#why is eric here and why are we following his shenanigans

[densi-mber]

The Squid and Dagger Special

A/N: It’s been too long since I’ve featured Callen and Deeks’ shenanigans at the bar.

***

“Alright, here’s the last one,” Deeks announced, hefting a small keg off the floor while Callen dispensed small glasses of an umber colored beer, and passed them across the bar.

Seated along the bar, Kensi, Sam, Eric, and Nell accepted the glasses with varying levels of caution. Sam looked downright apprehensive.

“Are you sure a beer flight, of your own microbrew, is a good idea?” Kensi asked carefully, turning on of the five choices in front of her. That particular variety had an unnaturally bright amber color.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Callen asked.

“Yeah, you’ll be the first to taste the fruits of our collective labor and brilliant imaginations,” Deeks added. They’d spent the last several months crafting 6 different beers, with the intent to debut them on tap the following week.

“Because you’re crazy,” Sam responded to Callen’s question. He gestured towards Deeks, and then Callen. “And your tastebuds should be condemned.”

“That’s kind of harsh.” Callen looked anything but offended. In fact, he seemed pretty delighted.

“Eric, Nell, back me up.” Sam turned his attention to the younger pair.

“Hey, I am always open to new experiences,” Nell said with a shrug. She’d changed into a bright purple dress paired with shocking green jewelry after work. If she added a pair of white boots, she wouldn’t have looked out of place in a 1960s beach movie. “It sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Eric agreed with a little less enthusiasm. “These two don’t look that bad,” he added, sniffing a pale yellow and then coffee colored beer. “They smell decent too.”

“I am proud of how hard you worked on this,” Kensi said, eyeing Deeks fondly. She’d often teased him about his hobby, but overall supported the endeavor. Kensi had also acted as one his first taste testers, vetoing some of their initial attempts.

“Traitors,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“Ok guys, this is the moment of truth,” Deeks said, exhaling heavily. “You ready, partner?”

“Yep. I say we start with the ale on the right. It’s a combination of peach and nectarine.”

They all grabbed the pale yellow beer, and Deeks raised his glass in the air.

“To the Squid and Dagger’s inaugural beer tasting.”

“Hear, hear!” Nell joined in loudly before taking a sip. Deeks surveyed hers and everyone else’s reactions. Truthfully, he was just the tiniest bit nervous.

“Hm, that’s not bad,” Eric commented with some surprise.

“Uh, not bad, this is fantastic!” Nell corrected, draining her glass.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s ok,” Sam agreed begrudgingly.

“It’s really good,” Kensi offered, leaning over to kiss Deeks’ cheek. “Congratulations, guys.”

Beside him, Callen took another small sip, frowning as he mulled over the flavor.

“Yeah, I’m not really a fan,” he decided.

“Of course no. You want more of the skunky beer.” Sam made a disgusted sound. “What’s next?”

Deeks and Callen shared a smile, and Callen held up the darkest of the beers.

“We call this one the Squid and Dagger Special,” he informed them happily. “I came up with this one myself. It’s squid with hints of seaweed and salmon.”

“Oh hell no,” Sam swore loudly.

“Oh, yeah, that doesn’t sound fun anymore,” Nell said. Kensi and Eric were making sounds of dismay.

“Hey, you did promise you’d try them all,” Deeks reminded them, almost gleefully.

“We did.” Kensi grimaced, holding the glass up to her eye.

“Then drink up,” Callen encouraged, downing his in one gulp.

***

A/N: This is a continuation of one of my more ridiculous premises that Callen and Deeks start making beer together. Callen has a penchant for particularly vile combinations, which Deeks usually goes along with.

#densimber 6.0 #densimber 2022 #densimber day 9 #marty deeks #kensi blye #Callen #sam hanna #eric and Nell #ncisla fanfiction #the squid and Dagger #by ejzah

[overnightheartbeats]

🎰 what a fun lil number as we have 5 ships lmfaooo fate told me to send this <3

Send 🎰 for me to put our muses into a random list generator then post the first five as potential ships! // @cursivebloodlines

5 ships...why not 5 more? You asked for it, so here ya go!

eric and logan - These two, I definitely see them as longtime friends. One of the friends that he confided in when his family situation blew wide open. Eric definitely showed up to Logan's house, a mess!! Asking for advice and even requesting his professional skills to learn more about his parents. He went down this spiral and I like to believe Logan is the friend being there for him. Eric would definitely need a lighthearted buddy, possibly one to share his love life woes with. Someone to clown him!!

diego and zoe - LOL this one is hilarious. Diego is not here to play around with Zoe's shenanigans. If these two met, he'd be constantly annoyed with her way of life. What do you mean you're not going to share anything about your life? But I have to be honest? I'm out of here. It'd be like a jaded older brother listening to the younger sister's shenanigans, and dragging her away from bad choices. "No it's this way, come on" They'd be so fun together though!! Because she wouldn't let him catch a break, and honestly I'm down for that always.

ivette and aaron - hmm i think the few that we don't interact with, but let's see. This could definitely be a meeting at work situation, he has to visit the hospital for one of the cases he's working or she needs to provide some statement. They could just not be vibing with each other, or they had a previous misunderstanding, that leads to just not getting along, even if they keep running into each other because their work overlaps sometimes (nurse/homicide detective). General dislike to friends arc. OR if we're not feeling angsty, running into each other a few other times and being like, "oh hey you're the.." and just becoming friends over talking/complaining about work. No negativity hahaha

danielle and lydia - OMG another pairing that I think will have a tough time initially. I definitely see Danielle reaching out to Lydia and gushing over her work and her curiosity to learn more because she never did end up pursuing medicine. But still likes to follow along with research and new findings coming out. Eventually, goes beyond shop talk, though I think Lydia would be a bit weary of Danielle's antics and the drama she gets into. But, I like to believe they eventually find common ground and can build a very sweet relationship. They would be constantly talking and Dani would love to visit her at work, just spend hours with her there. Never bored of the conversations and always asking follow up questions. Danielle would ask to grab lunch or dinner to 'pick her brain' about a certain topic, but also reach out to her when she's bored at home and wants to try doing things people their age do. So expect a random text at 9:00 pm, 'we should go out for once.' Tbh it'd be a lot of dani following her around like a lost puppy. But, they'd be a powerful duo.

gabriel and tessa - oooh okay this one. They definitely met at some kind of event and he spotted her and had to introduce himself. He gushed how he was a fan of her YouTube work! And he goes on to tell her, that he watches her videos after games and they help him unwind because she's hilarious but also makes the videos so interesting. Maybe she knows he's a football player, maybe she's clueless. He doesn't mind either way, because he knows he's not a huge star. He's just a big fan, and i'm thinking they exchange phone numbers, just talk for hours and Gabriel thinks it's nice to have a friend while on the road.

Bonus:

danielle and dougie - bc obviously it cracked me up. this is a disaster waiting to happen. Two sensitive people together. These two would just encourage each other's clownery. Like, they're talking about their love life and they ask 'should I give them another chance?' most friends would say, hell no. screw them! they would just tell each other something like yes, another chance because... and essentially contribute to them getting into bigger problems. Although, on the other hand, dani is very protective of people and doesn't treat others the way she does herself...so maybe, she'd try encouraging him to set some boundaries, love himself a lil more. hmm who knows, they'd be a hilarious mess tho.

#cursivebloodlines #lmfao tell me why it generated Aaron x Lydia #meant to beee #lol it was an odd way to generate because i have so many clowns #but to no one's surprise..i love all of them

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 1: A Phone Call

Summary:  Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she's seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it's up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Phone Call

It all started with a phone call.

6 months had passed since the “robot apocalypse”, and the world had fallen back into normality. In fact, since the robot apocalypse was so brief, it was now nothing more than a memory and a conversation topic to use as small talk. Things like “Where were you when the robots took you?” or “What did you do inside the fun pods?”. All in all, life had gone back to normal.

But not for the Mitchells. No, their lives were probably changed for good.

Katie had settled well into college. Now that she finally had her Dad’s approval, she felt free to have as much fun as she wanted without the burden of letting down her family. She regularly sent them updates of her work, and it made her insanely happy when she heard that Dad had made an effort to watch them fully, even if he didn’t quite understand them. That was okay though. It’s the thought that counts.

Back at home, things weren’t the same without Katie. Every time one of them stared too long at the empty chair at the table, it felt like a little stab to the heart. The Mitchells were a team, despite their differences, and one missing member was enough to knock their whole household off-kilter.

But they’d still managed to form a similar routine to their old one, just with one less Mitchell. Just Rick, Linda, Aaron, Monchi… and Eric and Deborahbot 5000.

The addition of the two childlike defective androids to their family was the biggest change of all. Once Pal was defeated and everyone was free, the pair had simply stood and looked confused in the midst of it all. The Mitchells (still high on adrenaline) had turned to leave when Eric called out:

“Mother! Wait!”

When he had the family’s attention, he continued. “Are you… satisfied?”

“Huh?” Rick voiced all of their confusion.

“Are you satisfied?” Eric repeated in the same, dry (but strangely uncertain) tone.

When nobody replied, Deborahbot had attempted to clarify. “Are you satisfied... with our performance?”

It was at that moment that a feeling of dread began brewing in Linda’s gut. She knew little to nothing about robots, and less about computer language, but something about the way the bots were speaking resonated with her. Katie had gone through a stage a few years earlier where she needed validation to stay confident but was too anxious to directly ask for it. She wasn't even sure if robots could have anxiety, but...

The fact that this seemingly unrelated memory had sprung to mind was enough for Linda to make her decision.

“They’re coming with us.” She stated firmly, and that was that. Rick had tried to protest but his argument was weak and, after taking one look at the bots that helped save the world, he couldn’t say no to their wobbly faces.

So Eric and Deborahbot came home with them and unofficially joined the Mitchell family. Luckily for the Mitchells themselves, the bots’ shenanigans were enough to help fill in the void left by Katie. The family had found their routine, they weren’t being hounded by the press anymore, and they’d found their new normal.

And then one ordinary day, the house phone rang.

Before Linda (the only human in the house at that moment) had time to react, two identical shouts of “Unknown number!” came in from the living room.

Eric and Deborahbot announcing the caller had been endearing at first. Each time any phone rang, they would happily shout the caller’s name straight away.

However after a few months of it, as much as Linda hated to admit it, it had gotten old and more than a little annoying. But the boys couldn’t help it and it brought them pleasure, so Linda had decided to let it slide for the time being.

Then when the phone rang after a particularly exhausting day and the bots had called out the name of a work colleague, Rick snapped. He yelled at the bots in what Linda thought was a very harsh way- so harsh that she was certain that they would be crying if they could display human emotions.

Rick had felt extremely guilty later that night and apologised (due to Linda’s nagging) in the morning. The bots immediately forgave him, but Linda noticed during the following week they would fall silent whenever Rick passed them or when the phone rang. To try and make up for it, she promised them that they could shout the caller’s name whenever Rick wasn’t home. They’d hugged her when she said that, and Linda felt like she’d done something right. It was a nice feeling.

“Mother! The phone is ringing!” Deborahbot called, snapping Linda back to the present. She’d been lost in her memories for a moment, so she quickly ran to answer the house phone.

(The bots weren’t allowed to answer the phone for obvious reasons.)

“Hello?” She answered, smiling when she noticed Eric and Deborahbot peeking their heads around the door to watch her.

“Hi, uh, is this the Mitchells?”

The voice on the other end was familiar, but Linda couldn’t quite put a name to it. Was it a parent from one of her school’s kids? No, because then why would they have her house number. Then who?

“Yes, this is Linda Mitchell. Sorry, who is this?”

“Uh, hey, it’s Mark Bowman.” So that’s where she recognised the voice. It belonged to the man whose face had been plastered all over the news and had narrowly avoided jail time for causing the robot apocalypse.

“What can I do for you, Dr Bowman?” She asked, trying not to let the sneer into her voice. She also tried not to notice the way Eric and Deborahbot visibly stiffened (an accomplishment for them) at the sound of the name.

“Right, um,” the man sounded oddly hesitant, “as you probably know, I’ve been going through a lot of official checks, to prove that the robots no longer pose a threat and stuff.”

His hesitance made sense then. He was probably being held at gunpoint by the CIA.

“Mhmm.” Linda nodded while simultaneously using her free hand to shoo her boys away. She didn’t know whether they could listen in to phone calls or not, but her instincts were telling her that they would not want to listen to whatever their creator was about to say.

“Well one of those checks includes making sure that all the Pal Max bots are permanently offline, you get what I’m saying?”

Linda wishes she didn’t. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just say that one took a while. Each bot has a unique serial number and was designed to send out a notification to Pal Labs if they got completely broken. And since there are like, millions of these things it took ages to sort them out, haha.”

“Understandable.” Said Linda pleasantly, although her motherly instincts were firing off the charts.

“So, uh, long story short there are two of these Pal MAX bots still missing. The rest have all been accounted for from these distress signals, but these ones seemed to have disconnected from Pal servers before the mass shutdown. Since they’re still online I’m guessing they’re defective.”

Linda felt a sudden, impulsive urge to kill Mark Bowman. This was not a first-time occurrence.

“So this is basically a super long way of asking if you’ve seen any rogue Pal MAX bots still online anywhere? Maybe back when you were saving the world?”

She had to resist the urge to hang up right then and there. Instead, she put on her sweetest teacher voice. There was truly no better way to mask her emotions.

“Hmm, no, sorry I don’t think we did.” She paused. “Even if we did, if the robots are defective then surely they can’t be that dangerous?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bowman exclaimed suddenly before clearing his throat and composing himself. “But uh… these people wanna be thorough. Can’t risk another apocalypse, y’know?”

Linda was about to respond when she heard a strange beeping sound on the other end, accompanied by shuffling.

“Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye-”

She’d been hung up on before she had time to react to Dr Bowman’s words.

On the inside, she was glad that he hadn’t pressed further about the missing defective robots. She’d been half-expecting him to already know their whereabouts and for there to be a confrontation.

But there hadn’t, and he’d hung up, and something about the whole thing seemed off.

She began to formulate a plan in her mind. Firstly, her robo-boys’ safety was the top priority of the situation. Once Rick came home she could tell him about the phone call and they could think of protection methods more clearly.

All she knew for certain for the time being was that the bots wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while.

~-.-~

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

If the beeping wasn’t startling enough, the aggressive hand signals the agents were sending him caused him to panic.

He decided to hang up quickly. “Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye!” It probably sounded rude, but he really couldn’t care at this point.

“So…” he nervously began, looking up from the phone screen but not wanting to make eye contact with any of the agents. “Did you find anything?”

“The call was intercepted by two separate individuals.” One of the younger agents seated at a computer piped up.

Mark gulped.

“It seems as though we were right, Dr Bowman.” Said Agent Ward, the CIA woman who had first initiated the search for the missing Pal MAX bots. “They’re targeting the Mitchells.”

Taking a deep breath, Mark tried to calm his nerves. He’d lost almost everything in the span of a few months- a good chunk of his self-confidence included.

“Now what?" He asked. "You’re gonna warn them, right?”

“Find them yet, Travis?” Agent Ward asked another of the agents, ignoring Mark completely.

“Hey! You didn’t answer me!”

“We’ve managed to trace the interception to its sources, Ma’am.” The other agent replied, also ignoring Mark. “The coding here does look like Pal MAX, but we can’t actually access it. Since they’re online, the defences are strong. It would take a few days to get through the firewall even with Pal Labs resources, let alone commence a rewrite.”

The agents only turned their attention back to Mark when he snorted when trying to hold in a laugh.

“Of course it’d take ages,” he scoffed, “these are Pal bots. They’re designed to be pretty much impossible to be hacked by humans.”

“Well then,” Agent Ward towered over him intimidatingly, “you’d better get to work.”

Comments make my day! :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #fic #tmvtm eric #eric tmvtm #deborahbot 5000 #eric and deborahbot5000 #eric and deborahbot #linda mitchell #mark bowman #and into the fire

[scabopolis]

Omg congrats on 600 followers! Honestly any fake dating with Jonah x Amy would be amazing, although I love number 44 and/or 48 on your Google Docs <333

This is my first Jonah x Amy fic and I offer two caveats: 1) I’m still not sure if there is a particular vibe people who read for this pairing preferring, so...here we are, and 2) I have only made it through 4x12 of Superstore but am pretty familiar w/ what happens the rest of the series. 

Prompt: “You know we’re not actually dating, so why did you propose to me in front of my family?” / “I’m sorry, I panicked.” --- Title: the scene of the complication Fandom: Superstore Pairing: Jonah/Amy Other Characters: My crippling insecurity writing for a new fandom, sleep soft mornings, dumbs being dumb (but, like in a cute way) Additional Tags: friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, alternative universe where Amy’s HS pregnancy test was negative and she and Jonah met in college Word Count: ~2,100 ---

It started with a chance meeting ten years ago, and somehow it’s brought Amy Sosa here: awake in her childhood room with Jonah Simms beside her, sleeping off upwards of half a dozen tequila shots. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew that day they met in the lecture hall that Jonah was a person who would make her life exceedingly more complicated. 

And ten years later, here they are, practically leaving complicated behind in the rear view mirror. 

(“What are two hopes and one fear you have for your first lecture on your first day of college?” the guy sitting to her right asks. 

Amy doesn’t answer at first but this stranger just waits for her, all blinking, bright eyes and freshman eagerness. It’s barely morning. Is this her life now? 

“Hope one,” she says, holding up a finger, “that I’d sit next to someone quiet. Hope two,” she holds up another, “that no one would talk to me before I managed to find coffee.” She holds up a third finger. “And this moment right here is what I feared.” 

For some reason, her shortness delights him. His smile is open and affectionate, and he nods in appreciation. 

“Noted.” 

And Amy fully intends to never speak to this wide-eyed panda boy ever again, but then their General Psychology professor informs the class that the person they’re sitting next to will be their assignment partner for the semester. 

The next lecture her partner – his name is Jonah, she learns – brings her a cup of coffee and doesn’t speak a word until she takes a long sip. 

Complicated.)

Jonah snuffles in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering slightly. His hair is doing that thing it does when he’s hot or drunk or has run a hand through it too many times, where a single lock of hair hangs in the middle of his forehead. Amy resists the very real urge to brush it away. Because, yeah, she has those kinds of thoughts a lot and they also make things complicated. They’re friends. Maybe even best-friends, but definitely not ‘tenderly brush a lock of your hair away’ friends. 

Do those kinds of friends even exist? 

Jonah stirs again, and now that it’s clear he’s actually waking up, Amy reaches for her phone and opens Candy Crush. The last thing she needs is to get caught staring at him like some weird stalker.

“Oh, god,” he groans, his voice scratchy. He stretches out with another groan, his foot bumping against Amy’s as he does. Rather than move away, he kind of just rests it there on top of hers. And this is something she is all too familiar with. Drunk and/or hungover Jonah is yet another complication. More accurately, his propensity to cuddle indiscriminately is a very real complication. 

“I need—” Amy reaches for the glass of water on her night stand and hands it to Jonah, stopping him mid-thought. “Do you have—?” She hands him two ibuprofen. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” She looks back at her phone. 

Jonah swallows the two pills and drinks the entire glass of water, and then lays back down, curling slightly into Amy’s side.  

“I made so many mistakes last night,” he says.

“I’m aware. As are your 80 Instagram followers.” 

“I liveblogged it?” 

“And tagged everything with the hashtag ‘best noche ever.’” He groans again and turns his face into Amy’s side. She sets her phone back on the nightstand. “What got into you?” 

“Your dad is intimidating.” 

“My dad?” 

“Yes. Your dad. And then he and your brother kept pouring me shots—” 

“I knew this had Eric’s fingerprints all over it.” 

“Well, it was kind of my fault, too.” 

She frowns. “What do you mean?” Jonah doesn’t answer and Amy kicks him under the covers. He looks up at her. His eyes are red-rimmed but also so sleepy and soft. Complicated. “Jonah.” 

“They kept asking me questions. About you and me. And I was so worried I’d say something wrong, I kept taking shots to avoid answering.”

“You could have found me.” 

“I know, but—” he trails off. 

“But what?”

“I want them to like me.” 

“Oh, Jonah.” She gives in and brushes the lock of hair off his forehead, and he looks up at her. “They’ve known you for 10 years. They’re never going to like you.” 

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” 

“I do have one more question.” 

“Okay.”

“You know we’re not actually dating. Right?” 

He closes his eyes and nods. “No. Yeah. I know.” 

“So why did you propose to me in front of my family?” 

“I panicked.”

“Panicked?” 

“Your dad asked what my intentions were, and there were just so many shots. 

“And that’s why you shouted ‘I intend to marry her!’?” 

Jonah flips the comforter over his head. “I just got wrapped up in it all.” His words are muffled from under the comforter.

She’s glad for the moment of respite, with Jonah unable to see her. If Amy didn’t want things to careen so off track, she probably shouldn’t have agreed to let him come to her dad’s retirement party as her fake boyfriend. 

(“I don’t see what the problem is,” Jonah says, spooning more cashew chicken onto his plate. “You don’t still have feelings for Adam, do you?” 

“No. No. God no,” she says. “Absolutely not.” 

“Alright. I’m clear on the no.” 

“It’s just the last time I saw him— Well, you know.” 

“I recall, yes.” 

And he does. Jonah knows all about Amy’s high school boyfriend. The one she liked but never quite loved. The one she broke up with when the pregnancy test came back negative. The one she slept with again the summer after their senior year of college. 

(An event that occurred in no small part because Jonah was dating Mindy and the two of them were talking about moving in together. Maybe moving to the west coast together and Amy realized there was a very real possibility she was going to be left behind. 

Jonah doesn’t know that part of the story.) 

Adam is also the guy who thought having sex in her childhood bedroom meant Amy wanted to get back together. He’s the guy bringing his very beautiful fiancée to her dad’s retirement party. Because he’s also somehow the guy who still helps her dad with home improvement projects. And Amy is just Amy – the one who doesn’t visit St. Louis enough, and is using her very expensive liberal arts degree to work as a survey researcher for Cloud9, meaning she’s basically paid to manipulate shoppers. 

And, not that it should matter, but she’s also very single. Has been for a while now. 

She mostly blames the man stealing chow mein from her plate for that. She blocks Jonah’s chopsticks with hers, and a piece of cabbage goes flying. 

“Stop that,” she says. 

“You’re not eating it.” 

“I’m too annoyed to eat.” 

“If you only ate when you weren’t annoyed you’d starve.” 

“I hate you.” 

She pushes the chow mein around her plate. God, when she thinks about it, this really is Jonah’s fault. If she could just find a way to get over this stupid, dumb, little crush that has creeped up – without her permission, mind you! – then maybe she could actually—

“I could do it,” Jonah says, interrupting her thought spiral. 

“Do what?” 

“Go with you to your dad’s retirement party. Be your fake boyfriend.” 

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. Besides, I am very close to getting your dad to like me.” 

“He’ll never like you.” 

“It’s not that I didn’t like the painting—” 

“—How would this even work?” she asks, cutting him off. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think we act like we normally do, but maybe you can hold my hand and be nice to me.” 

“Eww.” 

Jonah smiles around a large bite of cashew chicken. She really needs to stop hanging out with him so much – he’s become immune to her insults. It’s rude. 

And him as her fake boyfriend is a terrible idea. Truly awful. If Amy is looking to get over her crush and make things between her and Jonah less complicated, there are better ways to do it. 

Except. 

Except she kind of wants to. 

“Okay. Let’s do it,” she says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” she says decisively. “But if you try and kiss me, I’ll cut your lips off.” 

“That seems like a proportionate response.”)

“So, to be clear, I told you kissing wasn’t allowed, and you thought that left proposals on the table?” 

He groans again from under the comforter. It’s a little sad and a lot pathetic. Poor guy. 

She pats the comforter in the area of what she hopes is his shoulder. As annoyed as she is at having to untangle these threads, it’s not his fault. Not really. She knows her family is relentless. Amy slides down and flips the comforter over her head as well. 

Jonah rolls over onto his side to face her. Amy does the same. 

“It was better than Adam’s proposal.”

“Adam proposed?” 

Amy nods. “Ish. If I remember correctly he said, ‘I’ll marry you if I have to.’”

“Yikes.” 

“Right?” It’s cozy under this blanket. Intimate even. “You did say some nice things. Even if they came out kind of slurred.” 

“Amy—”

“Sexy, huh?” 

“I really didn’t mean to shout that to all of your dad’s—”

“Because it’s not true?” 

“No!” Jonah winces and Amy isn’t sure if it’s ‘I have a hangover’ induced or ‘I am revealing too much’ induced. “It’s true. Of course it’s true. You are very, you know.” 

“Sexy on a completely objective level? Or, are you saying that you, yourself, Jonah Simms, think I’m sexy?” Jonah goes completely still. Amy isn’t even sure he’s breathing. It’s entirely uncharacteristic and a little unnerving. She pokes his cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Big time, yeah.” 

That does enough to break the tension under their blanket enclave, both of them laughing, at first awkwardly and then more genuine. Once they stop to catch their breath, Amy notices they’ve shifted closer together. 

This would be the perfect moment to flee from the scene of the complication. But the complications don’t seem so terrible at this specific moment. She blames that lock of hair of his.

“How long have you held this opinion?” Jonah frowns at Amy’s question. “Regarding my sexiness?” she clarifies. 

“Amy—”

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I just want to—”

“Really? You really want to have this conversation?” 

Jonah stresses the ‘you’ and Amy knows why he does. There isn’t a topic or feeling that is off-limits to Jonah – he’d happily discuss every feeling he’s ever had. It’s her. It’s always her. 

Their faces are so close they’re practically sharing the same pillow. It takes no effort at all for Amy to close the distance between them, lightly brushing her lips against his. As quick as it began it’s over, and even in the dim light under the comforter, Amy can see Jonah’s eyes blown wide. She’s sure she looks just as shocked and she’s the one who did it.  

“You said if I kissed you you’d cut off my lips.”

“Which is why I kissed you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Makes sense.” Jonah taps out a slow but erratic rhythm against the side of his leg. She just knows he’s trying to stop himself from verbalizing every single thought in his head. “To be clear, was that a friendship kiss, or—” 

So Amy kisses him again. This time Jonah recovers quickly from his shock, winding a hand into her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head. It’s just unbelievably good. 

“Okay,” Jonah says, his voice unsteady as he pulls away. “That answers that.” He traces her jaw with his thumb. “Any chance we could do it some more?” 

Amy rolls onto her back, putting some distance between them. “I don’t think so.” 

“Wait. What?” 

“Your breath is awful.” 

Jonah breathes into his hand and sniffs it to confirm. “What if I brush my teeth?” 

Amy sighs, long and exasperated. “I suppose that would be—”

Jonah is out of the bed in seconds, scrambling for his overnight bag, and Amy presses her lips together to hide her smile. From the way Jonah smiles, soft and delighted as he backs out of the room, she isn’t fooling anyone. 

So far past the point of complicated, she thinks, her heart still racing. But then again, maybe complications that make her feel like this are okay.

#simmosa fanfic #superstore fanfic #jonah x amy #jonah simms #amy sosa #amy dubanowski #I hope you like it anon! #first fic for a new fandom is always the most nerve wracking! #why is that? #p: jonah x amy #c: jonah simms #c: amy sosa #tv: superstore #otp: fresh start #Anonymous #never stories

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1977

The X-Men, those starjammin' mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 103 - 108) - written by Chris Claremont and art by Dave Cockrum, Bob Brown and John Byrne

The fabled M’Kraan Crystal, a.k.a. Everything’s a butt plug if you’re brave enough. (X-Men 107)

When we last left our X-Men, they were being pummelled into a paste by Black Tom and the Juggernaut at the ancestral Cassidy Keep. Only Nightcrawler was out of their clutches, because he was saved by elves. (All Irish keeps have elves, plz don’t question it.) Apparently, Juggernaut and Black Tom have been holding the inhabitants of the castle hostage under the orders of Eric the Red. Black Tom plans to mindrape the X-Men to lure Charles to Ireland to kill him, which… er… Wouldn’t it be easier to go back to the USA now that Charles is mostly unprotected? Most of the the X-Men are in Oire right now!

Nightcrawler incidentally discovers he turns invisible in the shadows, and it makes total sense that he only realizes this now, because they have no shadows in Germany. Eh, nobody remembers he has this power these days anyway, so! Moving briskly on!

Kurt surprises the gay villainous duo by pretending to be a surprisingly spry Xavier. (Image inducer ftw.) While trying to turn Nightcrawler into a smear of blue fuzz, Juggernaut punches through a wall, exposing Storm to the sky and releasing her from the tight grip of her claustrophobia.

Very few things fill me with more delight than seeing Storm doing loop-de-loops. (X-Men 103)

Storm frees the rest of the X-Men. In the final battle, Banshee tussles with Tom, tossing him off the ramparts and straight into the choppy ocean. Even though tossing a villain into the water is an absolutely sure-fire way to guarantee they'll survive, Juggernaut jumps in after him, desperate to save his boyfriend. Friend. Whatever.

Hilariously, the people at marvel.fandom hate this issue and plotline, saying it’s more riddled with plot holes than Swiss cheese. For example, the elves reveal Wolverine’s real name - Logan - which… “This issue implies that the leprechauns have some prior knowledge of, and even a connection to Wolverine. This plot point, however, was completely dropped and never referenced again (which is probably for the best, considering how goofy it is.)”

I mean, they’re not wrong.

So. Hey. You ready for things to get weird?

Moira has received a VAGUE BUT DISTRESSING call for help from Muir Isle. Off-screen she got upgraded to being an associate at Edinburgh University who owns a lab in Scotland. She left some dude named Jamie Madrox in charge, which - Moira, you have a Phd, you should be able to tell that Madrox is an absolute (entertaining) mess of a person.

Also super surprised that Jamie Madrox was conceived in the seventies, but whatever.

In order to check out the lab, the X-Men rent a hovercraft, which explodes just off the shore of Muir Isle.

Get a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass fuzzy. (X-Men 104)

They are beset on all sides, before being pulled into the laboratory by… MAGNETO?

Magneto accusing anybody other than Dr. Doom or Namor of all-consuming arrogance shows us that self-awareness can’t be taught. (X-Men 104)

Cyclops arrives by airplane, reuniting with the team, while also talking to Moira and Madrox. Absolutely bonkers revelations are made in the space of three pages:

Moira’s lab is a secret Mutant Research Centre. (uh…)

In the Defenders-comic, Magneto was de-aged into a baby. (...what?!)

‘Research Centre’ is a Scottish synonym for a penal colony for all kinds of dangerous mutants, like baby Magneto, Dragonfly, Unus and the mysterious Mutant-X. (...what?!)

Moira quite cavalierly experiments on prisoners and babies. She also has a machine that can manipulate age. Xavier knows and is fine with all of this. (wtf!?!?)

This is such a bonkers, messy way to rewrite both Moira and Magneto. Like, I can’t.

Eric the Red freed Magneto and then used the aging machine to turn Magneto back into an adult man at the peak of his powers. This Magneto is understandably upset at having been turned into a science lab experiment/baby and he mops the floor with the X-Men.

Cyclops makes the executive decision to flee Muir Isle, because they have no chance against Magneto and he now realizes Professor X is unprotected and probably at the mercy of Eric the Red. Wolverine calls him a big fat sissy to his face.

I kind of dig that the X-Men don't win a lot of their fights yet. They’re still treated as relatively unseasoned, especially as a team, and they don’t automatically win at the end of every story. It also gives Magneto more oomph as a villain.

Anyway, when the X-Men arrive at the mansion, they’re defeated by Firelord, Galactus’ former herald. He’s been duped into attacking them by Eric the Red. Firelord is convinced the X-Men are the villains, because Eric went with the Wounded Gazelle Gambit: he even knocked out Havok and Polaris to pretend he was attacked by our merry mutants. (Next time we see them, they’re back to their normal, non-brainwashed selves.)

In her new apartment, Jean is introducing her parents and Professor X to her new girlfriend roommate Misty Knight when princess Neramani (of, uh, space) teleports into the room. And then Firelord attacks Charles! Jean has absolutely zero chill for all of this.

I know very little about Misty Knight, but every time she appears, she responds to anything remotely surprising by drawing her gun. I assume she shoots her paper boy every morning. (X-Men 105)

The entire point of this issue is to show how big a threat Phoenix is. Claremont originally wanted to use a big name like Thor or the Silver Surfer, but editorial nixed that: they feared that it would be emasculating for a popular character to be beaten by a girl. Once again, this proves how badly the Phoenix storyline was needed. Did Jean single-handedly introduce feminism to superhero comics? I’mma say yes.

With Jean distracted and Charles teaching Lilandra English telepathically so he can woo the pretty space-lady and/or get an explanation as to why the universe is ending, Eric the Red strikes, revealing himself to be: SHAKARI.

Yeah, no, I don’t recognize the name either, but the dude’s been working on this reveal for a while, so just let him have it.

He absconds with Lilandra through the Stargate and switches it off, just as the X-Men arrive. Jean casually turns it back on and because the Professor is all, “we’ve got to save her! I mean the universe!”, the X-Men jump through the gate.

Jean’s parents are all out of wtfs to give.

We take a break from Shi´Ar shenanigans with an inconsequential filler issue, where we flashback to Xavier while he was being driven crazy by his Space Trek dreams. It’s established that Moira and Xavier are ex-lovers and that Xavier’s melodramatic subconscious wants to kill the new X-Men. (Probably not for real, but who knows.) Next!

Still a better villain than Onslaught. (X-Men 106)

Anyway, the X-Men find themselves surrounded by aliens in front of the ginormous M’Kraan Crystal. The Shi’Ar are all: ‘dafuq you’re doing here’, Cyclops is all: ‘We’re here for Lilandra’, and the Shi’Ar are all: ‘You mean our prisoner and rogue princess?’ Scott decides that gathering more information is for losers and starts blasting, triggering a fight with the Imperial Guard.

Lilandra, meanwhile, is in the hands of Shakari and her big brother, Emperor D’Ken. He releases some nebulously defined monster - a Soul Drinker - to kill Lilandra. Nightcrawler saves her from its murderous clutches by teleporting two people for the very first time. Lilandra doesn’t barf up her insides, which is apparently a test of character, and proceeds to explain what’s what.

First, she tells the X-Men that she felt Professor Xavier when he was doing the telepathic care bear attack against the Z’Nox way back in the sixties and that she felt instantly drawn to him. She also explains that she’s D’Ken’s younger sister and leading a rebellion against her mad, power hungry brother. Why is he mad? Well...

The X-Men vs. Astrology! Riveting. (Still a better villain than Onslaught.) Although, “I’m a Pisces” sounds a lot lamer than “I was born under the Nine Death Stars. (X-Men 107)

The guy in the mohawk is Gladiator, he is consistently the worst. Even when Lilandra reveals that opening that gate triggers the End of All That Is, he’s still all: “Juuust following orders.”

The Imperial Guard goes in for a smackdown, but the X-Men are fortunately saved by the Starjammers. (Space pirates, not an 80’s rock group.) They are:

Corsair, a debonair dude with one golden earring. Pretty obviously a human.

Raza, cyborg with a temper and somehow bald whilst rocking a ponytail.

Ch’od, lizard creature. Has a white fluffy spider monkey-thing that I don’t recognize and but is apparently called Waldo Ch'ee. (I pray it just got lost in Marvel history and that it doesn’t get squashed at some point. It’s adorable.)

Hepzibah, cute cat girl with a gun. Involved with Corsair, except he can’t pronounce her name so he just gave her the completely unrelated nickname Hepzibah? Dude!

Jean, having learned psychic etiquette from Charles Xavier, immediately violates their privacy and scans their minds, figuring out that Corsair is Scott’s dad. Superficial telepathic read, my ass.

Meanwhile, power builds up in the M’Kraan Crystal and the universe briefly blinks out of existence, threatening to tear open the fabric of the universe if this keeps up. To emphasize that this is a Big Honking Deal, we cut to Earth where the Avengers, Fantastic Four and Peter Corbeau (rumored to have an IQ over 200) are all: oy, did the universe just stop existing?

That’s Hank McCoy for “we’re fucked’”. Hi Jimmy Carter! (X-Men 108)

Apparently, this is the year the X-Men can’t catch a break, because after being beaten by the Juggernaut, Magneto and the Imperial Guard, they are soundly trashed by Jahf, the Guardian of the Crystal. That is, until Phoenix drops a small meteor on him. In a story beat that I really like, Jahf isn’t fazed at all: the Phoenix, despite her immeasurable power, isn’t omnipotent. Sometimes, you need a scalpel instead of a sledge hammer: it’s Banshee whose sonic scream can scramble the guardian’s circuitry.

Unfortunately, defeating the first guardian only awakens a second, stronger one, so…

Raza decides he’s had enough of this nonsense and, displaying admirable proactive problem solving skills, simply tosses D’Ken into the M’Kraan crystal. Presumably, the Crystal is annoyed at being attacked by someone who also has an unnecessary apostrophe in their name, and it lashes out, trapping everyone involved in their own personal hell. For Jean, this is apparently death, but she’s all: “Um, I was recently deceased, no big deal,” and snaps out of it.

The Phoenix reaches out the crystal, which is slowly cracking under the weight of the universe. (Same.) If it shatters, it will destroy the universe, devouring all . Think of it as a cosmic reset button. The Phoenix is its opposite, a bringer of energy and life, so it might be able to fix the crystal. Problem is, Jean has trouble remaining anchored in this reality, because she’s being absorbed by the crystal.

OKAY. SO MANY THINGS TO LOVE. Even when allied with a cosmic force, Storm proves she’s our queen. Furthermore, other than Jean/Scott, Ororo/Jean might the most fleshed out relationship among these new X-Men at this point. Their friendship is consistently a highlight.

Also, rough, rough day for Corsair. (X-Men 108)

Phoenix mends the crystal with a lot of mystical space mumbo jumbo and… er, that’s it. Cosmic balance restored, she poofs the X-Men home.

Lilandra tags along with them, explaining that D’Ken’s tinkering with the Crystal left him catatonic and unfit to rule. As his sister, she’s the rightful heir, but since she also led a rebellion, she kind of cancelled by her empire. She announces she will stay on Earth with Charles while the Shi´Ar iron out the details of the succession. So, instead of consolidating her power base and claim to the throne, she peaces out to explore her feelings for the hairless pink alien who can peek into her brain. Solid.

And with that final bit of space opera, we say goodbye to Dave Cockrum and welcome artist John Byrne. The Claremont/Byrne-run is widely seen as the definitive X-Men run, so hold onto your butts and let’s see where the Phoenix takes us, shall we?

Didn’t you take Art History? I stand by my space mumbo jumbo comment from earlier, but check out these Byrne-pages:

Chef’s kiss. (X-Men 108)

Ugliest Costume: I have a fierce hatred for the Shi'ar's weird wispy triangular hair/feather/thingies, but those are technically not costumes. So: Lilandra, why is your boob window a bug?

Best new character: I’m not much of a fan of space operas or the Shi’Ar and their extended court, but I do have a soft spot for the Starjammers, Hepzibah in particular. I fondly remember her being a part of the X-Men at some point in the future, although I don't think her actual unpronounceable name ever gets revealed.

Most audacious retcon: Moira the housekeeper is actually an evil morally complicated mad scientist.

What to read: Issue 105, 107 and 108, for all your Phoenix Saga needs.

#x-men #x-men abridged #abridged x-men #professor x #cyclops #phoenix #nightcrawler #colossus #storm #wolverine #banshee #chris claremont #dave cockrum #john byrne #juggernaut #black tom #shi'ar #moira mactaggert #magneto #starjammers

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Hi! If you're still taking requests, could you write a steven hyde x reader where the group doesn't know the two of you have been dating for a while but Hyde starts giving y/n his t-shirts to wears because he loves what they look like and there's a small part of him that wants to be able to show y/n affection around everyone else. Eventually they catch on they're basically like okay makes sense but what the hell. Thanks! 😊

T-shirts - Steven Hyde x reader

trigger warnings: cursing probably, but i think that other than that it’s chill.

word count: 1476

I was sitting in Steven's room, waiting for him to return with the promised snacks. "Eric!" you heard Steven says, following by two different footsteps rushing to the basement. "shit" I thought and hurried to the couch. My hand reached to the back of the couch to help me jump over it, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. "Hi guys" I said as the two boys came into the room. "hi (y\n)" Steven said, his voice "aloof" as usual. "when did you come in?" Eric sighed. "just now, the door was unlocked" I shrugged. "Again? Steven, I told you to lock it at night" Eric said as he took a popsicle out of the freezer. "yeah. And now it's morning" Steven replied. "whatever man" Eric agreed, sitting down by my side. Steven took the free spot next to Eric and placed his hand on the back of the couch. I did the same, sneakily intertwining fingers with my boyfriend. Eric was focused on the TV and didn't notice. "Eric!" Donna called from upstairs, and I hurried to pull my hand back and lean my head on it, pretending that nothing happened. Well. Donna won't be as easy to trick. I'm pretty surprised she's yet to understand that Steven and I are dating.

"hi Donna" Eric smiled and looked up. She rested her hands on the couch and leaned over to kiss him. "you guys are so cliché" I sighed, moving closer to the couches' arm to give donna some space next to her boyfriend. "you'll get it when you're in love" Eric smiled, pulling his girlfriend into another kiss as she giggled. "that's it, I'm gonna go to The Hub" Steven said, getting up. He opened the basement's door. "you coming?" he asked me, and I nodded. "yup".

We made our way to the El Camino and started driving toward The Hub, except Steven missed the turn. "I thought we are going to The Hub" I said, confused. "neh, Kelso might be there, or Jackie, or Fez and I wanna have a normal date with my girlfriend" he replied, taking a turn. The thing is, our relationship was a secret. The thing is, I highly doubt Kelso would be a fan of his best friend sleeping with his cousin.

Later that day, we were back at the basement. "hey guys" Eric says, breaking the silence, "my parents are going away tomorrow and they won't be back by Sunday, so I thought we can all hang out, you can sleep over". "oh! My first American sleep over!" Fez said excitedly. "Fez, you slept over a million times" Steven said. "well, yes, but there weren't any girls!" Fez corrected him. I laughed. "hey fez, will you let me do your makeup?" Jackie asked, and to no one's surprise, Fez agreed.

Saturday came along, and I arrived at the Forman's first.The basement was empty, so I went to Steven's room. "hey babe" he smiled at me, pulling me into the room and shutting the door. His lips quickly met mine, a bit desperate. "never got to kiss you goodbye yesterday" he explained, making me blush. He hardly ever got emotional, so I cherished the moment. "so, you're sleeping here?" he asked, "because you can probably sneak into my room when everyone's asleep" he wrapped his hands around my waist. "yeah, sure, I just don't have pajamas here, wasn't planning to" I said. "you can borrow my shirt to sleep in" he offered. "really?" I smiled at him. "yeah, and feel free to keep it" he answered, pulling a Led Zeppelin shirt from his closet and handing it to me. "thank you" I smiled and got on my toes to give him a small peck his lips, but he wouldn't let me pull away. "Steven, we have to be careful" I laughed, sad to break the kiss. "you know, Kelso can know, I don't mind, if he'll try anything, I'll beat him and you know it" he sighed, even though he was the one to suggest keeping it a secret in the first place. "no, I don't want to hurt my cousins'' eye" I insisted, and he sighed. He knows I'm right. "we just have to wait for bedtime" I whispered, hugging him. "yeah…".

"k, I'll go change into something to sleep in" I said, "Hyde, I'm using your room". "okay" he said. The moment you entered Fez got up, planning to move the picture that hid the hole in the wall caused by Kelso's shenanigans. "no" Steven said, pulling Fez's collar down and slamming the guy back to the couch. "but she is getting undressed, Hyde" Fez said. "dude, that's gross, she's my cousin" Kelso said. "Kelso, you tried to peep on my cousin" Donna said. "well, she was your cousin, not mine" Kelso replied, his tone suggesting it's obvious. "what…?" Donna said but gave up. I re-entered the room, laughing at the conversation I over-heard. "isn't that Hyde's shirt?" Donna asked, looking at the way too oversized shirt that covered the shorts I borrowed from Laurie's empty room. "well-" I was about to make up something, but Hyde calmly admitted it is his and that I forgot to get something, so he allowed it. "you let her wear your shirt but I'm folding it once and you hit me?" Eric says, suspicious. "well, I won't hit a girl" Steven said. "can I borrow a shirt to sleep in, I forgot to bring one" Fez said, searching through his bag. "yeah, Laurie's room had a bunch of clothes, I'm sure you'll find something" Hyde said. "what?" Eric seemed confused, and his eyes met Donna's. I looked over at Hyde. Shit.

The week went by, and Steven developed a habit of giving me one of his shirts every day. A new weekend came by, and I went to the hub to see my friends. I was looking for a shirt to wear, but with no success. I really need to do my laundry. Without any other choice, I took a shirt out of the pile of band tees I now had thanks to my boyfriend. I was wearing Hyde's shirt, this time a Rolling Stones one. Donna looked at the shirt, and I knew she knows. "again? this is Hyde's shirt, what is going on?" she asked. The rest of the gang weren't there yet, so I sat down. "Donna, you cannot tell Kelso" I whispered. "I don't have to tell him. you are wearing Hyde's shirt, that as obvious as it gets" Donna whispered back. I looked at her. "well, he'll figure it out eventually" Donna said. "Donna, let's be realistic" I said. "fine, I won't tell him" she agreed.

Eric, Fez and Steven came in. "hey, (y\n), isn't that Hyde's shirt?" Eric said, "what. are you two like, a thing?". "you two will be a cute couple" Fez complimented, "you're nice and he's angry all the time". "shut up" Hyde said, punching Fez's shoulder. "see?" Fez said, and I laughed. "look, we are dating, but don't tell Kelso" Steven says. "what?" the group and I say in unison. "I get why they are surprised, but as my girlfriend you know that" Steven said, sitting down beside me. "I'm just surprised you told them" I explained, "but look, not a word to Kelso". "not a word to Kelso about what?" Kelso asked, sitting down at the open spot beside me. "that, uh…" I said, my brain empty.

"that (y\n) and Hyde are together" Fez said, and everyone looked at him, surprised. "I know that already" Kelso said, taking one of the fries on the desk. "what?" Steven and I say at the same time. "yeah, I saw you two last week at that restaurant not too far from the hub, and besides, I'm not stupid. Come on guys. Hyde letting someone wear his shirt?" Kelso explained. "and you're not mad?" I ask. "no, that's kinda cool. Hey, Steven, maybe one day we'll be family" Kelso laughs, and Steven's eyes widen in pure fear behind his glasses. "really?" Steven asked, "cool, so now I can do this in front of you". Steven's hand reached for my chin and pulled me closer, lips softly meet mine. "hey, get off my cousin!" Kelso calls, getting up to pull us apart. "no. none of this in front of me, move" he says, looking at me. "move!" he calls once again. hinting at the chair he sat in a moment ago. He seats down where I sat a moment ago. "that's gross, god" Kelso mumbles, taking more fries.

Steven placed his hand on the back of the chair. I did the same, sneakily intertwining fingers with my boyfriend. "they are holding hands behind you right now" Eric says. "what?!" Kelso says, a bit furious, but the rest of us are laughing.

#steven hyde #steven hyde x reader #steven hyde imagines #steven hyde imagine #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #that 70s show imagines

[generallynerdy]

Everything (Daryl Dixon X F!Reader ft. Baby Dixon)

Summary: Trudging into DC after the prison fell, Daryl Dixon thought he’d lost everything. Then Aaron came along with a picture of Daryl in his bag, claiming that (Y/N), his girl, his (Y/N) gave it to him for safe-keeping. At first, he didn’t believe it. But then Aaron told him something about (Y/N) that only the two of them were supposed to know-- and he started to believe that everything was waiting for him in Alexandria.

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, some grieving, assumed death, pregnancy mentions, newborn babies, lots of emotions but they’re sweet i swear Word Count: 2,859 (praise paul i’m actually productive)

Note: woops im obsessed with twd again. Thanks for putting up with my long hiatus and enjoy! I may have ideas for a part 2 where daryl adjusts to fatherhood and then negan Fucks Shit Up-- you know, as he does. Then maybe part 3 after the time skip where beth and judith get up to Shenanigans?? Idk if i feel like writing it but it sounds fun so we’ll see

    In a barn not far from Alexandria, Aaron was having a rough day. It wasn’t bad-- not yet anyway-- but it did get significantly worse when Daryl Dixon shoved him against a wall.

    “Where the hell’d you get this!?” He was shouting as he put a knife to Aaron’s neck.

    See, Daryl had been perfectly content to leave the new guy to Rick and Michonne until something in his bag caught the archer’s attention. It was a picture-- a picture of Daryl.

    “Where’d you get it!?” He asked again.

    Rick took the picture from Daryl, getting a good look at it. It was taken from a guard tower back at the prison, one that was probably rubble now. Daryl was leaning over the guard rails, a cigarette in his hand and a smile on his face.

    “Where’s (Y/N)?” Daryl growled.

    Suddenly, it made sense to Rick. The picture belonged to (Y/N).

    “Back at my community,” Aaron said quickly. “She’s safe, I swear.”

    “You keeping her prisoner?” Rick questioned with a fire in his eyes, the one that was lit when others threatened his family.

    “No, no! God, no--!”

    Daryl interrupted. “Then why’s this with you?”

    “She gave it to me,” Aaron claimed firmly. “She gave it to me so that I’d know you if I ran into you, so I could bring you to her. I was hoping it would be a surprise, but--”

    “How do I know you ain’t lyin’?” Daryl shot back, unfaltering. “That she’s alive?”

    “Because she told me something, something only the two of you know.”

    After a pause, he lowered the knife. “Tell me.”

    Aaron glanced around the room. He wanted to keep this between them, as (Y/N) had asked him to. So, he looked back at Daryl, lowered his voice to a whisper, and said:

    “The baby’s okay.”

    The first week was the hardest. After the Governor, after Terminus, after Beth, all Daryl could think about was (Y/N).

    “We’ll find her, Daryl,” Rick kept saying. “We’ll find her.”

    But after days of searching and finding nothing, he was ready to give up. One night, Rick said it again and he just snapped.

    “We ain’t gonna find her!” he found himself shouting.

    “You don’t know that--”

    He cut his friend off. “Yeah, I do! ‘Cause we been lookin’ for days and ain’t nobody findin’ nothin’! (Y/N)’s dead, alright?! Give it up!”

    He stormed off, unsure if his last words were directed at Rick or himself.

    Later, Rick found him sitting in the woods by himself. He sat down beside him silently, waiting for a sign.

    “Sorry,” Daryl finally mumbled.

    “It’s okay. I know you and (Y/N) were close,” Rick sighed. “She was a damn good friend.”

    “I loved her.”

    The confession slipped out before he could stop it. Shame hit him as soon as he said it, his face going red.

    Rick turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? You ever tell her?”

    “Every day,” Daryl finally admitted, a weight falling from his shoulders.

    His friend broke into a massive grin. “You two were together? Why didn’t you say anything?”

    “Didn’t want to with all the new people,” he shrugged. “She knew it’d freak me out.”

    “Did anybody know?”

    He paused before nodding. “Beth an’ Hershel.” Before Rick could ask why them, he went on. “Look, about (Y/N)--”

    He was cut off by the distant call of Rick’s name. The man in question sighed and, as he left, promised to finish their talk later. Daryl, however, took it as a sign and decided that it was already over.

    “It’s your decision,” Rick said later. “If you think she’s still out there, if you wanna stay, we will. We won’t stop looking.”

    Everyone knew it was hard for Daryl to make the call, but they didn’t know just how hard.

    He didn’t tell Rick why Hershel and Beth knew about him and (Y/N). He thought it was better to shoulder that weight himself-- the weight of leaving a pregnant woman behind.

    “What’d you say?”

    Daryl had frozen when Aaron said it. The question came out as a whisper, a horrified whisper, which was a tone that most present had never heard from him.

    Aaron nodded a single time, the epitome of understanding. “I think you heard me.”

    Daryl was suddenly overwhelmed. He took a threatening step forward, knife in his hand again. “You--”

    He apparently decided against skewering him, though. Instead, he stormed out of the barn like his feet were on fire, hiding his face and his unshed tears from the rest of the group, who stared at him questioningly.

    Rick was in Aaron’s face in an instant. “What did you say?”

    “You’d better ask him.”

    Without another word, Rick followed Daryl out of the barn, suddenly feeling like there was more to Daryl and (Y/N) than his brother had told him.

    Outside, Daryl found himself a tree and climbed it. Normally, he would’ve just sat down, but his hands felt like he needed to be doing something-- maybe punching someone-- so he climbed instead, ignoring the scratches the rough bark left on his palms.

    Once atop his chosen branch, it took everything Daryl Dixon had not to cry. His lips quivered as he stared out into nothing.

    He knew Rick was on his way over and he was begging himself to keep it together. This wasn’t what he needed, it wasn’t what the group needed. He needed to pull himself together and decide whether Aaron was telling the truth.

    But some part of him, deep down, already knew the answer. Why else would Aaron know that only (Y/N) and Daryl knew about the baby? She would never give that up to a captor.

    So, (Y/N) was still alive. She’d been alive this whole time and he hadn’t been looking for her. His child and his girl were out there alive and here he was, sitting on his ass in a damn tree, crying about it. He could hear Merle’s laughter in his head.

    But thank god for Rick Grimes.

    “Daryl?” He called up. “You good?”

    He let out a shaky breath, wiping at a few stray tears that had escaped. “Y-- yeah, yeah, ‘m fine,” he managed.

    Rick could tell it was bullshit, but he didn’t push. “Is he tellin’ the truth? Is (Y/N) with ‘em willingly?”

    “She told ‘im what she did by herself, if that’s what ya mean,” Daryl told him.

    There was a pause while Rick debated whether to ask him what Aaron had said or not. Daryl knew he had to tell him. The rest of the group wouldn’t just go on his word-- they needed Rick’s, too.

    “The baby’s okay.”

    Rick blinked a few times. “What?”

    Reluctantly, Daryl removed himself from the tree, landing on the ground in front of Rick. “What he said. He said the baby’s okay.”

    His friend’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “(Y/N) was--?”

    “Yeah,” he mumbled, still not sure if he wanted it said aloud. “Beth an’ Hershel knew ‘cause (Y/N) an’ me were flippin’ our shit, not knowin’ what to do.”

    “So they’re okay?” Rick asked. “She and the baby-- Aaron said they’re okay?”

    Daryl nodded. “My kid’s okay.”

    His blood brother couldn’t help the smile that overtook him and he pulled the man into a tight hug. “We’re gonna figure this out,” Rick told him firmly. “We’re gonna get ‘em back.”

    “Put your weapons down!” (Y/N) found herself shouting from behind the cabinet.

    She’d found shelter in an abandoned house for the last day or so. She wished she could’ve kept staying in the old gas station she found, but unfortunately walkers decided otherwise.

    Two heads appeared from the doorway and soon enough both men had their hands in the air.

    “We don’t have any weapons,” the taller one said quickly. “We’re here to help.”

    (Y/N) stopped at that, a frown painting her expression. “What?”

    “We’ve been watching you,” the second man said. “You got close to our community, so we kept an eye on you.”

    “We wanna help,” his friend said, picking up where he left off. “I’m Aaron, this is Eric.”

    (Y/N) hesitated, her gun still lifted high at them. She hadn’t gotten off the floor, but her head peeked out from behind the cabinet just enough that they could see her.

    “Help? Why?”

    Aaron shook his head with a small smile. “What kind of people are we that would turn a blind eye to a pregnant woman in the middle of the apocalypse?”

    She had to pause for a moment. He was making a good case for himself.

    “What’s your name?” Eric asked.

    “(Y/N),” she muttered.

    Aaron frowned. “Have you always been alone?”

    “No.” She decided they were asking too many questions and lifted her gun again. “Tell me about your community.”

    “It’s called Alexandria,” Aaron told her. “It has massive steel walls-- they’ve been there since the beginning. Most of our people have never been outside. We have food, running water, solar power, a sewage system; you name it. It’s safe and it’s open to you.”

    “We have a doctor, too,” Eric interrupted. “He can help with the baby.”

    Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a little cry sounded. Aaron’s eyes widened as (Y/N) moved to hold her baby.

    “You already--?” He gaped. “I’m so sorry. I hoped we’d be here before, so you didn’t have to deliver on your own out here.”

    (Y/N) shook her head, rocking the baby and whispering reassurances to it. “A doctor?” She asked them. “Walls? All of it? Can you prove it?”

    Aaron nodded, gesturing to his bag. “Yes. It’s all real, I swear. You just have to trust us.”

    Looking between these two men and her child, (Y/N) decided to take a risk. It was this or solitude-- again-- and that was something she wasn’t sure they would survive.

    Being interrogated by Deanna only made Daryl more twitchy. He’d been itching to go off and find (Y/N) since they walked in the gate. Aaron had wanted to take him immediately, but the woman in charge had different ideas.

    “I wanna see (Y/N),” Daryl had told her, refusing to go upstairs.

    “And you will,” she reassured. “But I need to do this first.”

    During the interview, she asked him about (Y/N), about the baby. He got a little defensive when she asked if it was his. Of course it was! God, she was getting on his nerves.

    Finally, finally, it was over and Daryl rushed downstairs again, intending on finding Aaron immediately.

    “Alright, Abraham, if you could--” Deanna began to say.

    She was interrupted when the door to the house creaked open. Eric walked, er, limped in first, followed by Aaron. He was leading (Y/N) in, but kept her eyes covered.

    “I hate surprises,” she told him.

    “Oh, you’ll love this one,” he laughed, meeting Daryl’s gaze. “Trust me.”

    Daryl’s heart wrenched. He couldn’t see her eyes yet and she had no idea he was there, but his heart was already torn in half. Tears came to his eyes and he dropped his crossbow. The others were awestruck as well, but none of their reactions compared to his.

    “Three, two, one, and--” Aaron removed his hands. “Ta-da!”

    The moment Aaron’s hands dropped, a strangled gasp escaped (Y/N)’s mouth. She covered it with her hands, eyes filling with tears.

    “Oh my god,” she sobbed.

    She threw herself at Daryl, who welcomed her with open arms. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, shoulders shaking as he wept with relief. He held her so tightly that it hurt, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him.

    “You’re alive,” she said finally when he lifted his head. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Oh god, I thought I was alone.”

    “Thought I lost ya,” he murmured, pressing their foreheads together.

    Then, he kissed her-- that sweet, gentle kind of kiss he’d give her every morning when he was overwhelmed with the joy of waking up beside her. It was the same kiss they shared when he slipped into the guard tower each night, smiling like a stupid teenager who’d gotten a night alone with his girlfriend. That kiss was good as “I love you.”

    Behind Daryl, everyone but Rick gawked.

    “Right. Now might be the time to mention that they’ve been together the whole time,” the cowboy snorted.

    “Yes!” Carl cheered instantly. “Michonne, you owe me a Big Cat!”

    Glenn stammered. “Seriously?”

    Rick grinned almost mischievously. “It gets better.”

    He didn’t get the chance to explain himself, because (Y/N) pulled herself away from Daryl and looked over at him with a smile.

    “Hey, Rick.”

    “Hey, yourself,” he greeted back, lifting his arms for the inevitable hug.

    As she wrapped herself around him, they heard Eric sigh. “Oh, that was so worth the volleyball injury.”

    (Y/N) went around the room, saying hello to old friends and introducing herself to new ones. Deanna then borrowed Abraham for an interview and Aaron began to take Eric to the infirmary. But he stopped himself, tapping (Y/N) on the shoulder and motioning vaguely toward the door.

    She gasped and turned to Daryl. “You have to meet her! I’ll be right back.”

    She raced out of the building, leaving a shell-shocked Daryl behind.

    “You hear that?” He asked Rick, eyes wide.

    Rick smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, brother. Hope you don’t like sleeping.”

    “Well, I’m lost,” they heard Carol mutter.

    “Not only were these two together--” Rick begin, a gleeful grin on his face, “--they were expecting.

    The others gaped, especially Daryl’s best friend. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked him seriously. “You didn’t have to carry that yourself.”

    Daryl shook his head. “We woulda killed ourselves lookin’ for ‘em. Couldn’t lose nobody else,” he admitted sheepishly.

    The creak of the front door gained everyone’s attention. (Y/N) shuffled inside, a bundle of blankets in her arms. Daryl immediately stepped up, but she shook her head and motioned to the couch. The couple sat down, instantly surrounded by their friends, who all wanted to get a look at the baby.

    (Y/N) went to pass her to Daryl, but the poor man was frozen.

    “Ain’t changed since Judith was born,” she teased, her voice warm. “You can hold her.”

    He took the baby then, though his hands were shaking. He cradled her as though she would shatter with one wrong move. Slowly, he moved his fingers to stroke her tiny hands, a loving smile emerging when her little fingers grasped his thumb.

    “She’s perfect,” he muttered, placing a kiss on her forehead. His voice cracked, but no one said a single thing about it.

    “She’s got her daddy’s eyes,” (Y/N) remarked wistfully.

    They sat in brief silence, everyone watching the baby wiggle in her father’s grasp. Daryl was perhaps considering the full 180 his situation had just made. Everything he thought he lost was right there in his arms. (Y/N) was right, too, he realised. His little girl had his beautiful baby blues.

    Aaron and Eric departed, seeing as the latter was due for an infirmary visit. Both (Y/N) and Rick thanked them as they left; Daryl was too distracted.

    Michonne was the next to break the quiet. “Does she have a name?”

    Daryl, curious, looked to (Y/N), who shook her head. “Didn’t feel right,” she admitted to him, “without you.”

    Almost immediately, the group was offering ideas up like they were drinks.

    Daryl looked down at his daughter and, cutting through the chatter, announced: “Beth.”

    They all went silent.

    “She an’ Hershel took care of us when they found out,” he explained, looking up at (Y/N). “She watched for ya when I was on runs an’ after-- after the prison she helped me get my shit together.”

    (Y/N) nodded and rested her hand on top of his, the same one that their little girl held so tightly to. Meeting his eyes, she was glad she waited on the name. This meant everything to him; being able to name their kid, to call that kid his own.

    (Y/N) then looked to Maggie, who sniffed and wiped at tears as she leaned into Glenn.

    “She woulda loved that,” the woman rasped, her voice breaking.

    “Beth Dixon,” (Y/N) announced, “the luckiest kid in the whole damn world.”

    She saw the way Daryl looked at her when she said Dixon, like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest in the best way possible.

    He pulled her and the baby close as the others congratulated them and celebrated with them. Even on the darkest of days, this memory would light up their whole world, he thought.

    Beth Sophia Dixon, they decided; for the girl they couldn’t save and the girl who saved them. And (Y/N) was right.

    She was gonna be the luckiest kid in the whole damn world. Daryl would make sure of it.

(Requests are currently closed. I’m finishing up my old ones.)

Masterlist

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #twd imagine #twd oneshot #twd fanfic #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead fanfic #rick grimes #carl grimes #judith grimes #beth greene #maggie rhee #maggie greene #glenn rhee #x reader #imagine #oneshot #fanfic #novakitty #novakitty114 #generallynerdy #twd michonne #twd abraham

[inexhaustiblywild]

Hello folks!

So, in the grand tradition of my people, I am here to celebrate the people that made my life infinitely better, colourful, and all the more happier.

I am not doing this in any particular order, I just want to celebrate all my friends here and say a few heartfelt words and let you guys know while the year was less than appreciative to all of us, I think you guys were some of the best parts of it.

@codenamepinetree: so according to this you were the first person to follow this blog when I made the move and honestly that move was a great idea. I was super shy about it at first but I think we have grown into a pretty comfortable (at least in writing) relationship. Sadly I am still a bit of an awkward bean on the chat but that’s Cricket for you. I love Jackal, he’s so infuriating to Ernessa and you gave us a story of corruption, twisted love, and you let me explore her years in the military which I almost never get to do.

Outside of our threads you are a great friend and I know I can call on you with any crazy plot ideas I may stumble on my way through the day. I see such great potential in our crazies and our muses. Hope this new year will bring out the best for you!!!

@ericbrandonrp: you are actually my oldest mutual here, staying with me for over three blog changes so far and I feel like I owe you a lot for making me feel welcomed in this community of OC’s and you gave Ernessa and I a great story of love and betrayal. I know our activity has a bit dwindled and that’s mostly my fault. I shall remedy that as soon as I can. Tho regardless of activity I consider you a great friend.

as for Eric I love him, he is such an awkward fellow with very good intentions towards his loved ones. I love his enthusiasm, how he embraces new things and experiences. I wish Ernessa was kinder to him but heartbreaks do make great stories I suppose.

@seesgood: just like your url you see the good in everyone and I think many would agree with me when I say you are one of the pillars of this community, you spread positivity, joy, and love to us all even when we feel down. I see you rally for people, and I cried to you myself several times about how this community made me feel at times. It is because of you that I still have this blog, because of you that I didn’t pack my shit and moved on. Both of us love you so much. If you ever need anything call me.

I don’t know how to explain Caroline without letting Ernessa take control cause as far as she is concerned Caroline is her everything. She is warmth on a cold day as she’d put it. I think Ernessa loves her selflessness so much, her desire to be loved, her insecurities and vulnerabilities which Ernessa will protect or fight with her life. She is the kind of a woman someone should write sonnets about and you made me a stan for life. Both for you and for Caroline. We love you!

@quiisquiliae: hello friendo, the year is almost over and I send you and my lil dude all the love! In my heart you will always have a special place for being the person who introduced me to the glory that is dragon age and since then I have played that dumb game three times and loved every moment of it. Sadly, we didn’t get a lot of threads out this year, such is life, but I enjoy our every chat and the stupid banter our muses get up to. You and your crazy trash boys are a must in this community.

I don’t know which one of your boys I should shout out for because they are all garbage and I love them. (It’s in the name people!) Writing with you is some of the most fun I had, and I think I will give this spot to Tal because in the end his enthusiasm about stabbing people is what this holiday is all about. Tal is a mess, a hot mess but a mess. A hero that someone should have probably left home, but he’s now stuck with it. He is fun, he is stabby, and he has colourful ideas on how to hurt people. 10/10 would recommend.

@anditsxsorrows: I think you were the most surprising friend of the year. When I moved blogs I didn’t think you’d have any interest in me. Idk why but I’ve always been a bit shy around you and didn’t think you’d have much for lil ol’ me but boy was I wrong. You are a welcoming, open minded, and over all such a lovely person. Each time we write you kill me with how good it is. I wait for it and the anticipation of it is great but the BAM the real thing knocks me out every single time. You are quickly becoming one of my go-tos in terms of plotting and other shenanigans.

Klaus is exactly like what Ernessa is. They are from the same soul or star, or idk. I am not as good as them in terms of poetry and talking nice. But they are certainly something. Klaus’ love of art and the immediate acceptance he showed to Ernessa is something neither of is will forget. She is so in love dude, like it’s such a terrible idea to get them together because imagine the death toll alone but I love them. I love Klaus and how pretentious he is sometimes, and how he shows great kindness to Ernessa. Klaus is not a good person by any stretch of imagination, but he is an amazing friend and a lover (at least to her and that’s all that matters.).

@fvk-destiny: I have been thinking and this year certainly wouldn’t have been as good without you or Lambert. I am still getting to know you but what I see is something I admire. You have been a wonderful friend to me so far and I see you interact with others and that only cements my good opinion of you. I am looking forward to knowing you more outside of rp. You certainly have been one of the highlights of this year.

Lambert is one of my favourite muses to write with because honestly, I can see him as I read it. I am an avid fan of the third game, and I loved him ever since he decided to go on a homicidal rampage for his fallen friend. We stan Lambert in this house. Then as the story progressed, I loved him more. Then you took all these things I loved about him and made it into something much more compelling, and deep, and you gave him the story he deserves. I read him and all I want to do is give him a hug. Also I command him for letting a random woman off the street to just barge into his business and start ordering him about. I can’t wait to see what else we can create with him! To many more years of story telling and friendships!

@mxuntainlion: so, I found you through Lambert and what I find it has been! You took a little-known character and run with him. That requires imagination, dedication, and a lot of love. I always admire people who can take characters like Aiden and make them whole. You gave him an incredible story, and I love that me and my girl get to be a part of that story in some little way. Talking to you off rp has also been a delight, though I worry sometimes about these things I am really happy to gather my courage and now I consider you a friend. This year has been shit for so many reasons, but you and Aiden made it a little less horrible.

In terms of story in canon we don’t know much about Aiden but then here you are giving him this amazing and heart-breaking love story, make him this sassy, snarky and confident character. I know that next time I play the game that mission is gonna be so much more emotional because you made Aiden a real person. Ernessa is imprinted on him like a little duckling, she needs a big brother, she needs someone that she can prank her favourite cousin with. Idk she seems to adore him, and they make a very lovely adventuring company. I can’t wait to see their stories develop.

@humilemvatis: I remember feeling a bit hesitant to approach you because I am a potato but then you were so easy to talk to! I think I’ve been bugging you ever since. You took a unique approach to Jaskier and while you kept all the things that made us love him, you gave us even more reasons to love him! I think you are a very talented story teller and I am sure your bard would side with me on this. I followed you at the start of December and within that time you have been an amazing friend and source of inspiration.

Jaskier, I sincerely apologise for everything Ernessa says and does and will say and do. Their thread is still in it’s stages of infancy, but I can tell it has the potential to go some unexpected places. I love this Jaskier you have, his immortality, his inability to see his own worth and value at times. He needs a good soup as my grandma would say. I love him so much already and Ernessa’s appreciation of him is genuine tho she admits she judged him too quickly at first glance. She’ll remedy that soon!!!

#• am i just another thing to kill? • ooc

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Leopold “Butters” Stotch

hi! i think i’ve worked out that i’ve reached the activity limit with my overall replies & discord rp-ing (16 replies overall) but, if not, I’m happy to leave this in your inbox until it’s ready x

out of character info

Name/Alias: Grace Pronouns: She/Her Age: 23 Join Our Discord: Yes – already in x Timezone: GMT Activity: 8 Triggers: N/A Password: Jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Favourite ships for your character: Butters/Kenny, Butters/Eric, Butters/Chemistry

in character info (heavy trigger warning for parental abuse and neglect throughout !!)

Full name: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Birthday: 11th September 2000 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: bisexual, male, he/him  Age and grade: 17, senior.

Appearance: 

Butters is cursed with eternal baby-face: chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. Even his hair is as soft and fluffy as the day he was born, with his parents making sure that he never deviates from his short-back-and-sides style by cutting it themselves every Sunday evening. That’s not the only thing that hasn’t changed; his clothing style is as sweet and standard as his middle school days – boot-cut jeans, comfortable sneakers and the teal fleece his mom bought for his 15th birthday (he’s barely grown, since). Sometimes, Butters will experiment with a graphic-tee, his favourite being his array of Hello Kitty Island Adventure merchandise, or bright coloured polo. 

Butters stands at just under average height and just over average weight, with a cute bit of chub on his belly that he doesn’t think will ever go (he’s banned from visiting the gym after his dad’s bathhouse escapades). One time, his mom threatened to fatten him up so much that he’d never be able to leave, and he’s never been able to budge the extra weight, since. He doesn’t mind, though: he’s as body positive as can be, and thinks that anyone who don’t think he’s handsome ain’t looking hard enough.

Personality: 

Butters is a mess, frankly, though he thinks he’s just an ordinary fella living life as anyone should: by being kind and helping others. He’s dangerously gullible and painstakingly naïve, with a generous soul even after everything he’s been through. He just wants to do right by the world, especially his friends. He has a strong sense of justice, though this can be easily manipulated to the point where he’ll believe that what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong. Despite often being misguided, he’ll stick by his guns and stay true to himself when the time comes. He’s got better at standing up for himself as he’s got older, too, and isn’t afraid to put his foot down and say heck no if necessary. Most days, he's very confident in his own skills and self-image, but that can all change with one comment. 

His disrespect for authority is an interesting personality trait. He’ll fudge the police and tell his teachers to go suck a popsicle, but there’s two people he can’t say no to. Butters has been gaslighted his entire life, and the emotional and physical abuse he receives from his parents has led to humiliating and childlike obedience (what 18-year-old accepts being grounded for using twitter after 9pm?). When he’s caught doing wrong by his parents, all his self-confidence and cowboy-like bravado is shot to smithereens: he’s just a no good miscreant who ain’t gonna amount to nothin’, so he may as well give up on his dreams and stick to bein’ a plain ol’ nobody.

History:

Butters was born to Linda and Stephen Stotch on 11th September 2000. Ever since that fateful day, his life has been nothing but chaos and control and, though he wakes up to the sound of his own screams every night, he’s grateful for every opportunity he gets. It would be impossible to write all of his ups and downs in a couple of paragraphs, but there are two things that have really shaped Butters as a person.

One: his family. Stephen Stotch uses fear to control his son whilst his mom, Linda, is dangerously protective. Though seventeen, Butters still calls his dad ‘sir’ to his face and does what he’s told or faces severe consequences. The night that his mom asked him to stalk his father to the bathhouse changed a lot of things; he saw the internalised secrets and lies that have corrupted both of his parents and has watched them wear white-picket-fence masks in public every damn day since. He saw his dad embrace his sexuality yet treat it as a sin. He experienced his mom, breaking down, vulnerable and distressed, ready to kill her own son. Not to mention the time he was sold to Paris Hilton as a pet. Linda and Stephen Stotch are manipulative and controlling parents whose ‘love’ of their son, however much they fret over him and cover him with kisses, will never make up for the trauma instilled in him.

Two: his friends. Scrotie McBoogerballs, AWESOME-O, Good Times with Weapons, Marjorine, Casa Bonita. The list of shenanigans that Butters been apart of, and victim of, is endless. He’s been locked in a fridge, publicly shamed on television and stabbed in the eye with a shuriken, yet he still hangs out with these guys. Why? Because he was never part of the gang in kindergarten, and he’s never really had a true friend, someone who has made the effort to see what he’s been through and respect him regardless. Besides, hanging with these guys (whatever injuries and humiliation they bring to him) has given him a strength he never knew he had. He’s become a pimp, rekindled his confidence to dance, got his wiener out at school, become a best-selling novelist and, best of all, learned to say no to Eric Cartman. Not bad for a good-for-nothin’.

  Sample paragraph: (At least two paragraphs, centred around your character)

For the first time in a long time, Butter’s internal sludge pile of shame and humiliation is joined by anger. He’s so gosh darn mad that he don’t care who knows it, but no-one is gonna know it, ‘cause he got no cell, no internet, and no hope’a gettin’ outta his stupid ol’ room. It’s the same ol’ story: Eric and the fellas convinced him to get a fake ID so they could get some sorta fancy alcohol for Bebe’s party tonight. Kyle said it had to be him, ‘cause he looks the oldest, and he’s the best actor outta all of ‘em. Butters ain’t sure if that’s true, but he appreciated the compliment, and it’s a bad pal that says no to a favour, especially when the entire party rested on his hands.

He got the booze, alright. And he was nice and proud of himself, until Eric said it was the wrong one. Ain’t no one wants to drink this kindergarten crap, Eric said, we’re men now, we gotta drink whiskey. Well, Butters thinks whiskey tastes like butt, and ain’t no one wants to taste butt, ‘cept maybe Kenny. He thought the blue an’ pink bottles looked cute and bubblegum is his favourite flavour, no doubt about it, but maybe he should’a followed the plan and done what he was told. Darn it all.

He was in trouble with the guys, but at least he weren’t in trouble with his mom and dad, and that meant he’d finally be able to go to a real life party, maybe show off his dancin’ skills and eat some cheese and pineapple sticks. But then they found his fake idea when doin’ their routine search’a his room, and all hell broke loose. You ain’t goin’ anwhere today, mister, they said, you’re gonna sit right here on your tushie an’ think about the consequences of identity fraud. I’m goin’ to that party, Buttons said, puttin’ his foot down. Well, that  just about earned a slap around the noggin and a week without his cell, so he couldn’t even tell the fellas he weren’t comin’ tonight.

A knock on his window jolts him outta his angry pacing. He doesn’t want to look up, ‘cause he knows it’s probably Eric, comin’ over just to make fun of his current predicament and boast all about how much fun he’s gonna have tonight. Well Butters weren’t gonna have it, no sir-ee. He puts his hands on his hips and he gets ready to march right over there and give Eric a proper telling to, but then he sees it ain’t Eric, it’s Kenny, an’ he got a proper determined look on his face.

“We’re breaking you out,” Kenny says, an’ Butters ain’t gonna argue this time.

Headcanons: 

Butters still plays Hello Kitty Island Adventures, but he’s also a massive animal crossing fan. Any game that lets him escape his house, have some independence, and talk to (or raise) cute animals can keep him hooked for hours. Unfortunately, his mom and dad turn the internet off at 9pm and keep his phone in their bedroom at night. 

Butters keeps his sexuality a secret from his parents, and it’s no surprise why. After his mom found out about his dad’s trip to the bathhouse (subsequently attempting to murder her son) and after a gruelling (and very confusing) trip to conversion camp, Butters thought it best to hide any ‘abnormal’ feelings. Fortunately, his friends and their often open sexualities has made him feel comfortable and confident with himself, and he’s resoundingly grateful for it.

He is quietly considering his gender and what it means to be Butters. At the moment, he doesn’t think he needs to put a name to it, but it doesn’t hurt to research, and he’s ecstatic to see he isn’t the only one who doesn’t sit on one end of the binary. Though exploring the possibility of being non-binary, he’s happy to be referred to by male pronouns for now.

Butters wants to be a pre-school teacher, even after what happened to Ms. Claridge. He loves drawing and storytelling and wants to share those gifts to others, helping kids who might not be happy at home.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t think his mum will let him go as far as college without having a breakdown or threatening something real bad. Though his parents have started to treat him a little better as he’s got older, their distrust of the world around them, and of their son, has grown rapidly.

Butters works part-time at the ice cream parlour and adds something special to every sale. Most of the time he uses the wafers and chocolate chips to make little teddy bears, but his extra special treat (for people he really likes) is the unicorn uni-cone with lots of sparkles.

Butters is a wonderful artist! He loves using watercolour pencils and paint the best and though his work isn’t always the most profound (it’s usually portraits of his friends or cute animals he sees), it's always beautifully coloured and full of love.  

Anything else: thank u guys 4 the opportunity

#Butters stotch #Leopold butters stotch #Admin Samantha #submission

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Thor (2011)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, three times.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Three (21.42% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Eleven.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

The fun:boring ratio tilts considerably depending on audience mood and/or desire for originality; the majority of the story is generic in the extreme and can be tedious as a result, however those elements which are more unusual and intriguing arguably save the overall product. 

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Darcy asks Jane if she can turn on the radio. Jane tells Darcy to drive into the anomaly. Jane tells Darcy to stop talking about her iPod.

Female characters:

Jane Foster.

Darcy Lewis.

Sif.

Male characters:

Eric Selvig.

Odin.

Loki.

Thor.

Fandral.

Hogun.

Volstagg.

Heimdall.

Laufey.

Phil Coulson.

Clint Barton.

OTHER NOTES:

“But I supported you, Sif.” Good to know that Thor supports non-traditional gender roles, despite being such a macho cliche.

I’m really very concerned by Jane’s driving. Someone revoke her licence. 

“Son of Coul.”

Heimdall does not get enough credit for being the MVP of Asgard. 

Loki’s suggestion that maybe he’ll pay Jane a visit himself is clearly intended to goad Thor into fighting him and as such need not be taken seriously, but it’s still totally uncool. Of all the goading methods he could have used, we really didn’t need to go for the implied rape threat.

I thought they might manage a Bechdel pass between someone other than Jane and Darcy for a moment there at the end of the movie, but Frigga doesn’t actually get referred to by name in this movie, and she and Sif only talk about Thor anyway. Disappoint on both counts. I kinda also thought Jane and Darcy might do some more/better passing in general; it’s better than nothing, but the three passes they got were pretty freakin’ weak.

When it comes to uninspired, generic origin stories, this movie kinda makes Iron Man look like an innovative goldmine by comparison. ‘Arrogant man takes a humble, learns to value his power and earns it back through selflessness’, it’s...been done. A lot. And while Chris Hemsworth’s Thor is watchable and not without charm, he’s not an especially charismatic actor and the predictable arc of his character doesn’t offer much scope to impress, while the typically-excellent Natalie Portman suffers a similarly bland fate with prescription-love-interest Jane Foster. The chemistry between the two is pretty nonexistent, and frankly it’s easier to believe that Jane is a slightly-amoral scientist essentially using Thor for her own gain, rather than buying that she’s becoming genuinely enamoured. If the film had leaned into the idea of Jane Foster: Amoral Scientist a little stronger, they could have built a more interesting (though less comfortable) narrative and perhaps even a more believable romance as the two bond over their shared moral learning curve. But, that would require Jane’s character to be more of a priority beyond finding excuses for her to be in Thor’s presence and develop ~feelings~, so. Not shocked they failed to deliver there.

Pretty much every person who has ever seen this movie (and probably some who’ve only read about it) agrees that Tom Hiddleston’s Loki is where the fire’s at, both as an individual character and in terms of the plot he facilitates and inhabits. It’s not hard to understand why: while Thor has his dull human journey in the desert on Earth (the majority of which is spent just going places and talking to Jane and occasionally having a comedic ‘not from around here’ moment), Loki is a trickster God with magic powers living in the mythological land of Asgard and playing out a long con to win both the throne, and his adoptive father’s approval. Anything about the film that is clever or different or interesting, visually engaging, or emotionally poignant, it’s going on in Asgard, in the part of the plot where Thor is absent for the bulk of the film. Unfortunately, Thor’s absence from that thread means that we don’t get to spend nearly as much time enjoying it, and that’s why even the film’s best qualities can’t necessarily save it from the generic trash-pile. It’s easy to reach the end of the film in frustration, wondering how the Hell the strongest elements of the story (Shakespearean tragedy on alien worlds!) wound up as background noise to an unconvincing snooze-fest romance in Nowheresville, USA.

Broken into its component parts, Loki’s story isn’t that unfamiliar either; ‘jealous younger brother vies for older brother’s birthright’ has been done a fair bit (The Lion King being the most well-known example, let’s not kid ourselves), as has the juxtaposition of entitled brat vs scrappy underdog, as has ‘driven mad by envy’ and ‘power corrupts’ and pretty much any other trope being invoked in Loki’s lane. However, it works through 1. Hiddleston’s dynamic performance, 2. any and all majesty/intrigue/gravitas supplied by the setting, and 3. the additional factor of Loki discovering his adoption and true Frost Giant heritage. While it should not be ignored that Loki’s machinations for the throne predate that revelation and therefore it is neither an influence on his overarching ploy nor an excuse for him devising that ploy, Loki’s struggle with learning that his life as he’s known it was built on falsity and the way that complicates his desire to prove himself provides him some all-important nuance and pathos that gives the audience something to latch onto and identify with, even if only as empathetic understanding (one hopes that no one is going so far as to identify with the attempted genocide or the successful patricide; most of us can identify with betrayal/abandonment/daddy issues to some extent or another). Even if his ultimate decisions are plainly reprehensible, Loki’s journey to that point is littered with appreciable miseries, and that makes it an obvious emotional narrative standout compared to Thor’s paint-by-numbers excursion.

The villain narrative being the highlight of a story isn’t entirely unusual (though films in which this is unintentionally so tend also to be poorly conceived), but what’s really unfortunate is that Thor’s character motivations are not second in complexity to Loki’s; the criminally underused Heimdall is actually the next-most nuanced character around (and look at that, he’s also on Asgard and not bore-ing it up on Earth). The thing about Thor’s arc is that it’s not just predictable, it’s not just generic: it’s also barely there. We perceive the arc because we’re so familiar with the trope, but we don’t actually watch Thor learn anything, we don’t see practical signs of the degradation of his arrogance and his transformation into a wise warrior who understands restraint. Beyond causing a ruckus when he first arrives on Earth, Thor really doesn’t display any aggressive entitlement, he settles into pleasantly-strange-fish-out-of-water mode pretty much immediately, and he seems to ‘learn his lesson’ spontaneously after being told that his father is dead. He appears to mourn the implications of his inability to lift Mjolnir more than he is bothered by being told of Odin’s demise and that he can never go home; those latter revelations instead trigger his instantaneous reformation (insofar as he says the words “my father was trying to teach me something only I was too stupid to see it”) and that’s it. Confronting the destroyer and being ‘killed’ by it prompts the return of his Godhood, but refusing to shrink from a fight isn’t a change of pace for the character we saw at the beginning of the film; all in all, there’s no actual clear-cut learning in this process, there’s just a complication-free acceptance of his apparent new state of being, and that means he’s worthy of kingship now? Were they too afraid of making him dislikeable by playing out an excess of arrogance on Earth, so they softened him up immediately and in doing so, downgraded his character arc to just the concept of one rather than an actual presence? If there were more of a distinct process to his experiences on Earth, they’d be less damn boring, because we’d be following an actual story instead of just waiting for them to hit each predictable beat, and maybe they’d also generate some real characterisation of any of the Earth characters while they’re at it (instead, we have completely-useless-to-the-plot-comic-relief Darcy, and surrogate-dad-exposition-master Selvig, comprising the whole of Jane’s illustrious company). Thor’s clutch of friends back home may be a one-dimensional quartet defined almost entirely by their most obvious single descriptors (the female, the Asian, the fat guy, and...Sir Didymus), but at least they have a clear trajectory of plot-relevant motivation, even if they do become inconsequential by the end of it. Yeah, this isn’t a very good movie.

I said at the top that audience mood may be a deciding factor in the success or failure of the film, and I mean that in the sense that this is a movie that may prompt vastly different responses in the same person over different viewings; speaking for myself, I have watched it and been basically entertained and appreciative of the visuals and at least some of the characters and story elements, but I’ve also watched it and been overwhelmingly bored by the trite predictability and the flat characterisation of most of the players, and unimpressed by the soft-focus CGI of Asgard. Caught in the right mood, Thor’s inexplicable laid-back Earth persona can hit just the right note for casual comfort viewing. Caught in the wrong mood, Loki’s Asgard shenanigans feel over-hyped and not engaging enough to save the movie. Is Jane too bland, or full of shades of untapped character potential? Is Darcy funny, or painfully annoying? Is Heimdall intriguing, or too nebulous to matter? It all comes off very conditional, little of it anchored solidly or fleshed out strongly enough in-text to be considered an absolute. The plot floats, dependent on the aura of various cliches rather than categorically declaring itself in any unequivocal ways. It’s not particularly messy, so at least it has that going for it, but even that is a conditional statement. The film is rarely subtle enough to develop any depth, and the shallow invocations of the idea of a narrative arc lack the conviction necessary to make simplicity a virtue. The end result? I guess the best word for it is ‘forgettable’. 

#Thor #MCU #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Bechdel Test #female representation

[alphacrone]

bitty dates anonther falconer au

so the graduation kiss doesn’t happen

and bitty tries to move on and jack goes onto join the falconers

and there’s some falcs family get-together early on in the pre-season and bob and alicia can’t make it for Reasons

so jack invites his other family

which -- is sort of a terrible idea bc Tater’s flying solo so he adopts Ransom and Holster and shenanigans happen immediately

(think Tater and Bitty doing lifts on the ice but with ransom and holster and alcohol)

and shitty’s hanging all over jack because they haven’t seen each other in weeks and he introduces himself to everyone as jack’s brother -- “but not like a lame- ass biological brother, a brother of the heart” -- and lardo’s somehow got all these falcs rookies following her around like little ducklings

so bits is kind of off by himself, hovering near the refreshments to monitor which pies are most popular

(he might be distancing himself from jack on purpose. he might be trying to move on. it might be really hard.)

one of the rookies (is it poots? probably) comes up to grab a HUGE ASS slice from the peach pie and makes really inappropriate noises while shoveling it down

“dude this shit is SO GOOD,” he says, then realizes he’s talking to a really cute guy and tries to remember what manners are. “um, hey, i’m ian”

“b- eric. and thank you, i worked hard on that pie”

and ian’s all DUDE NO SHIT REALLY and, again, remembers he’s talking to a really cute guy who probably is attracted to normal human beings and adds, “so, you here with zimmermann’s crew?” 

and b’s all, “yeah, jack’s one of my best friends, we were so excited he asked us to come, blah blah blah”

so meanwhile jack’s been feeling weird all afternoon and it’s not just because shitty’s been forced to keep his clothes on. he realizes, sort of belatedly, it’s because he’s barely seen bittle all day. he doesn’t Like That.

jack drops shitty off with lardo (who is regaling all these wide-eyed teenage guys with stories of her kegster victories while george looks on, impressed) 

and he wanders over to find bittle in stitches as ian tells him some story from juniors

and jack’s not jealous. why would he be? bittle makes friends the way other people breathe -- constantly and naturally. jack is a little sad bittle would rather talk to some rando than him, but he tries not to think about that. 

the samwell crew crashes at jack’s “’swawesome bachelor pad” that night, shitty in jack’s bed, bitty and lardo in the guest room, ransom and holster on the pull-out in the living room

except- shitty disappears early on into the evening and bittle slips into jack’s room before midnight, incredibly cranky, and flops onto the empty side of jack’s bed, half-asleep

“i’ve been sexiled,” he grumbles, shoving his phone onto the bedside table and sighing loudly. “burn your guest room sheets in the morning.” 

jack laughs and turns over to face bittle, whose eyes keep fluttering open and shut, nose scrunched up in annoyance. it’s the cutest fucking thing jack’s ever seen. 

bittle’s phone lights up and bittle grabs at it blindly, huffing in laughter as he reads the message. 

“ian,” he clarifies, when jack asks who would be texting him at this hour. “we exchanged numbers before he went home” 

again, nothing jack should be jealous of. he and bittle text all the time. but they had to build up to that, when they first actually became friends, texting only for class- and practice-related things, then when bittle was drunk, then on roadies when they were at separate ends of the bus, eventually reaching their best friend-level of texting-

jack wasn’t jealous that a stranger was already at the midnight-texting friendship level with bittle. why would he be jealous?

before he can ask about it, though, bittle’s asleep, on top of the covers and clutching his phone. jack bites his lip and sets bittle’s phone aside and very, very carefully pulls the throw blanket from down by his feet over bittle, so he doesn’t get cold in the middle of the night. 

in the morning, when the samwell crew leaves, jack hugs bittle just a little tighter than normal, a little bit longer. he’s not sure why. it just feels right. 

so flash forward, and bittle starts coming down to providence pretty frequently. sometimes it’s to visit a cousin at brown (freshman, right outta georgia, not adapting as quickly as bittle did, needs a familiar face every now and then) and sometimes it’s to visit jack. he hangs out with ian quite a bit, which jack thinks is weird and isn’t jealous of at all. 

but he loves having bittle around, no matter the reason, so jack doesn’t look this gift horse too closely in the mouth. 

towards the end of the semester, bittle starts to get really stressed-looking. jack doesn’t see him as much, as busy as they both are, but he texts bittle constantly with little reminders throughout the day: drink plenty of water, try to get a little sleep, ransom does yoga at the fitness center on wednesdays you should join him, take a break from baking to go over your flashcards, call me if you want me to quiz you on french i’m free for a bit, etc. etc. 

there’s one evening in particular where jack’s getting off the plane after a series of away games and ian’s listening to an upset voicemail from bittle and is visibly upset himself.

and jack can hear him saying something like “eric, please talk to me... can i come down tomorrow? i think we need to talk.”

and, still visibly upset, ian gets in his car to go home and jack gets in his to do the same but he- he can’t stop thinking about bittle. bittle never gets upset enough about anything to call someone. ever. 

so jack “110% even at friendship” zimmermann speeds up to samwell and sneaks into the (unlocked) haus, dripping wet, and knocks quietly on bittle’s door. 

and bittle is fucking floored and jack’s only real explanation was “ian said you were upset about something” and he’s absolutely tackled into a full-on bittle bear hug. (tiny bear hug. koala bear hug)

(and lord is jack making it hard not to be in love with him.)

he still crashes in bittle bed that night, in a pair of holster’s sweatpants bittle stole from the laundry, and bittle doesn’t tell him specifically what’s wrong but he cries a little, mostly over jack being there, and falls asleep with his head on jack’s shoulder so jack thinks he probably did something right. 

and  then. 

and then. 

he and bittle are hanging out one evening not long after that and there’s a knock on the door and it’s ian and, okay, jack likes the guy, he’s a team player and works really hard, even if he isn’t the most skilled rookie, but this is jack’s time with bittle, why is he here? 

but bittle suddenly has this really nervous look on his face and ian is practically shaking and they sit down on the couch next to jack and ian says, “s-so, um, jack. me and eric- we’re um. we’re dating. have been for a while. we wanted you to be the first to know, knew we could trust you with this.” 

and OH. jack’s sort of thrown for a loop, so it takes him a minute to respond, and ian’s getting paler and paler and bittle looks like he’s going to bite through his own lip and jack manages to say something supportive and bland, just to get bittle to smile in relief. 

and he is supportive. he’s always been supportive of bittle’s dating misadventures. and he understands why they’ve kept it a secret it all semester, even if it’s clearly the thing that upset bittle so much. 

but he’s also jealous. and it’s pretty hard to deny any more. but ian’s a decent dude and clearly cares about bittle so jack tries to tamp down those ugly feelings and claps them both on the back and thanks them for trusting him.

ian chooses not to come out to any other falcs only george. he’s mostly friends with the other rookies and they’re all young and cocky and...well, the ones making most of the questionable jokes in the locker room. 

(i imagine there’s a fun moment when ian’s coming out to george where she’s all “oh, bittle? speedy little guy” and ian has no idea Why or How she knows that until he remembers that she would’ve watched his boyfriend’s tapes pretty closely while recruiting zimmboni)

(i also imagine a SUPER FUN moment when he comes out to her where he sort of chokes on his words and accidentally says “i’m dating zimmermann...’s friend, eric” and for a terrifying second george has to prepare herself for two of her boys dating each other)

and because ian doesn’t know the samwell crew, bittle doesn’t tell them about it at all. jack is his only friend with whom he can talk about ian. 

so jack hears it all, the good, the bad. (luckily, not the gory details. southern gentlemen do not [REDACTED] and tell)

in the spring, things seem to get worse between ian and bittle. they’re both busier and there’s a lot of phone tag and missed connections and jack can see ian getting visibly frustrated with it. there are a few times he sees ian, when they’re out with the guys, straight-up declining bittle’s calls. 

he tries to stay out of it. jack’s an adult, he doesn’t meddle or intervene in other people’s business. but. but. this is bittle. bittle’s happiness is more important to jack than almost anything. 

(and wow that’s a lot for a guy who only recently realized he wanted to be bittle’s secret NHL boyfriend. but he’s an all-in kind of guy.)

around february (valentine’s day??) they have two off days in a row and jack’s pretty exhausted so he opts to spend it on his couch with microwaved pad thai and netflix documentaries. that is, until there’s a knock on his door. 

and bittle’s there, tears on his cheeks, looking smaller and more vulnerable than jack’s ever seen him, babbling on and on incoherently. jack ushers him in and gets him tissues and a beer and manages to put together that ian broke up with bittle. 

(which??? what a fucking idiot??? who even does that?? he’s bittle???)

and jack more or less says that. “why would he break up with you?” he genuinely asks. “you’re amazing.” 

and bittle cries again and says something about the stress of hiding their relationship and not making their schedules line up and all jack can think is that if he had the chance with bittle, he’d do the fucking work to make that relationship solid, to make it work. he’s now rethinking his opinions on ian’s work ethic. 

and pretty much jack plies bittle with beer and microwaved food and television and lets him rest his head in jack’s lap and strokes his hair all evening and tells him he’s way too good for ian. 

(his mother was in a series of hit teen romances back in her day and jack maybe learned too much about dealing with boys and breakups from watching them as a child.)

part of jack thinks that this breakup will be the end of bittle coming down to providence every free weekend. but it isn’t, and he certainly doesn’t question it the next time bittle shows up at his place rambling on about wanting to check out a new patisserie downtown. 

they eat too much and wander around the city talking about everything. that evening they take out indian food for dinner and jack runs through flash cards with bittle, then drives him home in time to join a party going on in their living room. 

(jack crashes in bittle’s bed again. but it’s different, now that they’re both single and jack knows he’s in love. but it’s too soon and bittle probably not interested, so he falls asleep watching the rise and falls of bittle’s chest.)

things continue on like this all semester. sometimes jack brings tater to hang out at the haus. sometimes lardo comes with bittle to visit jack. luckily, ian isn’t a star player, so his name isn’t brought up too often around the haus to upset bittle (and how could it when there’s a literal shrine to mashkov being built in the living room, over the TV) 

so the falcs are playing [insert team] here during the cup play offs or whatever (lol they play hockey in this comic what?) and jack gets checked mega hard, real bad, there’s blood and shit, definitely a concussion, maybe broken ribs and all that jazz. bad enough that everyone takes a knee and jack’s taken to the hospital. 

(is that a thing in hockey? in lacrosse you gotta take a knee when someone’s really hurt but that sounds hard on skates idk)

ANYWAY jack’s out for the game (season?) and like he’s gonna be fine but there’s blood and bitty loses his shit

i’m talking, he’s fucking calling ian to make sure jack’s okay, ian whom he hasn’t spoken to since the breakup. luckily, they’re playing close by (providence? boston? idk how playoffs work, if they play in their home arenas or not) ANYWAY close enough that the samwell crew packs into holster’s mom-van and roadtrips to the hospital

they try to convince the nurses they’re jack’s family but like...no

shitty meets them there and is on the phone with bob, the only person who is at all calm because he knows these types of injuries well 

and george is in the lobby and she sees bittle and has heard enough from both jack and ian that she likes the kid and manages to get him back to see jack (without his loud and huge cohort, unfortunately)

and bits cries the moment he sees jack in that hospital bed, even though he’s totally fine, bittle, don’t worry about it, just some cracked ribs and a concu-

he’s cut off by bittle kissing him, more out of relief than anything, because if jack is chirping him then he’s not dying and before bittle can realize what he’s done jack is reaching up and pulling him back in, kissing him as soundly as one with a moderate to severe concussion can. 

and so since jack’s out for the rest of playoffs (and the falcs don’t make it much further without their lead scorer) he spends quite a bit of time, um, recuperating  in bittle’s bed at samwell, and then in providence as bittle finds a last minute internship there for the summer. 

so it starts about a year later, but it’s still the zimbits we know and love. but they’re a little more prepared. (jack has a fucking gameplan, based on everything that went wrong with ian. he’s got schedules for their skype dates. he’s ready to make this thing work forever)

(and it does.)

#zimbits #check please! #otp: hit me like a ray of sun #anna writes things

[treehugginglibrarian]

“I love you, honey”

“You don’t have to worry about the house, grandma. It’ll be taken care of.” 

“I mean, I’m sure it will. The next owners will do what they have to do.” 

“No grandma, it won’t have ‘next owners.’ Its next owner is going to be me. And Lesia. It’s all been decided already. Eric and Rana are both completely okay with it. And obviously my dad is okay with it.”

“You want the house? But… but why do you want the house?”

“Because it’s the only serious constant I’ve ever known. Throughout every part of my life I have visited my grandparents in that house. It’s in a beautiful part of the country where Lesia and I can live happily and still have space. And it’s big enough that the whole family can congregate there if they want. And they will. It’s the homestead. I want it.” 

My grandmother tried not to make it obvious she was nearly crying. But sitting in a Friendly’s, barely eating her food as her appetite had long since disappeared, she was quite clearly touched by my desire to inherit the house my father had done most of his growing up in. 

When I told my dad I wanted the house, he was just relieved because it meant him and my Uncle Eric wouldn’t have to scramble to get it sell-worthy. We can take our time emptying it. Figuring out what needs to be kept, either in the house or with other people. We can take our time completely remaking it into a home befitting a couple with no children, too many animals, and a fondness for guest rooms. 

My father wouldn’t have to say goodbye to his childhood home even as he said goodbye to his parents, because his own child was going to take it. 

To my grandmother, my desire for her house was a sign that she had successfully made it a home not just for her own children, but for generations to come. My keeping it would ensure that all of us will congregate in it long after she is no longer watching tv in the basement, petting a cat, and diligently working on her cross-stitch. 

This wasn’t the last time I saw my grandmother, but it was the last time I had a truly meaningful conversation with her. By the next time I saw her, a time that would be the last, she had suffered a stroke that left her extremely tired and often uninterested or unable to carry on conversations of any real length. At that point, my grandfather had gotten so mean and nasty that my father had basically told the “kids” to say their goodbyes, because he wanted to spare us any further contact with his dad. Such is the curse of old age, I suppose. 

This last conversation with my grandmother followed the last time she ever set foot in one of her favorite spaces, Pleasant Valley Wildlife Sanctuary. My grandmother was obsessed with nature for basically her entire life. In an alternate universe where women her age were encouraged to do things other than teach and raise children, she was an environmental scientist who would have made quite a stink about the state of the planet. That’s not to say that the path that she took was any less impressive. 

She married young. At 18. To a man she had been dating for four years already. My grandfather joined the military pretty quickly, working with computers at a time when “computer” was a terrifying and hushed word that most people didn’t understand. They traveled a lot in those first years, and while my grandmother finished a degree in history and attempted teaching, in the end she found the profession rather loathsome for many of the same reasons today’s teachers often find it loathsome. 

She worked for intelligence agencies and was a member of the Women’s Army Corps, never giving much consideration to the fact that women weren’t supposed to work for intelligence agencies at that time. She raised three children, watched the family go through times of crisis and calm, and all the while she volunteered to help take care of the nature parks in her area. The woods were her refuge. To me, she always seemed happiest when she was watching birds and she was, for reasons that will always confound me, the type of lunatic who would wander onto her back porch to take photos of the black bear in the backyard. I’m still baffled that she never got eaten! 

So it was that, on every occasion possible, I would kidnap her and take her back to a place she had made my own stomping grounds when I was a child. Pleasant Valley. 

We walked that day. A lot. Particularly for someone who was in her 80s and had not-great knees. We talked about life. About my dad. About my grandfather’s forgetfulness. About my job. We talked about the bullfrogs we heard and she laughed at me for continuing my never-ending tree hugging spree. I think a part of me suspected it would be one of the last good days I would get with her, but the stroke that she had a few months later made me that much happier that I had that last day. 

I love my grandmother immensely. I will miss her with every fiber of my being. Her exasperated “LYNDSEY” when I’ve said something foolish, her frustrated “Well, what do you want?” when I’ve refused to tell her what we should have for dinner, and her quiet but firm “I love you, honey” said into the nape of my neck each time she hugged me goodbye. Her small but legible handwriting that is, to me, just a neater version of my father’s own messy scribbles.  

My relationship with my grandmother was fraught, though, and to pretend otherwise would be to lie. She was a complex woman and her relationships with most of us were, at times, complex. When I was around 16 years old, she looked at me wistfully and told me how lucky I was to be as pretty as I was. “Everything is so much easier for pretty people.” My grandmother was no slouch in her youth, sporting a trim figure, a curly bob, and a cupid’s bow that she continued to decorate with electric pink lipstick up until she stopped doing her make-up. 

Despite this fact, I took the comment to heart. It took YEARS for me to accept that I had, in fact, made it through anything successfully on my own merits. Even in my early relationships, I often found myself questioning what the interest or the intent was. Did they like me because they liked me, or because getting a partner was simply easier when you were pretty? What my grandmother likely meant as a one-off, half-assed, compliment, turned out to be an emotional scar that took a literal decade to shake. 

She was also the only member of my immediate family to ever put pressure on me to have children and, for some time, I resented visits with her because of this. My grandfather was indifferent, but my grandmother was quite insistent that the genetic line needed to continue. Apparently, I was the mandatory continuer of that line. Her nagging never brought this to fruition and I know, as she told my mother as much, that she died at least a little bitter about this fact. 

Yet, despite an inability to accept the modern notion of a child-free woman, she had no trouble accepting the idea that I was marrying a woman. My grandparents both met my spouse rather early on in our relationship, with my grandmother concluding quite rightly, “Wait? You can’t be gay. You would never waste your time on men just to please society. That’s not you. Do you like both? You must like both. Oh. To have such options!” My grandmother, jealous of bisexuals, even if she did think we all needed to have children! 

Intensely well traveled, it’s safe to say my grandparents are probably where I got my fondness for world exploration, even if the traveling I did with them was limited to the general regions our family lived in at various points in time. She died having never made it to Australia, something she regretted up until she lost interest in regretting such things. Perhaps this is one of the reasons my father had such an intense interest in the nation that, ten years ago, I dragged him there with me. I will forever remain grateful that she made it to the Galapagos, and I can only hope my own dreams of Antarctica can be as well fulfilled. 

My grandmother was someone with whom I had everything and nothing in common. I am very similar in personality to my father, her oldest son, a fact that has become ever more apparent as I have gotten older. She loved my dad a nearly irrational amount, which in many ways likely drove her love for me, and her tolerance of my eternal shenanigans. She was always intrigued by whatever new ink or piercings I had acquired since our last visit, and sincerely wished that it was “acceptable” for “old people” to get tattoos. I’ve no idea what she would have gotten, but I tried to talk her into it at least a dozen times! 

During my time in the military, my grandparents were my rocks in every single way. They constantly mailed me care packages in which tootsie rolls were used as packing peanuts (remarkably effective) and I have quite a collection of cards and letters from both my grandmother and their friends. It is quite possible their never ending supply of Ding Dongs and Yankee Doodles single-handedly added inches to some of my troops’ waistlines! 

They lived only three hours from Fort Drum, so whether I needed to escape an unsavory personal situation or just wanted to get away from work for a long weekend, I had a built in bed-and-breakfast complete with a side of grandmother-that-spoils-me-rotten a short jaunt from my home. My boss while I was at Brigade was so amused by my visits to their house that she would often kick me out of work early on those evenings, saying “you only have your grandparents for so long. Go enjoy them while they’re here, dammit.” 

One particularly memorable trip saw my drive there interrupted by a call to my grandmother, with me in hysterics. I had passed a veal farm on the drive and the little bitty cow shelters were significantly more than I could handle. I completely broke down and called their house both so they would know I was running late and so my grandmother could calm me down. When I arrived, she told me she’d called Hancock Shaker Village and arranged for me to go pet the baby cows there the next day. That was the type of grandmother she was- you were never too old to be scooped up and treated like you were still her baby.

One of my last trips down there while I was living Upstate, it was my grandmother who made me see the light regarding an emotionally abusive boyfriend. “Honey, you don’t have to be with someone just to be with someone. I know I tell you I want you to find someone because I think it will make you happy. And that’s true. But someone who makes you unhappy is a significantly worse idea than happiness by yourself.” Less than a month later I dumped him and never looked back. 

My wardrobe is populated by vintage items I have inherited from her, my jewelry is speckled with the sparkles she has given me over the years, and my kitchen is eternally rainbow colored because she and my grandfather are who ensured I eventually received the Fiesta Ware I had wanted since I was a child. I routinely eat off actual silverware that I liberated from their kitchen during one visit and polished to a proper shine. I know, I’m a terrible Millennial. 

My grandmother died on February 6 and a little bit of light left the world with her. I know, though, that she got the ending she wanted. She wasn’t in a nursing home. She hadn’t spent the last year of her life, following a stroke at the end of 2018, cooped up and surrounded by doctors and nurses. She had lived the remainder of her months on her terms, or as close to it as she could. By the time she left us, she was tired. She was routinely in pain. She was having trouble staying awake for any length of time or eating any real amount of food. It was time for her to go. 

I’m glad she’s at peace, and intensely happy that I was given the opportunity to make as many memories with her as I was, well into my adulthood. I haven’t the foggiest what happens to people after they leave us, and won’t pretend that I really think it’s all that much. My grandmother, though, will live for me forever. Larger than life, loudly screaming at my grandfather “PERC! Will you turn that down!” and eternally telling me, “I love you, honey.”  

Dawn Marie Williams, somewhere in Minnesota, circa 1991. Fiercely loved by her granddaughter then, now, and always. Rest easy, grandma. You taught us well.  

[gingervsblondie]

Blondie Has Servant Trouble (1940)

11:51 PM, Saturday, 19 October 2019

What a title, eh? The biggest first world problem of the 20th century. Needless to say, there are bigger problems in the world in 1940 than Blondie’s servant trouble, but here we are. I’m not in the best mood so why not take it out on this totally well-meaning but inconsequential piece of light entertainment from 80 years ago?

11:55

Hey so: the mailman Dagwood runs into in the intro isn’t the mailman he runs into in the movies proper. I don’t know if it ever was. Maybe in the first movie, I honestly don’t remember, but I don’t know who that guy in the intro is. He’s not the mailman I know and love from these great great flicks.

11:58

Hey, noir detective newspaper guy is back! I guess whatever drama I decided was going on behind the scenes last time is resolved now.

We may never know how much blood he has on his hands, how far he went, interrogating petty criminals in alleys, following the trail that ended at the dog-catchers, God rest their souls.

12:01 AM

So… I think a lot of what I’ve seen so far is stock footage, which isn’t something they’ve done to any noticeable degree in the previous movies. Maybe it isn’t though? I don’t know! I don’t trust myself. Maybe these movies are just so repetitive that I can’t believe that they filmed this stuff a second time anymore.

(Future Euan note: I’m pretty sure it wasn’t stock footage.)

12:03

So far, this entry seems to be about superstitions. You know, black cats, walking under ladders.

I’m kinda checked out. Which I can only apologize for. If you’re reading this I want to give you my all, but I mean YOU KNOW WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN. YOU’VE SEEN OLD CARTOONS. Man I miss Dagwood and Blondie just chilling on the train.

12:07

Blondie: “Poor Daisy. Maybe she’s tired of doing the same thing over and over. I know I am.”

Holy shit, the movie heard me. I’m scared now. I’m feeling very vulnerable and I’m not ready for Blondie Has Servant Trouble to Sonic.exe me.

12:09

Dagwood just electrocuted himself atop a ladder at the top of a flight of stairs, which he then fell down. And all I can think is “man I wish Dagwood could die.”

12:15

Alexander Hamilton Bumstead has a kite.

Kinda like how Charlie Brown flies a kite.

...

You know, What Have We Learned, Charlie Brown has a really interesting sequence of World War II footage that’s hand-tinted in bright stylized colours. I could be watching that right now.

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3x6rhf

12:28

I promise I’ll go easy on the next movie. I’ll look on the bright side for that one.

12:30

The mailman says he transferring. It’d be weird if the movie where I finally notice that there’s a different mailman in the intro is also the last movie with the mailman that actually is in the movies.

12:32

There’s a gag where Dagwood, through a series of hilarious events, runs into the mailman while caught on Alexander Hamilton Bumstead’s kite, and we see the kite flying in the air with the mailman’s hat stuck in its string. And all I could think was “that must have been a very hard shot to get and it was not worth it.”

Dark Side Euan has entered the chat.

12:38

Apparently people said “no offence” in 1940. Did not know that.

12:39

You know, I was in a good mood last night. Maybe things’d be different if I did this then.

See, like: Dagwood just kicked his boss in the ass so hard that he slid clear across the room. And I feel nothing.

12:44

Turns out the mailman transferring was just more “ooh, is the mailman gonna avoid getting run into this time? No. He’s not.” The mailman’s transferring to a neighbourhood where Dagwood’s boss is going to put him so that he and Blondie can have servants. Shenanigans. Malarkey. MALARKEY I SAY.

12:48

Somebody died. I’m pretty sure this is the first allusion to death in the Blondieverse. So people can die. By that token, Dagwood can die, assuming he’s a human.

But you know what they say about assuming: don’t do it if it’s not funny.

Is Dagwood an alien? That would explain what I’ve taken to be the strangely pointy bits of his hairdo, maybe they’re actually antennae. Perhaps he’s some kind of god, or an angel, a being from a higher- wait I’m just doing the Mr. Bean lore now.

12:56

Dagwood, Blondie and Alexander Hamilton Bumstead (to say nothing of the dog) are on the car-ride over to the house they’re going to stay in, where a magic trick manufacturer died (more malarkey incoming.)

While Blondie was getting all horny at the thought of having servants (I don’t know how else to describe it, she just keeps saying the word “servants” with satisfaction,) Alexander Hamilton Bumstead cut her off and said “Daddy, are we still in the United States?” I thought, true to his abolitionist namesake, he was condemning his mother for indulging in the privilege her position in the class hierarchy provided her. But apparently he was just commenting on how long the car-ride was taking.

1:08

They’ve arrived at the house, and it doesn’t have electricity.

Alexander Hamilton Bumstead: “This is a mess, how are we going to eat?”

Blondie: “We have plenty of candles, dear.”

Alexander Hamilton Bumstead: “Only eskimos eat candles.”

Never mind, Alexander Hamilton Bumstead isn’t a progressive in the realm of race politics after all.

1:16

Alright. The movie’s acting like there’s a ghost in the house. They’ve shown us someone under a cover, cartoon ghost style. I’m betting you right now it’s the magic trick manufacturer and he’s still alive and that’ll be the shenanigans and in fact death remains an unconfirmed theory in the Blondieverse. And if I’m wrong, I’ll just go back and delete this paragraph.

1:18

I’m wrong. But anyway I’m pretty sure they used stock footage for real this time, for a shot of Daisy running into a door and hitting her head because there’s no dog door. Unless maybe Daisy had a catalogue of tricks she could do, and so they’re filming them more than once to get the most out of having trained the dog to do that.

1:23

So! The guy under the sheet was a black man by the name of Horatio Jones, played by Ray Turner. I note that he’s black because of our experiences with Willie Best, the only other black representation in these movies up until this point. Horatio’s in the house because he’s being initiated into a lodge, and he has to spend a night in a haunted house. So maybe these movies are improving at representing black people?

(Future Euan Note: Horatio is still a pretty stereotypical character, and has his eyes wide practically every second he’s on screen, but he’s presented as equal in class to the Bumsteads so I guess I can count that as progress.)

1:36

Shenanigans alert: the servants just arrived, or rather two people purporting to be the servants, but they reacted oddly when Blondie said “you must be the servants,” and haven’t said anything, instead letting Blondie talk for them, so I suspect they’re not actually the servants. Maybe they’re there to rob the dead magic trick manufacturer’s house? I’m determined to figure out the shenanigans before they happen.

1:40

The “servants,” on their own:

Servant A: “This is my house, it always has been my house.”

Servant B: “But those young people are harmless.”

Servant A: “Harmless? No-one is harmless!”

Servant B: “...Sometimes I think your mind is-”

Servant A: (Turning, putting his hands on her neck as if to strangle her,) “You’ll never say that again!”

These bastards are straight out of a completely different movie.

1:45

Blondie has her fur coat from the last movie. Continuity! Wooooo.

1:47

Please make this movie be over.

1:51

I hate you

You hate me

Let’s team up and kill Barney

With a baseball bat and a two-by-four

No more purple dinosaur

1:54

Dagwood got a flashlight stuck in his mouth and can’t get it out. Which is upsetting more than it is comical. Reminds of that one bit in The Empty Child.

Gross.

1:57

After getting it out, Dagwood promptly got the flashlight stuck in his mouth again, while demonstrating to Horatio how he managed to get it stuck the first time ‘round.

What a fucking dipshit.

2:03

Eric the fake servant dude just grabbed a kitchen knife and walked menacingly in the direction of the Bumsteads, before fake servant lady stopped him.

Don’t tease me like that, Flournoy!

(Future Euan Note: Wow that’s dark, I’m sorry.)

2:07

The guy playing Eric, the demented mystery man masquerading as a servant and repeatedly holding his head in anguish, is named Arthur Hohl, and a cursory glance at his Wikipedia tells me that he’s a fairly serious actor. And I mean I’m down. I’m struggling with this one but I am down for the introduction of a thespian playing a violent and dangerous man losing his grip on reality.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s Dick Flournoy’s self-insert character.

2:15

There was just a bit where Dagwood ran to get water to douse on fake servant lady, who’s unconscious.

...Which reminds me of this one scene in A Boy Named Charlie Brown, which I’d also rather be watching.

https://youtu.be/E7ID_E-SYbQ

Snoopy’s an asshole and I love it.

2:24

15 minutes left. My eyes are doing that thing where they feel bad to keep open. You know. When one is sleepy.

2:28

https://youtu.be/AQE4bwA6EF4

This movie is weird you guys.

2:30

Welp, the movie broke me. I laughed.

Blondie: (reading a newspaper clipping with a picture of the crazy fake servant dude) “Man eludes police after knifing attorney.”

Dagwood: “Euh- with a knife?”

2:35

This movie’s never gonna end I wanna SLEEEEEEp

2:37

Ignore this entry, I’m just typing something so I don’t fall asleep.

2:38

Dagwood just yelled “Blondie, I’m shot!” What actually happened is he burnt himself with a candle, but if I was a real sociopath, I could edit that line with gunshot sound effects either side of it. Like Dagwood’s Crazy Frog and I’m on Newgrounds circa 2005.

2:42

I think Dagwood just got stabbed. I think Dagwood has a knife in his back. I think Dagwood just got STABBED.

2:43

Nah the knife was just stuck in his jacket. But if I was a REAL sociopath, I could- 

idk, edit in a punchline when you’re not so tired, Future Euan.

(Future Euan Note: I dunno, painstakingly animate CGI blood dripping from his back? I don’t really know what you were going for here, Past Euan.)

2:47

Okay it’s done! IT’S DONE! It’s done.

Quick quick quick, wrap up: This movie was good, probably, maybe? I was miserable watching it but it had weirdly life or death stakes and a psycho killer (qu’est que c’est) which is almost interesting by Blondie standards. It’s even the kind of movie I could see myself stumbling on and enjoying if it wasn’t a Blondie movie, or if it was but I wasn’t on this crusade. The kind of movie I’d find on some weird DVD collection of public domain or cheaply licensed old movies, like a favourite of mine, The Answer, a 1955 episode of Four Star Playhouse that felt very profound when I was little.

My Dagwood Sandwich rating is: one sandwich containing ice cream. You appreciate the ice cream, but you weren’t exactly expecting it in your sandwich. And when somebody asks you how it was, you’re like, “Well, it was ice cream, so good I guess.” And they say, “Did you enjoy it?” and you say, “Well, no.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I’m gonna go to sleep.

#gingervsblondie