramble to cover himself

"Calm done bug. I'll grab my wallet and leave you be, do warn a guy if you're wanting some alone time though" Dew hummed out trying not to laugh at the quints horrified face, the slow rocking of his hips didn't stop though much to Dews interest

"Ya'know. I'd think you wanted to be caught like this. Such a display and everything" he mused, really just being an asshole for the sake of it but the deep flush on the youngers face makes something in him stir

"Most of us just shoot in the showers kid, just so ya'know" Phantom whined covering his face in his hands

"I know! Okay I know.. I- I just. Can't. Can't get off unless it's like this.. even then I still just cant" he grumbled out. Embarrassment mixed with frustration. Unable to meet Dews eyes as his own had small tears coming to them

Dew was, more then a little surprised by the confession, taken aback but he felt for the younger

"I- Bug I'm not trying to make fun of you okay, just saying let me know so I can stay out of your hair.." he said glancing to the door, the instinct to flee pulling at him, but looking back at the newer ghoul, he really just wanted to help

He's seen how stressed out the quints been, sure this wasn't helping. New vessel to learn, the stress of tour, and the way the stress effected the vessel. He knew it all to well. With a small sigh and a loud drop of his keys he's made up his mind

"Hey, hey relax okay?" He said in a much softer tone before making his way over to the other

"Can I touch you?" He asked, pausing next to him.

Phantom started at him for a moment, glancing between Dews face and the outstretched hand like he was trying to decern if this was another of his cruel jokes. He was hesitant but desperate so he gave a quick nod, his core throbbing at the thought of another's hand on him

Dew smiled cupping his cheek and combing the hair from his face "You're okay" he cooed quietly feeling how tense he was

Phantom lent into the touch, a small gasp leaving his lips leaning into it like a cat nuzzling his face into the hand his whole body leaning into it.

He doesn't remember the last time he was touched for anything other then the shows.

He pet over his cheeks sitting down next to him, coaxing him with gentle overly warm hands. Rubbing down his shoulders soothing away any aches. Trailing them down giving a small brush over his nipples watching as the other sucked in a breath rolling his hips forward, until finally to his waist guiding him to his lap.

Phantom was still in boxers, settling down onto Dews thigh leaning against him.

"Do not be afraid to tell me if anythings too much okay?" Wanting to make sure the quint heard he tilted phantoms head up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He set a slow pace, warm hands spreading over his thighs, around to cup his ass as he deepened the kiss, drinking up the moans that fell from the others lips

Soon his hands were gliding up, hands slipping under his shirt to move over chest feeling him up before thumbing over a nipple exparsmentally, before giving it a light little pinch as Phantom whined into his mouth. His hips twitching trying to find friction against Dews thigh

"Yeah? That feel good baby?" He asked leaning in to press a soft kiss down his jaw, then to his neck. Phantoms eyes fluttering shut as he slowly rocked against his thigh with quick nods

"Gonna take your shirt off okay baby?" another nod as he pulled it over the smallers head giving his little tits a look removing his own

Dew brought warm hands massaging over the quints shoulders, and down to lightly pinch his nipples giving them each a light tug "Look at you, so pretty~" he cooed softly watching the way Phantom shuttrred and ground down harder

"Yeah? You like it when I tell you how pretty you are?" The moan that fell from his lips was tell enough, a little info to file away for later use

Dew hummed happily kissing down his neck leaving a few light marks along his way, relishing in the small shakes and cry's the quint let out.

Licking slowly over his chest, watching his face as he took one of Phantoms nipples into his mouth, letting his hot tongue play with the harddened bud pulling a gasp him his lips squeezing his eyes shut tight

"Dew.. Dew please touch me?" He whined, unsure of where to place his hands eventually deciding onto his sides as Dew pulled back with a pleased hum

"You want to try something I think you'll like bug?" He asked much to Phantom frantic nodding. He wanted so badly to cum, he hadn't been able to since they left the abbey weeks ago

"Get up for a second okay?" There was a slight panic on his face but did as he was told. Watching as Dew laid back against the bed head propped up on the same pillow he was using earlier

"Take those off and come kneel over my head" he instructed, biting his lip as he watched the younger ghouls shaking hands slip off his boxers nervously before coming over and getting settled above Dew

"Brace your hands on the headboard there. Let me do the rest okay?" Another nod as he held on, jumping when Dews hands massaged up and down his thighs to his hips rubbing the ache he knew was there before guiding him down leaving a few kisses to his thighs, before licking slowly though his folds. Tasinting him, with a groan before he took the ghouls clit into his mouth

Phantom immediately tensed, this was very new to him. He didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't the fire ghouls hot tongue dragging so slowly over his clit, small shots of pleasure zipping up his spine.

Forcing deep breaths as he felt the ghouls tongue dip inside his folds and deep into him, thighs shaking in no time when he pulled back just to shut his arms holding his wasit to his face before diving back in sucking on him while letting his tongue press in long slow strokes over him

Dew was more then pleased feeling him squirm trying to buck his hips against his tongue. Giving in a little he helped guide his hips to grind against his tongue as he wanted, working him into to steady rythem. Moans and whines coming from above him as Phantom got used to the movement, using his mouth the same he would his pillow

When Dew brought a hand up to pet though his folds, collecting the slick from them before pressing a fingers inside Phantom couldn't hold back the loud moan as he started to desperately use the fire ghoul. Fucking himself back onto his fingers as dew added a second just to grind his clit against his tongue. It was pure pleasure filled torture

A whined chant of "Dew- Dew- Dew- gonna- fuck fuck-" scrambling to hold the fire gogiks head, hands fisted in his hair. "Cum for my baby, let me taste you" he purred out before doubling down, guiding his hips against his tongue moaning into his cunt and with a loud gasp Phantom came, fluid gushing from him as Dew worked him through it, thighs clamping against his head with thighs trembling. Deep panting breaths as he slowly came down Dew only smiled rubbing his hips and back

"You did so well, so good Phantom. Love your little cock so much. Taste so good" he purred gently guiding the shaking quints body to lay against his chest. Combing through Phantoms hair, and rubbing up and down his back as he calmed down

Phantom pressed his face into Dews neck, craving being close to him and Dew was more then willing to give him anything he needed. It took a bit, but once he was ready Phantom pulling away looking up to Dew with a blissed out look

"Hey there starlight, back with me?" He asked, a shy nod coming from Phantom "Good, you want to go get a shower? Get you some water and then we can rest?" another nod comes from him.

Dew takes him to get cleaned up, gentle as could be then wisked right back to bed for some cuddles and maybe another few rounds later on, ready to teach the quint all the way he could use his new vessel

[prettypinkporkchop]

-3 years ago-

Jake groans while standing up from fixing the new engine in his old red truck. "So, who is Bella?" You ask, picking up a tool and examining it. He smiles at you, grabbing it from your hand. "Just a childhood friend. She hasn't been here or really with Charlie in a long time." He sighs. "Is this someone I should be concerned about?" You raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head and then kisses your forehead. "Nope." He walks away.

---NOW---

Oh, but you should have been worried. He was up her ass. You went from a teen and in love to an adult and watching everything fall apart. All of his friends have separated. Jake and Quil are the last of them. The others joined Sam's gang. That's the last you've seen or heard from them. You moved away for a job that did not feel right.

You park your car in the driveway to your old house. Your eyelids are heavy, considering you've been driving for nearly seven hours. You barely slept the night before because of anxiety. The front door opens, and it's your old guardian.(can be anyone for you).

After settling back into your old bedroom, you climb in the bed and attempt to rest some more. "Y/n! You have a visitor!" You groan and push yourself up.

You walk towards the open front door.

Of course. It's Jacob Black. Short hair and a tattoo. You're not so surprised. You're not even mad about the teenage love drama anymore. You just hope the dude isn't in any drugs or gang related shit because of Sam.

You look up at him and lean on the door frame. "Long time, no see, Black." You smile. He just stands there, staring. It seems like he's in shock. His eyes are wide open, and his eyebrows are raised. "I know. I'm still super hot." You joke. Saying this brings him back, shaking his head and then smiling. "Hey y/n. Small town noise, ya know. I heard you were back, and I just wanted to say 'hi'." He tucks his hands in his pockets. "Thank you? I mean, not that I mind you being here, but why is it important to say hi to me?" You giggle awkwardly. "Also, I'm not mad. We were kids. But, how's your lady, Bella?" He sucks in a breath. "Uh, yeah, about that. She's with the weirdo Edward Cullen. They're married now." He chuckles.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You awkwardly say. Deep down, you're singing JoJo Siwas Karma. But, at the same time, you're over all of it. But truthfully, you don't care. "It's not a problem. I've learned some lessons."

"Yeah, which made you join Sam's gang?" You raise your eyebrow with a smirk. "It's not a gang. It's a lot more than that. No drugs like we thought. We are just helping people and each other."

You don't respond. "Well, how about we catch up? I'm sure my people would love to see you again." He smiles. "Eh, I mean, it'd be nice to see your dad. I just don't want to bring back memories I've worked so hard to let go of." He frowns, and you can see the guilt wash over him. "I have some things to say. I really think it'll be worth your time. Everything will make sense."

You think and then nod, "Okay. When do you want to go?"

He perks up with a grin. "Now, I mean, whenever you are ready!" He pipes up.

"Look who's back. Couldn't stay away from Jake, could you?" Embry nudges you. You roll your eyes. "You haven't changed a bit." You laugh. "Hey! That's the joys of being an imprint. The universe always brings you back."

"Embry." Jacob glares at him. "Imprint? What?" You look at them. Embry raises his eyebrows. "Oh. My bad, cuh." He runs away. "Damn it."

A couple weeks later:

"DAMN IT!" You scream and drop the knife in the sink. A stinging pain runs through your whole hand even though the cut is just your middle finger. Blood drips into the sink. You try to keep it away from the food you are cooking. "What? What is it?" Jacob runs to you. He grabs your arm and looks over your hand. "Oh, baby." He wraps a paper towel around your finger. He kisses the top of your head. "Are you going to be okay?" He anxiously looks over your face. You nod through the pain. It's not deep enough for medical attention.

"Come on." He brings you over to the first aid cabinet. He wraps your finger and kisses your forehead. "I'll finish cooking." He presses a quick kiss to your lips. You lean up and press a lingering kiss on his lips. One that he melts into. He presses your back against the counter and has his hands on your waist.

His phone starts buzzing on the table. "UGH. What the hell." He goes to see who it is. "Bella." He groans and declines the call. "She's been blowing up my phone. Something about Edward getting her pregnant. I don't know. I don't care. It's not my problem." He laughs. You smile at him and walk up to him. You grab onto his shirt and pull him down, attacking his lips.

He groans and bites your bottom lip. "You trying to tell me something?" He breathes out before kissing your neck.

"Mhm."

[theoriginalkaminari]

Mischievous thorn in my side.

Kirishima Eijirou x Gn!reader

A/n: have you heard of the hit indie show, The Amazing Digital Circus..ok jk but your personality is like Jax.

Warnings: you being a little shit (jk) (not really tho) swearing iggg

Supposedly, there was a new student in U.A.

Rumors spread like wild fire about them.

Apparently, they were the most annoying person in the school. And thats saying something.

Y/N's eyes always held a mischievous glint in them, and it seemed like they always had a stupid grin on their face.

It seemed like their whole existence was just to cause mischief and chaos.

Eijirou thought about all of this as he walked down the hallways, keeping his eyes peeled for Y/N. One of the rumors he heard was that no one ever knew where they was when they weren't there. They never told anyone.

Maybe his quirk let him appear in and out of places? Maybe he dug tunnels through the walls, and disappeared through them to scare an uncsepeticng victim.

Eijirou tried to calm himself down. He mentally scolded himself for believing these rumors when he hasn't even met the person! It was unmanly of him to judge someone he's never met.

Eijirou was lost in this question for a few seconds, only breaking out of it when suddenly, someone's gloved hands sat firmly on his shoulders, making him jolt slightly.

"Did I scare ya?" Y/N's voice says from behind. Eijirou quickly turns around. "Whoa! Hey, I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Eijirou Kirishima!" He smiles softly, wanting to appear nice to the mischievous character. "Whats your name?"

Y/N grins mischievously. "Thats for me to know, and you to find out." They step back slightly, still wearing their mischievous grin. "Haven't seen you around either." They tilt their head, this time stepping closer and getting in his face.

Eijirou feels a little awkward at how close they were to his face, but didn't say anything. "Oh, uh, yeah?" He says nervously. "I guess we haven't met, but I'm not really new-"

"Yeah, mhm." Y/N appears behind him, grabbing his shoulders. "So your from the hero course, hm?" Y/N spins hims around, looking the redhead up and down. "Bit red for my type." They grab his hand, stopping him from spinning around as they scan him with their eyes.

Eijirou places his hand on his head, trying to stabilize his spinning head as he tries to regain his balance. Once he does, he smiles softly and laughs nervously. "Oh, really? Then what is your type?" He jokes, trying to not seem annoyed.

"Not you." Y/N says, letting go of Eijirou's hand, making him fall on his ass. Y/N snickers before they walk away, leaving Eijirou on his ass.

Eijirou grumbles to himself before standing up. "Rude.." He mutters to himself before walking in the opposite direction.

Ever since that day, Y/N has been practically torturing him to the point where Eijirou can't sit down in fear of a whoopie cushion being there!

Eijirou never understood why you did what you did. After all, you were a thorn in his side the whole time he's known you.

Until one day, he found you crying at the courtyard. You just seemed so..upset.

Eijirou knew it wouldn't be manly to just leave you like that, so he stepped closer to you. "Y/N?" He asks softly, hoping to grab your attention.

You quickly wipe your tears and glare at him. "What the hell do you want." You grumble, never making eye contact. Eijirou hesitantly sits down next to you.

"What happened?" He askes. "Its only going to hurt more if you don't tell me..." He says in a soft tone, not wanting to scare you off.

You're extremely hesitant to tell him. You hardly knew this guy, and all you did was tease and annoy the hell outta him. So why was he doing this?

You just decide to ignore him, turning away. Eijirou sighs.

"You don't have to tell me. I get it, its probably personal to you. But.." He looks at you, eyes filled with compassion and understanding. "Its okay to cry. Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy." He fiddles with his fingers for a bit before continueing.

"Personally, I think its manly to cry." He smiles softly.

You raise an eyebrow, looking back at him. "Huh?"

Eijirou beams and nods. "Mhm! Manly. Its just something I say, I guess." He chuckles. "Its a compliment!"

You can't help the small smile tugging on the corners of your lips as you look back at him.

"Thanks." You say, hardly louder than a whisper.

Maybe you weren't so bad after all, Eijirou thought.

He couldn't wait to make you his new friend.

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Drop It!

Warnings: Supernatural elements. Dead!Elvis. Reader’s father is dead. Reader denotes elvis to his face. Dilapidated Graceland.

Summary: It’s move-in day! Reader spends the day fixing up the house. By the end of the night, she just wants to relax but something, or someone, needs to talk to her.

A/N: I am fully aware that graceland is cared for and not at all in ruin but the story calls for it. I put a lot of thought into this series and i really want everyone to enjoy it! The story is inspired by my house and what it’s like living here. though i’ve never come face to face with my goulish friends, i do respect them. A small bit, while comical, is something i actually did experience. Granted, i never spoke to anyone, or at least, never got an audible response. Most of this series includes odd happenings that i’ve dealt with. Isn’t that fun? Non-beliver or not, i hope you enjoy it. Happy reading- Bee💕

September 2023

The keys resting in your palms bring nothing but joy, even after dealing with a snippy mother and grumbling movers on an overcast Thursday afternoon. It should've been alarming, the way that realtor hightailed it off the property, but you were just glad to get your hands on what once was a beautiful home.

Graceland had nearly fallen to ruin; once the previous owner's legacy began to deteriorate, so did respect for the house. Squatters, Drug dealers, vandals, this house has seen it all. Yet, under all that muck and destruction, you saw a chance to restore its beauty.

Your mother was a bit...perturbed by the decision, wondering what she had done in your childhood that could've led to this point. When the idea was first pitched, she laughed it off, assuming it was another one of your odd bouts, like it was some fairytale. So imagine her surprise when you tossed the paperwork onto the breakfast table.

Your mother's concerns only doubled when she actually saw the house. Move-in day is supposed to be exciting, and for you, it is. Pushing past the doors into your new home is something magical. You don't know where to start. The kitchen? The front room? Upstairs? It's all so tempting.

"Mama, this place, it's so beautiful. Doesn't it jus' make you wanna cry?" You exclaim, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your body.

"...That's...well, that's one way to put it." your mother says, watching for possible loose beams as you traverse through the house.

You kiss your teeth at her tone and begin rattling on about your ideas for the space.

"I can fix her up in no time. We can start with the walls; they only need a few patches and a fresh coat a' paint. Oh! And then we can work on the floors. And I'm sure we can find some replicas or have 'em made. I think-"

"Y/n!" your mother interrupts, "Rome wasn't built in a day, baby. Don't get too ahead of yourself. You already broke the bank buyin' this...place and-"

You shake your head "Mama, don't you know who used to live here? Daddy woulda-"

The older woman before you holds up her hand, face dropping into an unamused expression. "Don't compare me to your daddy; we never did have the same tastes. And of course, I know; Elvis was my crush before you were even thought of."

You tilt your head, shifting to move a box. "But you just said you n' daddy didn’t have the same-"

She cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Hush up and listen to your mama." A chuckle leaves your mouth as she scolds you.

"After all this time, daddy still can't catch a break?"

Your mother lets out a saddened sigh, "Well, he may not be here physically, but pokin' fun at him is the only way I know he's still around."

Your shoulders drop, and you set the box down. Your father passed away six years ago; he didn't want his family knowing he was sick. You thought it was a cruel joke, some twisted prank set to traumatize you forever. The wails your mother let out that night on the kitchen floor told you otherwise. She tries to pretend but hasn't been the same since—the idea of remarrying tossed to the wind like a dandelion's pappi.

"Mama, don't you think daddy would've wanted you to let him go?" you lament, hoping your mother would consider it this time. But, alas, the notion is shot down once again.

"You may not believe in ghosts or the afterlife, y/n, but I do. Your daddy is always with me. It wouldn't be right to get hitched in his face."

You shrug and continue unpacking, "If you say so mama, I jus couldn't imagine stickin' it out till the very end." That statement seems to tickle your mama pink. "You ain't never been in love, sugar pie. When you meet your mister right, you'll know what I mean."

You purse your lips. Even while talking about her dead husband, she hints at your sad love life. To you, love is just a feeling, and the dead are just that, dead. So your mother's musings about 'ghosts' and 'true loves' are nothing short of fantasy in your world.

"O...kay. Well, we've got a lot to do, and we've been talkin' bout nothin' for ten whole minutes. Let's hop to it!"

Your mother rolls her eyes, "This ain't my dream house, honey. I ain't GOT to do nothin' but stay black and die."

"Oh, here you go with that mess. You agreed to help your only baby move in so that I wouldn't 'die in my sleep cause some spider decided to munch on me,' so don't give me none of that." You mock.

Your mother pops your arm and grabs a broom. "You yo' daddy's daughter, alright. Couldn't have got that mouth from me." She mutters.

For the next four hours, the two of you dispose of odd findings, scrub, wash, disinfect, and grumble through the house. By the time you finish, the home is as clean as clean gets. The sun has set, and all you want to do is eat and sleep. The last thing to set up is the bedroom.

You feel a little strange sleeping in a room that once belonged to such a legend, but he isn't here, and the house belongs to you. The wall of TVs would be dealt with later. For now, a flatscreen was simply placed in front of them; aside from that, you pre-ordered replicas of the bedroom furniture, not wanting to personalize too much.

After kissing your mother goodbye, you trudge up the stairs, stopping halfway to crack your back. Once you return to the master suite, flopping on the bed only seems fitting. A groan escapes you as you realize you still need to shower. Rolling over, you grab a towel from your suitcase, lay out some pajamas on the center of the bed, and head for the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to warm, perched on the porcelain throne, the lights flicker. You'll need to replace the bulbs later; simple fix.

When the water reaches hell, you waste no time jumping in. It soothes your aching body, and all of the tension from today washes down the drain. You hum a nonsensical tune to keep you entertained while you clean away the dirt and grime. In the middle of the improvised song, a crash steals your attention.

You finish rinsing and shut off the water, quickly making your way to the bedroom door. You aren't going to investigate; too bright (or too experienced in the horror genre) to even give that a thought. No, you lock the door and mind your business; that is a morning problem.

When you turn back to retrieve your nightwear, you find them on a chair in the corner of the room. Odd. You could've sworn you left them in the middle of the bed. Whatever, you think as you throw them on.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, you grab the remote and turn the TV on—finally, a moment of peace. You flick through Netflix, desperate to find good background noise. Landing on your favorite show, 'The Good Place,' is enough for you. It's ironic, don't believe in anything after death, or love, and here you are, watching two dead people fall in love.

Halfway through Episode six, the source of entertainment shuts off. You huff; it was getting good too. The remote is behind you, out of reach, so you aren't exactly sure what could've caused this.

"Probably just a glitch," you mumble, turning the TV back on and resuming your minor addiction. This time, you place the remote on the dresser, ensuring no interruptions.

Despite your effort, it happens again; A guttural noise leaves your body. You're broke in a house that's falling apart with no man, pets, and no energy. TV is the one pleasure you have left, and even that is beginning to frustrate you.

Repeating the process, you hold the remote in your hands, eyebrows raised, daring your peace to try and leave again. After a few moments, you sigh in relief as the halfway point passes and set the remote down. As soon as it comes in contact with the plush, black comforter, the TV again fails you.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." You exclaim.

"Ladies shouldn't swear; ain't attractive." A voice bellows from behind you. A shrill shriek is all that is heard as you scramble off the bed. Your eyes search for the source but find nothing. Slowly, you creep toward the bed and snatch up the remote. "Can't go downstairs till morning, and I'm losin' it in here. What a night." You whisper.

A shiver rolls through your body, and you decide it's better to sit on the floor. Again you try with your tv (which you will be returning in the morning), and of course, that doesn't last long.

"Sugarpie, I don't wanna see that junk. If you're gon' watch somethin' in my bed, I suggest it be somethin' good. Not some trash show that don't know the first thing bout bein' dead." The strange voice booms again.

This time when you jump out of your skin and turn to face the intruder, you see what you can only assume to be the world's most accurate Elvis impersonator.

"What the hell are you doin' in my house?!" You screech, "Get out! Get the hell out."

The man before you is nowhere near ready for the projectiles flying his way. Clothes, shoes, books, and a stuffed bear. You name it; it's flying at his head.

"Hey! I—I said—, goddamn! You got an arm on ya! Put the—,"

Elvis can't even finish his sentence as you continue to fling whatever you can at him.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" You grunt, each word punctuated with the throw of an object. The tall, blue-eyed stranger ducks and dodges with precision, but when he sees you getting ready to toss a picture frame, one you no doubt failed to realize the importance of in your defensive state, the fun and games stop.

"Drop it! Drop that damn picture right now! Your mama would tan your hide for days if she saw that you broke that frame." Elvis booms.

Your chest is heaving, and you blink, glancing over at the photo.

"S'your daddy, right? Y'all were talkin' in the kitchen bout how it's the last thing he gave ya. You promised ta take care of it. So drop it."

You nod and gently place the photo on the bed, reaching for a good substitute.

"Jus—Just how long have you been here?" you question, ready to launch the lamp in your hand. Elvis ponders for a moment. "What year is it?" He asks, seeming genuine. You quirk an eyebrow, unamused with the game he's playing. "You can't be serious."

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. Your phone is across the room, and the chances of getting past this psycho-wannabe Elvis are slim to none. So, you entertain him. "It's twenty-twenty-three, you should know that." You say, face stoic.

Elvis's eyes widen, "Twenty- Good lord!" He chuckles in disbelief.

"Well, to answer your question lil' mama, if that's true, I've been here for sixty-six years if you're countin' when I bought the house."

You shake your head; there's no way the idiot in front of you is this dedicated. "Yeah, sure, I reckon you want me to believe you're Elvis Presley himself. Is that what this is? Some attempt to scare me?"

Elvis chuckles and shakes his head, "No, ma'am. Ain't no pretendin' round here. I'm the real deal."

You can't help the cackle that slips past your lips.

"My ass!"

Elvis's smirk fades, "I told ya that shit isn't cute. And if ya don't believe me, try to shake my hand." He says, extending the appendage forward.

You scrunch your nose, "Now, why would I do that?"

He shrugs, hand still held out.

"Well, I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time n' you're the first person to see or hear me in ages. Whether ya do or don't, it really ain't too concernin' for me."

You sigh, knowing this is how dumb girls in movies usually meet their end. Can't believe m'doin' this. Shakily, you extend your hand, and when it meets his, it goes right through. You gasp as the limb turns to smoke before materializing again.

"Sweet jesus," you sputter.

"I wouldn't know if he was sweet, I ain't met him yet." Elvis jokes. You back away, very spooked.

"T-This, this isn't possible. Ghosts they—they aren't-"

"Real?" Elvis cuts you off, "Yeah, I heard that part too, jus didn't wanna scare your mama, so I waited till it was jus you n' me."

You scoff, offended, "My mama gets a pass, and I don't?"

He chuckles and sits on the bed, "She believed, you didn't. For someone with a gift this great, ya sure do love ta act like ya don't know what she's talkin' about."

You fold your arms, looking down, "I don't have-"

"Oh, yes ya do. Don't give me none of that. I spent the whole afternoon chit-chattin' with your old man. "

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. "You spoke to my daddy? How is he? Did he ask bout mama? Because she'd be thrilled. I gave up. I knew I shouldn't have. I'd been tryin' to reach him since he died, but he never-" The smug look on Elvis's face shuts you up.

"Well, first off. Why would ya need to call a man who's in the same house as ya? Second, you'd been tryin' so hard to find happiness for a woman who don't need it, that ya pushed your daddy away anytime he tried. A ghost can only do so much without scarin' someone half to death, baby."

This is all too much; Ghosts exist, Elvis Presley is in front of you, and your daddy hasn't moved on. Mama was right. You lift the covers and shimmy under them.

"I need to sleep on this. Jus—I...I don't know where you go, but scram for the night please."

Elvis chuckles, nodding. In a flash, he evaporates, fumes left behind as he finds another room to settle in.

You breathe through your nose as you think. What a night indeed, miss y/n.

Taglist: @prayerstopresley @powerofelvis @re3kin

[claymoresword]

All I Wanted Was You | Maddy Perez x Rue Bennett

Summary: Rue confronts Maddy in the bathroom and they get carried away.

Pairing: Rue x Maddy

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: smut (?), fluff, mention of nate jacobs, top!rue, very much pda

Note: this was supposed to be a shorter chapter leading up to a bigger event but i got carried away lmao.. so i figured i would post it as a separate one shot. i probably won't post the next part till after new year's so happy 2023 to anyone reading this! anyway hope u enjoy :)

not proof read apologies for the mistakes!

"That's what I'm saying, Rue. My sister's totally out of control. I mean I knew she was crazy before but it's like a flip switched and now she's really gone." Lexi explains, exasperated.

They were stood by their lockers, there was a half an hour left till homeroom.

Lexi had been ranting the minute Rue got off her bike that morning.

"You know that she's still with Nate?" Lexi states, grimacing.

"I don't get how she hasn't learnt her lesson yet. Everytime he hurts her she comes to me to cry about it. It's so infuriating." Lexi trails off into another tangent and Rue merely nods in response, half listening.

Frankly, it was too early in the morning for this.

Rue glances towards the lockers down to her left hoping to catch a glimpse of her girlfriend but she was nowhere to be seen.

Maddy's not here yet, she thinks to herself.

She pulls out her phone with the intention of shooting the raven haired girl a text.

Before Rue could start typing however, she hears a familiar voice in the distance.

Maddy and Nate are seen entering through the front doors together, Maddy looks upset.

The shorter girl raises her voice at Nate before eventually storming off to her locker.

Rue shifts her gaze Nate to find that he was already staring back at her intently, a rather inscrutable look on his face.

Rue scowls before looking away.

Nate's vibe was always off so this wasn't anything new but the thought of him upsetting his girlfriend when he shouldn't even be anywhere near her to begin with, filled Rue with rage.

She couldn't make out what they were arguing about but from the look on Maddy's face it couldn't have been anything good.

The taller girl watches as her girlfriend shoves her purse into her locker, before strutting over to the bathroom.

Lexi has since stopped talking as she was also closely watching the scene unfold.

"Lex, I'm sorry I have to-" Rue starts before Lexi interjects, knowing exactly what the taller girl was about to say.

"Go. See if she's ok, I'll catch you at lunch." Lexi reassures with a warm smile.

Rue moves her arm to her bestfriend's shoulder as a quick gesture of thanks before walking over to the bathroom.

Rue opens the bathroom door and is met with the sight of her girlfriend stood infront of the mirror, fixing her makeup.

Rue stops in her tracks, admiring the raven haired girl from afar. There honestly hasn't been a moment where Maddy didn't take Rue's breath away. Just looking at the shorter girl was intoxicating enough, Rue adored how all consuming Maddy was.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

Nate jacobs truly is the dumbest person alive.

Not only did he treat her like shit, he repeatedly betrayed her trust. In Maddy's book that goes unforgiven. He fucked up and lost her and it infuriates Rue to think that he can't accept defeat and leave her be.

He continues to torment her even now, Maddy doesn't deserve any of it.

Rue steps a little closer, still keeping her distance. This caught Maddy's attention as she catches Rue's gaze in the mirror, smiling fondly at her girlfriend.

"Are you done gawking?" Maddy jokes, before turning around to face Rue.

Rue finally moves closer to the older girl. Maddy quickly wraps her arms around Rue's neck and pulls her into a tight embrace. The younger girl's hands rests on Maddy's waist and they stood like that enjoying the closeness for a few moments.

Maddy may not show it but Rue knows something's wrong.

Rue eventually pulls back and moves her face down to kiss the shorter girl but halts her movement halfway.

"What?" Maddys asks, confused at her girlfriend's hesitation.

"I don't wanna ruin your lipstick." Rue admits, guilelessly.

Maddy's face contorts in amusement but she doesn't say anything in response.

She pulls Rue down by her neck, capturing her lips with her own.

The kiss now mirroring their earlier embrace, warm and deep.

Maddy disconnects their lips and slides one hand down, resting it on Rue's chest her other hand still on her girlfriend's neck.

Rue gazes at the shorter girl, studying her features before softening her gaze.

"Are you okay?" Rue asks earnestly.

Maddy merely nods and flashes her girlfriend a genuine smile.

"You know how Nate is, he's just giving me a hard time. I bet he's bored of Cassie already." The raven haired girl responds.

"A hard time with what?" Rue's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Maddy shifts her gaze away from Rue for a moment before shaking her head slightly, dismissing the matter.

If she doesn't want to talk about it, Rue decides it's best to respect that.

Eventhough the pit in her stomach is urging her to push on it further, she decides to ignore it.

"I missed you last night." Maddy breathes out, changing the subject.

"Yeah?"

Rue is not oblivious to the intentional diversion but she chooses to go along with it anyway.

Maddy hums in response before glancing down at her girlfriend's lips.

"Why didn't you come over?" Maddy asks her voice low.

"I'm sorry. Gia needed me for something. I would've texted you but I lost track of time." The taller girl states, apologetically.

"I suppose you're just gonna have to make it up to me." Maddy whispers against Rue's lips.

Maddy's hand glides down Rue's front before slipping under her shirt. The

older girl's hand now against Rue's toned stomach.

Rue lets out a slight gasp at the sudden feeling of her girlfriend's hand on her bare skin.

Maddy takes the opportunity to connect their lips again, this time into an open mouthed kiss.

Rue wasted no time in deepening the kiss, her tongue tracing Maddy's lip before entering her mouth.

She glides her hand down, now resting it on Maddy's ass. She gives it a squeeze before pulling the raven haired girl closer.

A moan spills out of Maddy in response. This sends a rush of arousal throughout Rue's body.

She needed Maddy. Now.

Rue disconnects their lips and moves her mouth to the older girl's neck. She traces her tongue across the skin on her neck before sucking on it purposely leaving a bruise.

Maddy's lets out a groan, she's basically panting. The feeling of Rue's mouth on her making it impossible for the shorter girl to catch her breath.

Rue moves her hand to lift Maddy up in one swift movement. As she's sat on the sink, her dress rides up exposing more of her thigh. Rue moves closer and Maddy further eliminates the space between them as she pulls Rue in by wrapping her legs around her waist.

Rue leans down again, her lips crashing against Maddy's. The shorter girl kissing her back with the same level of hunger. Rue's hand getting lost in Maddy's hair, their kiss now purely driven by their carnal desire for each other.

The taller girl moves her hand down to caress Maddy's bare thigh and Rue feels goosebumps form against her hand.

Rue moves her hand further up and tugs at the hem of Maddy's underwear. The older girl places her hands on Rue's shoulders and lifts herself up slightly, allowing the younger girl to pull her underwear off completely.

Rue looks up and settles her gaze on her girlfriend's face, at an attempt to gain consent but Maddy seemed to have beaten her to it. She pushes Rue's head down and the taller girl prepares to get on her knees until she hears a dreaded noise.

The bell.

"There's no way." Rue groans.

Maddy lets out a whine in protest.

"Who cares if we're a little late." Rue states, looking up. She meets Maddy's gaze with hooded eyes.

Maddy opens her mouth to respond but before she gets the chance a girl suddenly bursts in through the bathroom doors.

Rue quickly stands up and Maddy hops off the sink, frantically gathering themselves.

The girl stops for a beat, looks at the pair perplexed before eventually rushing into one of the stalls.

Rue glances at Maddy and the latina had managed to straighten herself up infront of the mirror. All evidence of their intense makeout session barely visible.

Rue had her mouth slightly agape, astonished at Maddy's ability to gather herself so quickly.

Maddy gets on her tip toes and places a quick kiss on Rue's cheek before slyly shoving her own underwear into Rue's pocket.

"Find me after school." Maddy whispers against Rue's ear, not giving the younger girl a chance to respond.

She then rapidly walks past her and out the bathroom.

Rue stood disoriented for a moment, trying to recover from what just happened.

The girl from earlier walks out of the stall and heads over to the sink to wash her hands.

She looks over at Rue and squints her eyes slightly before reaching over to grab a few pieces of tissue paper to dry her hands.

"You have lipstick all over your mouth by the way." The girl states, bemused.

[stereax]

hello!! for the drafts thing: “bless your waters, bless your doubts” what did you set out to do with this? what changed that caused you to put it on hold? what are the themes that jump out at you, what story were you trying to tell? also, is the title a reference to something? i love to hear about the creative process!! :3

- puckpocketed on main

Yes!!! Oh my god, this was such a fun project that I began undertaking. Just couldn't keep going on it. More under the cut.

So yes! The title is a reference to the Devils' goal song. Here it is, if you haven't heard it (or if you haven't heard it in its entirety) before.

Okay third time's the charm my posts are being chewed upon by tumblr please dear lord let me post this this time please please PLEASE

[inhales] Okay! So the initial premise of this fic is incredibly simple. Dougie Hamilton, one of the Devils' better defensemen, has a running joke going where the Devils claim he's the admin of our social media. Hamilton slapshot goals are posted with a caption of "I scored!", Dougie's been roped into the act a few times, the like. So obviously this means someone's gotta write a Dougie Hamilton social media admin AU. I'm surprised nobody has yet. Devilsblr, get on it.

Anyway. I think the indents are messing up my post so let's try to post step by step. Instead of indenting snippets, I'll italicize them.

"What?"

Of all the things Dougie Hamilton had expected to hear when being pulled aside by the media team before the first game of the season, this was not it. The hockey player reclines in his seat, rubbing at one of his eyes. "You want me to do what?" he repeats.

Across from him sits Christopher Wescott, leader of the social media team if memory serves Dougie right. A quick glance down at Wescott's placard on his desk, prominently placed, confirms it. Director, Content Strategy & Social Media. Then again, Wescott usually wasn't seen filming anything, or talking to the players even, unless it was roping a certain Jack Hughes in front of a camera to try to get him to sell the youth foundation. That took all hands on deck. They even got the players involved in that one.

Gravy celebrated that hundred-dollar bonus for capturing Jack harder than any goal he's scored with the man. Colorado sleeper agent, Severson complained the next day. I would've doubled it if he let me go, Hughes complained in concurrence.

Dougie didn't remember when the media crew ever needed the hockey equivalent of a SWAT team, not in Boston or Calgary or Raleigh. Then again, maybe he's just not used to Jersey yet. (It's not New Jersey, Nico clued him in before one of his first post-game interviews. Just Jersey. Say New Jersey and they know you're not from here. Just Jersey and you're one of the locals.)

And here, in Just Jersey, Christopher Wescott wants Dougie Hamilton to take a second job.

"The younger generation of fans like memes," Wescott explains. The word memes rolls off his tongue like Dougie rolls out of bed after a physical game; that is to say, falls like a paperweight and ends up on the floor sprawled awkwardly, wondering why he hasn't retired and become a lawyer like his father yet. Wescott is what, five years older than Dougie, maybe? From the way he speaks, it sounds like he's an old man trying to commit the name of his smart speaker to memory. Erica, remind me to buy rice.

"And the team said you're supposedly the best at making them," Wescott continues, snapping Dougie out of this train of thought.

"Rice?" Dougie echoes, confused. "Anyone can make rice. It's just an orange packet you put in the microwave, you rip the top off a bit..."

Wescott sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's definitely thinking some dumb hockey player stereotype right now; Dougie can tell by the way his brow furrows in annoyance. "Look," and here he drops his volume two steps, scooting forward to lean across his desk, and oh this is serious? Dougie better pay at least enough attention to remember this discussion. No more rice. "I thought social media posting was just going to be putting up reverse retro pictures and celebrating stars of the week if we get any. You know, standard fare. But Andrew floated the idea with us a few weeks back and we really think we can get ahead of the league in capturing younger fans with a more dynamic social media presence." Of course it was Maclean, or, as the team called him, Picture Day. One guess as to why.

"And where do I get involved in this?" Dougie asks, but he realizes even as he asks that it's not going to change his final answer.

"We were thinking to make a meme after every win." Wescott pauses. "Oh, and some other reels and things for when it's needed. Of course Catherine's also going to be making content for us, too." Catherine Bogart, Queen of the Tiny Mic. Oh boy.

"Do I get tiny mic privileges?" Dougie flashes one of his patented Hamilton Smiles, hoping to catch Wescott off guard.

"We'll think about it." No then. Aw. Would've been fun though.

"Do I get paid?"

The director shrugs. "Aren't you on a multi-million dollar contract?"

"To play hockey," Dougie specifies. "Not to deep-fry Bratt pics." From the look of confusion on Wescott's face, Dougie reminds himself once again that he's dealing with a senior citizen in the body of a mid-30s advertising executive. The guy probably needed an assistant to turn on his computer. For him, deep-frying is exclusively for overpriced tempura. "Meme things," he explains without explaining. "But - "

"Museum pass, any place in the state, any exhibit, we can figure it out for you."

That rumor even made it here? Well. Hey. It's something to do on the weekends, he figures. And he's pretty sure Wescott, fancy director placard and all, can't actually give him a salary for this. "Fine," Dougie agrees. He's used to being underpaid, after all. Might as well have fun with it. Besides, it's a good excuse to get out of any social events he doesn't particularly want to go to. (Is he justifying this to himself? Oh, definitely. But he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to do this.)

So yeah! The basic premise of the fic is Dougie's (mis)adventures running the social media for the Devils, his work with the social media people, his reactions to the Devils' season, and the like. I tried to keep it quite light (funny, even, perhaps? but I'm not really funny). Dougie, is, at his heart, a fun character, and I'd like to think it shows a little. It's not that realistic (he definitely doesn't text from the bench!) but it's fun.

In typical Devils fashion, they lose the first game.

In typical Devils fashion, they also lose the second game.

Dougie already has the next three games lined up. He doesn't expect to need more than one of them, if he's being honest with himself, but he's personalizing for each team, so there's that. Might come in handy later in the season, too.

By the end of the second period against Anaheim, they're 2-2. This is also the approximate time Dougie realizes he doesn't have access to the Devils' social media accounts.

Fuck.

And to make matters worse, Dougie starts the third period on the ice.

Shit.

And, if that weren't bad enough, he scores a goal 33 seconds into the period.

Damn it.

All this to mean that, in the next thirty or so minutes, Dougie Hamilton needs to hack into Instagram and TikTok and get ready to post this meme.

The second he's on the bench, he paws off his gloves, reaching for his phone under the front wall. Shaking it on, Dougie quickly navigates to Instagram and logs -

"Dougie, you're on," Lindy calls. The defenseman slides his phone back and jumps over the wall.

When he gets back to the bench a minute or so later, Dougie completes the process of logging off his Instagram account, then quickly punches in the Devils' media email address for the login. It shows him the right account, which is good -

"Dougie, you're on." Lindy again.

As he skates, Dougie contemplates the password. He can't disappear from the bench mid-period to go and find whoever was still working now and ask, so he's got to figure this out on his own.

The first password Dougie tries is njdevils. No dice. He goes on for another shift, then comes back and tries raisehell. Also nothing. If he keeps this up, he's going to freeze the account. Two shifts later, Mercer scores, and now the situation is dire, just when Dougie's brain is deep-fried worse than the Bratt pictures he sent the groupchat last week.

"Hey, Haula," he whispers as the center clambers over the wall to take his position on the faceoff. "If you were gonna make a password, what would it be?" In retrospect, Haula is not the person to ask about this, but Dougie will take what he can get, thank you very much.

"I dunno, man," Haula shrugs. "Password or something?" He raises an eyebrow at the weird question, skating off. Dougie nearly facepalms at the response, but fuck it, he might as well try. password.

Holy fucking shit.

Dougie slides his phone back onto the shelf to take another shift, biting his tongue to keep from cackling so loudly that even his own teammates would stay away from him. Holy fucking shit. Wescott and company clearly have never had a single lesson about cybersecurity.

Well, he's in now, and that's the most important.

However, as I continued writing, another story "thread" popped up, this one a lot more personal to me - the story of the Polish diaspora in New Jersey. A lot of my own personal stories are reflected in this part of the fic. It makes sense in the story (Dougie rents a townhouse in Garfield to avoid being recognized in Newport, Hoboken, and that area), but it's definitely a sharp left from the fic's initial focus. The two plot lines do intersect later on, but I never got to really writing that part of the story, sadly.

A few moments later, Ms. K turns off the stove and carries the soup pot into the dining room with two oven-mitted hands. Dougie pulls himself up to steady the situation however he can, helping direct the pot into its position. Ms. K takes the ladle she had hooked onto her arm, snatching Dougie's bowl before he can react and filling it with several ladlefuls of żurek. At the hockey player's mortified expression of a silent way too much, Ms. K shakes her head emphatically. "Big man, strong, big meal."

"Okay," Dougie agrees, cautious, as he settles back down in his chair and takes his spoon, stirring the soup. Chunks of sausage - kiełbasa - float up to the top before dipping back in. "Thank you," he mumbles, a little too quiet for even his own liking. He's just tired after the game. Yeah. Tired and a little humbled by the kind gesture.

"No worries," Ms. K replies, and from the way she rubs her hands together as she sits, Dougie knows she's one step away from launching into a story over dinner. "You know Martyna from the deli?"

"Yeah," Dougie nods. One of Ms. K's co-workers at Bratek, the business on the other side of town where she cooks for a living. Dougie's been there a few times, just to bask in the atmosphere and maybe score a few free candies. Martyna's the young one, couldn't be more than 24. Her husband Konrad is, from what Dougie has heard of him, a massive piece of shit. He suspects he's going to hear more of him in a moment.

"She came in yesterday all crying," Ms. K sighs, blowing on a spoonful of soup. It reminds Dougie to try his own - it's distinctively sour, but in a good way, enticing yet filling. (He suspects Ms. K makes him a lighter batch than she normally cooks, given the difference in color between this one and the one at the deli. No matter.) "Says that barely enough money for rent. Konrad drinks it all away. Co za kurwa debil."

Dougie doesn't need to speak a word of Polish to understand the meaning behind that acidic sentence, that Ms. K clearly isn't happy with her coworker's husband. "That bad?" he queries, making sure to leave it open for interpretation.

"He even doesn't have job," Ms. K rolls her eyes. "I told her, this man no good, he not love you. No. She loves him. Enough for her that she loves him." The older lady sighs. "Love doesn't pay rent. Or food. Or gas. He needs job." Dougie nods again in agreement, letting her continue; after a moment, she does. "Nobody want to hire him. Not construction, not restaurant, nobody. All what he does is drink and complain."

"Maybe he's got some sort of mental disorder?" The defenseman offers the idea. "Sits at home all day, does nothing, drinks - "

Ms. K barks out a laugh, cutting Dougie off. "His mental disorder" (here she butchers the pronunciation of the words) "is lazy. He doesn't go to school, doesn't work. Only watch game and drink. Lazy. Mother not raise him right." She shakes her head. "You give child everything, they get lazy. You make child work, they not get lazy."

"Aha," Dougie grants the point, deciding that a debate on the existence of depression against his matronly elderly neighbor who was currently feeding him wasn't exactly his plan for the rest of the day.

"No discipline in that house," Ms. K sighs. "All three Kubiaks lazy. One I understand, three is parents' fault." A pause as Ms. K lifts her spoon. "Martyna stupid, Konrad lazy. Perfect together."

They eat for a few minutes in silence, Dougie digesting both the soup and the gossip. "She's at least a good worker though." It's a calculated statement, because Ms. K very obviously wants to keep talking, but Dougie doesn't want to hear about Polish child-rearing strategies (which, from his very limited experience, began and ended at corporal punishment). So hopefully she bites on the redirect.

"Did I tell you about Barbara?" Hook, line, sinker.

"No," Dougie hums.

"She knows nothing!" Ms. K flushes red with annoyance. "She goes all day and looks how I cook. She can't even make salad. All you do is..." Her steam runs out as she searches for the word she needs. "Zetrzeć carrot, doesn't know how."

"Cut?"

"No, not cut." Ms. K mimes running a carrot over a grater. "So you get thin."

"Grate," Dougie supplies.

She nods quickly. "Yes, grate. Cannot grate carrot. Cuts herself. Cannot stir soup - not even make soup, just stir it. Burns herself. Or gets soup dirty."

He chuckles at that. "So she's not a good chef."

"No, but she is owner's son's wife," Ms. K sighs. "Cannot be at cash register, scans things twice. Cannot stack food, food falls and breaks. Cannot cook, chicken is raw and burnt. Both on same piece. Useless."

Dougie tilts his soup bowl to fill his spoon, unable to stop his eyes from looking at the cakes on display. The nutritionists don't need to know. "Can she bake?"

"She make pączki and pączki go boom." She says it so matter-of-factly that it's hysterical. "If she know how bake, she work at Piast."

Piast, the Polish store/restaurant hybrid that looks like a literal castle on the side of the road. Dougie hasn't ever been inside, Ms. K forbidding it (and once again, he's not going to argue with the woman who clearly knows her stuff). "If you ever need Polish food, come to me. Not Piast. Owner died, place is bad now. Too expensive."

That's another thing about Polish people - they measure everything in who died. Usually with when and how thrown into the mix. Honestly, it's fascinating. Ms. K puts on her Polish television shows and points out to Dougie who had a heart attack and who got into a car accident, recounting the details as if she were the coroner. She turns on the radio and everyone got cancer or was murdered by a French guy, five songs in a row, and then an Italian song comes on. Ms. K purses her lips for a minute, then says, "Did you know their daughter disappeared? Took too many drugs, jumped off a bridge. So young, too."

It's kind of morbid, Dougie figures.

Every Sunday, Ms. K goes to church and then to the cemetery, weather permitting. She takes candles with her in fancy glass containers, lights them and leaves them on her husband's grave. Dougie's seen the containers and heard the stories, how she counts the days until she sees him again. Dougie asks her, once, whether she wants to find another husband; she laughs sadly, "When Wojciech died, I saw it was either son or new man. I said better to work for son than for stranger. Son no longer here, but am old now. No point in looking for husband. I have husband already. Just not here anymore."

I think the main "issue" with this fic is that it's Super Fucking Long. There are so many plot lines in it and so much going on that it quickly became an overwhelming sort of project and I sputtered out on energy.

If I went back to rework it, I'd have to definitely consider whether all the parts are truly necessary or whether I just want to focus on Dougie as the social media admin and go from there. Additionally, I didn't know much about some characters before beginning to write, so they come across as fairly OOC, so I need to rework that.

Fun fact, though - I originally intended bless your waters, bless your doubts to be a capstone of a series. Each fic would represent one line of "Howl" and would be a short oneshot dealing with a specific Devil and some specific situation they were in. For example:

and all grown up and traveled so well - Mercer about heritage

do you still hear the sound of the thunder while you lie up by yourself? - Palat injury

And each one would offer a new perspective, roughly in chronological order, on the Devils and their own narratives. I still feel that the "braided" fics, as I call them, would be vitally important in presenting a complete picture, and I'd want to preserve them if I do retry this one.

However, it's a bit of a "dated" fic (22-23 is so long ago now), plus it'd end up being so incredibly long... I don't think I have it in me. Maybe someday.

Have one last snippet, here, and Experience Devils Hockey with me! [profuse sobbing]

It's seven-fifteen by the time Dawson shows up, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Classic. Dougie can't help but chuckle as he opens the door for the young center. "Nice to see you," he smiles, a little fondly. Dawson reminds him a little too much of himself. He supposes it's only kind to pay it forward and take him under his wing.

"Yeah," Dawson grins back. "What's cooking?"

"Figure it out," Dougie challenges. The kid sniffs the air, contemplating his next words, and Dougie takes the opportunity to take the finished chicken out of the oven. "Before if gets cold," he calls across the room, balancing the dish in both gloved hands. Dawson scurries over to get a better look.

"I knew it had to be garlic," the Newfoundlander comments. He pulls out his chair and plops down unceremoniously. "Got anything to drink?"

Dougie bites his tongue to stop from rolling his eyes. "Because you want to be hungover the morning before the Caps."

"It'll help the L go down," Mercer offers. Damn, they really thought they had no chance, huh?

Right. This team never did have a chance. He's been here a year already but enough of that time was on injured reserve (and the rest trying to avoid anyone on his former teams) that it's still new to him, this - this culture of expecting loss. He sees it in the eyes of the old guard, how Sevo and Wood sigh when a goal is given up like it's the last breath they know how to take. Even the newer players feel it, see it, know it.

This was once a dynasty, Dougie understands, and now the castle is in ruins.

[punsmaster69]

8/DEC/20XX

a deep breath, and i feel a sense of nostalgia.

weird nostalgia. wouldn't go back, but i still think fondly of what happened.

the crispness of the cold air in snowdin takes me back- and i'm already reminiscing about random memories.

point to almost any rock formation along the walls of this place, and papyrus can probably tell you exactly how he's climbed it.

kicking the snow with my slippers a little bit, i remember how he used to warn me about wearing 'em outside.

—-

"YOU'LL SLIP AND FALL IN THOSE!!"

"naahh. i'll be fine."

"......"

"SEE? EVEN GRILLBY AGREES IT'S A BAD IDEA!!"

—-

for the most part, i always was fine; just had to be careful around the ice.

fortunately, it's not an issue using shortcuts; really only ever slipping a few times.

—-

"I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN."

"you've slipped even in your boots."

"THAT WAS A ONE-OFF ACCIDENT!"

"so was this."

sliding me across the ice until we were close enough to the snow to stand again, papyrus lifted me onto my feet once more.

"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA."

"you've gotta admit that over two weeks without slipping in these is pretty good."

"THERE'D HARDLY BE SLIPPING AT ALL IF YOU WOULD JUST PUT ON BETTER FOOTWEAR."

"these are way better."

"OBVIOUSLY NOT?! YOU 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 SLIPPED!"

"but with snow boots, you have to tie 'em and whatnot."

"YOU DO THAT WITH MOST SHOES, SANS."

"not with slippers."

"YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR SLIPPERS ALL THE TIME.."

"JUST SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TIE THEM?"

"yep."

"that's the plan."

"YOUR ABILITY TO CONSISTENTLY FIND THE LAZIEST ROUTE IN EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE CONFOUNDS ME, BROTHER."

"IT'S ALMOST IMPRESSIVE."

"thanks. that's the one thing i do put effort into."

"...BEING LAZY."

"it's hard work, doing this little."

—-

ahh.

back when new bad habits of mine still surprised him.

...speakin' of bad habits.

grillby's looks like it hasn't been touched since the day we took all the important stuff up.

the most one'll find in there now is a fine layer of dust only disturbed by me brushing against some stuff.

not that the jukebox ever worked before, but i'm pretty sure it wouldn't turn on if you tried at this point.

——

already knew the librarby was empty; they gave away all the books before leaving to the surface.

took the sciencey ones, myself.

wanted the joke book too, but a certain old lady got to it first.

officially, it is hers.

unofficially, the book keeps bouncing between being in either of our possession for months at a time.

it's gained a few pages over the years, a lined-paper section at the end with a lotta skeleton and snail puns.

think paps split the cookbooks with someone, and hoarded the puzzle books.

(not like anyone else was readin' those, anyway.)

there were a couple on monster history i'm almost certain i've seen frisk with a few times, so they must've gotten those.

as charming as this little place was, the new library's got way more selection.

sorry, not library.

still librarby.

they kept the name. too iconic to change it.

even if it had been changed, we'd all continue to call it the librarby anyway.

——

many of the folks who had shops down here have taken up that same role on the surface.

the two bunnies running the inn and shop moved somewhere closer to new home city for better business.

——

in the snow, i did what i'd done a million times in the past.

i parked myself at the foot of the door which separated snowdin from the ruins.

—-

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

she'd say.

"cash."

"Cash who?"

"no thanks, i'm more of a walnut guy."

and i'd heard her burst out into laughter from the other side.

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Hatch."

"hatch who?"

"Oh, bless you."

then she'd laughed at her own joke hard enough to be contagious.

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"canoe."

"Canoe who?"

"canoe come out here? i'm gettin' bonely."

she got a good kick out of that one, but her laughter had a tinge of sadness to it.

"...But, I am afraid not."

didn't expect any different of an answer.

always thinking it better not to ask quite why, i shrugged.

"one day, maybe."

"or not."

"you could just be mysterious door lady forever if you want."

"....."

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Peas."

"peas who?"

"Peas excuse my secretiveness. I know it can be a bit off-putting."

"everyone's got their secrets, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 problem to me if you keep a few."

"Ha! I am glad that you are so 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 with it."

"It is a joy to hear your 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 jokes every day!"

"nice to have someone with an a-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳-able laugh to tell 'em to."

my slight regret about that pun immediately washed away upon hearing the laugh in question follow after it.

—-

....welp.

as fun as reminiscing has been, i've definitely left papyrus alone for far too long.

gotta spend at least a little time in the snow with him.

that's what we came back here for in the first place.

——

"WHEN DO YOU THINK IT'LL SNOW ON THE SURFACE?"

"it's supposed to get pretty cold soon, so probably not too long now."

"besides."

"if your desire for snow gets too awful bad, we'll just come down here again."

"WE SHOULD BRING FRIENDS WITH US NEXT TIME!"

"would be cool to re-visit the whole underground with everyone after all this time."

"OH!"

he sat straight up in the snow, scattering the powder around as he did so.

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO?"

"what's that?"

"COME, COME! QUICKLY!!"

——

from that very same spot we all first looked in awe at our new future, me and him watched the sun set.

golden light poured over everything; sun beams warm in contrast to the town we've left once again.

"WHEN WE FIRST MOVED OUT FOR GOOD, I REALLY THOUGHT I'D MISS IT MORE."

"THOUGH, I DIDN'T EXACTLY HAVE THAT FEELING OF TRAPPED-NESS ON THE SAME LEVEL EVERYONE ELSE SEEMED TO."

"IT'S HARD TO GET BORED WHEN YOU'RE THE MOST ENTERTAINING SKELETON AROUND!"

"WITH THE COOLEST BROTHER AROUND."

"aww."

"...MAYBE I DID FEEL TRAPPED A LITTLE.. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE."

"WE'RE ALL ON THE SURFACE TOGETHER, AND THAT 𝗜𝗦 WHAT MATTERS!"

when he turned to look at me, i couldn't tell whether his face was lit up more by the sun or the smile he had.

"I'M REALLY HAPPY HERE."

"me too."

[highlordofkrypton]

Hi!!! I’m brand new to the ACOTAR series and have been browsing for rare pairs and stumbled on Nyxlin. I didn’t know it was like, A Thing! Personally I like Tamlin/Rhys (they have so much chemistry omg. I don't know how people don't see it!) but I’m always fascinated by the rare pairs and how creative people are with their fics. Went down the rabbit hole of the fandom and found your blog and I’m shocked at how divisive it is. Nyx doesn’t have much of a character so can I ask what it is about the ship that you like?

Ignore this if you want to! I just got excited to find an active fandom.

First of all, welcome to the fandom! So glad to have (maybe?) another rarepair shipper on board 😊

I apologize in advance as I have an inability to be concise when I answer asks.

Tamsand (Tamlin x Rhys) was actually what first brought me into the fandom -- I had written a whole fic midway through ACOWAR because I couldn't get over the casual mention of 'training together in Illyrian camps' and Tamlin learning dirty limericks from the soldiers. They really do have amazing chemistry 👏👏👏

In terms of divisiveness, one thing you will notice very quickly is that even though the fandom is active:

It's still small enough that people keep stepping on each other's toes when it comes to opinions towards ships; it's harder to ignore when drama (usually ship or Tamlin related) goes down because everyone kind of has something to say.

Very big canon discourse, especially towards ships (constant ship wars over canon ships)

Very vocal anti-shipping, moral policing, etc. of ships and character interactions without ever engaging in the fanworks. As a rarepair shipper, I'm sure you'll understand that there are so many ways to make a ship work, and very few of them have to do with the canon text. Lots of knee-jerk reactions over ultimately silly things.

Nyxlin is only the latest drama over all kinds of rarepairs/crackships. Before that it was Elain x Beron x Tamlin, and before that it was Rhysand x Nesta. I believe there were some Nesta x Eris issues, but I only heard echoes of that.

My best advice before all else is enjoy yourself. No matter what anyone else says, just have fun.

I'm not sure if I'll have the answers you're looking for in terms of Nyxlin; we're quite a few Nyxlin shippers and everyone has their own take on the ship.

COMMONALITIES

There are a few things in common between Nyxlin fics and headcanons that I've seen that people seem to enjoy across the board.

It's important to note that every Nyxlin discussion, discourse or fanworks that I have engaged in have Nyx as an adult before getting involved with Tamlin. This is a distinction that many people struggle with when condemning this ship.

Rebellion - In the same way that Rhysand and Tamlin getting together would be taboo in their father's eyes, Nyx growing up to go against his parents actively or being forced to rebel in the name of love. It's almost like any other Disney movie where the parents say no, but the child goes ahead anyway.

Humour - Who hasn't made a ship out of a stupid joke? I have a lot of ships that have bloomed out of pure silliness. Some people have done a parody of Twilight and then we all got attached. Others just thought it would be hilarious if Feyre and Rhysand, who hate Tamlin with a passion, would have to cope with their son being irrevocably attached to their nemesis.

Redemption - Both Spring and Night have wronged each other, so this is a chance to make up for it on both sides. If Feyre and Rhysand won't meet Tamlin halfway, then their son will do it for them!

Parallels between Life (Spring) and Death (Night) - The Hades/Persephone mirrors can be seen here, if not flipped on its head with 'darkness' barging into Spring when Tamlin just really, really needs a nap.

There are probably more, but these are the ones I can think off the top of my head.

MY NYXLIN

My reasons include the themes mentioned above, but I also chose to write Nyx because he doesn't have much of a character.

I originally wrote a piece about my morally gray OC in Prythian to see how he stands up to Rhysand, and ironically, this character I've had in my mind for over a decade shared similarities with the High Lord of Night, not only in terms of the darkness-themed abilities, but in looks -- well, if dark hair and bright eyes is anything to go by.

Once I shared that WIP, I got a lot of requests to continue the story, but I'm quite shy to share OCs, especially in a fandom that struggles to deviate from canon. I also thought that what a brilliant way to parallel the reason the previous generation High Lords were so cruel; I could have Rhysand's son be more powerful than Rhysand, and have Rhysand have to cope with that threat (because my Nyx is not friendly at all).

It was quite funny to have Rhysand's ass handed to him by his son, and watch his son-turned-Eldritch-god side with Tamlin which is terrifying to him. As a Death God, there's also a really beautiful parallel to be had with Spring.

I also think it's hilarious because my Nyx looks like a 40 year old man, therefore looks older than Rhysand in canon who is looks like the canonical early 20s.

You can see how I'm not only bending the canon, but I've gone really far, if not completely off the rails, which is why I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer your question in general.

Anyway, me and my readers are having a shit ton of fun, and I think that's what matters most out of all of this!! 😊

[1cky-boi]

TW: Topics Of Suicide

The Week After I Killed Myself.

Monday,

I watched as the time ticked slower and slower,

I could feel my pulse in my hands,

Burning edges to a paper that can never be read how it was wrote,

I forgot to leave a letter,

Now my parents are left to wonder where they went wrong.

Tuesday,

The news reached my best friend,

I don't know what he does, but I wish I was there to comfort him.

The news comes on the same,

Police chase,

The weather,

Politics,

And the weather again,

But my parents don't watch.

The faucet in the bathroom drips,

Raising the water bill because I forgot to make sure it was fully off.

My mother would flip it off for me and not say a thing even after it being the fifth time that week,

But now she's trying to remember the way I used to play in the sand,

Before the move,

Before she knew what was happening to me.

When she thought she could still save me.

The school is notified,

But my grades don't weigh me down where I am at now,

I don't have to try so hard to matter anymore.

Wednesday,

The letters in my room are just letters now.

Ones that will only be read maybe once more,

Though it'll never be said how many times it saved a life, I'd hope you knew.

My stuffed animals have not slept in days,

Without a cold body to warm what place do they have in this old house?

The neighbors find out.

Condolences are sent.

Not one has my real name on it.

Thursday,

The funeral I arranged for Saturday,

Because my mom is always off work then.

I do not know who comes, or what is said,

I do not know where or how I was buried,

I was not old enough to pick it for myself,

Knowing my parents I'm probably a diamond, or a tree.

The letters have been found.

They know.

They know I loved you,

And you loved me.

I would have joked about how awkward it'll be when you see my parents again,

But my mom hugs you this time

And says she hasn't seen her baby happy like that in years,

And you both forget where you are for a moment ,

Dream,

Hope a little it's a different situation.

Friday,

My mom is going through my stuff.

My phone first,

She'll find out we were more than friends,

She'll tell my friend I am gone

And she won't know if it's a joke,

But when she sees what I've written

The sinking feeling in her stomach will be all too familiar

After, she'll go to the store,

See the man who always used to ask me how I am,

And break down in front of the produce.

Saturday,

The baby breath is half dead,

The lavender makes the air tense,

There's a mix of regular clothes and formal wear

I would have laughed at anyone who bothered to put on a suit.

I would have said how pretty you looked

My mom compiled home videos and photos from the last year's,

Though there's only a few she thinks are really me,

And they're usually the ones where someone else is with me.

She says the usual:

The "kind"

The "smart"

The "talented"

The "too young for this"

Or maybe she'd say nothing at all.

Ask you if you'd like to say anything and I couldn't hear it.

I always wanted to know what you thought of me.

Sunday,

My room is still how I left it,

The coats on the hanger

And the boots on the outside the closet door.

The books,

Dusty and un-bookmarked,

They'll search for me here,

But none of the words will sound like my voice,

And my mother will keep the video of me.

The video of me as a kid laughing close to her chest.

She wonders where I went when I got older.

How was this grave her baby?

How could I leave her behind after all of the things I said without an apology.

After all that's been done for me,

It was a waste to love me,

That's what somebody would think,

But I won't know for sure.

Whether im in Heaven, Hell, or Nirvana,

I won't come back.

I won't be able to run my hand through your hair,

And I cant feel the warmth of another hand to remind me I'm still here.

I can't hear the music,

I can't hear the screams or the pleas,

I'll be at peace,

But I'll be no more than I am now.

[imperatorrrrr]

pairing of your choice + 🤠

if you can't see the emoji, its a cowboy hat, so here is NicoNate + cowboys (kind of) + a small tie in to the Unhinged Verse that is a massive inside joke with @offside-the-lines.

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

Nate's lost their horses.

Nate's gone and lost their horses and now he's going to have to tell Nico that he's lost the horses and he's going to have to figure out how to not dissolve on the spot when Nico gives him The Look.

The patented Nico Look of Disappointment and Sadness and Despair.

With his mouth all downturned and his voice all low and quiet and his eyes all big and brown and sad and his eyebrows cast down and his forehead all creased. Just misery.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part, no dimples in sight.

Nate sighs to himself.

There has to be a way to avoid The Look.

The Look has previously brought many a sheriff, many a gunslinger, many a cowboy to their knees. He's seen all sorts of frontier towns bend to The Look. How can anyone go on when they're being looked at like that?

Nate knows, firsthand, they absolutely cannot.

There's no way to beat The Look, but maybe he can figure out how to not deal with it at all.

He can't get their horses back, but he may be able to find replacement horses, and then instead of Nico giving him The Look, Nico will give him a kiss or two or seven. And Nico's eyes will crinkle and his nose will do the tiniest of wiggles and his smile will be big and bright.

And there will definitely be dimples then.

"Now...where do I find horses?"

"Young man...did you say you were looking for horses?" Nate whips around and sees a very short man creeping towards him.

Nate takes an instinctive step back. He didn't think anyone else was around and this man seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

He's short and pale, really pale with thinning hair that barely covers his head. There's a frozen smile on his face, unmoving. Its unwelcoming. And his eyes. His eyes look empty. Blue but there's nothingness.

And it gets weirder still as Nate sees that he old man is wearing dark red velvet clothes. These aren't clothes he's ever seen before and Nico and him have been traveling to all kinds of new places with their horses.

Horses.

"Horses?"

"You asked where you could find horses...?" The old man is looking at him expectantly. His eyes look dead and his smile hasn't changed at all. Are his lips even moving?

Nico is always telling him to be careful about who he gives his name to, and he's not going to stop listening now, "Bass, I'm Bass."

"My name is Gary. I can help you get some horses if you need?" Nate think he sees something in Gary's eyes now. Some sort of spark. Something that wasn't there before. And his smile seems to have gotten bigger, but it somehow looks even more sinister now.

But Nate does need horses. And Nate is very actively trying to avoid The Look.

Nate takes stalk. He's much taller than this man. Frankly, the man looks a little decrepit. Nate also has his two trusty revolvers. And as far as he can tell, Gary doesn't seem to have any weapons on him. Only the strange clothes. He can outrun him if need be and he can definitely beat him in a one on one fight.

Plus, there's the ever present threat of The Look.

So Nate takes a step towards this...Gary.

Gary's smile gets even wider, "Follow me."

[pinchinschlimbah]

tysm for ur text post about noel... I'm seeing SO many people immediately hating on him and it's exhausting. he's not usually the type of person to speak up about things like this really (at least from what I've seen) so I doubt he's gonna say anything, but his comments on insta are now turned off/limited so its safe to say he knows what's happening and is probably horrified :/

Yes of course! Like I said in my previous post, I think it's incredibly dangerous to start condemning people purely by association and vague connections you've made in your own head without having any actual substantial evidence. I'm not going to assume Noel's current thoughts on the matter as much as I hope that he is indeed horrified, but I do know that it's fairly par for the course to close off public lines of communication and take longer than most would expect to formulate an official statement on something as sensitive as this because to do it right one should be consulting with their lawyers and agents and other knowledgeable people to make sure the statement is as airtight and well-informed as possible without room for further misinterpretation or complicating any possible legal endeavors at play, so it is absolutely not evidence of guilt that he hasn't said anything yet. As much as it would be nice to see him formally denounce Russell and support the victims, I agree with you that it's definitely not guaranteed and we shouldn't be holding our breath since he's generally such an offline and private person with very good reasons for mistrusting the tabloids still looking to demonize him whenever possible, and if he does end up not saying anything there's a million other reasons besides him being complicit as to why he did not speak out. And yeah, people assuming that the comments being turned off means he's definitely hiding something is absurd. First of all I think it's worth noting that most celebrities don't have exclusive access to their social medias and often have whole teams helping them run things because they themselves have better things to do, so it's very possible the comments being shut off wasn't even done or directed by Noel himself. Second, it would be extremely unwise right now for him to start responding off the cuff to random people in the comments just because they demand it. And third, my initial thought when I heard about it was well wouldn't anyone turn the comments off if they were being bombarded with harassment lobbing horrible accusations at them and pressuring them to speak publicly about something before they were ready? But hearing from multiple people that the comments were shut off after Russell's supporters started flooding the posts arguing Russell's innocence makes it make even more sense why the shutoff was done and less evidence of guilt. Also while I'm here something else I wanted to speak on is that since my previous post, a clip from BFQ 2007 has been going viral and reported on by tabloids as ~evidence~ of Noel being involved because rape jokes were being made that involved him, even though the only thing Noel says in the clip is "how dare you, we're not rapists" in response to Jonathan deciding for Lily that she needed to be forcibly kept away from Noel and Russell. (and if I may editorialize for a moment, news sources reported on Lily looking uncomfortable in the clip as a condemnation of Russell and Noel, but personally I think she seems more annoyed that Jonathan has declared this decision for her rather than letting her decide what she felt comfortable with, especially since later in the show she giddily brings up crimping and is clearly somewhat of a Boosh fan.) I hate to pull out the "it was a different time" excuse but I need y'all to remember or understand what things were like back then for context of what was going on there. Me Too hadn't happened yet and actual accusations of sexual misconduct were generally spread in whispers and kept pretty hush hush, it was unusual for such things to be made super public because public blame was much more likely to fall on the accuser than the accused. Since the recent accusations have come out, multiple people close to Russell at the time have gone on record as saying that while they were well aware of the scope of Russell's aggressive sexuality, they had no idea at the time that it was veering into nonconsensual behavior and were horrified to find out.

Rape jokes were, unfortunately, very common at that point, with the word "rape" being used pretty flippantly and not always accurately to how serious of an act the word is meant to convey. The push to eradicate rape jokes from comedy didn't start until several years later, my memory says somewhere around 2010-11? And at the time, "slut" (and similar terms) was one of the worst things you could call someone and promiscuity was highly demonized in popular culture. Again, the concept of "slut shaming" and push to normalize safe and consensual promiscuity didn't come up in popular culture until several years later. So what I see in that clip is Noel and Russell, who were both known for being sluts at that time, being demonized for that behavior (which was well known and well documented in the documentary) with what was meant to be a lighthearted joke that they wouldn't be able to help themselves around Lily, and Noel's internal thought process at that point was most likely something like "Well, I'm a slut who's been demonized for it but I'm not a predator, so I assume the same is true for Russell." I don't believe this clip shows any reasonable guilt or association on Noel's part.

I understand the impulse to not want to support anyone who's done anything terrible, but if we're deeming people guilty by association so anyone who's ever worked or been friends with someone who did something bad is also bad just purely by that association with no other hard evidence, soon you'll have boxed yourself into a corner of having nothing that's safe to enjoy or interact with, and that's no way to live. Like I said previously I'm fully ready to jump ship if actual problems directly involving Noel do arise, but for the moment I do believe the panic and vitriol towards him is unjustified and I'll be continuing business as usual until further notice.

[ravenrose18]

My Personal Savior

Chapter 18- New Danger

Daryl smiled in return, listening to the options she gave him. He wasn't sure what they should do first. They all sounded like good ideas and he wanted to do every single one of them. However, he doubted they could fit all of it into one day. Luckily, it seemed that she decided for him as she spoke of the car. His curiosity piqued as she kept speaking about it. Whatever model this was, it had to be something good for her to be so excited. "I'm sure I can help you work on it. Aaron might know a thing or two as well. But lead the way, I wanna see it." He spoke with a smile. It was the most he had talked in one sitting for a long time. He usually had his conversations to be short and efficient, but it was different when it was Raven. He had known her longer than anyone here.

Raven smiles and jumps with excitement as she drags him over to her car next to the gate of Alexandria she stands next to it and smiles "I always wanted a car like this but I'm glad I had the motorcycle that Negan gave me for however long when this all started but you know we don't have to do everything I suggested us doing we can do it whenever we are free it will be just like the old days Daryl like when we were kids." She says she was excited to do these things with Daryl; she hasn't thought of doing what she used to do with Daryl in years she has missed it.

Daryl chuckled as he watched her, a small grin on his lips. He loved seeing her act so happy. It was something he hadn't seen in a long time. Daryl's eyes went to the car as they got closer, a little taken aback. "Woah.. Where did you get this thing?" Daryl reached down, letting his fingers gently touch the hood for a second to make sure the car he was seeing was real. Sure enough, his eyes weren't deceiving him. It was a '69 Charger. Afterward, he put his attention back on her, eager to hear her answer. He knew there probably wouldn't be another one like it there, but where there are old cars, there's usually a stash of spare parts. Parts that they could use. When she spoke about how they didn't have to do everything today, he gave a nod. "I know. Just come up to me when you're free and we can go from there.. And I'd like that." He spoke with a smile. He missed the relationship they had as kids. He wanted it back more than anything.

Raven shrugs and sighs "I just found it in one of the garages at the Sanctuary it hasn't been touched I found the keys in the car too but it seems like this was a joy ride for Negan or for someone who had it before I wish I had a car like this when I started driving. But I would rather have a motorcycle than a car, but mine died a while ago. But you know I always have free time for you Daryl, it's more of you having free time." She says she felt like she could have her old relationship back with Daryl. She just needs to get back into their relationship and do what they used to.

Daryl nodded, still looking over the vehicle in great interest. When she mentioned the sanctuary, he sighed quietly. He didn't want to go back to that place just for a few car parts. Not unless he was severely desperate, which they weren't. At least, not yet. "Well, if it was his joy ride, it looks like it's yours now. I'll do my best to help keep her running for you. If you still want a bike, we might have one to spare, but if there is one, it might need a lot of work. Or I could get you a horse instead." He joked a bit at the last part. Of course, if she agreed, then he wouldn't mind getting one for her. Even if that meant taking her to the Hilltop or Kingdom. Although, he doubted she'd trade the protection of a car for an animal. Of course, he might be wrong. "Well, Negan might keep you busy. But I should be free most of the time. Things have been quiet for now."

Raven giggles and shakes her head "If I don't need to drive the car I would like a motorcycle yes thank you Daryl maybe you can teach me how to fix up a car and or motorcycle especially if we need to make sure we can make it to each community without having to abandon the vehicle all together. Yeah, Negan will keep me busy. He's a talker, but he needs company. He could lose his mind in that cell I almost did." She says she felt like she could've lost her mind in that cell, but she didn't know how Daryl got affected by being in that cell at the Sanctuary.

Daryl smiled, giving a nod at what she said. "I'll look around and try to find you one, and you're welcome. Sure I can teach you. Just as long as you don't get bored because it's a lot." He joked a little bit. He stayed silent for a moment as he listened to her speak. It wasn't until she mentioned how Negan talked a lot that he began to stir again. Daryl nodded, a sigh escaping his lips. "He talks too much. I'd hate to be near him in a situation that needs silence. And again, I'm still sorry. I shouldn't have left you in there." He spoke, regret and sympathy in his eyes. Luckily, he hadn't been in a cell for long when he was in the Sanctuary. At most, it may have been a week or two, but the things they did to him while he was there were worse than his solitary confinement.

Raven shrugs and sighs as she looks at the car and touches the hood and sighs "No no it's fine Daryl really plus it's not going to have an effect on me I've been through hell and it wasn't that bad Daryl trust me but if there isn't anyone to talk to especially when you when there alot of people to talk to. I'm just glad I got to meet and talk to Carl and Tara. I'm glad I made friends while being in that cell." She says softly she is glad she can have Daryl the way he was even if he becomes a better man after not having his brother around. "I have been meaning to ask you what happened to Merle?" She asks

Daryl nodded after a moment. He still felt bad about it, regardless. He doubted the guilt would ever fully leave him, but he'd try his best to stop talking about it so they could move on. "If you say so. And Carl was a good kid. Knew more than all of us. I wish he were still here. We could use his wisdom. Tara's always been a good person too. She's been staying up at Hilltop for a while. I don't think she has any plans on returning soon." He explained. When she brought up Merle, he stood in silence for a moment. Merle could be a difficult and selfish person sometimes, but he was his brother. Daryl still missed him a lot. Eventually, he found his words as he began to speak again, "A month after the world went to shit, Merle and a few others ran into Rick. They got into an argument, I can't remember what about, and Rick cuffed him to a roof and left him there. When I heard about it, I went back, but Merle was already gone. He chopped off his hand to get free. I didn't see him for a long time after that. Then we came across this community. Woodbury, they called it. Merle was found by the leader and taken in. The leader was a man who called himself the Governor. He acted friendly and made empty promises to get you off guard, then he'd kill you and take what you had. Merle served him for a while, but when he found out I was still with Rick's group, he didn't want to fight me. The Governor saw him as a traitor and shot him in the chest. I found his walker, and I had to put him down. I still miss him. He was an asshole, but I loved him." Daryl's eyes looked to the ground as he spoke. He still hated the Governor's guts over what he did to his brother, but at least he was dead now.

Raven looks at him sadly. She wants Merle to die like she knew he was an asshole. Merle always thought of her as a burden and got in the way of Daryl and Merle he was a brother to her but he shouldn't have died that way. "I'm so sorry Daryl nobody should die like that." She says softly as she embraces him and rubs his back. She hasn't even told him about how she went back home and killed her abusive parents, but her parents deserved what they got for hurting her all of her life. She wishes she was there for Daryl when he went through all that.

Daryl wrapped his arms around her in her embrace, holding her close. His chest felt heavy as the pain from his loss resurfaced. Daryl couldn't help but wonder about how things would be if Merle had lived. Maybe he would have changed for the better like Daryl had. Maybe he would have become a respectable person, but he had his doubts. Merle had a complicated personality, but regardless, he still loved his brother above all else. Something that inadvertently brought his downfall. Daryl did his best to push away his grief. He had to keep moving forward despite his losses. After all, that's what his brother would have wanted for him. To keep going and survive this mess. "It's alright, Raven. The Governor got what he deserved." He spoke, giving her back a few pats. He was holding himself together pretty well, but if they had been somewhere private, then a few tears would have been shed.

Raven looks at him as she pulls away putting her hand on his shoulder "I'm sorry for bringing it up I was just wondering I know the past is the past but we've been apart for so long I don't know what you've been through. I wish I was there for you when you went through what you did. I wish I had you there for me when I was alone for so long. I'm just glad you found a group that you see as family. I haven't run into anybody except for one group through...." she says softly she is aware of a dangerous group but she doesn't know if Daryl has heard of them or ran into this group either but maybe if she warns them about them maybe if they run into them again they wouldn't have people get killed.

Daryl let her go when she moved away, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "It's okay. It's a good thing you weren't there. I wouldn't have wanted to lose you in that war, but I wish we could have found each other sooner than we did.. And they're good people. They've saved my life more times than I can count, and I've done my best to return the favor. I'm sure they'll warm up to you. It just takes a little bit. Especially after our recent incident." When she spoke of the group, he automatically thought she meant the Saviors. Maybe she saw the group as her family, just like he had viewed Rick's group as his own. Despite his conclusion, he decided to ask anyway just for confirmation, "You mean The Saviors?"

Raven looks at him into his eyes and shakes her head slowly "No I didn't know who the Saviors were until I stumbled upon The Sanctuary and that's when I and Negan reunited but no I'm not talking bout the Saviors I don't know if you know but there is a group out there more dangerous then any group I've seen Daryl.... this group they lead walkers everywhere and they wear skin mask that they get from walkers and whoever they kill they don't destroy the brain that has the people they kill join their herds they walk among the walkers they use knives as weapons. I saw weird patterns in walkers. When I was out there alone with the lack of food, water, and sleep, I thought I was hearing things like walkers whispering, but it was one of them...." she says softly, looking into his eyes

Daryl made eye contact with her, furrowing his brows as he listened to what she said. People wearing ski masks, and living alongside walkers? A few years ago, he would have thought she was crazy, but after all the stuff he had witnessed, he wasn't too surprised. Yet, it was still a lot to take in. Whoever these people were, they were survivors. However, it sounded like they had lost their minds a long time ago, along with what was left of their humanity. Even though he didn't see these people for himself, it took a special kind of crazy to wear the face of a dead man. "How big is the group? And where did you see them?" Daryl asked. His confusion was now replaced by concern and urgency. If these people were close, then they could pose a big threat to them, so he needed to know all that he could just in case. Regardless, he wasn't going to attack them until they made a move first.

Raven looks at him and sighs and shrugs and shakes her head "I don't know how many Daryl I saw them in multiple hordes and it could be hundreds or thousands but I haven't seen a sighting of them in a while the last time I saw a big horde and heard whispering was probably a month ago in the woods but I would still make aware to your group and other communities bout this because we need to be prepared for anything, especially for sneak attacks with knives they will disguise themselves as the walkers they control so when you think it's a walker don't let your guard down it could be ONE of them." She says, that trying to give all the information she knows to Daryl to help him and his group, she can never help their group go against them.

Daryl nodded a little, taking in all of the details she gave him. Even if they didn't have a lot of numbers, if they had hordes of walkers at their disposal and could lead them around at will, then they were still a big problem. "I'll tell the council, and then we'll get in contact with the other communities. We need to tell everybody we can about it and get them prepared, but we don't need to cause a panic. If they haven't posed a threat to us, then we shouldn't start one. Especially if we don't know a lot about these people." He spoke.

Raven looks at him and sighs "Daryl I know I'm willing to help your group in any way, I can but you should know I have seen the leader and second in command and it looks like we are screwed unless we get rid of the second in command and the leader just letting you know the second in command is tall and strong looking. So I just want us to be careful and work together, including everyone..." she says as she raises her eyebrows at him, making sure she knows what she meant by everyone.

Daryl shook his head upon her proposition. He knew exactly who she was referring to, but he wasn't sure that it was a good idea. Sure, they needed as many hands as they could get, but he was hoping he could avoid needing Negan's 'help.' He was trying to bottle his disgust for the man, considering that Negan and Raven were now a thing, but some hatred remained. "No. No way. That ain't happening. I know you two are a couple now, but that's a bad idea. Especially after he ran off. Hell, our people will be too focused on killing him than the masks." He spoke, his voice hushed. Even though he didn't say his name, he was still trying his best to be cautious in case someone was listening in.

Raven looks into his eyes and frowns and shakes her head "He could help Daryl in some way he can help and I'm not anybody hurt or kill him not if I have to say anything but I would give my life to protect the ones I care about especially you Daryl I would sacrifice myself for you and him because I love you guys so much you and him are the only people who gave a shit about me when nobody else did. So I promise you I'm willing to help, and he would be willing to help if he regrets everything he's done. You may not believe it, Daryl, but I can see it in his eyes. He's not like he was before he was put in that cell. Even Judith can see him changing, and she even told him that there was nothing left out there for him other than me, of course, but she doesn't know who I am. But she was right. The Sanctuary is done. it's a wasteland and nothing left. So please, Daryl, just think about telling your group about him helping." She says she knew saying his name gets to him, so she tries to not say it.

Daryl was still skeptical of the whole idea. He saw Negan as a wildcard. Unpredictable and cunning. However, he'd still attempt to bring up the possibility at the conference. Only because he trusted Raven's judgment, not because he trusted or liked Negan. "Fine. I'll put a word in. Doesn't mean they'll agree, but I'll try. And if he's changed, he doesn't act like it. He still pesters people like he always does and tries to get under their skin. He's not as bad as he used to be, but he still does it and seems to enjoy it. And Judith is talking to him?" He questioned. Of course, he wouldn't snitch on her, but it did bring a little concern. He didn't know how he felt about Negan being near their kids, especially Rick's. After a couple of moments, he sighed. "She may not have known Carl for a long time, but she is just like her brother.."

Raven nods slightly and sighs "Yeah she seems to want what Carl wanted and.... he wrote me a letter at Tara gave me after he died and I couldn't be any proud of trying to help change everything and make it where I tried to stop the war and tried to make it where he wouldn't make any rash decisions but with me being kidnapped it changed him he wanted to find me and make sure I wasn't hurt. But look, Daryl, you need to understand I do anything for you and I do anything for him, including my life. I know you do the same, and so would he. But Judith knows what he's done, and she doesn't see him as a monster; he even helps her with her math homework. But I'm glad you will say something at the meeting about him and about him getting under people's skin. That's the only way he can have fun by teasing he does it to me sometimes." She says

Daryl softly sighed as she spoke of Carl. Even though Carl had only been 16 years old, he possessed a wisdom far beyond his years. With his intelligence, his mother's compassion, and his dad's determination, he would have made a great leader when he grew up. It was a shame that he never got to. Daryl missed him a lot. Everyone did, even Negan. It hurt Negan almost as bad as it hurt Rick, for he viewed him as the son he never had. When she spoke of Judith, Daryl made eye contact with her. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the situation, but he still trusted Raven that Judith would be safe. "Math homework? I thought he was a gym teacher." Even though Raven hadn't told him that, Tara had. Tara had been so dumbfounded at the info that she couldn't keep it to herself, so she told it to Daryl. That way, it wouldn't spread around, and she could still get it off of her chest. "As I said, I can't promise they'll agree but I'll try.. And can you tell him to lay it off a little? Even if it's not trying to be mean, it's pissing people off. Gabriel, especially."

Raven nods, and then she looks up at him. "How did you know that he was a gym teacher? Did Tara tell you? Look, he's a smart man who knows how to use math, Daryl. But beside the point, I'll talk to him and make sure he goes easy on everyone or at least only does it to me. Plus, that's how he got loose from his cell because he was so mad he didn't lock his cell. But hey ummm if you guys still have running water I would like to get cleaned up and relax a bit and I would like to make Negan some food and go down and see him after I clean up." She says as she looks into his eyes

Daryl nodded in response to her question. He wasn't going to lie to Raven, even if it meant throwing Tara under the bus. "I'm the only one she told. She knew I wouldn't say anything. And good. Hopefully, he'll listen. That's the reason he's all alone down there. Not just because of what he did, but because they don't want to be teased by him." When she asked about washing up, he gave a nod. "You can take a shower in my house for now. Don't worry if you use all the hot water. It'll build back up." He spoke, gesturing over to his house. It was just a few doors down from Negan's cell. The Sanctuary had running water when Negan was in charge, but it came from an underground well, meaning the water was cold. They had a heating pump, but because of the size of the building, it tended to not be reliable. In Alexandria, they didn't have to worry about it that much. They had hot water available to all of them, and if it was used up, it'd be back in just a few hours.

Raven smiles and nods "I guess I will go get clean up and changed and we can leave my car here or should I move it to your house I don't mind moving it so we can maybe keep it covered with a tarp if you have one." She says as she pulls out the keys and hands them to Daryl.'' Don't stretch my car. I'll let you move it while I go get cleaned up." She says as she walks to his house with her bag and looks down the street, noticing the little window with bars, knowing that's the cell. She sighs as she goes into Daryl's house goes to the bathroom with a shower and starts getting cleaned up. As soon as she was done in the shower she got dressed and went into the kitchen to find something to make for Negan to eat.

Daryl gave a quiet scoff of amusement when she told him not to scratch the car, before taking the keys into his hand. Even though he mostly drove motorcycles, he was still a pretty decent driver when it came to cars. When she walked away, he immediately got into the car and started it up. A grin spread across his face as he heard the engine roar with life. He hadn't thought he would ever hear the rumble of a V8 again. He sat in silence for a few seconds, just enjoying the sound, before he did as she asked and drove it up to his house, parking it nearby. Once it was parked up, he made sure to lock the car to prevent any nosy teenagers from getting in, before walking inside and setting the keys down on the table where she could see them. Once that was done, Daryl walked back out of the house and made his way to their meeting room so they could have a discussion.

Next Chapter

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[quietbluejay]

Flight of the Eisenstein 2

so the death guard have basically successfully obliterated the jorgalli the Mechanicum wanted to loot the ships but Mortarion said no and yet the sisters of silence can do it though it's less they got permission and more they're just doing it anyways

lol

his thoughts get interrupted because Kendel's come by to say hi she brought a younger assistant with her who hasn't taken the vows of silence yet so can translate Kendel wants to make sure he doesn't say anything to anyone about the kid psyker they shot in the head oh they have a black ship with them anyways, they're off to Luna oh we're back to Kaleb who is observing the Death Guard talking amongst themselves after the battle

uh oh Kaleb runs into Grulgor who is talking with someone else Grulgor bullies Kaleb in a …well honestly this wouldn't be too out of place in an edgy version of Mean Girls Grulgor complains about the old annoying traditions that are still being kept by SOME PEOPLE (Garro) it gets a bit into Kaleb being a failed aspirant and how he failed and geez mostly the few failed aspirants that survive kill themselves luckily for Kaleb, Apothecary Voyen shows up to save him oh yeah one of the things Grulgor accused Kaleb of was being a spy for Garro which he worries out loud to Voyen is true as Voyen tries to reassure him also Kaleb's seen the lodge meetings…

lmao

after the battle, Garro meets with his men and there's some razzing of new guy who used his power fist too much and got bodied he gathers them around and starts telling them good job when they all go still and look behind him yes it's Mortarion pulling a Batman and typhon and a servitor are there too it's very funny to me that Mr. 12-foot-tall spectre of death can just sneak up on people

huh you know i wonder how long it took most primarchs to get used to servitors

geez, Swallow and Wraight can't even agree on physical description Wraight has Mortarion as shorter and bulkier than Khan, Swallow has him as tall and wiry (at this point, my fellows started joking around that Mortarion would have looked like Fulgrim if it weren't for all the experimentation etc)

his eyes are amber-coloured here and he looks at Garro very intensely

mortarion has a sense of humour on occasion i remember that one bit The Buried Dagger where he's like "lol impossible everyone knows im incapable of understanding humour" anyways he's here to give Garro a reward he gets to drink poison i know this probably gets tiresome but i do cackle every time someone goes "this totally secular tradition doesn't have any weird spiritual elements i promise it's totally imperial truth safe!!!"

lmao anyways wouldn't this be more of a "recent' tradition since I doubt they were doing this before Mortarion was found?

first time i read this and shared this passage someone commented that the Death Guard here come off as…prettty culty it's fun though, the DG definitely have a lot of flavour I'm also noting the switch to using Garro's first name here which continues through the rest of the scene

Skyborne:

Yeah, it is. Also being fair to Mortarion, he was raised by one cult leader then forcibly conscripted by another. He knows cults are bad, that’s why he rebelled against Necare, but like. The boy has never actually been deprogrammed.

he never had a chance to see what a healthy society/social relationships looked like

typhon, internally: am i a joke to you im referencing the opening of Angels of Caliban which is like one of the only Typhon POVs in the entire heresy where he thinks about how Mortarion never tells him good job

i'm still thinking about how some authors aren't even consistent with themselves w.r.t. Mortarion characterization Mortarion continues saying a lot of nice things about Garro like how everyone even Grulgor respects him, Garro is starting to get a bit nervous here okay time to bring up Horus and ah, Mortarion's putting out feelers to see how Garro will jump

yeah it's about the lodges and like this is a part where it feels like Garro is a cheap copy of Loken Mortarion wants to know why Garro doesn't want to join his reasoning is…basically the same as Loken's lol we can't have anything hidden you know, i'd love to see Malcador's reaction to the Loken/Garro reasoning on that

like, lol Mortarion's next order for Garro is to act as his equerry when going to see the Warmaster since Typhon is going to be away Garro once again squees internally it's going to be glorious to be able to see multiple primarchs, lol

and now, let's go over to Grulgor and Typhon who are watching the last of the jorgalli ships get thrown into the sun Grulgor is grumbling about how Garro gets to drink poison for killing a bunch of kids

Typhon: lol…Mortarion is also Terran Grulgor: that doesn't count and you know it, he's one of us Typhon needles him a bit more about all the fun stuff Garro's going to get to do and Grulgor grumps about it Typhon also calls Grulgor a blunt instrument lol

yeah, obviously, Grulgor would go with Mortarion over the Emperor anyways Typhon might need a blunt instrument later to deal with Garro lol okay time for Mortarion and Garro to go visit the Warmaster but they're going to wait first

he's going to let Angron and the EC go see Horus first which kind of stiffens up Garro's back because the Death Guard are second to none lol it's just easier to deal with these guys this way, though we get a retread of the isstvan iii recording Garro feels bad for the woman who made the recording

heh

Cardboardman takes a look around the Vengeful Spirit as he walks with Morty and the Deathshroud

you know them not getting along makes perfect sense and ironically seems to be one of the only things that McNeill and Swallow agree on when writing them

lmao in the end Garro figures this is a good thing after all if the primarchs were too elevated above regular people they'd forget that they were supposed to be serving the people of the imperium oh honey lmao Garro also finds it very odd how empty the area is of gawkers because if a similar party were visiting the Endurance, all the Death Guard would be popping up to get a look lol Mortarion notes that he's frowning and asks about it, Garro brings up the lack of remembrancers Garro is indifferent to the whole idea of the project lol

this is still funny to me "wait we're the ones sent to follow the death guard" "oh so sorry, you just missed them" and then Garro spots Sindermann sneaking around

which only adds to the odd feeling it's time to meet Horus and it feels weird to see this description of him

like there's nothing wrong with it but at this point i kind of expect two more sentences in that paragraph about his charisma and muscles however, lol

"Horus flexed and the sleeves came off" Garro is also getting a bit of ye old dokidokis Garro: not now, brain

Garro nods to Loken and then he notes something weird with the body language among the Mournival he picks up on the tension between Loken&Torgarddon and the other two taking a look at the EC…

and then over to the World Eaters and there's rumours they've gotten up to stuff that even the Death Guard find hard to stomach and this whole bit is just a retread of the scene from Galaxy in Flames, just from Garro's POV Garro thinks dark thoughts upon replaying the message

i still wheeze at a Death Guard dude thinking about Astartes leaping to the defence of innocents chapter ends on Garro feeling a sense of ominousness and I continue to believe in my hc of psyker Garro

hanging out in the stormbird deck, someone calls Garro's name oh no it's an EC oh good it's Saul! they catch up a little and Garro calls Tarvitz (in his head) the only EC worth anything rip

Skyborne:

This book is a little too obvious about who the good guys and bad guys are. I don't love it. Even False Gods, for all its flaws, was clear that Loken and Tarik aren't special, and their places could easily have been swapped with someone like Aximand.

yeah it was one of my big gripes with the book and why i ended up dropping it the three separate times I tried reading it

McNeill's problem is more construction, he's got good ideas underneath it

my description of Garro first time I read The Buried Dagger: the cardboard flavoured lantern jawed pure knight of the imperium

i originally called Flight of the Eisenstein like eating unflavoured oatmeal with a hint of cyanide man, if people think i'm mean to McNeill I hate to see what epithets I'm going to get called by defensive fans this time I never compared his writing to cyanide

did i suddenly drop into an IW book? they're playing regicide though i would like to see a gaming tournament of IW vs DG they continue to banter a bit lol

uh oh it looks like apothecary dude has knowledge he shouldn't have and he got it from the lodges everyone gets mad at Voyen Voyen tries to defend himself then unfortunately Garro enters the room Garro: I'm not mad, just disappointed

rolling my eyes

Garro being a psyker would have actually given his character a little depth and flavour

the salting will continue and intensify next time! As we will sadly leave behind any Mortarion scenes...

[izzysarchivedblogs]

He didn't expect anything from anyone, but if Tony seemed insistent on finger spellings than he'd at least show him something. Clint shrugs, waving his hand in a dismissive manner as Tony says that he'll learn some more for next time. ❝ It's no bother, now you know something. ❞

We see each other. Oh, was he not going to let it be however many months it was since they had seen each other before this?

And he course corrected again, could be handy in the field. ❝ Sure, it could be or at parties. ❞ Not that he can remember the last time there's been a big superhero gathering, social party, nor can he recall last time he's attended them. He knows the X-man had that one thing, but the point stands. Clint hasn't gone, and he can't recall the late Avengers celebratory gathering.

And then just sitting in here alone?

Clint's not going to answer that part. They needed to go back to normal, and normal was what they had been doing before last night. ❝ I'll work out, push my limit, than see where the rest of the day carries me. Walk Lucky too. ❞ Do stuff. Find something to do. Sit in here alone.

The harder question to answer was the one that broached the topic about the Avengers. ❝ I did my time with the new West Coasters. ❞ Until he wasn't part of them anymore either, until that was finished. At least for him. He felt like the odd one out, the butt of the joke. Why he'd think avenging around with the next generation was a smart idea? Oh, Kate, that's right.

It's not entirely an answer. He doesn't know and he really doesn't want to get into it. ❝ I'll be back when I'm back. ❞ He will be back, but he wasn't sure himself.

Tony watches closely taking in the words and following along. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He wondered if there were a lot of different grammar rules. That would the the harder part to learn.

"Shit, how did I not even notice you put them in," he said shaking his head. "Thanks for the lesson. I'll have to learn some more for next time." That didn't come out right. "We see each other." Nope. Try again. "Could be handy in the field." Nailed it.

He raised an eyebrow at Clint. "Working out all day long? Or are you going to be working out and then just sitting in here alone?" he said. "How long is this holiday for Clint? You know you could come back to the team if you wanted to."

As far as Tony was concerned it was always the more the merrier of the team. They always made this big deal who was officially on the docket but it wasn't like they would chase someone off if they came to help. And now he'd spent so much time here, he was a little worried about him. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to make sure they saw each other sooner rather than later.

[sunnyhoneyshimmermagic]

I can say without a doubt that while the strip clearly starts running out of steam around 2015, and to me, March-April 2016 was when it began being bad, there were still enough decent arcs and strips from 2016 to 2020 where I wouldn't call it TOTALLY terrible, more like an on and off period.

2021 to today is where it loses all control. I genuinely struggle to even remember the arcs I liked during this time. It's all so repeated, and what's "new" is almost always something refreshingly bad.

Examples:

That may 1st 2022 sunday where a girl actually likes Nate for once so Kim threatens to tear her arms off and NO ONE CARES.

Nate and Kim checking a haunted house, a 2-3 week arc where the big joke besides ha ha kim is a bitch is it was Chad playing the oboe.

Countless and I mean countless arcs of Nate having an idea but instead of us actually getting to see it fail it's his friends all making the same jokes you've seen 1000000 times, and none of which feel like they are being said by anyone else, all his friends turned into damn Francis.

Too many school arcs, Peirce has got to branch out from there. Even Gina arcs are less fun because you know now that no matter what, Godfrey and Gina will win.

Nate in general has really lost his old winning chances. I think he won some sport arc at one point, that's about it.

The knitting arc, 3 whole weeks for the most predictable result imaginable with nary a twist.

Nate sharing a locker with molly only the locker has none of the fun random stuff of the past and Molly is just Francis.

All the characters do is argue now.

Nate trying to stop eating Cheeze doodles, that totally didn't happen in a similar arc (it wasn't a bad arc but you get my point).

Hey, Chad, instead of being the fun and bright spot you are, how about just making food jokes?

EVERY. SINGLE. GIRL. BEING. SUCH. A. BITCH. Two girls just walk up to Nate randomly and start laughing at him. HE WASN'T EVEN DOING ANYTHING.

The arc where Nate and Francis break up, talked about it before, you know the drill.

Dee Dee is just... An egomanaical bitch. None of her once sweet nature, nor her realness with Nate are there. Now she's just girl Francis most of the time, and when it's time for some drama, she's become a real jerk. Oh, but wait, only Nate can get called out on that, carry on.

Oh, a golf/dog for christmas/Artur/Ailurophobia/school picture/sports/kim arc, gee, I wonder if there will be any variety at all, outside of Gram joining in on the golf once.

To me, the biggest change from the old days is the lack of adventure and story telling. Outside of the pretty decent school budget arc (and I guess the Nigel arc but I think that could have been less mean and more interesting), we just don't do story anymore. There are no totally different arcs you've never seen before (and if their are they're Nate in love with a tiktok star), no adventures, no quests, no big moments, barely any cliffhangers. Now it's just "here's a joke you've seen 100000 times with barely any twist, I bet it's funnier this time!".

And no, I don't care for the excuse "but it's hard to think up jokes after all this time." No it's not. I'm an inexperienced fanfic writer who hasn't even begun film school and has zero credits to his name, and I can come up with tons of original arcs!

In short... Dear lord are these last few years terrible. I literally went through 2023 at one point to get something for the AMV and I was like "wait this happened? wait, this was an arc?"