#I imagine this is literally within months of arriving with them

[loxley-blair-lockhart]

[ Brush ] - Catelyn

"M' dad used to braid my hair." Loxley mumbled quietly. The two of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Loxley only talked in his sleep, and it was normally not very clear or very nice. Catelyn composed herself long before Dona, who sat at the stool next to the kitchen bench, half her hair in puffs of coarse, curly hair, and half of it braided neatly. He sat with them most of the time, taking everything in with dark, sad eyes, but he perked up at braiding time. He liked the smells of the little pots of various potions to help with their hair. Hair seemed like an important ritual to them and he never wanted to intrude, but he couldn't help being curious. Cat never pushed him to participate in anything they did, but she always encouraged his curiosity.

[[MORE]]

"Do you want to go next?" She asked casually, trying not to make it seem like the big deal that it was. Loxley nodded eagerly. Dona made a small excited squeak before Cat could click her tongue at her. It was best not to make a big deal, or he might get scared off.

Like a wounded animal, Loxley bristled when Cat first brushed her fingers through his hair. He felt a pang of guilt, of shame, of mourning. He missed his dad. Not his mum. More guilt. She still shouldn't have had to die like that... maybe. He felt a bit sick, but Dona pulled a chair right up next to him and sat with her knees touching his. "Can we match?" She asked her mother. The hair at the front of her head ran in rows to meet with two perfect puffballs in the back. Cat laughed before she could catch herself.

"Uh, no. Loxley's hair won't do that, sadly. He has a little curl, but nothing like that." Dona's shoulders sagged, but Loxley was undeterred. His braids had never looked like Dona's anyway. Cat played with Loxley's hair for a couple of minutes, brushed a few different things into it, and gave a small frustrated sigh. He looked back at her with a curious frown, and both Dona and Cat knew how to read his expressions by then.

"Oh, I've only ever braided black women's hair before honey, I'm just not sure what to do." She explained to him slowly, choosing her words carefully so he wouldn't scurry away. But by then, his trust was built. He snapped his fingers in the direction of Cat's phone, and Dona retrieved it faithfully. He started typing, "how to do a crown braid on straight hair." A video came up. Dona had shown him YouTube tutorials for months by then. Cat beamed. "Of course!"

He beamed with pride, his shoulders back, and stayed very still while they learned a new way to show love. He even wore a bonnet like Dona and Cat did, but it still didn't last very long. Loxley came to Cat in the morning of the third day, his blonde curls falling around his face. He was pulled into a tight hug while his foster mum tried not to cry with him. "It's okay! It's okay, I promise. It just means we can do it again! It's okay." She brushed tears from his eyes and Loxley felt little arms grab him around the waist, her head tucked against his back. "Can I have a turn braiding?" Dona piped up.

---

It was one of his fondest memories, and one of the first times he felt true peace after the trauma of losing everything he ever knew.

[f10werfae]

My Little Love

pairing: Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Short!Reader

summary: they're at his parents house because she's meeting his family and one of his relatives says something about their size difference which triggers Henry's size kink (Major Dom, Loving Henry) (requested by @hallecarey1 )

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bunny don’t worry, you look so pretty n’ gorgeous” Henry smiled smoothing back Y/n’s hair which was tamed back with a white headband. His bulging arms going around her smaller frame, pulling her flush against his chest, a squeal leaving her mouth as his fingers dipped underneath her skirt and pressed against her freshly groomed pussy.

“Stop being naughty Henry! I’m meeting the rest of your family for the first time and I don’t wanna keep them waiting” Y/n whined shoving his hands off as he laughed smugly, his hands falling to grope her ass roughly before walking over to reach for his car keys. “You ready to go love?” Henry said intertwining her smaller hand with his, watching as she applied another smooth layer of pink lip gloss skilfully, putting it into her small Hermes bag.

“What’s wrong bunny? Why you shakin’ a storm over there?” Henry frowned driving down the country road, his hand settled onto her exposed thigh, his thumb rubbing it soothingly. “Well it’s the first family gathering i’m going to, and all your aunts, uncles and cousins are gonna be there” She said smiling back up at him, her hand holding onto his tightly, playing with the multiple rings adorned on his fingers.

“Listen once we get there, I guarantee they’ll all love you like I do, well maybe not exactly like I do” Henry chuckled gripping her thigh rougher, prompting the smaller woman to laugh and press a wet kiss onto his beard covered cheek. The car falling silent once they pulled into the large house’s driveway, the front filled to the brim with an array of different vans and cars.

“Hold onto me, m’nervous” Y/n breathed out shakily, holding onto his bicep as she watched her boyfriend knock chirpily on the oakwood door.

“Henry my baby! awk Omg and my future daughter-in-law, I missed you!” Henry’s mother Marianne laughed pulling Y/n into her arms, kissing the younger woman on both cheeks, pulling her back to look at her. “You look stunning lovely, we need to do another spa day this month, bet you’re sick of looking at this face all day” Henry scoffed as his mother tugged on his chin, not even receiving a hug from his own ma.

“He’s alright I guess, I missed you too” Y/n smiled sweetly, enough to give anyone a toothache, her demeanour not faltering as she was brought straight into the living room filled to the brim with relatives. Henry’s hand on the small of her back, his fingers drumming softly.

“Awk Henry is this your wee darling! She’s such a small thing, bless her soul she’s so pretty” One of Henry’s aunts exclaimed, holding Y/n in her arms turning her side to side, everyone in the room smiling at the new arrival. “Henry you must have to be so careful with her, must break like glass with a touch of a finger” She winked at them both, causing something to spark inside Henry, the rest of the family laughing the seemingly innocent joke.

“Oh we’re far from careful aunt Luce, surprised she isn’t in pieces yet” He smirked coming up behind her, her head levelled with his chest, both his arms wrapping around her shoulders to clasp in front of her chest. “Hen! That’s so inappropriate, i’m sorry everyone” Y/n scolded, her face heating up at everyones laughs, a small gasp erupting as she felt something hitting her ass from behind.

“Ma i’m gonna go show Y/n around the house, been dying to show her my old room” Within minutes Henry had taken his woman up the stairs in the mansion, her having to jog a little to keep up with his long heavy strides. “W-wait Henry slow down” Y/n gasped as she was pushed into a random room at the end of the extended hallway, realising she was in a room surrounded by DC comics. Henry’s room.

“Sorry bunbun, can’t slow down, all their comments just got to me you know? Break like glass? Bloody laughable” Henry laughed tauntingly, his hands pushing Y/n over the edge of the bed, flipping up her skirt lewdly revealing her cotton white underwear. These were definitely new.

“Henry we can’t, they’re downstairs, what if they hear?” Y/n gasped feeling his middle finger rub up and down her slit, causing the fabric to cling to her wet pussy, a small damp stain starting to appear. “Woahoho look at this love, this is what I needed to see”

“W-what are you doing bear?” Y/n said looking back to see Henry shoving his face against her ass, feeling him take a deep inhale against her pussy. “All freshly shaved for me huh? You smell so fucking good, feel how hard you make me” Henry coaxed taking her hand, not even comparable in size to the bulge basically jumping out of his jeans. Y/n immediately felt her mouth water, remembering all the times her poor pussy had been impaled on his cock.

“I want it, need it now” Y/n said curtly scrambling to turn around and unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. “Aren’t you eager little one?” He smiled cupping her face, pressing a soft endearing kiss onto her pouty lips, tapping her cheek softly to let her continue her plan. “Actually bunny, lay back for me, be my little starfish yeah? I’ll take care of you n’ quick” He cooed pushing her flat against his old king size bed, a small squeak leaving her as she slightly bounced on the mattress.

Pulling her dress over her head roughly, Henry smiled noticing her chest was left bare, there was a reason he bought a dress with a built in bra. “I love your tits baby, soso much, make me so fucking hard” Henry growled cupping a breast in each hand, his thumb rubbing over her slowly hardening nipples which pebbled in his hands.

“Now for this sweet pussy” Pulling her cotton panties off with one swipe, her bunched it up and shoved it under the pillow her head was on. “What if i’m too loud-“ Y/n felt Henry clamp his lips onto hers, her full lips being sucked in passionately as his tongue eagerly searched for hers. Spit dripping down her face from the corner of her mouth, a whine leaving her as she watched Henry wipe her face with her panties.

“What baby, don’t like the taste of your pussy? Tell you what I love it, love to eat it morning day and night, favourite fucking meal” He growled kissing her again, tasting remnants of her own pussy on her tongue, making him even more harder. His cock now springing out of his boxers due to being so engorged,

“Really? That’s how I feel about this cock of yours bear” Y/n whispered kissing his cheek, fisting his cock in her soft hands, her hands running up and down her nape. “i’m going to cum all over you, wan’ fuck you all night, my little love” Henry moaned humping his sensitive cock against her naked mound, her clit starting to poke out against him.

“yeah feel me fill that little pussy? God you’re my woman aren’t you” Henry nodded along with her as he slowly inched inside her, her voice whining as his thumb rubbed slow circles on her poor clit. His smile widening as he thrusted slowly and deeply, making sure to hit the deepest spots, one which he knew sent her into a frenzy.

“Henry feel so good, could keep you in me forever, you’re so big” Y/n whined, her tits bouncing rhythmically against Henry’s chest, his minty breath fanning her face as he whispered dirty filthy things ‘Gonna make you carry our baby yeah? Maybe they’ll be jus as small as you were? Been dreaming of the day i’d be able to make you a mother, mother of my babies, let everyone know you’re able to take my huge cock’

“F-fuck Henry I cant, ya know that gets me” Y/n whimpered softly, hiding her face in his neck. Henry always knew his words and slow, deep thrusts could get her cumming in minutes, and it doesn’t take him long to follow. “Wait! Mm’sensitive oh my gosh, mmmy oh my fuck” Y/n mumbled highly pitched, her hips slowly grinding against his actively thrusting hips, feeling him chase his own finish.

“Gonna fill you up bunny, right up here” Henry growled smoothing his hand up her stomach, feeling her soft skin under his fingertips, reminding him of just how lucky he was to find someone who loved him like she did. Man if only he knew how lucky she felt, finding a man like Henry to take care of her like no one else before, her big scary soft man.

“Yes yes yes wan’ it now” Y/n grunted cupping his face roughly, her tongue swiping over his lips, his tongue flicking against hers; his cum filling her to the brim. Both of them whining in satisfaction and overstimulation as they watched their mixed juices flow out onto his old superhero sheets. Fuck sake how were they going to get out of this now?

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @luvabellee @cookielovesbook-akie @theekyliepage @cilliansangel @thoughtsofreid @kzhlvlysstuff @grxnde-dwt @p4st3lst4rs @thebaileybugle @teti-menchon0604 @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @pandaxnienke @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @ggmimitf @ninasw0rld @acornacre @fdl305 @keiva1000 @spencerreidat4am @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @marvelgurl @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @

[elsfairy]

꒰⠀ARTISAN ⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀ABBY. 🪚 ꒱

artisan: a worker in a skilled trade, especially one that involves making things by hand. a/n: hahhaaaa hey. i know nothing about Carpentry, so please if you see something that makes no sense or isn't accurate, you do not. this is literally a self-indulgent with me and my 🎀 anon bc we need carpenter!abby.

CARPENTER!ABBY HEADCANONS

✧  First and foremost, Abby loved her job. Sure, it was a job that had her using her hands for hours on end, but that was something she loved about it, constantly doing something that she genuinely enjoyed doing & didn’t have her bored out of her mind.

✧ Her entire workshop is filled with scraps of wood & all sorts of different trinkets she has made over the years from where she went to work to become a carpenter. From an oak wood bookshelf that’s been dusted over for months to a Pine coffee table that now has many coffee stains covering the surface.

✧ The first time she met you was when she was dropping off a piece that she had started for someone in the apartment building you live in. And if it wasn’t for the fact you had left your door wide open, she wouldn’t have heard your cries and pleas for help when you started failing miserably at building a bookshelf you hadn't taken out the box since it arrived 2 weeks ago.

“You know you’re not supposed to screw the handles on the inside of the door, right?”

✧ Since that first encounter with the blonde, who gave you her number the minute she had been the one to put your brand bookshelf together perfectly without having much trouble, you’ve somehow managed to buy more things that do need to be assembled and you’re finding yourself calling her every time you need help. You’re always calling Abby. probably because you also love to drool over her muscles, the way they flex when she uses a saw & just overall watching her work but still.

✧ Her giddy crush kind of way but she loves to make you little gifts. Even if you don’t ask for them, she’s always finding something you might like but you always complain to her saying that it’s too much so you refuse to let her buy you anything. So she will make it for you instead because she has all the materials for it. That makes it more special & sentimental to her, being able to make you a little gift from the heart. She will spend hours perfecting & sanding the wood to be so damn smooth that you don’t end up getting splinters. Speaking of wood, she takes a long ass time to decide on what she wants to use for a start.

“I love that you always think about me when you make something. Thank you, Abs. I’m not really that artistic like you, but I could buy you dinner… if you want, my way of saying thank you for helping me”

✧ Loves it when you turn up at her workshop. Especially if you turn up with something for her lunch. You being there plus food? That melts her heart more than you could imagine. Most of the time, you’ve got to feed her though because one, she’s either so zoned in her work or two, she has sawdust everywhere on her hands and over her pants. So feeding her is always the best option while she works. It also just gives you a long time to gawk at her. From the way, her tongue pokes out the side of her mouth when she’s focused, to the sweat coating her forehead, strands of blonde hair falling from her braid, and how the sun shines through the window right onto her toned muscles. You also just loved how gentle and caring she was toward every piece of work she decides to do, whether it be a big project or small. She was always so delicate. 

“Are you done staring, Doll? c’mon, let me teach you how to do it. One day I’ll need your help”

✧ Refuses to let you call someone to fix something that is broken in your apartment. She doesn’t care if she’s busy building or making something for one of her clients, if you call her and ask for help then you can be sure that she’s going to be there within 10 minutes to fix it for you. Says they always charge you way too much for their assistance, with her she also refuses to let you pay. She cares deeply about you, and charging you is something she will never do. A literal free-of-charge service.

“Making me one of those lemonades you always seem to have whenever I’m here is how you can pay me. If you’re drinking them a lot, they must be really good Doll”

✧ Secretly adores when you watch her work. She might be zoned out, and working extra hard but that doesn’t mean she can’t feel you staring at her. You’re not as oblivious as you seem. Abby can literally feel your eyes roam over her body and face until she has to pause in her movement and look up at you with a smirk on her lips. It’s not every day you get caught staring at such a beautiful woman designing a new coffee table for you, is it? Drooling just a little at the way her hands move, how tight those pants are around her thighs, and how her muscles bulge under that shirt.

“How about, you come over here, sit on my lap and we can do this together?”

✧ Her work patterns are all whack, not eating at the right times she should be, nor sleeping at a good time but she does love the nights when she finally gets to your apartment, eyes heavy and hands hurting from using them all day to find you already standing in the kitchen of your warm place, cooking dinner with the radio playing quietly in the background and small hums leaving your mouth. She loves your cooking, and also loves to see you using that dammed wooden spoon you practically begged her to make for you because you saw it online, but was too expensive to get.

“Missed you today, you smell like home. My home..”

✧ baby will build you whatever you ask for, or help you put together something you’ve bought for your room. she loves helping you & having you ask for help. 

[melestasflight]

In the Silmarillion fandom, we enjoy grabbing the trope of “Nolofinwëan recklessness” and running wild with it. 

The most common victims of this are Fingon the Rash Prince and Fingolfin the Impulsive King, who rushes into suicidal combat. Both father and son daring death within Morgoth’s domain. 

It’s fun to write and exciting to imagine, no doubt, but I’d like to offer a different take. In fact, what makes Fingon and Fingolfin (and the rest of that family) compelling to me is their patience and endurance.

Yes, I’m aware Fingon rushes to battle at Alqualondë, but that’s a world-altering event. The light of the world has literally gone out, murder has happened in Valinor, Finwë is dead. Most of the Noldor are up on their feet and ready to depart. Everyone is rushing.

But this is not always the case with Fingon. Most significantly, the rescue of Maedhros is NOT an impulsive decision. The published Silmarillion offers no timeline on this, but in The Grey Annals, five entire years pass between the arrival of Fingolfin’s host to Beleriand and Fingon’s decision to look for Maedhros. 

Five years in which the two hosts are quite literally on the verge of civil war because, let’s not forget:

No love was there in the hearts of those that followed Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor, for the agony of those that endured the crossing of the Ice had been great, and Fingolfin held the sons the accomplices of their father. 

Diplomacy is a painfully slow (and absolutely frustrating!) ordeal. Fingon’s decision is born from this strife, from thirty years on the Helcaraxë, and five years of civil restlessness, not to mention the clear signs that Morgoth is ready to attack them at any moment:

Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, before their Enemy should be ready for war; for the earth trembled in the Northlands with the thunder of the forges of Morgoth underground. 

This is not rashness. This is the sacrifice of a captain who is willing to make the best of what time is left before full-out destruction begins. It would be rashness if Fingon got his company and crossed Mithrim to wage battle on the Fëanorians. Instead, he chooses differently for the sake of peace, stability, and renewed friendship.

The trek from Lake Mithrim to Thangorodrim could be estimated at around 150 miles, depending on the map we follow, and there are grasslands and two sets of mountains to cross, not to mention the horror of Thangorodrim. Fingon travels on foot. It would take him weeks, maybe even months, to find Maedhros. Plenty of time for the fire of rashness to cool down if that was the case. But he persists because he has no other choice.

Similarly, I often see takes on Fingolfin that he rushes to pointless combat with Morgoth in the same manner as Fëanor had done. Yet again, the timeline is crucial here. The published Silmarillion has the battle lasting at least several months. Bragollach starts in F.A. 455 during winter time: 

There came a time of winter, when night was dark and without moon

The battle slows down presumably a few months later:

but the Battle of Sudden Flame is held to have ended with the coming of spring, when the onslaught of Morgoth grew less.

The onslaught grows less, but it doesn’t fully cease. Morgoth and Sauron reissue their attacks early into Fingon’s kingship.

In the Grey Annals, the timeline  is stretched further out:

Year 455:

The Fell Year. Here came an end of peace and mirth. In the winter, at the year's beginning, Morgoth unloosed at last his long-gathered strength

Year 456:

Now Fingolfin, King of the Noldor, beheld (as it seemed to him) the utter ruin of his people, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses, and he was filled with wrath and despair.

The fighting goes on actively anywhere from a season to a full year! Fingolfin tries to hold his kingdom together for a full year despite an absolute, unquestionable disaster. I mean, look at this description of the battle:

In the front of that fire came Glaurung the golden, father of dragons, in his full might; and in his train were Balrogs, and behind them came the black armies of the Orcs in multitudes such as the Noldor had never before seen or imagined. And they assaulted the fortresses of the Noldor, and broke the leaguer about Angband, and slew wherever they found them the Noldor and their allies, Grey elves and Men. Many of the stoutest of the foes of Morgoth were destroyed in the first days of that war, bewildered and dispersed and unable to muster their strength. War ceased not wholly ever again in Beleriand

Fingolfin’s decision to ride out, again, is not out of recklessness or a spur-of-the-moment decision. It’s everything but that. He has given everything and truly believes it’s all lost: “the utter ruin of his people, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses.” (!!!) 

This is a final stand, the King’s duty to stand by his people, even in death.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

I always thought it was strange that Philip donated his diary to the library. The book literally contains information on how to create a portal.Luz was only able to create a defective portal, but still a portal, imagine what would have happened if it had fallen into the hands of a very intelligent witch. That would have complicated his plans even more. I know that the book was stored in the Forbidden Stacks with other forgotten books and that the chances of someone getting the book were very low. But the risk was still very high, and we're talking about the super genius who discovered quantum mechanics in the 1700s.

Philip Fucking Wittebane: I'm going to donate my diary with important information on how to create a portal and I mentioned the existence of an unknown entity to a bookstore that is run by the vile creature that I hate so much for no apparent reason! It's not like there are intelligent witches who can steal your life's work to cause trouble!

I understand that Luz needs the diary to advance the plot, but a puritan witch hunter donating a book with important information to a library with beings he hates for unknown reasons is very difficult to digest.

The only theory I've heard that could explain this is the Stable Time Loop one: Philip needs Luz and Lilith to go back in time to look for him and help him get the Collector disc. This means that in Elsewhere and Elsewhen, he realizes that the Crab Maiden and Aunt Gertrude are actually time travelers who used his diary, they help him obtain the disc, so to ensure that the duo arrive in the first place, Philip has to leave his diary in a public yet secure setting, hence the library.

It is a risky move, especially since at any point in time it could've been lost, stolen, or as you said, used to build a different portal. And as we saw in the show, the echo mouse ate a good chunk of it. Fortunately, it was an echo mouse and not some other critter. But I guess that was a risk Philip knew he had to take.

My problem is that the narrative ties in ALL of Luz's season 3 arc to this one episode and how she feels guilty about it when she really shouldn't. Within the episode itself, Lilith did most of the work by solving the puzzle, Luz was just bait. Philip had been working on getting the Collector disc for probably months and he even had a complex teleportation glyph to get to the Titan skull. This guy was prepared, he just needed people gullible yet smart enough to help him. If it weren't for Luz and Lilith, then someone else would've been the sacrifice. The Collector disc would still be found. He already found 3 of the 4 glyphs (which apparently, Titan magic is incredibly rare and difficult to see!), so Luz showing him the light glyph doesn't really have any long term effects.

The same is true for her "helping" find the Collector. It was bound to happen eventually because the narrative ties everything evil back to Belos while the other characters are mere victims of him. All she did was save him time and effort and frankly, that's not enough to justify 3 long episodes of wangsting. All it is is a convoluted way to make the hero "help" the villain while still making them the purest example of victimhood possible.

Lastly, the narrative NEVER brings up Lilith's involvement; there's never a moment that the two realize that they were played and how terrible they would feel that they played a part in the Collector's destruction (only for Eda to conk their heads together, tell them to stop moping, and take this Collector kid down).

It's all about how Luz feels and then is given 4 different conclusions that she apparently doesn't learn from: Hunter tells her it's not her fault because Belos always uses people (the fact that the boy who was just possessed and had his best friend killed has to emotionally support her is sickening to me), her mom tells her it's okay to make mistakes and that she made a mistake in not allowing Luz to be who she was, (to which she responds that all she wanted was to be understood. Not sure how that connects to her guilt but whatever), Luz thinks her friends secretly hate her for helping Belos so she might as well be him (but then she snaps out of this when Puppet Amity misquotes Azura.........ok then), and finally, Papa Titan validates her by calling her a Good Witch and that Belos is just a big ol' meanie.

This isn't an arc, this is a series of characters coddling her but she doesn't take any of their words to heart until God herself intervenes. There's this huge imbalance between what the character did and how they react to it and the narrative wastes so much time on an arc that just makes Luz feel selfish and just serves to demonstrate how little she's grown as a character.

[miley1442111]

hii would love smth with sydney adamu x reader if ur still taking requests!! like literally anything just need more syd content haha

omg thank u for requesting sydney, there's like nowhere near enough stuff for her? like guys... she's amazing. anyways, I hope you enjoy, it's kind of short, so sorry about that :)

no-show

a/n: lowkey spoilers for season 2, episode 3- sundae, also I didn't really think of male! or fem! reader while writing so just imagine what you want :)

summary: sydney asks if you want to join her and carmen on some food tasting, how could you say no?

pairing: sydneyadamu x reader

warnings: general fluff, talk of parents dying, brief mention of lupus, brief mention of cancer, mention of crushes.

She was pretty. But… she was also technically your new boss. You, a new person on the waitstaff at The Bear, had been hired a month ago. For the past 4 days, you had been building the tables and chairs along with your new co-workers, they’re fine, all pretty normal people- nothing to write home about. But Sydney, your boss, she was amazing. She had been the one to orient you in the restaurant. She showed you where everything is and how everything works, but you were sure you’d forgotten all of it. You were too busy watching her.. You pushed those thoughts out of your head, for now, you just had to keep your head down, get to opening night. All anyone is focusing on is opening night. So, you keep working and finish the last table, when you notice Sydney standing and talking with Carmen. Carmen Berzatto was strange, in your opinion. He barely talked to her, yet she was his ‘business partner’? He refused to even send her a text when he basically told you all to start taking down walls more than a week ago, and she was rightfully upset. He walks away from her with a nod and you get up from under the table. She comes up behind you as you stretch your aching back. 

“Do you want to come with us? We’re just- our pallets are fucked and-” she starts to explain.

“Yes,” you say, probably too eagerly. 

“O-ok. Cool,” she smiles. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

You smile and follow her to the lockers. “So, where do you plan on going?”

“Just some places around, I know some people, Carm knows some people,” she shrugs and the nickname she has for him irks you slightly. There can’t be anything going on between them, right? 

“Will we wait for him?” You ask, pulling your jacket on.

“He’ll catch up,” she decides, leading out the back door and into the cold Chicago air. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A train ride, a short 10 minute walk, and a conversation with a waiter later, you sit across from Sydney, conversation flowing freely. You feel… comfortable with her. She’s awkward in an endearing way, kind in a way that's foreign to you, and so deeply interesting that you feel like you could talk to her forever. The food arrives, and it’s the best thing you’ve tasted in a while. Considering you’ve been living off of the same meal for the past three days (meal prepping is the only way you eat), this is like actual gold dust. Clearly your reaction doesn’t stay in your head, your eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Good right?” Sydney grins from across the table. 

All you can do is nod. And internally kick yourself for being so embarrassing. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen has been long forgotten. He was supposed to show, he didn’t, boo hoo. You don’t care. Sydney doesn’t care. Your day with Sydney has been nothing short of perfect. Good food, good company, and now, good ideas- on Sydney’s part, you were basically just here for the food and her. 

“So, what’s your favourite food?” Sydney asks, just on the walk back to The Bear. 

“Can I be honest?” You chuckle, a warm feeling within you shielding you from the cold. 

“Of course!” 

“When I was a kid, my mom made these nachos with like-just random cheeses on them, and then we’d dip them in this spicy sauce until our tongues would go numb,” you recounted fondly. “I forgot to ask for the recipe before she died.” Sydney’s face falls, and you can’t help but feel that you’ve ruined the moment, the day too, maybe. “S-sorry, I didn’t- it just slipped out-”

“It’s ok. My mom died too,” she explains slowly. “Lupus.”

“Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiles softly as you both stop just outside the restaurant. 

“I was like 10, it happened a while ago-”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

“I’m sorry too,” you smile, the sound of blood rushing filling your ears. You want to kiss her. You want to kiss her so bad. So, you do.

You reach and hand out and cup her cheek, pulling her in to kiss you. She gasps at the sudden contact, but kisses back all the same. She tastes like the mint the last restaurant gave you both. Her arms wrap around your neck, a smile on her lips against yours. You pull away, opening your eyes. 

She looks beautiful, a smile on her perfect lips. The lips you just kissed. 

“Thank you for today,” you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” you chuckle.

She rolls her eyes and kisses you again.

Wow. What a good day. 

[bordysbae]

hi can you 55. “he won’t stop talking about you” with mat barzal?

“meeting the team”

mathew barzal x reader

ps: let’s imagine that tito is still on the isles in this!! also not proof read so sorry if there’s mistakes

moving to new york was easily the best decision you’ve ever made. within two weeks of living here you met your boyfriend mat, whom you’ve been dating for a little over a month, at small coffee shop around the corner from your apartment, which is on the opposite corner of his apartment. mat is a professional hockey player, which came as a shock to your parents when you first told them about him.

“mat, why have i never met your teammates yet?” you ask him, as you stretch out your legs across his, which are laying horizontally to you.

“oh, honestly i haven’t even really thought about that, the season only started a month ago. would you like to meet them?” he asks you, looking away from the tv to face towards you.

“of course i would! i’ve heard so much about all of them, especially tito. i’d love to meet him.”

“well, i can make that happen! i know you’ve only met two of the wives but i’ve heard they’re all dying to meet you. at practice tomorrow i’ll bring up having a team get together with the girlfriends and wives, how does that sound?” he smiles at you, making your heart swell.

“thank you mat, seriously. you’re the best,” you smile, sitting up and kissing his lips. you slide your legs off of mat’s, and rise off of the couch. you get yourself ready for bed, mat joining you in your bed shortly after.

“when you wake up i’ll be gone, but i think you already kind of new that” mat chuckles as you both get comfortable in the cold sheets. “yeah that’s what i expected, goodnight babe,” you yawn.

—

you’re at work when mat calls you, which is concerning since he knows your work hours. luckily you have your own large cubicle off to the farther end of the office, so answering your phone isn’t a major issue. “hello? everything okay?” you ask mat through the phone.

“hi babe, sorry for calling during work hours but we just got out of practice. i talked to the guys and i think we’re all going to dinner tonight, you down?” mat says. you hear in the background the sound of an elevator, meaning he’s back at his apartment.

“of course! i get off work in two-ish hours so i’ll go straight to my apartment and get ready.” you say, checking the time on the upper left corner of your phone. “sounds like a plan! i’ll pick you up at 7, love you babe!” he says before ending the call.

—

as you finish putting in your gold hoop earrings, you receive a text from mat letting you know he’s outside. you scurry out of your apartment, checking your lipstick in the mirror on the way out. once outside at ground level, you spot mathew’s silver bmw. as you open the door you get a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the familiar scent you’re always craving.

“holy, y/n woah, you look amazing. trying to impress someone?” he jokes as he begins driving away from the building.

“oh stop it. i didn’t know if i was dressed to casual or not, am i?” you say gesturing to your black jeans, white turtle neck with a black leather jacket atop.

“no not at all, you’re dressed perfectly. i promise you have absolutely nothing to worry about, they’re gonna love you.” he takes his hand off of the wheel and interlaces his fingers with yours. you guys arrive at the restaurant not too long after, and get taken to a large table with majority of the team and their wives or girlfriends.

“hi guys! everyone meet my girlfriend y/n!” mat smiles, pulling out the chair for you to sit in. you chuckle at his manners, and greet those at the table around you. across from you and mat is who you’ve been introduced to as anthony.

“anthony it’s nice meet you, mat literally never stops talking about you. it’s always ‘tito did this’ or ‘me and tito are going golfing today’ blah blah blah, no offense but it gets a little annoying. it feels like you’re a third in our relationship!” you chuckle, making anthony laugh as well.

“oh i could say the same for you, he won’t stop talking about you. oh god you should’ve heard him before you guys were dating, he was so nervous to ask you out it was like talking to an insecure teenager,” anthony laughs, making mat roll his eyes.

“oh be quiet. y/n don’t listen to him, he’s dragging this out.” mat groans. “me be quiet? you’re the one who never stops talking about y/n!” anthony grins at his own comment, making both you and mat chuckle.

“look what you did y/n, you made my best friend expose my secrets!” mat exclaims. “but mat, i thought you said that anthony was ‘dragging out’ how much you talk about me?” you smirk.

“okay well, maybe he wasn’t lying,” mat blushes, scratching the back of his neck shyly.

“yeah, exactly my point,” anthony says, rolling his eyes jokingly. the rest of the night is tons of fun, getting to know the other wags, and even the other teammates. needless to say, you love mats teammates and will definitely be attending more ‘team bonding’ events.

[jinkookspencil]

my daisy | kth

you're late... but your lifelong crush helps you get ready

description/tags: taehyung one-shot / angst and suggestive / taehyung is her childhood family friend and neighbor / historical!AU! / this can be any historical era you wish it to be, it was inspired by the regency era, bridgerton, and taehyungs photofolio but it can be the early 1900s if you want it to be too it's really not that specific / ~1.9k words

rating: 18+ minors dni / 18+ even though it's suggestive because it starts out in an 18+ way but reader is alone (she is touching herself) /

author's note: this is my first time writing taehyung!! i had this written in my drafts for a while, intending to publish it when layover was out in celebration of him! <3 finally completely edited for like the third time and now i can finally get to work on my requests. i hope you guys like it :') i literally gave him one of my favorite scenarios of all time.

A chill summer breeze wafts through the windows, cooling your otherwise sweltering bedroom… though a bead of sweat forms at your hairline, for your bare body still radiated heat. 

The sudden air against your folds tickled, right while you’d been playing and feeling through and within them while lying atop the restricting cotton bedsheets, your other hand lost in the tangles of your own hair.

 “T-t-t….” you moan into the dimly lit room, imagining it’d been the hand of your brother’s best friend getting you close to the edge instead of your own. His name almost slips from your lips….

But the man himself storms into your room instead.

“Mr. Kim!” you screech, seeing him at your side at once. Quick to grab the pillow from beneath your hips and jerk the sheet below until it was free from its tidy dressing onto the mattress, you were unkemptly covered in seconds. “Get out!”

But Kim Taehyung still stood before you, head merely tilted downwards, waiting for you to properly wrap your bare body with the fabric. Tugging the thin sheet tightly at the back, you'd been oblivious to the fact that it outlined every curve and dip of your figure and truly, was all the more tantalizing to the man before you who'd been obviously failing his attempts not to steal glances at you through his periphery. It was unsurprising.

Taehyung had always been a menace. The boy never listened, never followed any rules except his own, and evidently never learned how to knock on another’s door. 

It was no secret to your family that you'd been smitten with Taehyung, the neighbor’s only grandson, since childhood, long before he grew to be your brother's most trusted friend. He'd been your friend first, after all, until the two of you had come of age and society deemed such a friendship inappropriate with youthful, hurried engagements, infatuations, and hormone-riddled courtships running amuck...

It proved to be a lifelong infatuation that followed you into womanhood, and though the days spent picking flowers, reading fairy tales, and ‘make-believe teatime’ were long behind you, his friendship with your brother still kept Taehyung in your life, and you were as thankful for it as the fond, playful memories of your youth.

The sheer power of your own feelings only made itself apparent when he’d went away to begin his apprenticeship in France with no promise of an engagement or any indication of reciprocated feelings. Despite an initial sorrow, the longing had turned into an ache in your chest that seemed impossible to ignore, only slightly remedied by his occasional letters and gifts. It was a short-lived hope that he could still be yours. His return as society’s most eligible, handsome, and accomplished bachelor only made it harder to confess - for everyone fell under Taehyung's spell.

With rumors of his charming reputation and dedicated work in France swirling through society and countless men and women organizing courting arrangements before he'd even arrived a month ago, you thought to make haste with your confession, but your half-written love letters were ultimately kept away in the drawers right behind where he'd stood now, with the postcards, letters, and gifts he'd sent you over that time. And you'd spent all those nights with him away just as you had tonight, imagining he'd been there, in your very room, bare as you'd been right beside you... And it had to have happened as such.  

“Oh, I apologize, Miss_____,” he says calmly, and the hint of a smirk appears on his face before he turns to face away from you, “But I’m here on orders of your dear mother. You’re, uhm, expected?”

Fuck. You lost track of time. 

“Should I tell her you’re not feeling well?” 

“No. No, I have to be there, sir. I’m expected to make at least one possible match tonight,” you panic, slithering into the undergarments you’d discarded by the bed earlier. Too hasty to feel shame, and, for the first time, thankful that women’s undergarments cover more than they ever should, you march to the wooden partition, only for your corset to be in Taehyung’s hands.

“Allow me to help,” he offers with a smile. “Your sisters are furious at your being late already, and well, I’m the only one who won’t give you an earful.”

You resign, stepping between Taehyung and the mirror and readying yourself into the corset. Looking at your reflection, you could see your figure and breasts through the sheer chemise with ease…. Practically as naked as you had been. And the man you’d who held your corset and your affection in his hands was staring at the same image with a blank expression on his face. 

“This is absolutely humiliating,” you groan, inhaling as he pulls the strings of your corset. Your breasts rise above, forming a perfect, heaving cleavage that remains there, perfectly shaped, as your torso is pulled back…. But only ever so slightly. This was new…. comfortable, and…. just as shapely and alluring. A miracle.

“….It fits well and isn’t as tight as when the girls do it… you have practice, I assume, tying women’s corsets?” you say, taking in your reflection and silently wondering if the man behind you stole another glimpse before he swiftly tied the knot at your back - or if you’d compared to the beauties he must’ve courted in Paris.

Tutting, he ignores the question. His fingers remain at your back, playing with the strings he’d just tied together before tracing your corset's hem. You don't push his hands away when he continues to trace the boning to where it lies below your breast, until his long, elegant fingers ghost your stomach and he pulls his hand away.

It’s only when he steps backward that you exhale comfortably, highly unusual in such a corset, and in the reflection, you see Taehyung grab the dress you were due to wear from its hook behind the partition that enclosed you. He hands it to you without a word from where he stood at your back and with his help, you quickly step into the silky dress, and he ties it up just the same. 

The color of the dress allowed your skin to shine as brightly as the rhinestones that adorned it, laid perfectly across your breasts and capsleeves…. Admiring them so, you remember the accompanying jewelry you’d prepared for the evening, a dainty set of earrings, which you put on in a millisecond, and its matching necklace.

“Allow me,” Taehyung says in a hush from behind you, tracing down your arm until he reaches the necklace in the palm of your hand. He brushes your hair to the side, the gentle graze of his fingertips sending chills down your spine as he works away at the lock. 

“There”, he says, close enough for you to feel the breath of the word at your nape.

Thankful his gaze was fixated there, chilling as it may be, you quickly attempt to hide your heavy breathing and the rise and fall of your chest by working away at your hair, braiding and pinning it in minutes until you looked like every other 'hopeful' bachelorette.

With a dazzling look and the event kicking off the society’s courting season… you were sure to catch the wild eyes of plenty of eligible bachelors, much to your chagrin. You were at an appropriate age to be wed, let alone courted…. but it was clear that you could never feel about a man what you felt for Taehyung. Every other dead-end meeting your mother had set up in the time he’d been away proved that fact and only frustrated her further, especially when you’d turned down both of Taehyung’s now-married cousins, the highly educated and well-off brothers Namjoon and Seokjin. ‘Artistic boys get you nowhere,’ she’d said, trying to secure your future despite having a soft spot for Taehyung herself. 

Now, in the mirror, you could see. Lust. Love. Trust. Humiliation. Your own sinful desire reflected back at you, along with Taehyung's striking side profile. Disregarding the mirror altogether, he had his head turned towards you, surely close enough to smell the rosy scent on your skin, on which you'd continuously felt his warm breathing.

“You look ravishing,” he finally mutters. “You looked beautiful even then.”

“Even then?” 

“Before France…” he whispers, toying with the silky fabric at your shoulders. “And tonight....before this…. Especially before this.”

You finally break your own gaze, turning to face him and allowing your nose to brush against his, noting his floral scent… daisies specifically… the kind you’d always play with…. With a hint of some French cologne… The person you always knew, and the man he came to be… 

“Any man would be lucky to dance with you.”

“It is not any man that I would wait for. It is not any man that I want…” you whisper, taking Taehyung’s hand and placing it on your waist. But his hand moves, quick to wrap around you and pull your body right against his.

“And what is it that you want so badly?”

Taehyung’s head tilts as his gaze fixates on a spot on your neck, biting at his lower lip and ready to do the same to your exposed skin. His lips meet your neck….

And a loud knock is heard on your door.

“_____, mother is waiting!” you hear through the door. “We’re all waiting. What’s taking you so long? Should I help with the corset?”

Oh… Right.

The two of you exhale against each other, Taehyung’s breath warmer than it had been…. even nicer. But he pulls away, ever so slightly.

“No! No, did that myself. A minute more,” you say, loud enough for your little sister to hear through the door.

“You did your own corset? Strange. Well, do you have any idea where Tae is? None of us can find him after mother sent him up here, and I want to show him how cutely I'd dressed up the teddy bear he got me!” your sister continues. “Mr. Kim Namjoon came looking for him too. Did he run off to the event ahead of us?”

“I don’t know,” you say, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “Now run off. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“I should go,” you say quietly, when you’d heard your sister’s footsteps fade. “I’ll see you there?”

Taehyung nods as he unwraps his arm from around your body, licking the lips you'd almost met.

You hear your name being called lowly from behind you just as you open your bedroom door. Turning only your head, you resist the urge to slam the door shut and kiss away the sudden anguish on Taehyung’s face.

“Save me a dance.”

“Two,” you reply, and he chuckles, walking towards you and taking your hand in his.

"I won't delay you further, my daisy. Tonight, I ask you for a dance, but soon... I hope you'll allow me to ask for this as well." Taehyung brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles with his eyes closed, fluttering them open, and looking at you through his lashes with his lips still there. He doesn't wait for a reply. “Go.” 

[theteasetwrites]

Spellbound | Part 2

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Alexandria/Season 6-ish (non-Savior AU) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: slight SMUT (mostly just like groping and sexual language, as well as implied smut), mild language ❧ Word Count: 7.5k

❧ Summary: A year later, neither you nor Daryl can stop thinking about last Halloween, when the two of you first connected. This year, you're determined to try to get Daryl to officially come to your Halloween party, and Daryl is determined to make you his.

❧ A/N: Damn it's literally been a year since I posted the first part lol but here's part 2! I always intended to make a second part because there was so much sexual tension in the first one so I had to at least imply they have sex in the sequel... Also this is my first time writing in an AU where Negan and the Saviors just basically don't exist/don't have any contact with our group, so everything is pretty peaceful at this time! I definitely want to write more in a non-Savior AU because it's a lot easier to just imagine none of the Savior shit happened. And also it's what we deserve. Anyway, happy Halloween! I hope this gets you in the Halloween spirit lol.

A lot had changed in just a year, as was to be expected in the world you lived in. 

For the most part, though, everything was all right within the little world of Alexandria, which was becoming not so little anymore.

People came and went, but the walls expanded, and a few new buildings popped up (well, not without the help of the entire community, of course). Life was as close to normal as it could be in this world, where the dead walked and the living feared them. The biggest change in Alexandria was that now people were fighting back, taking the world back from the walkers’ cold dead hands. That was thanks, in large part, to the arrival of Rick’s group, just a little over a year ago now.

Rick’s group marked a turning point in the history of Alexandria, and when Deanna died, the torch was passed to the group’s fearless leader. He ran the place well, not with an iron fist, but with a steady, outstretched hand that kept everyone secure, confident in his leadership. 

By all accounts, Rick’s group coming to Alexandria last year was the best thing to happen in a long time. Most importantly, it felt safer. People were becoming fighters, defending the community from incoming herds throughout the year. And, of course, the walls were stronger now, reinforced with stronger steel beams. In every possible way, the town was secure.

But there was one thing that made you feel even more safe than any steel wall or trained militia—he was about five foot ten, with soft locks of wavy, albeit messy, brown hair, and a broad chest that connected to impossibly toned arms that flexed and bulged with every movement as he replaced the bolt in his crossbow, preparing another shot for you.

You bit your lip absentmindedly, watching him carefully as you tried to focus on his private lesson, but the man’s tendency to wear sleeveless shirts was always distracting, and you found that every lesson with him you’d had for the last month or so had been a little… unproductive.

He grunted as he pulled the string upwards, locking it tight. You’d been through the process several times, and yet you never stopped Daryl from explaining it to you over and over again, just for the chance to watch him do it.

“Now it’s locked in nice and tight,” he huffed, handing you the bow. “You’re ready to shoot.”

You cleared your throat, leveling the bow with your eyes. The thing was still much too heavy for you, though you really did try your hardest to hold it up as much as you could. Upper body strength wasn’t as easy for you as it was for your trainer.

Your hands were particularly shaky today, and maybe it was because you were nervous. Well, it was definitely because you were nervous—you were planning on asking Daryl to attend your third annual Halloween party. 

This time, you hoped he’d actually show up, before the party ended. 

“Quit shakin’,” he said, not with any harshness to his tone, but with the soft, gentle cadence of a supportive teacher. He was always such a good teacher, even if your attraction to him was a little distracting. 

“S-sorry.”

He cleared his throat from somewhere behind you, while you tried to focus on the target, spray painted on the side of the tree several yards away. 

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to recenter yourself before you shot, though the feeling of Daryl’s hands on you, one on your wrist and the other on your upper arm, stopped you from pulling the trigger.

Oh, God, you thought. He’s touching me again.

He’d done it before, trying to change your position or steady you like he was doing now, but you’d never get used to it. You should’ve known when he offered you private lessons that it would require him paying more… close attention to you, but you still always melted under his touch, becoming more pliable and bendable to his will.

“Just relax, girl,” he said quietly, and you swore you felt the breath of his words against your ear. “You’re all stiff. It ain’t ballet.”

His hands moved slowly, carefully, long your arm, painstakingly adjusting every bit of your hands, wrists, everything. Of course, he didn’t need to do that. Your position wasn’t that bad, but he liked it.

Oh, he really liked it.

When you first told him you were interested in learning to use the crossbow, he had a mind to offer you these lessons, just you and him, outside the walls. Not too far, just within range of Alexandria, but far enough to allow him more time with you.

Maybe it was obvious, but his feelings for you were strong, and hard to ignore. Ever since last Halloween, he’d thought about you in a more… intimate way. He always found you beautiful, but something about the way you looked in that witch costume was enchanting to him. He was half-convinced that you really did cast a spell on him that night, and that maybe you were a witch after all. 

And so when he got the opportunity to touch you a little, he took it, and with every lesson, he became more brave.

“Don’t take your eye off the target,” he practically whispered. He himself didn’t follow his own rules, as his eyes trailed aimlessly up and down your arms, goosebumps forming on your exposed skin from the cool autumn breeze, or maybe it was from him. 

When your arms began to lose strength and you lowered them just a little, he was quick to lift them back up, taking some of the weight from you as he held tighter to your wrist. He knew he shouldn’t do that, but he also couldn’t stand to leave you hanging, and he wanted you to get a bullseye. Maybe he was a shitty teacher in that regard, but he liked that smile and that laugh of yours, so if you shot well, he was sure he’d be rewarded with that.

Soon you felt his chest hard up against your shoulder, and the tips of his hair tickling your neck… That neck…

If he were a vampire, he’d be spoiled. He was in the perfect position to clamp down on it, not with his teeth, but with his lips. His hungry, starving mouth… A year of pining for you, sometimes getting very close to you only for his shyness to get in the way, made him ravenous, like a werewolf stalking the moonlit wood for his prey. 

He was a beast for you, and that scared him, but most of all, it excited him. He wondered if you felt the same, or if his beastliness frightened you beyond excitement. That’s why he moved and spoke gently, not trying to be rough or harsh with you. A powerful sorceress such as yourself deserved that respect.

Still, it didn’t stop him from all but salivating at the sight of your sweet neck, straining with slightly exposed veins as you began to breathe heavily, panting in your anticipation. 

His heartbeat raced, too, and you felt its steady, quick pace against your side. It thumped wildly, exciting you. Adrenaline tightened your aim and steadied your shaky arms. 

“That’s it, good,” he said, letting go of you just a little bit, but keeping his body just where it was. He liked to share your warmth. “Pull it.”

With another deep sigh, you pulled the trigger, sending the newly sharpened bolt through the air. It didn’t hit the bullseye, but it was on the outer red ring of the target, and that was the best shot you’d gotten this far.

Your eyes widened as you turned to face Daryl, who shook his head in amusement. “Oh my god!” you laughed. “That was pretty good!”

“See, it ain’t so hard.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Robin Hood.” You turned to admire the bolt protruding on the edge of the target. “Thanks, Daryl.”

“Ain’t nothin’.” 

“It’s everything.”

A flame sparked in each of his cheeks, and to prevent you from seeing, he walked past you to retrieve his bolt. His confidence seemed to swell for a moment, now that he wasn’t facing you. “So, uh… got any plans tomorrow?”

Is… is he asking me out? No, no way. 

Considering you were hoping to ask him to attend your party, the sudden outburst threw you for a loop, and for a few moments, you stared wide-eyed at him.

Shit, he thought. I’m a dumbass. 

“I mean,” he said, breaking the silence, “I know it’s Halloween, or whatever.” He cleared his throat, fiddling with the bolt in his hands as he avoided too direct eye contact. “Kinda felt bad, thinkin’ about last year.”

You tilted your head in genuine confusion. Why would he feel bad about that?

“Nothing to feel bad about,” you replied. “Why would you feel bad?”

“Well, ‘cause, ya know, I, uh, missed it.”

“But you showed up afterwards. That meant a lot to me.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts.” You trudged forward through the mud, caused by yesterday’s rainfall. When you got close enough to him, you ventured to hold his hand. Any other man, and you’d never want to touch him, but Daryl was different, and you rather liked touching him. He seemed to like touching you, too. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. It makes up for last Halloween… But if you really wanna make up for it, you should come to this year’s party.”

He smirked, playfully swinging your arm as he held your hand in his. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and he couldn’t help but notice that little sparkle you had. It was subtle, but he noticed, just as he noticed every little detail about you—the gently sloped curves of your upper lip, the angelic contours of your face, the way your hair color shifted in different lights. Everything. 

Others remarked that you were pretty, but for Daryl, that was an insult to the pure, otherworldly beauty you possessed, inside and out. Your kindness only made you more attractive to him, more utterly bewitched by you. It was in the way you never let anyone feel forgotten or alone, and he remembered that feeling from last Halloween night, and every night thereafter so far. You made an effort to make him feel welcome, despite his scruffy appearance and his sometimes aloof demeanor. 

Something about you made him feel safe, too, free of judgment and presumption. Funny—he made you feel safe in a different way. Well, in every way. 

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at your fingers curled around his hand. “You want me to come?”

“Of course I do. It starts tomorrow at dusk… What, are you busy? You got a big date with some girl I don’t know about?”

“No,” he replied quickly, and quite seriously. “Uh, I mean… nah.”

“Good,” you laughed, tugging his hand to lead him back towards the gate with you. “So, what costume are you going to wear?”

His silvery blue eyes widened adorably at that word “costume.” What the hell kind of costume would he wear? All he had in his closet were several black button up shirts with the sleeves lobbed off and a few pairs of tattered jeans. The fact that he was even considering wearing a costume just to impress you made him realize just how head over heels he was. And then you smiled so wide, biting your lip just a little as you looked at him, still holding his hand as you walked slowly, savoring the moment. Walking with his hand in yours was just too sweet of a feeling, you couldn’t possibly let it go. 

“So?” you asked, and he shook his head to get out of his intrusive thoughts.

“I, uh… I don’t got a costume, (Y/N).”

He looked so cute, genuinely concerned you’d be upset with that not so surprising admission. You figured Daryl didn’t have any Halloween costumes. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to really care that much about dressing up. 

“That’s okay,” you replied. “You don’t really have to dress up, I just thought I’d ask.”

“Well, uh… ain’t you gonna dress up?”

“Mhm.”

Oh, that intrigued him.

He had to admit, ever since seeing you in that costume last year, he hadn’t been able to get that image of you dressed as a witch from his mind. He memorized every detail of your corseted dress, how it sucked in your waist so delicately, and yet so wonderfully highlighted the curves of your body. Of course, he couldn’t help but pay special attention to your cleavage, that low cut collar revealing not too much of your supple breasts, but just enough that he could imagine the rest of you. The hem of the dress wasn’t particularly revealing of your legs, but the sliver of your skin he did see made him a little more excited than he liked to admit. Even that adorable pointed witch hat that sat askew on your head was attractive to him.

It wasn’t lost on him, either, that you had been so… committed to the witch role last year. He couldn’t forget the tone of your voice when you said, “Maybe I’m a real witch… You better watch out.” A simple joke, perhaps, and maybe you were still a little tipsy from the party, but he always wondered if you really did put a spell on him. Not that he believed in that kind of thing, of course, but it was kind of sexy to think about. 

“You gonna be a witch again?” he asked, a little too overenthusiastically. “I mean, just wonderin’.”

“Yeah, I like my witch costume, and you can’t go wrong with a classic.”

He nodded, still loosely holding your hand. How was he to let go when it fit there so perfectly? Still, he’d be sure to let go once you got closer to the walls. He knew whoever was on watch would have some wise ass comment to make. Besides, this was friendly hand-holding, he assumed, even if he wanted it to mean something else.

“I like that costume,” he said. “S’perfect for ya.”

You giggled a little too loudly, then cleared your throat. Control yourself, whore, you thought. 

“Thank you… I was thinking of cutting my dress so it’s a bit shorter, though.”

The sweat from his hand was getting to become much more noticeable, so he pulled it away, wiping it on his jeans as he swallowed hard, nodding nervously. “Y-yeah, yeah,” he stuttered. “Think that would look good. How, uh… how short?”

You sighed as you thought. “Oh, um… maybe up to here.” You reached down as you walked to gesture to your mid-thigh, and his eyes glued there a little too long, though you didn’t notice. “Or is that, I don’t know, ‘slutty’?” You gestured your hands to make air quotes. 

“Nah,” he replied gruffly, yet in that good natured tone of his. “Not at all. ‘Sides, don’t matter anyway. Can dress however you want. Any guys give you trouble, though, I’ll be there to set ‘em straight.”

“Oh?”

Daryl’s protective side always made you weak at the knees. You could never forget that time he warded off some unwanted male attention during one of your training classes. Some guy named Alex had been staring at your behind throughout the session, and Daryl’s response was to call the man out in front of the entire rest of the class, saying,  “Eyes on me, unless you wanna die.”

Of course, he could’ve been referring to the fact that not paying attention to Daryl’s instruction would get the man killed outside the walls, but Alex got the real implication behind the message, and he never attended another class.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll be there.”

You hardly got any sleep that night, both because you were busy baking three dozen Halloween cupcakes, and because that damn man had your heart all aflutter. 

As far as you were concerned, Daryl was like the star athlete, the most popular boy in school, Alexandria’s most eligible bachelor. Now, perhaps for most women in town, that title would go to someone like the tall, conventionally handsome Spencer Monroe, but for you, there was only room in your heart for that dashing, mysterious, ruggedly handsome man called Daryl Dixon. 

Other women did appreciate Daryl’s unique charms, too, but you prided yourself on being closer to him. He was intimidating, you could admit that. It was hard to break through that shell, and sometimes you were sure that you still hadn’t. Hours of talking, though, proved to be the best way to get to know him, and in a lot of ways, you felt that he was your best friend. Indeed, he felt the same way, and despite his aloofness, he found himself opening up to you more than he had anyone else in his life.

What you liked about Daryl was his loyalty, his undying devotion to Alexandria and the people within it. Rick cared about Alexandria, too, but Daryl? He would lay down his life for these people… For you. 

So, yes—your infatuation with the quiet, dark haired marksman only grew with time. A year of his attentive, almost intimate, training had fed your attraction. Still, you hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything more than, say, innocently kiss his cheek when he dropped you off at your doorstep after nightfall, or “accidentally” fall asleep on his shoulder on long car rides to the Hilltop or the Kingdom or Oceanside. 

Tonight… maybe something would happen tonight. 

You were a firm believer in letting nature take its course, so that’s what you planned to do. You just hoped that Mother Nature was on your side.

Three hours before dusk, you were almost ready, except for your costume. As you had told Daryl you would do, you cut several inches off the hem of the dress,  until it reached your mid thighs. The edges were jagged, but you supposed that matched the witchy look. As you tied your corset top, you were careful to… hoist up your breasts until they appeared to practically spill out of your dress, but isn’t that the best part of a corset, the way they make a woman’s chest look? Yes, most certainly yes.

A once expensive choker with a silver chain and several black opals sat not too tight, but not too loose, around the base of your neck. Your hair didn’t need much fixing, as the witch hat did most of the work. You dusted deep brownish red rouge on the apples of your cheeks, matching perfectly with the dark, purple tinted carmine shade coating your lips. The blur of mauve upon your eyelids, sprinkled with a smattering of iridescent glitter, made your eye color seem more vibrant, and your overall aura more… enchanting.

There wasn’t much time to admire your handiwork, as the first guests soon arrived. It was a large group, thank God, but no sign of Daryl, the guest of honor. Indeed, a part of you was already crushed, preparing for the worst. Self-preservation taught you to always be ready in case of rejection, and Daryl was not a man to be easily won, you thought. 

About an hour into the night, your living room was a bonafide soirée. Guests poured in through the front door, now too many to receive a personal greeting from the hostess. You were swarmed with faces, all familiar, but still the face you longed to see most was not among them.

Music was a luxury, and Halloween was the one night of the year that the big speakers were hauled out from storage. Of course, they weren’t half as loud as they could be, but the ever-present threat of walkers outside the walls deterred anyone from turning up the music too much.

You’d found a Halloween mixtape not long ago, packed with the essentials—“Thriller,” “Monster Mash,” “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”… It seemed to go well. Those overplayed hits were a welcome sound after living in a world where music was seldom a part of everyday life.

Two hours in, and no sign of Daryl. Granted, the party was still in full force, and showed no signs of stopping. Even with the overstimulation of the music and the purple and green lights adorning your home, you could still only think of one man. One broad-shouldered, gruff-voiced man.

“Have you seen Daryl?” you found yourself asking Glenn, both of you cornered as you watched the other partygoers. You figured he might know where Daryl was. After all, he was rather close to Daryl, too. “He said he’d be here.”

He shook his head as he took a sip from his red Solo cup. “No, but don’t worry. He offered a smile. Reassuring, but you couldn’t smile back. “He’ll come. You know how he is about parties.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. In the distance, you spotted Eugene awkwardly shuffling through the crowd, tripping over a few pairs of dancing feet. “I just hope he doesn’t feel—”

“Good evening, (Y/N).” Eugene’s southern accent cut through your sentence, catching you off guard. You blinked and assessed his person—he was dressed up as a cowboy, complete with boots, hat, and a bolo tie. “I trust you are in good spirits this Hallow’s Eve.”

“Hi, Eugene,” you said. “I love your costume.”

“It’s great,” added Glenn. “That tie is awesome.”

“Many thanks,” he replied, then lifted his bolo tie. “Procured this beauty from a ramshackle pawn shop a fortnight ago. The cord is no less than genuine braided leather, and these aiguillettes are really somethin’, they’re—”

“I’ll be right back,” interrupted Glenn. “I gotta find Maggie. Lost her in the crowd.”

Don’t leave me alone with him. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Anyway, as I was sayin’, the aiguillettes are, by my reckoning, sterling silver, with a millesimal fineness of nine twenty-five. Now, sterling silver is most often alloyed with copper, but I believe this silver was alloyed with the chemical element germanium to reduce tarnishing, to which sterling silver is prone.”

You nodded absentmindedly, with absolutely no interest in Eugene’s rambling. Usually, you tried to be more attentive, but your anxiety trumped any desire to seem alert.

“(Y/N)?” Eugene’s voice cut through your haze, and you wondered how much he had spoken before he got your attention again. “You all right?”

“Mhm, never better.”

Eugene smiled sheepishly, and nodded as he spoke. “Well, uh… pardon my abrupt inquiry, but I was itchin’ like a flea bite on a dog’s behind to ask you if you’d do me the honor of joining me in cuttin’ the proverbial rug, as it were.”

“You, um, want to dance?”

“Affirmative.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, not from flattery, but from the anticipation of turning him down. There was no way you were going to dance with Eugene, not tonight. Not when all you wanted was to see Daryl come through that front door you’d been so closely watching. You simply weren’t in the mood.

Still, you were going to have a hard time rejecting him. Eugene might’ve been a little verbose, but he was a sweetheart.

“Oh, well, I—”

Whatever song was being played in your crowded living room became muffled, drowned out by your now faster heartbeat swelling in your ears. Your knees seemed to weaken a little, practically giving out underneath you, but you caught yourself, keeping your composure as much as you could. 

“Daryl…” you sighed dreamily, your eyes half-lidded and glued to the man’s broad, bulky frame as he stepped over the threshold. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, and he seemed to be a little lost as he looked around the room at a sea of heads bobbing like apples in a barrel of water, but if you could make him out right, you swore he looked beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?”

You blinked rapidly, turning slightly back towards Eugene, though your eyes remained on Daryl. You couldn’t help it—you needed to keep track of him, make sure you didn’t lose him in the crowd. “Yeah?”

Eugene followed your gaze, though he didn’t see your target until that very target laid eyes on you. 

Daryl was a hunter, after all. He knew how to find his prey. 

You lifted your hand eagerly to wave to him, and his step moved faster, more confident now that he found you. 

Eugene’s presence soon faded away from you, though he still stood beside you, petrified. Few things were as intimidating as Daryl Dixon on the prowl, and for the squeamish Eugene, he had always tried to steer clear of the famously hot headed archer. 

And if Daryl’s passing disapproving glances at Eugene were anything to go, he needed to get away from you before he unwittingly made an enemy.

“I—I’m gonna fetch myself a refill,” he said, shakily holding up his cup to demonstrate. You nodded at his empty words, completely meaningless to you now, as he quickly turned himself around and hurried off to the kitchen. 

By the time Daryl reached you, you were alone, smiling wide and holding out your arms to hug him. It caught him off guard for a moment, causing him to let out a brief grunt, but when you kissed his cheek, this time a little longer than you had done in the past, he melted in your arms. 

“You made it,” you said, squeezing both his shoulders. “I almost thought you weren’t going to show up.”

His smile faded a little—he hates to keep you waiting. “Sorry, I…” 

Got nervous and spent an hour tryin’ to figure out what to wear, he would’ve said if he felt like being particularly bold. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you said. “You’re here now. That’s what matters to me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

And that was true—he might not have liked parties that much, and Halloween more or less meant nothing to him, but seeing you in that costume, and being there knowing that his presence was important to you, that made all the difference. 

The party went off without a hitch, going into the wee hours of the morning, long after it had ended last year. The only alone time you would get with Daryl came in the form of him helping you up the stairs, guiding you to the bathroom, as you were a little too tipsy to get there yourself. Well, you insisted that you could, but Daryl wasn’t convinced.

“I’m fine!” you laughed, being dragged up the stairs by Daryl. 

“What if ya break your neck or somethin’?” he asked. “ Ain’t havin’ that.”

You smiled wide as he held the bathroom door open for you, then began pulling it closed. “I’ll be out here.”

“No, wait,” you said, holding the door open with your body weight. “Could, you, um… come in with me?”

He furrowed his brow, slightly amused at the sight of you pouting in your witch hat and getup. “Why?”

Oh, you thought. I hadn’t thought of that. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t thought it through at all. Perhaps your slightly inebriated mind just wanted to be absorbed in Daryl’s presence for as long as you could. After all, you were clinging to each other’s sides all night since he arrived, why not? And maybe, just maybe, you wanted a true, private moment with him. Maybe nature would take its course this time.

“I—I… What if I fall off the toilet?”

He shook his head and laughed under his breath. “So ya don’t need my help up the stairs but ya need my help goin’ to the bathroom?”

You realized how stupid it sounded then, and quickly shook your head to try to will the situation away. “Never mind,” you said. “Sorry, that was weird.”

With your hand guiding the door closed, he held it open. His face was more serious now, and yet still a bit shy. “I’ll come in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t want ya fallin’ off the toilet.”

You didn’t fall off the toilet.

He kept his back turned, shuffling his feet and fiddling with his fingers as he averted his eyes from you as you relieved yourself. When the sound stopped, he asked, “Are ya decent?”

“Mhm.” You stood shakily, turning to flush the toilet. Daryl turned, too, eyes widened to realize that your dress was covering you completely, but your panties were pooled around your ankles. “Uh, (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

He pointed to your feet. “Your, uh…”

Following his pointed finger, you laughed loudly as a blush formed across your nose and cheeks. “Oh, God. Sorry.”

He’d be lying if he didn’t take the opportunity, short-lived as it was, to study your underwear, as he’d sometimes imagined what kind you wore. Tonight it was different than usual, intended to match your costume—black with a floral lace print. Simple, but enough to cause a dizziness in his head. 

As you bent down to pull them back up, he caught a glimpse of your cleavage, just barely spilling out of your corset dress. He internally begged you to straighten up, but you took your time, adjusting your boots, too. 

When you finally stood back up, you sighed and crossed over to the sink to begin washing your hands. Daryl looked on, keeping an eye on you, just in case you fell, or something (though he doubted that would happen). 

“Hey,” you said, soaking your hands under the water, “we haven’t had a moment alone yet. I mean, it’s nice. We can talk.”

He leaned against the bathroom door, chewing on his bottom lip. “Talk about what?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know… Just talk. About anything.”

Maybe now you were going against your own philosophy. Maybe your desire for him was preventing Mother Nature from doing her job, but you couldn’t help it. He looked lovely tonight, with a particular glow about him. He dressed much in the same way he always did, but his hair fell in the most beautiful way, and his lips were somehow shiny in the reflection of the twinkly lights (little did you know he’d been constantly licking his lips that night out of nervous habit). 

Most of all, he made the effort to set his dislike of parties aside to be with you. Well, you hoped that, maybe, he wanted to be with you. After all, there wasn’t much else Daryl did that night except hang around you.

“Well, uh… Thanks for invitin’ me,” he finally said, after several moments of chewing his lip and not knowing how to speak without accidentally spilling every last intrusive thought he had about you. “I’ve been havin’ a good time.”

Just Daryl saying that he was enjoying the party was enough to nearly bring a tear to your eye. He was so sweet without even trying. Some men put on a facade, not Daryl—he was sweet through and through. 

“Me too,” you said, now wiping your hands on the towel. “I wasn’t really having a good time until you showed up, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“Mhm… Actually, I was sort of just waiting for you.”

He scoffed at the thought, though it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Waitin’? For me? Why would you wait for me, girl? I ain’t gonna make or break your party.”

Lifting yourself to sit atop the bathroom counter, you peeled off your hat, revealing the frizzy top of your head. You quickly reached up to fix it, but Daryl rather liked it slightly messy. He wondered just how messy it could get.

“Well, you just mean a lot to me, Daryl. That’s all.” It wasn’t all. It was a whole lot more than that. “Halloween doesn’t even matter that much to me these days. I think… maybe since last year, when you came over after the party, I was looking forward to tonight, just to see you again.”

“You see me almost everyday.”

“Yeah, but… That night felt different to me, you know? Kind of just wanted it to feel that way again. And it does. So I’m happy.”

Despite your words, you frowned and hung your head, hands folded in your lap. You weren’t sure where the sudden wave of sadness came from. Maybe it was your fear of rejection showing its ugly head again, but when Daryl stepped forward, taking your hand in his, you looked up at him, standing before you with that beautiful little smile on his face.

It wasn’t a big smile. It was close-mouthed and crooked, but it was beautiful to you. It meant the entire world to you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why d’ya look so sad? Thought you were happy.”

“I am happy, it’s just… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

He shifted closer to you, holding your other hand now, too. His thumbs busied themselves with brushing the outsides of your hands, almost massaging them. The skin was soft, warm, and smooth. He was almost afraid of marring your beautiful flesh with his calloused fingers, but at least it would be some way of leaving his mark on you.

“Ain’t nothin’ you could ever think or say would be stupid to me,” he said. “You can tell me anythin’, just so long as I get to hear your voice.”

Well, how were you not going to tell him now?

Besides, it was hard to resist those eyes of his, deep set and somehow a subtle, intense blue. How could his eyes be so soft, and yet so penetrating? Everything about Daryl was an enigma to you, and yet you still felt you understood him so well, all his little quirks and idiosyncrasies, all his beautiful ways of speaking and feeling and being. Sometimes, you ventured to think you knew him better than anyone else, and maybe that was because he showed you a different side to him he rarely showed to anyone else, even to Rick or Carol. What he showed you was his heart, and though you couldn’t yet be sure if he would give you his heart, you hoped he’d at least consider it.

“You… like hearing my voice?” Of course, you were stuck on that line.

He swallowed hard. Shit, did I say that out loud? No avoiding it now.

“Yeah. I do. A lot.”

Funny. You liked hearing his voice too, so much so that you tried to memorize it as best you could, in case you needed to hear it just to get through the day. 

Your wide smile betrayed your flattered state, and he continued to speak, emboldened by your apparent appreciation. 

“Still think you’re a real witch or somethin’.” He took your pointy hat and firmly, yet delicately, placed it back on your head, to which you let out a giggle. He was sure to prop up the brim, ensuring the beauty of your face was on full display. 

The glimmer of your eyeshadow was intoxicating to him, and though he didn’t know the first thing about makeup, the way those colors blended together on your face was nothing short of magical. 

“Why?” you asked.

You hadn’t even noticed until you felt his thigh brush against yours, but his body was positioned right between your legs now, and the heat of him was radiating beneath your dress. You’d never felt him like this before, not between your legs. It caused you to bite your lip until you felt the skin just begin to break. 

“‘Cause ya put some kinda spell on me.”

He spoke so seriously that you couldn’t tell if he was joking, but he definitely wasn’t. “Oh…” You cleared your throat, fully intending to assume the role of the witch. “Yes, yes, I did. I performed a love spell at my altar with a lock of your hair.” You let go of one of his hands to curl a strand of brown, wavy hair around your finger. Your perfume wafted around his nose, allowing the sweet scent of patchouli and rose to linger there. He moved closer to smell more of it, until his crotch was fully pressed against yours, and there was no doubt about it—he felt lovely there. “I like to dance naked in the moonlight, too. Is that what you think of me, Daryl?”

His eyes trailed up and down your body, getting lost in the low-cut bodice of your dress. Noticing his infatuation, you pressed your chest to his. Being this close to him was enough to raise goosebumps all over your skin, even under your long sleeves. How could you feel so warm, and yet so cold?

“Nah,” he replied, though he had to admit, now that you mentioned it, he was imagining you wildly flailing your limbs as you danced under the cool white light of the moon, with your nude breasts beating together and your thighs spreading apart to jump over the fire around which you danced…

Perhaps he’d find you like that, after many long hours on his hunt. You’d hold your hand out to him, inviting him to rid himself of his filthy clothes and move his weary body with yours until you both fell clumsily, yet somehow intentionally, to the ground, writhing underneath each other until he found his way on top of you, or maybe you found your way on top of him, riding him into the night like a witch on her broomstick. 

Little would he know that you had called him there, using your sorcery to guide him exactly where you wanted him. And now, you had him exactly where you wanted him, for real.

“Don’t worry, I’m a good witch,” you said, tightening your legs around him. He wasn’t going anywhere now, not when he dared to look at you like that—like he was about to devour you. The veins protruding in his thick neck made him look as though he was about to turn into some kind of wild beast, driven by primal instincts. “I promise… But I could be a bad witch, too… If you want.”

His hands had somehow found your hips, gripping them tight as his resolve began to crumble. How was he going to resist you now? He couldn’t, he simply couldn’t. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

“That depends,” he said, his voice somehow soft and quiet, but gruff and demanding. “What does a bad witch do?” 

He tried not to think, to shut off his brain for a moment while he was between your legs. If he thought too much now, his shyness would take over, and he’d ruin this moment he’d dreamed of for so long.

“Lots of things,” you laughed. “Let me show you.” Your hands were practically tugging at his broad, firm shoulders now. The muscles underneath were so tense, so rigid and begging to be caressed, so you did, gently kneading them until they became just a little more loose. 

He let you pull him further until his forehead rested against yours, and he was already groaning under his breath, desperate to taste your mouth. 

You moved slowly, though, a little too slow for him at this moment, and he couldn’t keep himself from grabbing your hips more roughly now, until your arms had no choice but to flail around his neck and your lips crashed against his. 

Your whimper of surprised bliss was devoured by his mouth, just as your tongue felt his swirling around it, extending deep into your mouth until you swore there was more of his saliva in you than your own. 

In his insatiable lust, he gripped your thighs to spread them further, allowing more of him to get between your legs. Soon the skirt of your dress was completely hoisted up, allowing him to once again see your panties, and in the see-through spaces of the lacy pattern, he caught a peek of your hair, and your slit, and he couldn’t even stop his own hand from reaching there, cupping your mound so hard that you squirmed and yelped into his mouth. The pressure of his palm was so perfect on your clit, and not even the muffled sound of the loud music booming downstairs could distract you from that intense, shivering feeling.

“Oh!” you yelped, your lips now separated from Daryl as you threw back your head. “Daryl!” 

Your exposed neck was calling to him, those muscles flexing and veins protruding as you tried to keep your voice down. He could tell how much blood was rushing to your head, and the vampire in him compelled him to latch his lips to your supple neck. He didn’t dare bite you too hard, but his teeth nearly broke the skin. 

“Ah!” you cried out, your fingernails etching shapes into his leather-clad back. “Oh…”

Your moans began to shiver the tighter he held onto you, as his mouth left marks wherever it could, with the hope they would last long enough to prove who you belonged to.

You’d never known Daryl like this, so passionate. It was another side to him, and you quite liked it. “Daryl… I…”

He let out a deep, animalistic grunt as he pulled his lips away, only to crash them back down on yours. He tasted the wine on your tongue, though he was already drunk just off your taste alone. 

His hand rubbed up and down the outside of your panties until he could feel the pooling of your arousal underneath. It made him harder, just knowing that your body was preparing itself for him. 

His fingers clumsily tugged at the crotch of your panties, urgently trying to get to your entrance. “Wait,” you panted against his lips, holding his hand steady. You closed your eyes and leaned against his forehead. “Daryl…”

Breathless, he softly kissed your lips once more. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are ya scared?”

In truth, you were, just a little. This new side of him was thrilling, and you loved it, but there was no way you could continue in good conscience, not while there were guests still downstairs. 

You smiled and bit his lip, pulling it towards you until you let it go. “A little.” Your hands retreated to his strong, broad chest, rubbing up and down the smooth leather of his vest. “I’ve never seen you like that before. You turned into a beast.”

He scoffed, but his cheeks became deeply blushed. “Ya do things to me.”

As you let his hand return to your crotch, his fingers drew slow circles over the wetness. “You do things to me, too,” you said. “And I’m not really scared, Daryl, it’s just… my party. I’d feel more comfortable if we were completely alone.”

He nodded in agreement. He had to admit that this wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to make love to you for the first time. “What about when they all leave?” he asked. “I can… stay and help ya clean up, like last time.”

His hand moved a little faster, now concentrated on your clit, and you squirmed in his arms with a long, blissful sigh. “Can you wait that long?” you asked, though you were honestly asking yourself that same question. 

“I’d wait forever for you.”

With another kiss, you left the restroom first, fixing your askew witch hat and heading downstairs as if nothing happened. Daryl stayed in the bathroom, adjusting himself. He had half a mind to relieve himself completely, but he wanted to save whatever he had in him for you. 

It took great self-discipline not to shut down the music and begin ushering everyone out of your house, but you were sure to be a good hostess, as you always were. When the last few people left, you didn’t even hear Daryl’s footsteps come up behind you. He moved like a hunter. After all, he was one, and you were his prey.

He lifted the brim of your hat to throw it somewhere behind him. With his lips latched to your neck again, you smiled and leaned back into his touch. 

“You still gotta work some of your magic on me,” he mumbled against your shoulder. 

“I thought we were going to clean?” you giggled, feeling him pull you backwards towards the stairs. 

He grunted as he turned you around, hoisting you up by the back of your knees. You were slightly terrified he’d drop you, but Daryl’s arms were so strong. So very, very strong.

“Nah,” he said, carrying you up the steps. “We’re gonna make a mess.”

Indeed, no cleaning was done that night. 

~

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[fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme]

This is so choppy and weird I'm sorry

Imagine if you will Steve, Robin and Eddie at some concert, waiting infront of the location to be let in.

Steve and Robin went together, knowing that Eddie will be there too. Eddie and Steve are in the very beginnings of something but despite Steve being usually super confident in his flirting, he wasn't confident enough to put the moves on Eddie yet.

By the time Steve and Robin arrive at the concert location Steve has already decided to elevate his confidence with some beer and weed so now he's in his giggly, loopy mode and Robin already had it.

Eddie is already there with his guys by the time the other two arrive but he is also not confident enough to approach Steve alone, so he just awkwardly steals some glances towards where he and Robin stand around. He sees Steve whisper something to Robin, while pointing at him and almost has a heartattack when Robin walks over.

"Okay so I am not entirely sure what dingus over there said but he either wanted me to hit you or hit on you, so I am going to do the first one" she says with a light punch to a very confused Eddies arm.

Eddie just awkwardly laughs and waves Steve over to them as well. Steve follows on wobbly legs and falls into another fit of giggles when he almost knocks over Robin. Eddie has already heard of the infamous giggly Steve but witnessing it in person is a hole new level. He is absolutely enamoured.

Within a few minutes Robin and Steve are sitting next to Eddie and his friends on the floor, Robin chatting with the guys and Steve...well Steve decided to flirt.

Unfortunately the only thing his drunk fuzzy brain can come up with is trying to give Eddie a wet willie as an excuse to be close to him. So now Eddie has to deal with a giggly drunk Steve constantly poking his spit wet finger into his ear (failing to actually hit his ear 80% of the time because he's that drunk) and he can't even be mad because Steve looks just way too cute like that.

So Eddie endures the poking attacks on his face, neck, arm, literally anywhere Steve can reach and once he has enough liquid courage himself dares to bite Steve's finger hovering infront of his face. To Eddie's delight that makes his opponent blush like crazy (he ignores Jeff and Grant pointing out that he's blushing as well).

So as the night goes on the two of them are stuck in a poke/biting war and basically all over each other even during the concert. It eventually evolves into sneaking a kiss onto whatever part of the other is closest. Gareth and Robin yell at them to just get a room already to wich Steve simply responds: "Yeah I'm planning on that".

They do get into a room but only with much help of Robin and the Corroded Coffin guys because by now they're both giggly drunk/high messes who can barely walk straight (ha!). Their poking/biting/smooching war goes on the entire way back to Robin & Steve's appartment and when they finally fall into Steve's bed still giggling they manage to sneak an actual kiss on the lips despite being uncoordinated as fuck. After that they're both out like a light and Robin doesn't have to get out her earplugs much to her delight.

They do talk about it all when they wake up all tangled together, still in sweaty beer soaked clothes from the night before and laughing about how stupid their drunk selves decided to flirt.

And when someone asks months later why Steve gives Eddie a wet willie with the fondest look ever on his face, Robin just sighs and tells the story of her dingus and dork and how that became their love language.

[redsandspirit]

Matthew Stover ruined Dooku

It is perhaps generally accepted that Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover is one of the best books ever written in the Star Wars universe, if not the best. It's not hard to see why, since in many ways the story is head and shoulders above the movie, and Anakin Skywalker is, in my opinion, better captured by the author than anywhere else in the Expanded Universe. Still, I can't say that I was completely satisfied with the novel. Count Dooku is one of my favorite EU characters and I was saddened by how he was portrayed by Stover.

Xenophobia

Matthew Stover's Darth Tyranus is a terrible xenophobe, who never fails to remind the reader of this even during conversations with his colleagues such as Grievous and Darth Sidious. He deeply believes that creating the Empire of Man is what he was born to do? Seriously? Dooku is so evil in this book that it seems as if he would have been able to carry out all of Palpatine's plans exactly to the smallest detail without the participation of Palpatine himself. I think Stover here erases the complexity of the character that Jude Watson and Sean Stewart were able to create, and that's something we'll come back to.

A government clean, pure, direct: none of the messy scramble for the favor of ignorant rabble and subhuman creatures that made up the Republic he so despised. The government he would serve would be Authority personified. Human authority. It was no accident that the primary powers of the Confederacy of Independent Systems were Neimoidian, Skakoan, Quarren and Aqualish, Muun and Gossam, Sy Myrthian and Koorivar and Geonosian. At war’s end the aliens would be crushed, stripped of all they possessed, and their systems and their wealth would be given into the hands of the only beings who could be trusted with them. Human beings. Dooku would serve an Empire of Man. And he would serve it as only he could. As he was born to. - Revenge of the Sith, 2

In the novels written before Revenge of the Sith, we saw many important episodes from Dooku's past, and there were no premises for xenophobia. As a child, he was constantly dealing with other sentient species in the Jedi Order, and his father figure was a literal gremlin. One of Dooku's childhood friends was Eero Iridian, who is also not human. Darth Tyranus shows some remorse due to the fact that he and Darth Sidious took advantage of the Troxans (a non-human species) to drain the Republic's resources. This definitely doesn't fit with the way in RotS Dooku gleefully imagines crushing non-humans under the new government.

“These are the envoys from Troxar,” his Master said. How could he know? Dooku didn’t ask. Darth Sidious knew. He always knew.“They are considering surrender,” Dooku said. “They claim they have a resistance planned, ready to rise in insurrection when the clone troops withdraw.” “No!” the flickering figure said sharply. “The war has already damaged the planet too much to make it worth saving. Its only value now is to chew up more troops and resources. Tell them they have to fight on. Promise them reinforcements—tell them you will be deploying a new fleet of advanced droids to retake the whole system within a month, if only they can hold on. Explain that such weapons will not be put in the hands of those who surrender.” “And when the month passes, and no reinforcements arrive?” “Help will come within another month at most. Promise them that, and make them believe it. I’ve shown you how.” “I understand,” Dooku said. How casually we betray our creatures. The hooded figure cocked its head. “Having an attack of conscience, my apprentice?” “No, Master.” He met the hooded figure’s hideous eye. “It was their own greed that brought them to you,” he said. “In their heart of hearts, they always knew what they were getting into.” - Yoda: Dark Rendezvous, 1

Technophobia

The next uncharacteristic trait that was added to the character is technophobia. Anakin Skywalker's prosthetic arm disgusts Dooku, and he almost spits bile while talking to Grievous. The aristocrat hates not only cyborgs, but also ordinary droids, calling them “repulsive” and hoping that they will be destroyed along with the General.

“Which is precisely,” Dooku said meditatively, “why it might be best if I were to kill him, instead.” “Are you so certain that you can?” “Please. Of what use is power unstructured by discipline? The boy is as much a danger to himself as he is to his enemies. And that mechanical arm—” Dooku’s lip curled with cultivated distaste. “Revolting.” “Then perhaps you should have spared his real arm.” “Hmp. A gentleman would have learned to fight one-handed.” Dooku flicked a dismissive wave. “He’s no longer even entirely human. With Grievous, the use of these bio-droid devices is almost forgivable; he was such a disgusting creature already that his mechanical parts are clearly an improvement. But a blend of droid and human? Appalling. The depths of bad taste. How are we to justify associating with him?” - Revenge of the Sith, 2

Dooku nodded judiciously to himself, frowning down at the translucent blue ghosts slinking toward Palpatine. “Sound the retreat for the entire strike force, General, and prepare the ship for jump. Once the Jedi are dead, I will join you on the bridge.”“As my lord commands. Grievous out.” “Indeed you are, you vile creature,” Dooku muttered to the dead comlink. “Out of luck, and out of time.” He cast the comlink aside and ignored its clatter across the deck. He had no further use for it. Let it be destroyed along with Grievous, those repulsive bodyguards of his, and the rest of the cruiser, once he was safely captured and away. - Revenge of the Sith, 3

Why doesn't this make sense? As with xenophobia, the previous books and comics do not contain any hints that Dooku has disdain or hatred towards people with prosthetics and cyborgs. Moreover, when Grievous proposed using Geonosian technology on the Jedi Padawans for experimental purposes, Dooku approved the idea. Not to mention, the Sith Lord enjoyed Grievous' training.

Grievous had been a delight to train, as well. - Labyrinth of Evil, 22

Love and friendship

Next, Stover gaslights the reader by talking about the friendship between Dooku and Lorian Nod. Because if we go back to Legacy of the Jedi, it turns out that Dooku wasn't such a bad friend. He cares about Lorian and tries to be careful with his words so as not to hurt his feelings. Then after Lorian betrayed Dooku by blaming him for stealing the holocron, did Dooku worry about his reputation? Sure, but what unsettled him was that he was betrayed by someone so close to him. Even after what happened, he considers Nod his friend and cannot decide to refuse his request.

He doesn’t remember quite when he discovered this; it may have been when he was a young Padawan, betrayed by another learner who had claimed to be his friend. Lorian Nod had said it to his face: “You don’t know what friendship is.” And he didn’t. He had been angry, certainly; furious that his reputation had been put at risk. And he had been angry at himself, for his error in judgment: trusting as an ally one who was in fact an enemy. The most astonishing part of the whole affair had been that even after turning on him before the Jedi, the other boy had expected him to participate in a lie, in the name of their “friendship.” - Revenge of the Sith, 3

His best friend had betrayed him. Throughout the years at the Temple, he could always depend on Lorian. They had shared jokes and secrets. They had competed and helped each other. They had quarreled and made up. The fact that this person could betray him shocked him so deeply he felt sick. Legacy of the Jedi, 3

Dooku didn't know what to say. He wasn't prepared to lie, but he couldn't say no to his friend. So he said nothing, and, after a long while, the two friends fell asleep. Legacy of the Jedi, 3

Was Dooku the perfect friend? Of course not, and his pride played a role in escalating the conflict, as did Lorian’s envy, but to reduce everything to the words that “Dooku was different and did not understand friendship” I think is a monstrous simplification. The loss of his friend played a big role in Dooku's life, and that's how the story ends.

Lorian had been wrong. Dooku's heart hadn't been empty. He had loved his friend. But he had changed. Lorian had betrayed him. He would never believe in friendship again. If his heart was now empty of love, so be it. The Jedi did not believe in attachments. He would fill his heart with nobility and passion and commitment. He would become a great Jedi Master. Legacy of the Jedi, 6

We further learn that Dooku cannot care about the feelings of other beings and does not even see those around him as entirely real. Now, I don't by any means think that characters with these traits are a bad thing, or that you can't do something interesting with them, but that's not Dooku. We've seen how important his relationships with some of the other characters are to him (there's a whole novel written about him and Yoda), and that he cares to some extent about the feelings of those around him. Moreover, Stover will not explore these new traits, because Dooku will die in the next chapter anyway.

He is entirely incapable of caring what any given creature might feel for him. He cares only what that creature might do for him. Or to him. Very possibly, he is what he is because other beings just aren’t very … interesting. Or even, in a sense, entirely real. For Dooku, other beings are mostly abstractions, simple schematic sketches who fall into two essential categories. - Revenge of the Sith, 3

Jedi Order

Stover's Dooku ideal Jedi Order would forcibly remove Force-sensitive children from their families. Perhaps it's just my opinion, but it seems strange in light of the fact that his rejection trauma, as described by Sean Stewart, is related to his parents and the Jedi Order.

And that Fist would become a power beyond any Jedi’s darkest dreams. The Jedi were not the only users of the Force in the galaxy; from Hapes to Haruun Kal, from Kiffu to Dathomir, powerful Force-capable humans and near-humans had long refused to surrender their children to lifelong bound servitude in the Jedi Order. They would not so refuse the Sith Army. They would not have the choice. - Revenge of the Sith, 2

Ultimately, I can make the case that the ending of Yoda: Dark Rendezvous may have served to develop Dooku and make him even more bitter, but that doesn't justify the radical personality transplant Matthew Stover performed. And now, I often see these lines used to say that Dooku was always pure evil, had no good intentions and was always pretending, and also see questions like "as a human supremacist, what did Dooku think of Yoda?" And how can we know? All of these things were added to the character at the last minute and didn't match anything we'd seen before. This is not my Dooku.

[kuiperror]

TELL ME ABOUT THE CHIPMUNKS LORE. pretty please.

1st thank you for indulging me (even tho i asked lol) 2nd.maybe dont open this unless you want to get blasted with useless information + unimportant yet dearly held opinions + offtopic addendums + true sincerity. i tried to hold back guys im sorry. hold onto your hats im getting fucking crazy in here

firstly ill summarize and say that my "version" of the story of aatc [1] is basically just an idealized version of the "lore" the 1960s version gave us (i say "lore" in quotations bc there was. none lol).

now a lot of my ideas concerning the "lore" of story are interconnected to my opinions about the actual application of aatc media in real life . for instance, the story is set, vaguely, around the late 1950s - early to mid 1960s, like the irl "run" of the original chipmunks records. i personally believe that, as a real media franchise, aatc really has no reason to exist within our modern world with the technology we have today [2] so aatc as a fictional story is affected similarly. along with that, when the story is played out in the context of 1960s america it creates a richer thematical experience as the themes are compounded and expanded on. [3] a lot of the themes that i consider Essencial to the story deal with acceptance of differences and familial love and questioning of ones own humanity and sense of belonging, both within oneself and within the family unit and within larger society, and conservative 1960s suburban america is just a rlly good backdrop to place all of that. so basically i believe in the Contextuality of 1960s aatc and i love to allude to those contexts within the story.

another thing about my version is that i allow it to be inconsistent both with itself or with real life, just cuz it doesn't really have to be. for instance, this story has a floating timeline and i consider the chipmunk's ages to range from 8 - 10 years old— theodore is 8, alvin is 9, simon is 10. (simon is the oldest in the 1960s era idc who says what, i will die on this hill) however at the same time i think it would make the most sense for them to come from the same litter, which would make them all the same age. so i consider the chipmunks to be different ages while also considering they were born at the same time. i do have an in-world resolution for this discrepancy [4] but you get what im saying: my version of events is a little fictional story for me and me only so inconsistencies like that can be brushed over . mainly so i don't think too deeply about the logistics of things (cuz i tend to do that to avoid any possible criticism cuz i am Afraid of flaw) . like i'll catch myself being like "but how does the development of a real 8yo match theodore's behavior? 🤨" and i have to tell myself "bro.. this is a fictional cartoon world ur literally talking about a talking chipmunk its Not That Serious it doesn't have to be that realistic dude" so i just say its my own little play place and i get to do what i want :)

my version of the backstory of the chipmunks is not really all there in terms of external and internal consistency, but it mostly resembles the 1980s series' backstory where dave finds the chipmunks on his doorstep. (see [4] for entire story) i think that the months after dave took them in were honestly a p dark period for the family. i don't imagine dave had good support system and i think the mental struggle of suddenly caring for 3 incredibly strange children all the while fearing societal reactions to them (which restricted him from getting the help he needed) [5] definitely aged him. ithink hes like, early 30s when the chipmunks arrive, late 30s when the timeline "starts floating"... not as young as most (?) fans/iterations interpret him to be. i think that, before "the chipmunk song" was created, dave had raised the chipmunks for like.. 3-5ish years. what i'm saying is that dave definitely took in the chipmunks out of the kindness of his own heart and not cuz he wanted to capitalize on their singing prowess (aHEM looking at a certain movie 🤨)

also, i like to accentuate the animal-ness of the boys by taking real world information about chipmunks and applying it to them :) in general its a little bit of a pet peeve of mine when ppl just completely disregard the animal part of funny animal characters... esp with alvin and the chipmunks bc thats like. Their Whole Thing . they are chipmunks ? why do you just ignore that 😭

now i have talked a LOT about angsty stuff but i do want to make it clear that legit all this stuff is the subtext and background for interactions shown within the 1960s chipmunk media. the chipmunks are still happy kids who have fun and goof around and piss off david !! its just that they have fears and their own Issues like any real person.

so yeah! thats my chipmunk lore!! ^^ i have a whole document about my version so im definitely. fucking insane about the chipmunks. if any other aatc fans are reading this please be nice to me 😦 i feel as though i am very much a weirdo in my sandbox all alone soo dont h8 me plz :)

and just to send it off with some silly lore here are some random headcanons for each character that i have taken straight from my lore document ^^

alvin: would 100% be a leash kid . just sayin (as a former leash kid myself)

alvin: takes after david musically— when he writes his own music and makes up little songs to himself it sounds very similar to the songs dave writes. alvin doesn't recognize this but dave definitely does :,)

alvin: insecure about his height and constantly reassures himself that he will have a growth spurt when hes older

simon: loves loves LOVEs non-conventional and instrumental music! especially those set in different modes

simon: astronaut kid he loves space and wants to b an astronaut . born at just the right time B)

simon: knows better than to follow along with alvin's troublemaking + rebelliousness, occasionally tries to push back, but often is just like. fuck it we ball and goes along with it, especially if its fun ^^

theodore: LOVES the technical aspect of music + the recording process . he will tell you all about the science behind how vinyl records work unprompted.

theodore: doesnt like to sing solos as much as his brothers do bc of past childhood asthma at age 3 and also because he can not stop himself from giggling when hes singing hes just so happy :)! (THIS ONE IS CANON 💥💥💥 SOURCE: UP ON THE HOUSETOP CHRISTMAS W THE CHIPMUNKS VOL 1 ‼️)

theodore: although he is the most naive of the bunch, he is not dumb . hes just a little kid who likes being silly !

dave: before taking the chipmunks in in his early 30s he was the world's most regular guy . wrote hits for other people, continues to do that occasionally into the boys's careers

dave: literally has a song for everything . he will do everything to a beat .

dave: embroiders and cross-stitches to regulate his anger + knows how to sew really well since he has 2 make all of the boys' clothes. (CANON ⁉️😍) also it was his decision to color-code and embroider their initials onto everything they wear lmfao

FOOTNOTES (color coded for your convenience!)

[1] - in this post i refer to the media franchise as "aatc" (alvin and the chipmunks) and refer to the actual trio of characters as "the chipmunks" to avoid confusion. i just want it to be said that i personally dont like to call the media franchise "alvin & the chipmunks" on account of the whole "uuu if alvins a chipmunk why is it called alvin & the chipmunks" joke, i personally prefer to call the franchise just "the chipmunks" as it is shorter and includes the 1960s era as for most of it the franchise went by several different iterations (if we lived in a perfect world the franchise would still be called "david seville and the chipmunks" . just saying)

[2] - back in the early 60s, combining pitch-shifted vocals and character-acting was an innovative technique that took real time, effort, knowledge and skill to achieve. but nowadays not only is the concept no longer fresh but literally anyone can create their own "chipmunk" vocals in a matter of minutes. the story & characters (also nostalgia) are really the only thing keeping the aatc franchise going, esp since that's what more modern iterations of aatc focus on rather than the actual music.

[3] - in the media outside of their albums (the alvin show & the dell comics, specifically) there is always an underlying theme of comparison between david and the boys and the 1960s concept of a nuclear american family. its not exactly an "Intentional" theme, it more or less comes with the (irl) time-period the original aatc media was created in. the seville household is, inherently, a subversion of the ideal of the "perfect family" that households were compared against and strived to be, even at the expense of their own comfort, ideals, safety, etc. this subversion can be played into for drama and angst in a richer, more plausible way than it would be if the story were set in a more modern time period, u know? but yeah i believe that, as a fictional story, aatc shouldn't be divorced from the context of the attitudes and values of what mainstream society thought a family should be in the 1960s.

[4] - essentially in my version of events, dave was given no information about the boys and he basically made up their ages. when david found them in his backyard, they were oversized chipmunks as large as your average cat. they all sort of acted like young human children, but they were a lot more... chipmunk than child. they could only babble— but the sounds were recognizable as human speech. dave was obviously freaked out and resolved to keep an eye on them whenever they were in his backyard. he really only resolved to take them in due to the fact that he could literally see them change throughout a single week. how i imagine the chipmunks' biology is that they are a mixture of human and chipmunk (not literally, mind you, more as a physiological, figurative thing) so they have the intelligence and development of a human while still doing certain things like undertaking hibernation, wanting to forage and stockpile and burrow, things like that. however their growth rate is incredibly fucked up, going from the actual size of a newborn baby chipmunk to the size of a human toddler within like, a year. with this rapid growth also comes more human-like intelligence. once they were actually living in his house, dave knew there was something human about them with these creatures so he couldn't just let them return to the wild, especially since they were becoming more and more dependent on him and more and more human-like as days passed... i definitely think there was a moment of pure clarity for dave where he realized like. wow, that's a child. these things are children. and they are relying on me to provide for them. they are absolutely attached to me by now. and i think i might actually be attached to them too. and thats when he decided to name them and truly care for them like any other human child. overtime the chipmunks slowed their growth rate and matched their developing rate with the same as an average human. the chipmunks don't remember much of their early childhood and nothing can really be disputed so davids word of what happened is gospel. And yeah thats their backstory basically. if you want more on dave's view point on the chipmunks and their fucked up growth process, you can read this post here :)

[5] - he overcame this, of course. he did not want the boys to think that he was ashamed of them. public school was a different story, however, and the boys were more-or-less in a state of homeschooling before the release of "the chipmunk song." knowing that most of their peers would actually look up to them rather than down upon them extremely reassured him.

[quietbluejay]

Fulgrim 1

put on your hazmat suits folks

okay I wouldn't call this a strong beginning but it's not terrible we're describing the marble sculpture dude and his friend

this is at least not gross like the ATS version veered into

we also get a comment about "she'd be prettier if she didn't wear makeup" (about a different woman) which like, in isolation isn't that bad it's just combined with everything else Ostian (sculpture dude) isn't a fan of her (bemakeuped musician lady)

so he likes her fine now

sdjkflhsdjf a guy whispers to his partner and Becqua stops the entire concerto in a huff he tries to pull rank but she's unmoved nope she's not gonna play any more today! noooo cries the audience in despair

but lo! a hero has arrived to save the evening

I did a dramatic reading of this whole bit once for my dnd group if anyone's interested I can record some dramatic readings from this book

also like, i guess we know why Ostian isn't really into Becqua or able to tell she's hitting on him

the next bit cut to a battle on Laeran and it was…actually pretty decent prose wise we get a little Laer description and background on the EC

every time you think a primarch has hit the depths of jackassery you always find out they can keep digging pffff they named a ship "Fulgrim's Virtue" also, Fulgrim wants the system compliant within a month

the protectorate thing is interesting because it's literally the only case in the entire Heresy I've seen such a thing discussed the Roman inspiration of the EC is also being super played up, Julius Kaesorion is wearing a toga, and just, a lot of the general vibe well the marble busts lining the corridors lol the way they're fighting huh you know the prose hasn't gone over the edge into silliness that much, ATS was a lot worse by this point we've really only had Fulgrim's entrance

marble benches? uncomfy the EC are talking about the arts

they really do feel like kids lol

also lmao Mr Stop Worshipping Me

"manifest destiny" take a shot oh it's time for someone to bring up some inconvenient facts

i like Fayle already, but I always do for people who stand up to primarchs

lmao anyways Fayle is right and should say it

so like given what I've seen of EC tactics and strategy so far how are any of them alive lmao

grandmaitsmeanastasia.gif

if i took a shot every time fulgrim throws off his robes in a mcneill novel i'd…well i probably wouldn't have alcohol poisoning but i'd most likely be feeling pretty nauseous

Solomon is fighting the Laer, and really really wants to kinkshame them also dudes i know you're being invaded but it's super uncool to involve people in your being stabbed kink without consent solomon: we've never turned around before so onwardsss!

well im glad we don't have solomon in charge of the iron warriors lmao we go to another officers POV and he's taking high casualties but did win

lmao the helmet thing again

definitely healthy! back to the remembrancers and Serena self harms in public it's funny it cuts from the brutal fights back to these guys flirting on the deck (Ostian and Serena)

to quote a dude I knew on discord, slitherslither they wish to go hither

this is a very funny mental image just imagining snakemen going BOING

Solomon goes a bit kill happy reminds me of Kharn here lol

Solomon is an idiot -takes helmet off so can't communicate -completely isolated from everyone and no clue where he is -keeps losing men because he's got a thing about not retreating

also -OUT OF AMMO

luckily he gets found by someone else

gag me

well i guess i was wrong about Ostian and yep we have a love triangle on our hands im also squinting a bit here since McNeill's a weeb (also: Bequa has blue hair)

if i have to read this so do you

i don't think the word "extremities" means what you think it means ostian, lying: uhhhhh not really bequa then is like: ok let's have sex on the deck I'm never going to make fun of Khayon having a not-girlfriend again in my entire life bequa kabedons him

hm. don't like this

well, at least bequa actually let him go after he said he and serena were involved why was this necessary, mcneill

given the casualties i saw on the EC side [citation needed] oh boy we get to meet Fabius so Fabius has been studying Laer bodies

oops fabius is getting a little too close to heresy

[suguruslut]

Going to a concert

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

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Gwen’s note: i saw mcr and angele in concert this year...the only thing missing was a househusband to hold my snacks...

🐉𝒯𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊🍳

--as we know, Tatsu is really into rap music, so when you win tickets to see Agust D in concert, Tatsu flips his shit. dude won’t stop talking about it for all the months leading up to the concert. he actually makes Goda cry one time out of jealousy

--once the night arrives, Tatsu is over prepared, waiting outside the arena a good four hours before the show starts; nobody dared cut in front of you guys, and he was one of the first in line for merch, grinning proudly at your matching t-shirts

--he somehow got all his snacks and water bottles past security?? don’t ask how, he’ll never tell

--once you get in, Tatsu’s leading the way through the crowd with a gentle grip on your hand, making you drink water and sit at least for a few minutes since you’ll be standing and jumping the entire concert. the place is packed, but he assures you there’s no hitmen nearby

--definitely tears up when Agust D first comes out, then REALLY gets into it all while staying within concert etiquette. he sings all the lyrics, which he knows by heart, and it makes you smile to see him so happy and inspired

--dedicates each song to you, even though he didn’t write them; the only time this makes you cry is when he says it before AMYGDALA, his favorite off Agust D’s new album. Tatsu says it reminds him of how bad things were before meeting you, but now that you’re in it together, life and its choices seem a lot less difficult

-- immediately following the show and still riding the concert high... “I bet I can make my own mixtape! I found some great ideas on Pinterest...whattya think of that, Y/N?!”

🐅𝒯𝑜𝓇𝒶𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜🍰

--Tora strikes me as a heavy metal kind of guy, always head banging and screaming his heart out whilst driving his kawaii crepe truck. when you surprise him with tickets to Beast in Black, he almost crushes your back with how tightly he hugs you

--listens to all their albums the week leading up to the concert, nonstop repeat so he knows all the words to every single song. luckily you love him, so you find it endearing to listen to him scream as loud as he can for most of the day. and pretend he knows how to play electric guitar

--doesn’t want to arrive early bcz that’s “uncool,” so you guys show up just as the concert is starting, Tora shoving his way through the crowd with you using him as a shield

-- “Outta the way, scrubs! A true fan is coming through!”

--literally pushes his way right up to the stage. you won’t be able to hear tomorrow, but how can you care about that when you see Tora’s face light up upon the band entering?

--he really did learn all the lyrics, screaming and singing with a grin on his face as he keeps one arm around you at all times, pumping his other fist in time with the music; you can’t believe how carefree Tora is acting, thinking you should bring him to heavy metal concerts more often

--One Night In Tokyo is his absolute favorite song, but he won’t admit to shedding tears after hearing it live. well, maybe just to you, because you got it on video for blackmail material

--for sure had you take a million pictures of him at the concert so he can brag to his friends (Tatsu) and frame some for your apartment

🐕ℳ𝒶𝓈𝒶🥡

--I can see Masa being very into trendy music, especially Jpop and Kpop. when he hears Band Maid is in town, he blows his last paycheck on two tickets; imagine his shock when you say you’ve never heard any of their songs

--by the time the concert comes around, let’s just say you now know every single song from each album, thanks to Masa overloading you with fandom info. you know each member, their life history, favorite foods, iconic looks, etc. etc. your husband is a major BM nerd, okay?

-- “I can’t believe you’ve never listened to them before! Here’s their first album, which I think was the third best out of all their albums, and here’s a list of the biggest venues they’ve played at, and...”

--should’ve put that boy on a leash...Masa gets lost at the venue at least five different times, always in search of the nearest bathroom and ending up in creepy hallways and surrounded by strangers

--they literally call your name over the speakers to come get him, lmao. once you clip him to your belt the concert starts, and the second the girls step on stage, Masa bursts into tears and squeals, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s excited for the music or bcz they’re all wearing maid outfits...

--I think Masa would have a great singing voice, so it’s actually pleasant to hear him sing along with the band. you guys had pretty good seats, and Masa was taking endless pics and videos of both Band Maid and you two. before the concert was even over he set his wallpaper as one of your cheerful selfies, concert lights streaming over your faces

--dumbass didn’t even realize he bought backstage passes, and his favorite member, Misa (bcz her name is similar to his), actually signs his t-shirt for him, prompting him to pass out in your arms

--he’s just as elated when he wakes up as he was when he passed out, and will probably never stop talking about the time you two went to a Band Maid concert together

                                                        🐉 🐅 🐕

[meruemx]

the biology of meruem

If there's one thing I do, it's imagine the biology of each anime creature. I even thought about what Piccolo Daimaoh's biology must be like for him to lay an egg through his mouth and what the biology was like for the cell that gave birth through its tail. Well, here I'm going to do the same thing with meruem's biology. with his reproductive biology to be more exact. If you're offended, pretend you're a meruem from a parallel universe. Also remembering that I'm going to talk about Meruem with the anime design.

the meruem has several segmentations on its tail. I think this different colored segment connected to the stinger is a place where an internal semen sac is stored. so Meruem can feel pleasure if he himself or if someone strokes that specific spot on his tail or if he sticks his stinger into a female. In that case, ejaculation is something he could normally do.

(end of my opinion on how meruem could reproduce. If you wish to proceed, please note that the following information is fanfic.)

Some things in my theory get out of control and they already say that he is a half-hermaphrodite because he is the king. The theory goes on to say that he has ovaries where his pelvis would be. that big pelvis. remember that his tail is connected to a circular volume that is on his hip?

then the meruem could perform a retrograde ejaculation, which would be perfectly safe for him. his semen would pass through that voluminous structure, reaching his lower parts. This even reminds me a little of the vaginal canal. My theory continues saying that the gestation would take 5 months and the meruém's abdomen would normally enlarge, with it being able to do a little phagogenesis but without the queen's crazy appetite.  as meruem is a mixture of several DNAs, his body would take these characteristics and pass them on to his offspring, thus making it impossible for meruem clones to be literally born.

When the time of birth arrives, the umbilical cords are broken inside the womb and the puppies have a little more time until they run out of air. meruem chicks would pass through an internal passage that connected the belly to the tail. The puppies would then slide internally through Meruem's tail and the stingers on his tail would dilate only and only during birth to give way to the puppies. the placenta is digested by the meruem's own body, making it have more energy in the postpartum period. As the Meruem's tail is 140.8 cm long and 14.1 cm in diameter, the puppies are normally 12 cm or a maximum of 13 cm. Meruem's arms would also develop blisters that would be uniform and beautiful that would serve as temporary mammary glands that would disappear within 1 month.

but this natural mpreg process is something completely optional for meruem. If he doesn't want to, nothing will happen and no hormones will activate for him, being an alpha male

[nitholites]

I refuse to believe clover didnt immediately know who he was arresting when the crew first arrived in atlas

Qrow's an old huntsman- a skilled huntsman from a famous team. He's literally actively known as the best scythe master in remnant- even if we fans sometimes forgor that from time to time. Kids would have grown up hearing his name, seeing him on tv, knowing his face. He was probably like a kardashian or snoop dog or any other celebrity you dont really actively care about as a kid, but still know the name of

For a captain in atlus, who's (probably) only a couple of years younger than him? Clover probably saw the footage of team strq in tournaments and festivals! Live or within a few months! Probably looked at them and went 'that'll be me someday'- like the rest of his classmates did

Now, i can absolutely believe clover'd still be so smug in that moment. Imagine for a second, that you had the opportunity to stand above someone you idolized. Where you could beat them in their own game, if only for a moment. That'd be cool as hell- and idk bout you, but i'd certainly be smug about it for a while! (... before awkwardly apologizing and makin a lil joke over the situation, tbh)

Tldr, clover and the ace ops def knew who qrow was, and decided to arrest him anyway. Whether that was to fulfill a childhood dream or because they were just That Obidient and willfully ignorant to Ironwood is up for debate, but that doesnt change the fact that the ace ops were prolly giddy as hell when they took qrow and the group in