#also trying to find non-ship fics??? just as hard

[i-tripped-on-a-rock]

In the trenches fighting the worst war of my life rn (trying to find fics for a rare pair that isn’t just smut or a background ship)

[sketchyface]

I love the Hannibal fandom and I am a Hannigram shipper, but I hate it when people intentionally or unintentionally demonise/mischaracterise the other characters to make Hannigram look better

Like yeah, nearly all characters have done shitty things but most of them aren’t inherently bad people. Just people struggling and not knowing how to deal with it because the situation is complex and/or they’re being manipulated in some way

Hannibal is inherently a more horrible person that the rest of the main cast and that’s fine! You don’t need to make them worse! His morals are fucked and that’s what makes him and Hannigram interesting!

Sorry for the rant, I’m tired and just needed to get this out

Edit: I’ll probably make a longer rant about this in the future, cuz there’s a lot of other shit I want to say

Edit 2: Also if you know any Hannigram fics where the characters aren’t demonised or mischaracterised pls tell me

[radioapple-heathen]

My Top 10 📻🍎 'Multi-Chaptered' Fic Recs

(A continuation of my previous post. You can find info about my fic preferences and my top 10 'Series' fic recs here.)

1.) Somewhere down the line by kj_crwn

Complete (6/6). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

So, just like my #1 on my series recs, this fic has Lucifer and Alastor meeting in the living world first before canon takes place while Alastor is still a human, and then reuniting in Hell as the events of canon unfold. Absolutely my fav trope. It helps that the writing is absolutely gorgeous!!! This is such a comfort fic for me, could read it a million times over. It looks like the author considered making it a series but, at the time of making this rec list, it is a standalone fic.

2.) Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream by @winterveritas

Complete (2/2). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: AU - Hell. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Really, anything Winter touches is absolute gold, but this fic rocked me to my core. The way this author portrays Lucifer's grief during Alastor's absence, like. I've been reading fic a long, long time. It takes quite a bit to pull tears out of me, but I sobbed while reading this. Don't let that scare you away, this author is allergic to unhappy endings, but the gut punch of emotions, oh my god. Also, for those who love when extensions of the boys come into play, Alastor's shadow and Lucifer's snake have roles as well, and that is a huge headcanon of mine so it was delightful to see it in this. Writing is flawless, prose is gorgeous, dialogue is top-notch. Just agonizingly wonderful, beginning to end.

3.) Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before The Next Angelic War by @miribalis

Complete (8/8). Rated T+. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I, like many others, stumbled across this fic due to this beautiful fanart and god. This fic is SO INCREDIBLE. The dynamics between the boys are everything????? This is a QPR take on them, and it's beautiful? Just gorgeous in every way, from the writing to the characterizations and the non-sexual intimacy exploration. ALLLLL the love for this fic.

4.) Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple

In-Progress (14/15). Rated T+. POV: Switches. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Wow. Just... It's hard to put into words the admiration I have for this author/fic. In such a popular fandom/ship, it can definitely be hard to find a unique take on said popular ship. However, this. THIS. This is one of the most original radioapple fics I've ever had the joy of reading. Beautiful imagery, STUNNING PREMISE, the emotions, the prose, THE RADIOAPPLE BOYS, everything about it is perfect.

5.) The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei

In-Progress (31/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Not sure there are words in the English language to describe how fantastic this fic is. Everything I wanna say feels lacking. This fic has some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read. And it is such a delicious character study on Alastor, the inner workings of that man's mind is just insane. The way syaunei takes such a complex character apart, strand by strand, is truly phenomenal. I mentioned in my fic preferences disclaimer that I lean more towards top!Lucifer, but lemme tell you, this is top!Alastor DONE RIGHT.

6.) Something in Me Understood by @winterveritas

Complete (8/8). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This was written for radioapple week 2024, and Winter spoiled us rotten with the frequency of updates for this one. Bookstore AU but make it sexy? XD I am trying to keep my gushing to a minimal, but really, all of Winter's fics are fantastic. This one also includes some beautiful art. AND AND AND intersex!Lucifer, which again... a weakness for me.

7.) Awake, Arise by iffervescent

Complete (14/14). Rated E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

HOLY PLOT! As I mentioned in my previous post, I definitely prefer more romance vs heavy plot in my fanfics, but when a fic can balance them both as experty as this one HO BOY! It makes for truly a good time! 🙏 Fantastic fic!

8.) Passing Ships by @selphhelp, @androidwiththeparanoid

In-Progress. (7/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human/Great Gatsby inspo. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Please envision this gif of the man screaming "Let me tell you something! Let me tell you something!" as I ramble about this fic because its a fucking gem, and it is so so so criminally underrated. I know its niche, but I think people assume you need to know about The Great Gatsby to read/enjoy it. YOU DON'T. I'm telling you, I remember ZERO about that book, and this fic has been an absolute delight??? Yandere!Alastor??? Vox's One-Sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor??? Possessive Lucifer??? IT HAS IT ALL. And the writing and characterizations are superb!

9.) Strange Appetites by Gotllphi

In-Progress. (20/23). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: Extremely graphic depictions of violence.

Notes:

Ho boy. I... I DON'T KNOW WHAT SAY. *gestures vaguely*. ITS JUST GOOD? VERY GOOD?? but also, cannibalism, violence, Alastor being a golly ol' serial killer, consensual but not safe or sane bdsm, etc etc. Also plot galore!

10.) Born for Adversity by fourshadesofgreen

In-Progress. (2/3). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This is a short one, but I love everything this author writes, and the ending scene of chap 2 has been living in my head rent-free since they posted it. Human!Alastor has fallen in love with the Devil and tries to summon him through his killings. Fantastic premise and writing.

❤️❤️❤️

I'll be doing one more rec list for oneshots! I'll post it in a few days. I hope you guys are enjoying the recs!

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[probably-impossible]

pls pls pls pls give us headcanons about the scara x katheryne crack ship or i will literally die bc i am a sucker for robot love too and i need this in my life :D

Okay so... I may have actually gotten way too invested in this and started writing a fic about it. 😅 But just in case that never comes to fruition, here's my more in-depth, canon-compliant(ish) thoughts:

The Katheryne in Sumeru was possessed by Nahida enough times that some of Irminsul's influence rubbed off on her and made her sentient. This only began to manifest after she was skewered by the Eremites, repaired, and then sent back to her normal Guild duties.

Scara visits the Adventurers' Guild for one reason or another and makes one of his usual snarky remarks, then is surprised when Katheryne briefly breaks character to snark back at him. Intrigued and slightly annoyed by the fact that a supposedly non-sentient "inferior" puppet has roasted him, he resolves to keep observing Katheryne and find out what's going on.

Meanwhile, Katheryne is new to this whole sentience thing and isn't quite sure what to do about it. She tries extra hard to go about her job as usual but finds that some weirdo in a big hat is always hanging around & disturbing her for some reason. She resolves to find out what his deal is and why he gives her pesky feelings in her chest sometimes.

Cue shenanigans, bonding over puppet troubles, themes of figuring out together how to make their own purpose in this world, etc. etc.

My headcanon for Katheryne's personality is that she has spent her entire existence working in customer service and has Seen Some Shit. As a result, she is usually unflappable, but can be taken aback by new or strong feelings. She's also very attached to / protective of the Adventurers' Guild and its members.

By contrast, Scara has the emotional fortitude of a wet paper bag, but he is technically more experienced with having feelings (and he has Nahida as his personal therapist). So he's able to help Katheryne adjust to being her own person & get her to explore the world a little more.

Also Scara's tsundere shit totally fails to land with Katheryne. He'll be like "Tch. As if I could ever do anything as embarrassing as spend time with you," and she'll just say "Okay, goodbye. :)"

I feel like Nahida would know exactly what's going on and would be bemused by it at first, then start actively trying to get them together. At some point she would definitely tell the Traveler to sub in for Katheryne at the Adventurers' Guild one day so Katheryne and Scara can hang out. (Of course the Traveler would be comedically overwhelmed and this arrangement would never happen again.)

If Katheryne gets a Vision in this version of events it would probably be Dendro. Her voice lines in combat would be variations on her standard canon dialogue, ex. "Compliments of the Adventurers' Guild!" or "Here is your reward!" while beating the living daylights out of some Hilichurl.

That's my take on it, anyway! There may or may not eventually be more from me on this because people seem to like it way more than I expected, ha ha 😂

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |VII| pirate!Eddie au

a/n - ok, so first of all, i cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. i am just in awe at the love its been getting recently. so i think it times out perfectly that this chapter is the one i have been the most excited to write and had been waiting to write since probably chapter 3 or something. I really hope you like it. Be sure to reblog and/or comment (and remember asks are also always welcome!)💗

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.4k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 7: Four Corners of Heaven

“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too."

- Vincent van Gogh

The ship swayed from side to side, taking you along with it, stumbling from one leg onto the other as you struggled to find your balance. Wardrobe doors flung open, banging against their hinges. Papers flew all over the ground as the desk shifted from its secured position.

A banging noise sank deep into you, pulling you back to the Red Tail. The panic lasted until you realised you heard waves crashing against the window. How tall would they have to be to reach the glass? How strong to be able to open the hinges? 

It smashed against the wall, nearly cracking, but the damage was still done as water spilt inside with vicious attacks. Cursing, you made your way over, trying to close it before the entire floor would be under water. The spurts hit you in your face, shoving it down your throat. The icy feeling froze your skin as the heavy salt taste burned your tongue. By the time you closed the window, you had been drenched. You heaved for air, bend over with your arms on your knees. 

There was shouting outside the room. Incoherent behind the wood and rain layers, but the sense of emergency remained. 

You let yourself fall to the ground, back against the wall. All the commotion was now accompanied by your heartbeat drumming in your ears. When you calmed down, you realised you had still been holding the letter, scrunched into a wet roll between your fist, the water dripping off it came down in dark grey tears. Quickly, you dropped it into one of the desk's drawers and shut it. 

The ship also began to halt its tilt, regaining its composure, and so slowly, your anxiety faded. It allowed you to think; look around. Two longswords were hanging up on the wall, so you grabbed one and did your best to block the mechanics that opened the window. It should hold the water for some time, but you could only hope. You ignored the metal's clanking sound against the glass as the force pushed against it. 

As more shouting erupted from outside, the smaller the room felt. Suddenly you were back on the Red Tail, under the desk, hiding from these men. That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? They hid you away to keep you safe… and yet. The walls closed in on you. The water seemed to rise, but only in your mind, drowning in helplessness. 

If something did happen to this ship, you thought you would die either way, and you might not know many things, but one thing was certain: you would not die in Munson’s cabin.  

When you walked out of the room the past days, you were greeted with plush warm air, as if you had fallen gently atop a pillow. Now, it was more like a hard fall. The wind slapped your entire body, and the harsh rain cut at your cheeks. Each step felt as if you had been anchored to the ground. 

All around you was chaos. Water was everywhere. Rain poured harshly, a million icy bullets coming down your skin, soaking through your clothes. The waves reached a height as you had never seen, coming in closer by the second, threatening to spill over the railings. Some already did, drowning the wooden panelling of the deck, leaving nothing untouched as barrels rolled around. Crew members ran behind them, with meters of ropes, hoping to steady the load, but it was in poor attempts when their feet could barely remain steady. Munson threw around commands, but in these circumstances, his beloved ship had a mind of her own, and it was protesting her captain. 

The rest, in the meantime, did their best to keep up with what the captain had to say. Pulling the sails, ensuring a hold on all the loose cargo on the deck from slipping away. With buckets, they threw out water that splashed onto the ship, but with each wave, the amount only doubled. The men stumbled over themselves, knocking eachother over as the boat swayed immensely. 

You heard your name being called from the side and saw Harrington at the helm. Seeing him in the rain, you could not help but think of a dog. How the animals shrink in size when met with water, shaking and whimpering, just wanting to escape the cold. All of them, in fact, everyone around you, reminded you of it. They were all simply fighting for their life against the elements. 

Harrington looked at you sternly, and you could tell what he was saying with his expression alone. Go inside. But you stared blankly back, with no intention of listening.

That is when the wind picked up, pushing the ship off course. The helm began spinning in circles, and Harrington held onto its spurs for dear life, turning it back with all his remaining power. You could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. His grip kept slipping. He cursed loudly, but there was no one there to help. No one except you. It took you one quick glance to realise it, and once that occurred, you immediately stepped up to him and pulled at the spurs.

Harrington looked taken aback, for a second forgetting the task at hand, and that one second had been enough for him to fall back a few steps and the helm to begin to unfold again, resulting in another loud curse.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Helping you!’ you called out; both of you were sputtering as the water of both sea and sky engulfed you. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He yelled out moments before another wave hit the vessel's side, and he got knocked off his feet. For a brief moment, until he had regained his stance, you were the only one holding the helm. The weight of the entire ship fell upon you for those brief seconds, which was overwhelming. It was too much, too heavy. You couldn’t carry on on your own. 

Harrington coughed out as he regained a grip on the wheel. He glanced at you with another expression of displeasure at your presence, but there was no longer time for him to argue. You could barely hold the wheel together. Your feet were slipping on the wet floor. 

‘Pull!’ he shouted almost directly into your ear, but he could have been miles away with the thunder roaring over your heads.

‘I am!’ you shouted right back, but clearly, it was not enough.

‘Pull harder than!’ 

I can’t, you wanted to shout back, but that would have been worthless. You were putting in every inch of power you had left in this, yet it would still take much more for the ship to cooperate. By the time you released the helm with certainty, your arms were burning with exhaustion, and your skin was numb from the thousands of pinpricks of the harsh downpour.  

Not that this mattered much. The rest of the ship was still in turmoil. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought a mist had set in from how dense the water came down, covering everything in a grey mass. The wind blew you back three steps for each that you attempted to make. 

You were both breathing heavily, which was hard as it was combined with trying not to swallow the loads of water that came down upon you with each breath you took. Was there even air to breathe at this point? Or had you already sunk into the ocean? Everything felt on top of its head, spinning around. You barely heard what Harrington said as you pulled yourself out of the nausea.

‘What?’ you asked, shouting everything out to come out above the noise. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. Now, what was he apologising for? And why now, as the storm was only growing stronger, it seemed. The two of you still stood side by side at the helm, holding it tightly, but now more for your own sake, anchoring yourself from the wind. Across the ship, you saw the rest of the crew battling with the weather. Munson had stopped shouting out commands and was part of a group trying to keep the mizzenmast up. He had discarded his jacket somewhere along the way, leaving him to let the water soak into his shirt, which stuck to him meticulously. 

‘That are you apologising for,’ you turned quickly to Harrington. Facing his direction only caused the rain to directly attack your face. 

‘For listening to him,’ he shouted. As the storm raged on, you doubted anyone could hear the two of you anymore, no matter how loud you spoke. ‘I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, it was stupid.’

‘But why—why did he tell you to do that?’ 

To your surprise, Harrington laughed. ‘I’ve realised long ago it is better not to understand how his mind works.’ 

You wanted to reply that, no, you did want to understand exactly how his mind worked because it was making you insane when suddenly, a crash sounded over the vessel. All heads turned to starboard, where something must have just crashed bast the railing beams. A large whole gaped at the rest of you; a crate had already fallen out, but it was the least of your worries as you saw an arm hanging on for dear life from one of the broken wood beams. 

Munson was the first person to reach the crewman in peril. He reached for him just in time as the man’s grip slipped off the wood. The captain lay flat on his stomach across the deck. Some more men reached him and tried to pull him in, but the ship shifted again on the waves; nothing was in their favour. 

‘Harrington!’ the captain yelled, but when his voice reached you, it was less than a murmur against the wind. ‘HARRINGTON!’ He looked over toward the helm, and that is when he noticed you. 

You didn’t give him the same amount of attention, for you had a better view of everything around. You could see the stack of men that had now gathered at the broken ship’s side, pulling their mate back to safety, but you also saw the barrel that was lopsiding, threatening to fall over with each hit of the waves. They must have missed it when securing everything in haste. From its position, it seemed that if it would topple over, the barrel would roll directly into the panicked rescue operation. 

Harrington, who had been trying to steer the ship as best as he could in the circumstances, must have seen it too, as you had only taken a step to the side, and he had already grabbed your arm. 

‘Let go off me, or I will give you another black eye!’ You threatened. 

‘Have you gone mad!’ He shouted over the yelling below you. 

‘Yes!’ You couldn’t help but smile and possibly not even far from any truth. The last few weeks were maddening in every possible way. Whatever had or would have happened, there was no denying that you had changed, and the most evident proof was right there as you ran down the stairs in an attempt to save the men that you had thought would lead you to your death. Just as you thought you had reached it in time, the barrel tipped over entirely, hitting the ground and immediately started to roll. It rolled in your direction, the only obstruction in its way.

Without thinking, you let yourself crush against it, shoulder to wood. The pain was intense but passed quickly, and though you had let your feet slip and there was nothing to mask the fall, you had still managed to stop the large piece of refuse from hurting the others. 

You could see them pulling the fallen crewmate back onto the deck when you got up. Shuffling through your memories of what you had encountered and heard the past few days, his name didn’t come up, and yet you felt a huge relief fall off you. 

‘You’re welcome!’ you said, tired and feeling heavy. 

Someone helped Munson get up. His hair was stuck all over his face, but when he brushed it aside, you saw his face—full of anger. He stormed over to you or tried to, considering how the ship had thrown him off-balance. 

‘What should I be thanking you for?’ He spat out, primarily due to all the rain that had soaked into him. 

‘For saving your life!’ You had not expected him to be thankful, that was not who Munson was, but you had not imagined him to be angry. Yet, his eyes were rageful, his jaw tense as he looked at you silently and turned to his men to yell out: 

‘Someone secure that damn wall.’ 

Aye. There were already three men on it, trying to block the wrecked piece of the ship. Any proper reparations would have to wait until the storm had run its course. There was no way for them to sit there with the waves splashing into their faces at such speed and force and nowhere to stand without a risk of falling. 

The captain turned back to you. ‘I told you to stay inside.’

‘If I had, you would have been in the water now!’ You shouted back, ‘clearly, you need as many hands on deck as possible.’

‘Not yours.’ He wiped his face off from the rain, but it poured over him with even more strength. ‘Go back to my quarters. Now.’

‘No.’ You stood your ground, pushing back against Munson’s and the wind’s will.  You would not let yourself be stowed away. He could not take this away from you. He could not take you away. You wouldn’t let him. Not again.

‘That is an order.’ He snapped. 

‘I do not take orders from you.' You may not have been much help, but you had already kept Harrington from losing complete control over the helm and practically saved the captain from falling into the ocean's depths. Still, it was not enough to convince the captain, as his reply was clear and straightforward, despite all the noise that muffled your voices from eachother.

‘You’ll die out here!’ A wave pushed you forward, stumbling into his chest. He held you up by your wrist before you both fell. 

‘So will you!’ You looked him in the eyes, pleading. Unsure for what. Something. Anything.

For a moment, you thought you had won him over, but then he looked around, shouting out names of his crewmen, anyone who could hear him or get close enough to you. But they were all too occupied. Finally, one of the coopers, who was already tying up the barrel you had so swiftly taken care of with the rest of the cargo, ran up at the sound of his name.

‘Take care of her before I do,’ Munson told him. The boy—as he seemed younger than most men on this ship—nodded, but you saw in his face he had nothing over you. Before he could reach for you, you pushed past him towards the captain. 

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Perhaps that were not the words you had meant to say. Maybe you simply wanted to say that you were not about to leave this deck, but those were the words to come out of your mouth.

As a response, he asked the same question that crossed your mind as soon as those words had left your mouth. ‘Why?’ 

‘Because–’ but before you could answer, a pair of arms grabbed you and pulled you away. You screamed out, demanding to be let go, but it was all washed out in the storm. It couldn’t have been the boyish cooper that had taken you; his hold was too firm and strong. Whoever they were, they dragged you back toward the cabin on the captain's orders, towards alleged safety. What would happen if they opened the door to reveal a waterfall streaming past their feet because those bloody windows broke open once more? What then? 

But you felt a pinch of pride in your heart because you knew that some days ago, you would not have dared to stand up to the captain with such defiance. You certainly would not have dared to kick and scratch at the man holding you until he let you go. You would have been shoved into that room and locked away, and maybe it would have been for the better because just moments after you freed yourself, you locked eyes with Munson. He was ready to speak, yell, and so were you, but all of that was washed out by a wave. One larger than you had ever seen before. It towered over the ship, dampening everything in its shadow. And then it crashed down. You had just about managed to take one final breath and heard a scream of your name. 

There was a push, and something hit your head, or was it your head that hit something. Either way—

Everything went black. 

That must be what death feels like. Floating, weightlessly numb. There is darkness, and then there is light. It grows and grows, overcoming the chasm and suddenly, all the pain from before is gone.

It is disorienting at first as you try to understand where you are. It all feels familiar and yet impossible at the same time. You do not know how you got there but know the way perfectly well. You remember it all exactly—that day—like no time had ever passed. It must have been years ago. Long before the wreckage and the fire and the storm and chaos. Long before him. And yet… 

As you come to, but not exactly, you hear the mewing of seagulls. A flock hovers over your head. The sun shines brightly. As you move your hand, blades of grass tickle your fingertips and that smell… the sweet scent of summer. 

There’s a weight on your stomach. A book. You had been reading it for hours under the tree. The large lime tree in the garden, but to call it a garden is an understatement. The branches rock gently in the breeze, shaking their leaves in a greeting. 

You sit up, letting your back rest against the tree bark. In the distance are voices, children playing, merchants selling their produce, and animals roaming freely over the streets like any other day. 

Then you hear it. 

‘Gentlemen, I think we have an agreement then,’ your father says as he emerges from a corridor. You want to jump into his arms, tears already welling up in the corner of your eyes, but that is not how that day had gone. 

Besides, he has company. 

‘Yes, sir,’ a second man replies. ‘The troops are all ready to go.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ your father says. None of them have realised that you were sat there yet, able to hear every word they said. If they had, they would have sent you away. Not because any of their matters are private or a secret, it is just some light conversation between commanders. They would have sent you away because you, as a lady, have no reason to be bothered by such topics. 

You dare to peek a glance at the men accompanying your father. Like all the others before, they must be some kind of officer; their appearance told you as much. You had seen plenty of these types of men. Your father often invited those who harboured their ships in town. No matter where they were from. Although, they seemed to be wearing similar colours to what the soldiers around your house wore. 

You didn’t know either of the two men’s names that day. Why would you? It was the first time you had seen them in a lifetime full of new faces. And it would be several years until you would see them again. Years that would barely change admiral Carver’s appearance. He had maintained his boyish young looks until the day he died. 

By now, you knew you had fallen deep into a dream, but how much of it was fantasy? It felt like a memory, but why were you haunted by demons? Maybe it was your brain filling in gaps, playing tricks on you, covering up a face you had entirely erased from your memory by one you could never forget. That did not seem right, however. The pieces fell too perfectly into place. Just not in any way, you had expected them to. 

It was a trick. It must be. That was, could, not him, after all. His hair was neatly tied back and much shorter, to begin with. Though mostly covered with the shadow of his brimmed hat, his face was fuller, happier, and clean-shaven. His fingers were clean, and light without the weight of those large silver rings, and his clothes were the pristine uniform of the navy, which could not possibly hide a lifetime of scars and tattoos underneath them. It simply could not be.

And yet, when he catches your eye, that same pair of warm brown eyes catch you off guard. He smiles your way, tipping his hat, saying ‘ma’am’ with a smile before catching up to the rest of his entourage.

You awoke in a sheen of cold sweat, but it might have been the storm's remnants. The gentle feeling of grass blades against your fingers was exchanged into a harch grip on the bedsheets you lay upon. The only thing you could hear was your breathing, but behind that was the tap-tap-tapping of rain against the window. That’s where he stood, leaning against the glass by his side, arms crossed as he looked at you. No expression that you could make out in any sense, not because of the lack thereof, but because the emotions came in abundance.

‘What happened?’ Speaking felt like you had inhaled a bucket of sand instead of water; your throat had wholly dried out. 

‘What do you remember?’ the captain walked over to the bed with a cup of water to hand you, which you took with a shaky hand. 

‘Everything… I think.’ One sip had been enough to heal your drought. ‘There was a storm and a wave��’ 

‘Nearly washed us out,’ Munson filled in the gaps. His voice was steady, emotionless. Somehow, that felt worse than if he had been angry. He was holding back on you. ‘You hit your head and been asleep—we assumed you were sleeping—for six hours. More or less.’ But the longer he kept on talking, the more of a shake you felt in him. How he was holding back the rage that had exploded out of the both of you during the storm.

He continued talking. ‘We should be arriving at the harbour of Saint Claire shortly.’

‘I don’t understand,’ you let your fingers ghost over your forehead, which was wrapped in bandages, and a flash of pain blinded you momentarily. 

‘It’s a small island, not far off course. Safer for the night than the waters.’ The storm had calmed down but had not found its rest just yet. 

‘No, I don’t mean that,’ you said, standing up. 

‘Don’t get up,’ He tried to push you back but decided against making contact, which you took as an opportunity to defy his wishes. 

‘Do not tell me what to do, Munson.’ You were tired of it, and his constant commands made you sick…. Or was it the dizziness you felt as you got up too fast? Munson caught you just in time before you would hit your head again. Only then you realised that his shirt was still wet. It stuck to you like it stuck to him. His hair was a mess too. He must have come out of the rain moments ago.

He set you back up on your feet just to bring you back onto the bed. Once your head stopped spinning, you weakly asked: ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘You seem to have gotten the worst of it.’ 

‘Of course,’ you laughed at your own fortune. ‘Look,’ you made a second attempt to get up, hitting the last of the captain’s nerves.

‘Why won’t you ever listen?’ He grunted as he held you up. 

‘Because I don’t want to.’ You swatted away his hands, letting go of him entirely. ‘Will you stop that!’

‘Stop what?’

‘Pretending like you give a damn about me while we both know that I am not worth a dime of your time..’ 

He sighed, pivoting your tangent. 

‘No, sorry, you have your bounty to look forward to, of course, but don’t worry, I will personally write a letter to my father to tell him to just give you all his money, no matter in what state I return home if you will just leave me alone!’

‘Will you please stop yelling.’ He had his head rolled back, looking up at the ceiling. His fists clenched, and he walked around the room to calm down.

‘No! I am tired of this. All of this. I am tired of being treated like vermin.’

‘Vermin?’ He scoffed this time, turning his head to you in disbelief. ‘I’ve given you my clothes, my bed and two perfectly fine meals every day, and that’s what you think this is?’

‘Yes, and I’m very thankful for that, just as I am for being locked in a cage for days and now—what, you’re isolating me from your entire crew like I have the pest?’

‘I did no such thing!’ He was quick to defend himself from the accusation.

‘So, just Harrington then? Do not lie to me, Munson; I saw how he avoided me the whole time, then tried to not sound as if you had not commanded him to not speak to me.’

‘It was his own will that followed that order. I gave him a choice.’ 

‘What was it, listen or die?’ That sounded about right for you. 

‘We do not kill on this ship,’ he said sternly, seriously, almost more severe than you had ever heard him speak. 

‘Only on every other ship?’ With a snap, the window burst open again, letting in the whistling wind and the last drops of rain into the room, but it went unnoticed by the two of you as all the focus lay in the vicious words you threw back and forth.

‘Only those who deserve it. Yes.’ His face was set in anger, and you backed away, not because of his appearance but what he had admitted to. 

‘What did my men deserve? They were innocent!’’ Everyone on the ship must have heard you if they had not already been listening to the rest of the conversation.

‘Of course, we’re all just innocent men, aren’t we?’ He regained his need for theatrics as he spread his arms invitingly, laughing hysterically. ‘Everyone except for me, that is. I am the big scary monster at the bottom of the sea that you should fear. That’s what I am, right, darling? I’m the monster.’ He also began to get louder with each word, his words slurred with exhaustion. That is when you noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. The rest of the room lay in disarray, but the bottle stood pristinely on the corner of the oaken desktop, uncorked without anything spilt it, but nonetheless half empty. 

‘Are you drunk?’ You reached for the bottle.

‘You wish, princess.’ He laughed. ‘Then maybe I wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. But please, be my guest, drink–’ he pointed at the bottle you were holding, ‘eat, take my clothes, my bed, men, maybe go through all of my belongings once more, read my personal correspondence like its a bloody periodical. Jump of the ship if you please. I do not care.’ He threw his arms up, and something in you tightened. Of course, he knew about you, having read the letter. But should you feel guilty about it now? When he just admitted to targeting your friends? So many things were going through your head, and words you wanted to say to him, but only one question truly encapsulated it all.

‘What is your problem?’ 

‘You.’ He pointed sternly, so there was no confusion on the matter, ‘You are my problem. Have been since the very first day.’

‘Well, if only there had been a solution to that,’ you threw your arms up in faux-surrender, ‘Like maybe, not kidnapping me, or you could have left me to die on my ship or, even better, not ambushing my ship!’ 

‘You were never meant to be on that ship!’ He yelled out, letting out all his frustrations while all of yours disintegrated at that moment, too, as you let his words go through you. The next word you spoke was too overcrowded by confusion to be heard from a distance. 

‘What?’

‘You know you weren’t supposed to be there.’ He blinked, and something in him cracked. A part of him you had never seen before that had come out by mistake and was now vulnerable against everything. ‘It was supposed to be them—him—’ 

‘How do you know that?’ 

‘Because I know them. You speak of what a monster I am, but I know what kind of monsters they are and what they do, and I know you’re not one of them.’ 

‘You don’t know anything about me!’ You gritted your teeth as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. With each sentence spoken between you, unbeknownst to either, utterly subconsciously, you had both pulled at an invisible string. Pulling each other closer and closer until there was nowhere left to pull; the knot tied you down. Inseparable.

Munson looked down at you, the angles of his features suddenly softer, eyes flickering over all the corners of your face. ‘Well, what do you know about me?’

If he had asked you this any other day, any other minute, even if it had been ten seconds before, you would have been able to answer him directly with no hesitation. But, unfortunately, he had asked it right at this moment, as you stood only inches apart. Breathing the same air in and out. Everything around you dampened. It was just you and him. No sound, no light, no touch. Time sped up and slowed down at the same time. You could have stood there for an hour or a second, which would not have mattered.

You were still fighting to find the words when he touched your cheek and pulled you in. His lips practically crashed into yours with the force of a burning sun, and that is what must have burst inside you as he did. All thoughts fizzled away from your mind to the point that the only thing you could think of was his body on yours. The touch between the two of you. His lips on yours, hand on cheek, chest to chest. 

But as smoothly as those thoughts had dissolved, as quickly they rematerialised when he pulled away. And with the moment of clarity, you let your body speak for itself as now your hand met his cheek.

Harshly. 

The impact ghosted your palm as the red mark across his jawline began to form. Following your hand’s movement, he turned his face away but slowly came back to you, and nothing had changed about him. You could not read anything of him. He was a closed book. A tall wall between two cursed lands.

But that is when you realised that something had changed in you. Deep within.

A fracture.

It must have been there for ages, shattering away small pieces here and there as time passed. Each day, no matter how hard you tried to keep them under control, the cracks would grow and grow, ready to burst out whatever it was hiding on the other side. This thing that was hungry for something. Something you had never known you wanted, even needed, but now could not live another second without. As your chest still rose with anger, and the final crack formed, breaking the foundations apart, you leaned in and let your lips meet his for a second time. Without letting another second go to waste, he grabbed you tightly and pulled you in, closing any possible gaps. Bursting through the walls. 

Like a cannon, 

straight through the heart.

The damage was done. 

Chapter 8

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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taglist (part 1)

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[relativelydimensional]

bestie what are some of your merthur fic recs

Omg who me? stooppp <3

Okay so I used to read a LOT of merthur fics back around 2011-2013 and have only recently hopped back on the bandwagon so this will be a mix of some oldies i've revisited and some newer fics that have made me insane :))))

0. this one goes without saying but The Student Prince is seriously one of the best fics in any fandom i've ever read to this day. I relisten to the podfic every single year and it SLAPS every time. If you haven't listened/read recently this is obviously my #1 rec hahahha

Okay onto some actual recs

1. Tired by spqr

King Arthur gets enchanted and keeps having dreams about his court sorcerer merlin :))))) He obviously doesn't say this to Merlin, but Merlin notices he's not been sleeping and Arthur comes clean about having 'nightmares.' When Merlin tries to figure out a counterspell, he accidentally casts it on himself and ohh nooo they're both having sexy dreams about each other but also have to act normal in real life ITS SO YUM. This fic was surprisingly soft, like yes they are having some full on dreams but also the bits that made me extra insane were just the little soft moments between non-dream merthur ��

This was a school holidays read and i remember reading this in the staff room of the elementary school i was working at trying so hard not to SCREAM. At one point i had to go on a spirited walk around the building just to get my energy out because it was JUICY.

If you like: canon era fics, court sorcerer merlin, the intimacy of domesticity, arthur with a beard and merthur being so in love but also fucking clueless about it this the fic for you <3

2. But It's a Good Refrain by lady_ragnell

Merlin runs a relationship advice/matchmaking service radio show and Arthur's ex calls in and rips into him on air. Arthur calls in to defend himself and he and Merlin butt heads. An oldie but such a goodie. I love this one because the characterisation feels very natural. Plus i loooove arthur POV fics. Merthur are so sweet in this one and i love love love the dynamic of their respective friendship groups merging. It also features the fandom favourite m/f crack ship that is elena and gwaine which im always here for.

If you like: silly modern AU friend group nonsense, Arthur POV fics, snarky Morgana, and a fic writer who understands the sheer power merlin emrys' 🥺 face would have over not only Arthur but literally ANYONE who looks at him, this is the fic for you.

3. Second Chances by DragonDucks

This is a canondivergence/fix-it fic set immediately after Arthur dies in 5x13. In this version Arthur tells Merlin he loves him with his dying breath and Merlin's magic sort of implodes sending him back in time to 1x1. So it's like sad s5 Merlin getting a second chance to save Arthur in the body of tiny baby s1 merlin.

I'm gonna be honest i'm still reading this one but it has me kicking and screaming!!!! Most of the dialogue is repurposed from the show which makes it extra juicy to me and its just delicious i love it so much. The POV switches between S5 mourning merlin and S1 gay panic arthur and its soooooo good i'm loving it so far. Some of the side characterisation is a little weird but Merthur are PERFECT. It NAILS that yummy introverted Arthur and fond Merlin characterisation.

If you like: canon era fix it fics, time travel, Arthur pendragon falling in love with merlin bit by bit and actually having space and time to grow as a person, and merlin emrys being like no everyone shut up about my destiny i just wanna have a good time with my boyfriend, this is the fic for you.

4. All is Semblative by Whitefox

I just fucking love crossdressing fics okay 😇. This is cinderella meets Merthur. Uther is throwing a ball to find Arthur a bride and servants aren't allowed. Out of spite (and, lets be real, also jealousy) Merlin tries to disguise himself to sneak in and ends up accidentally turning himself into a princess. Arthur hits it off with a weird but beautiful mystery princess who turns out to be his manservant he's been in love with this whole time. Simples.

If you like: Prince Arthur knowing about merlin's magic and being cool with it, fairytale AUs, accidental genderbending (but still canonically mlm merthur), and arthur pendragon singlehandedly embodying demisexual panic this is the fic for you.

5/6. As Long As We Have We AND No Matter How Far Away You Roam by lady_ragnell

Lady Ragnell again because I looove the way they do modern day Arthur. and i've been going through their stuff. These are both super cute christmas fics (I know its a little early but I couldn't help myself). In the first one, Uther has just died (rip uther you will not be missed) and Arthur accidentally collects lonely friends to spend christmas with him in the empty house. At the same time he befriends Merlin, the owner of his local bookstore, and merlin brings his own group of strays to Arthur's christmas...and obviously everyone gets along super well and merthur fall in love. The second one is a fake dating. T get his parents off his back, Arthur lies to Uther and Igraine that he and merlin have been together for years and Merlin (plus his mum and his sister Freya) has to play along one christmas..and obviously everyone gets along....and obviously everyone gets along super well and merthur fall in love.

If you like: found family, cute christmas fics and fluffy merthur these fics are the ones for you!

Also pls if anyone has any canon era secret dating merthur fics i beg of you please send them my way 🥺

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 1 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Bathing/Washing, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, No PTSD in chapter 1 (mentions of past abuse in later chapters), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, Fingering, Choking, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: Making friends in Alexandria is easier than on the road, which also means friendships can evolve and become something more if the connection is there. There's definitely a connection. Non-canon compliant because I don't ship him with Leah. (I think this is my longest fic, probably because this has been cooking for the full 11 years of TWD.) No beta. 9k words.

Daryl opened the door to the small “apartment” he lived in. Not really an apartment as much as the finished basement of one of the original surviving homes. Dog ran in first, pushing past his legs before the door could open fully. He watched as Dog started licking and nuzzling something on the couch. Dog wasn’t warning him but Daryl was always cautious and set his crossbow down gently as he closed the door and grabbed his knife from his belt all in one swift movement.

No one in Alexandria locked their doors, most of them probably didn’t have the keys to the houses anymore if they had ever had them at all. That meant that people didn’t trespass either. It was an unspoken rule made from mutual respect. Even in the faint light coming through the curtained garden windows he could tell this was a someone just not who. He started to relax a little but still held his knife as he turned on a lantern. Dog whined as the head on the couch turned and sniffed and groaned.

“Tha hell,” Daryl almost yelled it. “Dog, sit! What tha hell’re you doin’ here?” He stepped closer to the couch and sat on the coffee table. Eye level with Kristina as she sat up bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“Ya ain’t gotta yell,” she said as she rubbed her eyes open. Her short hair was sticking up all over on the side that had been on the pillow. “Anyway you’re the one that’s late.”

Daryl grunted and put the lantern on the coffee table. Kristina swung her feet onto the floor to make room on the couch for him.

“Ain’t late for nuthin’,” he grumbled as he stood up. He took his vest off and draped it over a chair followed by his belt and all the attachments. He even put his knife on the side table before sitting down on the couch.

“Well you’re late getting back is what I mean,” she said as he sat. “You were out on a run and gone longer than I thought. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” he answered. “Same as most days, ‘bout nuthin’ left here. Why’re ya here?”

“Because…” she let out a sleepy little yawn “you said that we should hang out today but then I remembered I don’t have a calendar and I don’t know what day it is so if you said Friday maybe it’s Monday and I’m the late one.” She chuckled a little at her own nonsense and that made Daryl scoff or grunt or whatever that noise was that he makes when something is slightly humorous.

She lifted her sock clad feet and a portion of blanket up onto the couch, almost in his lap but not quite. She tucked her cold toes between his leg and the couch cushion as she leaned back on the arm of the couch and looked at him.

“You had a hard day, huh?” she tried but he rarely took the bait. She was feeling him out, trying to get the sense of his mood.

Daryl shook his head just a tiny bit then shot her a side glance briefly before looking down at his hands again. He appeared to be missing the “armor” of having his pocket knife to clean his nails to avoid eye contact.

“We’ve been friends awhile,” she leaned up and hugged her knees. “Not as long as some but a while, right? So you should know by now I’m not asking as your therapist, hell I don’t even need full and complete sentences!” The half of his face she could see shifted into a slight grin at this. She desperately wanted to reach out and move the hair back from his face but they weren’t those friends.

“Yeah,” he spoke this more than grunted so that was progress.

Kristina really wanted to be more than friends with him but had never pushed him, would never. She was so curious about him. There was only so much you could learn about someone if they didn’t talk. She knew his relationship with Carol was particularly special because they had spent so many months living out there and they didn’t always need words to communicate. Trauma bonds will do that to people. She really wasn’t his therapist. She functioned as one in Alexandria for most people but never for him unless he asked. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to need her for other things. She had been through a lot of shit when the world fell apart, made some unpleasant choices. She had survived. She didn’t want him to be her therapist either but she had shared some of the milder parts of her past with him as a kind of proof to him that she wasn’t soft or, rather, that being here hadn’t made her soft. She hadn’t told him everything but she probably would eventually, if he let her.

“Com’on, I have an idea, and don’t argue,” she said as she stood up. Stood up so quickly in fact that she startled Dog who had been nearly asleep next to the couch. “No whining either, just trust me.”

“I don’t whine,” he said, looking up at her and suppressing a bit of a grin. She smiled widely at him but let him win that one. She reached down and grabbed his hands and feigned pulling him up weakly. He conceded and stood up.

She led him by one hand through the small area he called a bedroom (truly an alcove with a mattress on the floor but whatever) and into the bathroom. She barely heard his “huh?” as they walked in. He was tired but he was also filthy. Alexandria’s electricity was mostly out but their cisterns kept water pressure pretty strong as long as everyone wasn’t opening their taps at the same time. She closed the toilet lid and pushed his shoulders down as a signal to sit. He actually didn’t argue.

First, Kristina plugged the tub drain, then she turned on the hot tap and ran the water over her inner wrist testing its temperature. She wasn’t optimistic but what was in the hot water tank had stayed pretty warm. Some of the solar electricity must be working during the day. She ran the water into the tub until it ran almost cold. Looking at the amount and scowling she turned around to look at Daryl and raised an eye brow. He was watching her intently. She blushed a little. He couldn’t read her mind thank god because she had only glanced at him to assess water displacement and how full the tub needed to be for comfort and at that moment thought about him without his clothes on. Naked Daryl, my, well that would be different. She shook her head and looked back at the tub.

The water was cooling off so she instructed him to “stay right there, just a sec” and bounded through to the kitchenette for a pan and a sterno can. When she returned to the bathroom she looked around and realized the best place for the sterno was on the toilet lid but Daryl was still where she had told him to stay.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled.

“Get up! Laws of thermodynamics and all that means your water’s coolin’ off, so I’m going to do this and you get undressed,” she bossed at him while setting up her burner and pan.

“No, wha?” he blustered “Uhn-uh, nope.”

“Oh you big baby, just do it,” she teased, she made sure the teasing was evident in her tone. Once she had filled the pan with water and sat it over the flame she turned to see what she had expected: Daryl pressed so hard against the opposite wall that he might just sink into it, with all his clothes on.

Kristina giggled a very girlish giggle, something she rarely ever had occasion to do in her 30s but damn he was endearing. He looked up at her with those eyes and through his filthy hair and she couldn’t stop herself. Walking slowly as if toward a cornered wild animal she made the couple of steps to him. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on one of his, slid it around so they were palm to palm.

“Look, you don’t have to,” she soothed. “But the water is warm, I’ll add some more hot as fast as it heats so you don’t get cold. I won’t see anything you don’t want me to and anyway, when did you last bathe? That wasn’t in a creek?”

His grin was reply enough to that and was a very sincere grin. He nodded slightly and she let go of his hand.

She tested the water in the tub again, nodded to herself, and tested the water that had been heating while they talked and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the hot water hit the tips of her fingers. She grabbed a towel to hold the pan’s handle and gradually mixed in the heated water with that in the tub. She filled the pan again from the sink. It probably wouldn’t take many more of these to make it comfortable. She waited, looking at the pan of water on the flame as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world because she didn’t dare turn around.

At first she had only heard the soft swooshes of shirt fabric as he began to get undressed. Then she had heard one boot, then the next, thump onto the tile floor. The next sounds were out of context so she could only imagine what was happening while staring at this incredibly interesting pan of water. She heard Daryl’s bare feet make a few steps on the floor and then a hand moved past her to grab a bath cloth off the rack.

“Scuse me,” he said very close to her ear. All of the muscles in her neck froze to keep her from pivoting to see how much progress he had made.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied. Except she kind of croaked the words out and had to clear her throat a bit. She decided to test the water.

“Shit! Okay well that’s hot enough.” she yelped. “So I need to pour this in and I can’t do it with my eyes closed so if you don’t want me to see something, whatever, cover it in 3… 2… 1….” She turned slowly looking mostly at the pan and the floor then the tub. But she knew she would look at him once she started pouring. Who wouldn’t?

Daryl stood looking mostly at his feet but not cowering or shy like she had expected. It occurred to her that he probably bathed naked or just in his underwear out in the woods but there just wasn’t anyone to see him. So in this small room the only things that were modest were his gaze and using the bath cloth like a loin cloth. He was tan but also very dirty and she was pretty sure this one bath wouldn’t be enough but he could deal with that tomorrow.

“Okay, I think it’s ready for you but I’m going to heat at least one more pan,” she said far too quickly, almost making one word from them all and turned to the sink to refill it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said from behind her. Then the water in the tub made a sloshing sound and then another. There was some squeaking on porcelain, presumably his hands on the sides as he lowered himself in, and that mental image was actual the first one that consciously made her flush and feel the tug between her legs. She had thought Daryl sexy very, very many times and had probably had this normal, biological reaction to him many times, but this was different. This time was not brief or from her own imaginings. She took a deep breath and relished it.

Daryl sighed and then inhaled sharply. He went all the way under the water, coming up sputtering and smiling to himself a bit. She noticed the shampoo on a high shelf and, without looking, sat it near the tub so he could reach it.

“You good on soap?” she asked the pan of water.

“M’fine,” he said. “You don’t hafta keep starin at that water. I’m in now, won’t embarrass ya.”

Kristina looked over at him and the blush rose from her cheeks to her hairline. Shit, yup, Daryl was now Naked Daryl. She didn’t stare at any one place and after making eye contact briefly she put her gaze on the floor. Mostly out of respect. She decided she could sit on the bath mat and keep an eye on the heating water without feeling like an interloper. He didn’t tell her to leave and it didn’t occur to her to leave but there was more water heating so she’d stay until that pan was finished.

He sighed and leaned his head back, dipping his hair into the water again. She had seen some of his scars before but he still kept most of them out of view. She had a clear view of one on his chest she had only glimpsed before through an open shirt or when he changed quickly out of blood and dirt covered clothes. She desperately wanted to touch each of them. She equally didn’t want to get caught staring though she was pretty sure he already knew she was.

She tested the temp of the water on the sterno and it felt hot enough. Maybe he would ask her to leave and that would be that and she’d wait with Dog in the living room. She blew out the sterno flame and he opened his eyes, looking at her sideways without moving his head. Now the only light source was the small lantern. The sudden semi-darkness had surprised them both.

“Uh, do you want me to, um, or you can if you’d rather,” she stumbled through that question without finishing. “I don’t want to burn you. How’s the water?” She wanted to sew her mouth shut. Wow that was embarrassing.

“You can if ya want,” he answered as he closed his eyes. “I trust ya. Water’s good. Thanks again. Ya knew I’d just go to bed smellin like the woods.”

“Like the woods for starters and dead things and dirt and Dog. He needs a bath soon too!” she was able to tease unselfconsciously again in the dimmer light. She couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, not that she was looking, but that made them both less tense it seemed. Like he were less naked.

Kristina turned to pick up the sterno can and take it and the pan to the kitchenette when she felt his hand lightly on her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered without looking up.

She placed everything on the sink and went to sit on the bathmat again, this time she put her back against the tub wall, facing away from him, and hugged her knees to her chest. They sat in silence like that for some time. She really did cherish that he enjoyed silence. The world before had been so loud that it made her anxious. Now the sounds of walkers was almost constant depending on your location. Any silence when you were able to be unguarded was sacrosanct.

She heard the water sloshing gently behind her and smelled the mingled odor of the outdoors with the floral soap and smiled. He would definitely feel better and sleep better.

“Hey, could ya do one more a’ those?” he asked in a low whisper trying not to disturb their silence too much. Wordlessly she set everything up, lit the sterno, they both squinted at the extra light, and filled the pan. She sat back in her exact spot on the bath mat.

At first her brain lagged and didn’t know how her arm got wet. She felt the warm water on her upper arm before she felt his fingers. Then his fingers went up under her t-shirt sleeve and back down, up then down. So slowly that she almost shivered and she did make the smallest moan then clenched her jaw tight so no other sound could escape. He was so guarded against the world that touching someone seemed impossible. She had analyzed that from afar for a while now, not infrequently. But the part of her brain trained in analysis wasn’t in control at the moment. Right now she just wanted to feel this. When she leaned to check the water somehow, not intentionally on her part, his fingers grazed the side of her breast. She hitched in a small breath. She was pretty sure he had been looking at her and aimed that last touch.

The water was hot enough so she blew out the sterno and turned, still on her knees, with the pan ready to pour in the hot water. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched her. He was beautiful like that. Strong, lean, hair wet against his head, muscular arms on either side of the tub, amazingly unselfconscious. Just waiting on her. She nearly dropped the pan when he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Whasa matter with you?”he asked.

“Nuthin’,” she muttered. She started gently pouring the water into the tub and unconsciously glanced at him under the water. The bath cloth was strategically placed and she relaxed a little. Then she knelt next to the bath and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’ll let ya get on with it,” she told him. “You probably need two or three good scrubbin’s and your hair. Do you sleep in mud?!” Her hand was halfway to smooth back his hair before she realized it. She followed through and pushed a lock back from his cheek. He didn’t look at her.

“Nah,” he replied and cupped both his hands full of water and swept it over his head. He sunk down into the tub just a bit, knees poking out of the surface now. “An’ don’t go.” His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face.

“Okay,” Kristina replied. “So whatcha wanna do, talk?” She laughed a little and she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched up at that. She enjoyed teasing him because he knew his own idiosyncrasies and wasn’t embarrassed around her… most of the time.

Daryl started fiddling with the soap and cloth nervously and unproductively. He seemed to finally realize he was naked. He looked over at her watching him. It was a good thing his face was flushed from the warm water or she would see him blush.

“Lord, why am I even in here then?” she asked exasperatedly. She snatched the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, anxiety forcing her to do something. “Sit up.”

He did as he was told while she put some shampoo on her hands. She started out gently and then the absolute mess of his hair distracted her from her nerves. She had never washed a grown man’s hair before in her life and had not planned this but now that she was doing it she wondered a bit about why he was letting her. She had her suspicions about his experience with women and understood his shyness. But this felt out of character at the moment, out of character for both of them.

She scrubbed at the tangles and grumbled. “Dunk,” she commanded. He did. She added a bit more shampoo and massaged it in. From the corner of her eye she saw him start to actually use the bath cloth to clean his face, neck, arms. His arms. Her breath hitched a little at the sight of his bare biceps.

She rose up on her knees to get better leverage on this mess and her breast pressed into his shoulder. The water soaked through her t-shirt and bra. She tried to continue with the task at hand but both of them had frozen for a moment, keenly aware of the contact. She didn’t pull away. She decided to appear to ignore it, maybe it would be a signal to him. She took advantage of the accident and pressed a little more against him. He made a sound like quietly clearing his throat. She smiled to herself a little.

When she was satisfied that his hair was as clean as it would be this time she told him to rinse. She sat back on her heels as he sunk under the water and ran his fingers through his hair. He came up sputtering and immediately shook his head like a dog, spraying her and the bathroom with water. She laughed and instinctively shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Not fair,” she played but her hand lingered a bit longer than intended.

Daryl scoffed, that small laugh of his. He leaned back and started working the soap in his hands. Still avoiding eye contact. What on earth is he thinking, she wondered. The longer this stretched out the more she began to feel things, things she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. She had always been bold with men but most weren’t as… as what? delicate? as he was. Timid might be the more accurate word. She couldn’t just grab him and drag him to his bed even if that’s ultimately what he was trying to get her to do. So she stood up and perched on the edge of the tub. She held out her hand. He looked up at her slowly from her hand, up her arm, to her face, questioning.

“Gimme,” she said. “Soap and cloth.” Neither of them broke eye contact as he put them in her hand. Their fingers grazed.

She had never done this before and felt a very awkward. She wasn’t judging him for wanting this, she could probably psychoanalyze why he wanted her to, but she was trying to enjoy it for him. If she was tense he would pick up on it. He was too perceptive not to.

Kristina wet the cloth and her hands in the water next to his legs, extra careful not to touch him. She tried to exhale as quietly as possible. She slid closer to the end of the tub and positioned herself almost behind him. She pressed her fingertips on his shoulders, indicating she wanted him to lean forward. He did but he kind of crumpled and drew his knees up and rested his arms and head on them. She really had never seen all of his scars and tattoos. He kept them hidden. She gently started washing the back of his neck, then she realized she would actually have to scrub. She was honestly embarrassed, more than he was it seemed.

Her mind was racing as she washed down his shoulders and back. All these thoughts and at the forefront was the idea that he knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Dixon could be that manipulative? Nah. she argued with herself. She scrubbed a bit too hard over a recent bruise and he pulled away and hissed air through his teeth.

“Sorry, shit,” she said and laid her bare palm on the bruise. He softened a bit with that but didn’t speak. She slowly finished what she could reach and then pulled back on his shoulder for him to lean back. She rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and decided to be a little bold, test his intentions a bit. His eyes were closed so she started on his neck and down his shoulder, bicep, to the water’s surface. She retraced her path and then moved the cloth slowly down his chest. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t move. She wanted to feel the hair and the scars on him with her bare hand but it was too soon to drop this ridiculous pretense.

She leaned across to reach his other shoulder deliberately pressing her breasts against him. He did move a little then. A kind of shrug, not to move away but to reciprocate. She wiped the cloth down his other arm and then slowly sat back up. She cleared her throat a bit more loudly than she intended. In the silence of the bathroom it almost echoed.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at her. She just couldn’t put her hands under the water. She panicked and dropped the cloth. She stood up, didn’t quite run from the room but almost. She was out so quickly that she left the door open behind her. She leaned against the wall in his bedroom and exhaled, shaking all over. Nope, I did not just do that, she thought. She had. She had fled. Whatever he was doing, on purpose or not, was too much for her. She heard the drain start in from the bathroom. A few more noises and then Daryl was in the doorway, the towel wrapped low on his hips.

“Thas how it is, huh?” he had a great poker face.

“Mmmm,” was the best she could muster in front of his defined muscles. She felt herself shake her head side to side without meaning to. God how she wanted to start babbling and explaining and deflecting but also not do those things and just let this play out how he wanted.

He walked toward her. So big and silent. He could look menacing if he tried but his face was always kind to her. His hair was tousled and in his eyes again. Unph. She almost made that sound out loud. Instead she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. His eyes caught on that movement while he took the few steps to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, he was so close to her. He smelled wonderful, not entirely clean as she suspected. She could smell him.

There was no way he was doing this, being the opposite of shy with her. He looked down at the wet spots on her shirt. He started to touch her hand but only hovered next to it then let his drop to his side. He started talking, mumbling, toward the floor.

“Dunno, it’s dumb,” he said. “Jus wanted to see if you would, ya know, do somethin.”

Wow he was so uncomfortable even after trying to seem otherwise that she ached for him and the courage he must have dug up from deep inside. Very slowly she thought she understood how he could see something incredibly awkward as an opening. Realization dawning, she smiled up at him. She would not laugh because she didn’t want to risk him ever thinking that she was laughing at him. She had to pause to choose her next words and actions carefully. He wasn’t confident enough to overtly take control but wanted it, wanted her to give in, meet him more than halfway.

“Yes, Daryl,” she almost whispered. She brushed a wet lock of hair back from his forehead and trailed her fingers down his jaw. She liked that he didn’t shave. “Yes, I would do anything but only with your consent. Probably, I’d do some things I didn’t want to,” she tipped her head in the direction of the bathroom, hopefully indicating that had been awkward for her.

“Yeah?” he almost growled, the single syllable rumbling in his chest.

“Sure,” she let her fingers move to his lips and she thought she had finally lost her mind. “Sure, just as long as I know it’s what you want.” He pulled away but not in a way that made her regret her honesty.

“Yer prolly doin that head shrinkin’ thing,” he said dubiously, inspecting her eyes for any reaction, any tale-tale sign that she would lie to him.

“Never!” she said a bit louder than she planned. “I couldn’t anyway,” she winked at him. “You’re a completely open book.” He almost laughed at this, almost. Kristina was relieved that he was great at picking up on her sarcasm.

They stood silently for nearly too long, it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Daryl took a step back. He held the towel at his waist and started to walk toward the living room. She was pretty sure he was going to put clothes on and she would miss this window, this giant window with a neon sign flashing “entrance” above it, and she’d be damned if she would miss that.

“Wait,” she grabbed the wrist of his free hand and he stopped. He didn’t turn toward to her, just froze. She stepped up behind him. Still wishing not to rush things and probably failing, she lightly touched his shoulder, a scar. He winced. She traced her finger down his spine to the top of the towel. She flattened her palm on his hip and pulled their bodies together. He was quite a bit taller than her so her head was exactly level with the space between his shoulder blades. She watched them flex, he was now holding the towel with both hands. She continued to slide her palm around him, to his stomach. He stiffened as she placed her other hand there as well and pressed her entire body into him. She hugged him tightly, waiting, hoping he would breathe and start to relax. She felt the rumble against her cheek as he sighed or moaned or whatever that sound was. He shifted and placed a hand on top of hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there but it seemed neither of them was in a hurry to move. She did though. She gently pulled her hands back, trailed her fingers along his back in the direction she was walking, summoning him. She stood in front of the mattress on the floor and waited for him to turn around. When he did, when she knew he was watching, she started to lift her t-shirt over her head but he nearly pounced to stop her. He grabbed her hand while only her stomach was bared. He tightened the towel around his waist and hesitantly grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding it up and off. He dropped it on the floor. His hands hovered momentarily and then he slid them down her bare arms.

Daryl stepped so close to her that they were nearly touching again. He tipped her chin up to him with his fingers. She looked at him and parted her lips slightly. He leaned down as if to kiss her but stopped with their mouths only millimeters apart. He licked his lips but still seemed unable to make up his mind. Then, suddenly, he was kissing her. Lips pressed hard together against teeth. Inexpertly but lovely. She kissed him back, desperate, but not opening her mouth further, letting him lead. She felt his tongue against her lips and the surprise ran down her spine to her clit. She encouraged him with her own. God how she wanted to press against him, hurry him.

He put a hand on the back of her head and twisted his fingers in her short hair as best he could. He didn’t pull her into him but tugged, almost pulled on her hair. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring his tongue, his mouth. She placed her hands on either side of his face hoping to help him relax his clenched jaw. It almost worked. Until it didn’t. He overthought everything and this touch startled him enough to pull back from their kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She enjoyed this for a few moments, the closeness, breathing each other in.

“That’s okay,” she said in a near whisper. “Com’on, sit down.” She sat on the mattress and leaned her bare back against the cold wall. She shivered. He slumped down next to her and the towel slipped a little, showing one of his thighs more than he might have wanted if he had noticed. She turned to look at him, not stopping herself from smoothing his hair back just a bit. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him but she was pretty sure that was not what he wanted.

She pressed the side of her body up against him completely. She let her fingers slide over the back of his hand and then rest on it.

“Hey…” she whispered. When he looked at her she kissed his cheek, jaw, then his bottom lip. Using her hand to guide him she lifted his and set it gently on her breast. Her bra was still damp and her nipple was hard against his palm. He made the best sounds, this one between a grunt and a groan, and she was positive he had no idea how sexy he was when he did that. She pressed the back of his hand lightly until his fingers flexed. She arched her back. He turned toward her more fully and started to explore, edging his finger tips under the edges of her bra.

Kristina made all of her movements slow and deliberate, contorting her arms behind herself to flick open her bra. She nudged the straps down and he took the hint. His breath was warm on her chest but her nipples ached they were so hard. He sat up, leaned down, and slowly put his lips on one nipple then carefully licked at it. Her moans encouraged him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. He caressed and kissed and licked with singular focus, adjusting based on the noises he drew from her.

Then he knelt and pulled her under him. It was strained and awkward at first. Her legs were curled under her, he held her up with a hand on her back while the other kneaded her breast. She sighed and pushed against his mouth. His hands were rough and strong. The feeling of his scruffy beard on her bare chest sent electricity through her entire body. He was perfect and a quick study. She tested putting her hands on his sides, smoothing them up his back, wrapping her arms around them to pull him closer. As she did this he started to lay her back on the bed. She straightened her legs out under him. She became acutely aware that her jeans were still on and he was mostly naked. He moved his hand from her back and cupped both of her breasts in his hands. His sharp, ragged breaths made her hips rise. She was pinned by him as he straddled her, holding her in place with his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut harder not allowing herself to find out if his towel was still holding on for dear life. That would ruin this moment of focusing only on Daryl’s mouth and hands.

He felt her hips move and her back arch. He split his attention between her breast and finding his way to the waistband of her jeans. One handed he unbuttoned them and ripped open the zipper. She gasped a little and dug her fingers into his back. She wanted him to do everything at once, anything he decided to do next was fine by her. He slowly let her nipple slide from his lips. He began kissing her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, and then, finally her mouth. She opened her eyes to find his were open as he watched and decoded every her every move and expression. She felt his fingertips under the elastic of her panties and stayed as still as possible, kissing him harder, brushing her tongue over his lips.

She was so wet. She probably had been since he first undressed in the bathroom. He moaned into their kiss as his fingers slid between her folds and over her clit. He was learning, exploring, and taking his time. He moved his other hand to the bed beside her head to support his weight and get a better angle. He drug his finger through her wetness and up onto her belly. He started to sit up, ending the slow, delicious kiss and she lifted her head trying to keep their lips together as long as possible. His large, strong hand pushed her back, actually shoved her, onto the mattress. Her eyes went wide.

When he gripped the waist of both her jeans and panties she had to look down. He was pulling them down while he worked his way to the foot of the bed. Miraculously the towel was still on his hips but only barely. She could see how hard he was. He was basically naked and when he slipped her pants off her feet he also dropped his towel on the floor. This is happening, she thought. Holy shit. Before any more thoughts could form he was spreading her legs, opening them by her ankles. He looked at every part of her with such intensity that she wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her calves. Then he started his way up placing kissed behind her knee, on her thigh, on the inside of her thigh. He smoothed a hand up over her hip bone and rested it firmly on her belly as he kissed the sensitive skin in the crease of her hip. It was clear he wasn’t going straight to her pussy. Her eyes were fixed on him and as soon as he was within reach she put her hands in his hair.

Daryl’s eyes shot up at her, his mouth still on her hip. For just a second he seemed to being making a decision. Then he lifted his head and grabbed her wrists, one in each of his hands. He slammed them down on the bed firmly. Message received. She pressed them down to indicate she understood. He almost smiled as he dipped his head to place more kisses on her belly and just below her breasts. Her hips moved and tilted and his hands stopped them as well, fingers digging in hard against her hip bones. She moaned. So this is it, she thought, this is what he was afraid of?

He roughly forced her legs wider apart, careful not to put his thigh where they both wanted it. He leaned over her, his knees holding her thighs open, the cool air on her pussy making her tremble. Okay not just the air. His hands were on either side of her head now. How badly she wanted to put her hands on his arms, feel his muscles, touch every part of him. He looked down at her, almost drowsily, and the groaning purring rumble started in his chest again. He kissed her fiercely, briefly.

“This good?” he asked because he had to. Not because she needed him to but he needed assurance, guidance.

“Mmmhmmm,” she mewled and her body reflexively arched and tried to roll her hips against him.

“No,” he said tonelessly. She stopped.

“This ain’t the time to say this,” he started. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, gathering courage. “But I ain’t never, I mean, well, shit.” He blushed. She started to lift her hands to comfort him, sooth him, and let them fall back to her sides. So she just tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“S’okay,” she whispered. She felt like it would be disobeying too soon if she were to touch him so she had to find the words. She licked her lips and looked directly in his eyes. “Take your time, tell me what you want, show me, we do it how you need to, kay?”

Daryl answered by sliding a hand down her body, without breaking eye contact, and slipping a finger through her wetness again. She let out a small breath and he smiled just a bit. She swallowed hard.

“May I?” she nervously asked.

He grunted assent. So she carefully slid a hand over his, lining her fingers up with his. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating. She used her fingers to guide him, first circling her clit then dipping lower. She gently pressed his finger into her and sighed. She slid her hand to his wrist and pushed. It had the desired effect and his finger moved deeper into her. The sounds he made were always guttural, sincere, almost feral. Maybe he had never even had his fingers in a woman. This thought made her cunt ache and she clinched around him.

“Another,” she begged.

He obliged, slipping a second finger inside her. Her hips twitched toward him. His entire body started to move as he began to fuck her with his fingers. They seemed to become aware, for the first time, of his dick pressed between them. She struggled not to push her hips down on his fingers. She wanted him to fill her and she didn’t know if he could read the signs. She spread her legs wider and moaned, almost begging wordlessly. He obliged and slid a second finger in. Certain that it was not possible for him to being enjoying this as much as she was, Kristina flushed when she opened her eyes to see him watching her. That intense focus aimed at her. Like tracking an animal, he was reading every sign available to him. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes moved over her arms by her sides, her chest rising and falling, her hips rolling, the place where their skin touched at the hip.

He ground his palm into her clit and pulled his fingers almost completely out. Then, very nearly roughly, he pushed three fingers into her. He bit his lower lip. He was using only a fraction of his strength but watching his arm working to make her feel this good made her want to grab onto it, claw and scratch at him. He really was paying close attention and curled his fingers slightly inside her. Her cunt clenched tight on him and she balled the sheets of the bed in her fists. She didn’t recognize the sounds that came out of her mouth but some of them resembled his name. Then his thumb pressed on her clit. He didn’t move it, only increased the pressure.

“Oh god Daryl,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.” She couldn’t fill her lungs with air.

He put his mouth close enough to her ear that she almost felt his lips move. “No.”

She couldn’t contain a deep groan but it wasn’t protesting, it was resignation and she tried with all of her focus to relax her grip on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the mattress dip with his weight as he pressed up to be right above her, on top of her. His dick nudged at her belly and he hissed sharply. He had moved his weight to his knees to free his other hand. With it her gripped her jaw, under her chin and lifted it up. She was learning him as quickly as he was learning her. She opened her eyes. She was supposed to be looking at him, not escaping the sensations. His thumb was harder on her clit, he had more leverage with this angle. He leaned in and kissed her. This time forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He was hurried and desperate and hungry. She gave in and made room for him.

She wasn’t completely sure she had ever allowed anyone to control her like this. She was excited, thrilled, by it. The release of control, no longer making decisions, but mostly allowing him to take pleasure from her… that was flattering for lack of a better word. It made her feel sexy and uninhibited. In the past few years there hadn’t been time for those feelings. Every moment of life was filled with decisions and nothing remotely sexy. She wanted to relax and enjoy this but she was so close and it had been a while since anyone had given her an orgasm other than herself. And this was giving, if he ever allowed it this would be a helluva gift.

At almost the same moment that he pulled his mouth from hers he removed his fingers. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. He actually smiled. Still kneeling and holding her face he placed his fingers on her mouth. He inhaled deeply in an almost crude way, smelling her. He started to slowly part her lips, encouraging her to do what he wanted. She did. With her inhibitions nearly forgotten she started sucking his fingers, doing whatever this enigmatic man asked. Whatever pleased him. If she took the time to really think about it she might panic, think this was too different from some core part of her. She wasn’t going to do that. Instead she sucked his fingers deep into her throat, wanting only to pull those sounds from him. Or to finally make him grind into her, give her the friction she needed.

He took his fingers away and briefly kissed her. Then he mumbled something into her mouth.

“Huh?” she was barely able to focus. He released her chin and propped himself up, one hand on either side of her head again, and leaned in close.

“Ya want it?” he growled. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a question but she moaned and nodded emphatically.

Daryl straightened, placed a hard, heavy hand on her belly, and stared at her pussy for a moment. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began to slowly stroke. She couldn’t look away but watching made her ache. She realized his hand was on her stomach to keep her still so he could watch. He pressed harder when she started squirm and push her hips toward him.

“Uhn-uh,” he said without looking at her.

He was actually expertly rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. His sighs were deeper now. He slid his hand from her belly to her hip, nearly to her ass, and guided her to tilt and lift her hips how he wanted her. She felt exposed. Now embarrassment washed over her. Her legs were spread wide, her hips raised, and all for him, only him. So he could look at her. She could follow through and trust this or she could stop. She didn’t want to stop. She was amazed at how exciting this humiliation was, wanted to let her mind examine how much he intended to humiliate her. She was relieved when he guided her ass to rest on his thighs, her calves were trembling from the position.

Once she had relaxed and trusted him with her weight his hand went back to her belly. He stroked her clit with his thumb while also holding her down. She let out a small huff when she realized what he was doing. That made him glance up at her face. His head still tilted down but his eyes studying her behind his loose, messy hair. She wanted to pout, put on a show for him, antagonize him, but thought maybe that would come later, if they ever did this again. Instead she mouthed please and he lowered his gaze again.

His dick nudged at her pussy, sliding in just a bit but it was enough that she completely understood why he was holding her still. He’s really never done this?! her mind yelled. He pulled back almost punishing her for trying to rush. Then he started to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slide into her. He released his grip on his dick and pushed into her until their hips met. He found her hips with his hands and pulled her closer. She didn’t know if he could go any deeper but she wanted it. Wanted all of him in her. She didn’t want this delicious slowness to end but she desperately needed him to move. Her hands pulled at the sheets using anything she could to stay still like he wanted. His eyes flicked up when he saw the movement but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were shut tightly trying to center herself.

“Kristina,” he said. A flat toneless word the way he said it but it had more meaning behind it than she had ever heard. She moaned and looked at him. He wanted needed? her to watch, to be present. He withdrew and using her hips as leverage pushed back in. He intended for her to feel every inch of his dick but was taking it slow for himself. Out nearly completely, back in tapping lightly against her cervix. This sudden, unexpected resistance was the first thing to elicit an involuntary reaction: “shit” he hissed, drawing out the word. She had always enjoyed it when her cervix was involved in sex, if it wasn’t hard pressure it was pleasant but this, this was mind altering. His exploration, his excitement combined with her inability to move and control the fucking made every sensation heightened.

Daryl was definitely exploring. He repeated the action. Out, in, pressure on her cervix. His fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips and she didn’t care. He increased his speed, shortening his strokes, lifting both of them just a little each time. His eyes had barely left the place where he disappeared inside her cunt but now he looked up to watch her breasts sway with his efforts. He leaned forward, unintentionally pushing in farther than he had yet, and ran his hands up her sides. She was liquid, pliant, and let him move her like a doll. He scooped her up with his arms under hers, hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. She was no longer in control of any part of her body and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had enough presence of mind to think he is so strong before letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. She was panting with the speed of his thrusts.

He had lifted her off the bed and into his lap and she felt small and dizzy and wonderful. There was no space between them, no room for him to pull out with each thrust. Her clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his lower belly. She couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips, clenching and unclenching around him. He kissed her neck, sometimes scraping his teeth over her skin, not quite biting. His lips brushed against her ear. One hand moved up her neck and into her hair, then back to her shoulder, lower to her ass. He was exploring, touching every part of her. She felt like he was touching her everywhere at once, inside and out.

When his hand snaked between them and his rough fingers found her nipple she started to beg and plead and warn “I’m going to come, please Daryl, oh god please.”

He breathed against her as his fingers dug into her shoulder, finding more purchase and bringing them closer together when she was sure there had been no more room. His other hand still rolling and pinching her nipple. They were both moving faster now. No difference between them, in perfect rhythm, and she noticed more than felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted. “I want ya to.”

An incoherent stream of ohfuckDarylohfuckfuck poured out of her mouth, head flung back, body arched toward him. She clamped her legs tight against his sides as her orgasm spread from her center. His arms moved to encircle her and press her breasts against his chest. She moaned with this new sensation. Groaned actually. It was going to be too much soon.

And then it was too much. His breath hitched in his chest and she felt him tense nearly every muscle in his body. His groan started deep in his chest. She wanted to feel that vibrate through her so she sat up straighter and ground her hips down onto his dick. He buried his face between her breasts and she tangled her hands in his hair.

“I’m gonna…” he tried to say through clenched teeth. “Ah baby I’m comin’. Fuck. Fu…” He crushed his face against her chest. She felt his hips jerk a few times then become still, felt his dick spasm inside her, and now she felt she could sooth and reassure without permission. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, kissed the top of his head, and ran her hands down his neck and back. Then her hands found his face and turned it up to hers and she kissed him. Hard and rough and deep. She forced his mouth open with her tongue. He kissed her back and as he did her grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. He laid her back on the bed. She untangled her limbs from him. Then he slowly pulled out. She felt his cum trickle out, hot and more than a little satisfying.

He sank down heavily on the bed next to her. Half on his side, he laid an arm across her stomach and curled his fingers over her arm. She snuggled against his chest, still feeling small and safe but now also calm and quiet. Peaceful. With her eyes half-closed she languidly traced a scar on his arm.

“So that’s it huh?” he said quietly. She felt him smile as he kissed the top of her head.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she teased and giggled. She kissed his chest, pressed as much of her body against his as possible. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly it.”

Chapter 2

[destielfanfic]

from the inbox, #14

It's been some time since I answered some asks from our inbox. Here's some quick answer with links to our Tags Page.

I was wondering if y'all have any time loop recs. Just wondering if there's anything out there in that vein

The first fic that comes to mind is Second Verse, Same as the First by oatmeal_queen. This is a classic Groundhog day fic. We also have #meddling!gabriel tag and some in some fics Gabriel traps Dean and Cas in some other reality. It's not exactly a time loop, but they do realize that something is not right.

The Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass by ireallyhatecornnuts 

Destiel, Actually by bloodism

Trope Springs Eternal by violethaze 

Do you know any fics where cas is a baseball player?

We sure do! Check out our athlete!cas tag and A Fine Line by cloudyjenn!

Hi, is there any recomendations for super hero Dean? (Guess who watches the other kripke show

Check our #superheroes tag! And a quick tag search on AO3 brought up this fic:

one little Soldier Boy, left all alone by Castielslostwings [NC-17, 57,000 word count]

Known to the world as the all-American superhero called "Soldier Boy", Dean was raised by Vought International to be exactly that and nothing more. His life is all fame, fortune, and fucking. Objectively awesome, right up until the moment when he's accosted in an elevator by someone claiming to be his brother, a man who insists that Dean's entire life has been built on a lie, and what happens next changes everything. As if unraveling his true identity while on the run from his former employers—and the closest thing he's ever had to family—isn't enough, Dean's brainwashed best friend (who he is definitely not in love with, thanks) is hot on his trails with marching orders to take him out for good. What's a devilishly handsome superhero with a dick the size of his forearm to do?

Hi, I'm fairly new to the Destielfanfic scene and I wanted help on how to find specific kidfics where Dadstiel and dad!Dean's children are Claire and Jack. Can you help me please 🥹

Welcome to destiel and dadstiel! Fics with Dean and Cas raising their kids, together or separately, are tagged with #kid!fic tag on our blog. Feel free to browse all 10 pages of destiel kidfics, and when you are done with them, check out a brand new fic collection on AO3, Dadstiel Minibang 2024.

Hi! I’ve been hunting for a fic where Cas has chaotic Misha energy. I’ve checked hipster!Cas and fuckup!Cas tags but haven’t found one yet. Any suggestions?

Those are good tags to look through, but maybe they don't really capture Misha's chaotic energy. But then gain, what does? Check out #2014!cas tag which has non- depressive AU fics where Castiel's characterization was inspired by the endverse Cas. There's also a #snarky!cas tag.

It's hard to capture Misha's chaotic energy through Castiel's character, and it will always be a YMMV kinda thing. Here's a short rec list of some fics that capture at least some of his character better known traits.

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets (Cas loves poetry)

Castiel Novak: Tomb Raider by emwebb17 (Cas is a daring explorer)

Fearson’s floating cigarette. by orange_crushed (Cas is kind)

Freebies and Oak Trees by violue (unconventional celebrity Cas)

Go Down With This Ship by PorcupineGirl (Cas is self confident)

Lovingly Crafted and Tenderly Packaged by janie_tangerine (Cas is kind and caring)

One White Lie by komodobits (Cas is bad at lying)

Try-Something Tuesday by almaasi (Cas surprises Dean)

The Wish Machine by justkeeponwriting (Cas is selfless)

Destiel fanworks on AO3 - 118,470 (October 12, 2024)

You can find previous From The Inbox posts here.

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos!

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on tomarry

thank you for the ask, anon!

tomarrymort was one of the first ships i ever read, and it remains a firm favourite of mine. certainly, it's my preferred pairing for harry [sorry to all the hinny girlies i'm friends with now], and it's up there among my preferred pairings for voldemort [along with riddledore and snapemort].

[i have a current tomarry wip, as well... just in case you were looking for something to read...]

but why do i like the pairing?

firstly, a couple of facetious - but still extremely important - points:

harry does not stop banging on about how hot tom riddle is. he simps for him shamelessly, which i respect, and he's clearly physically attracted to him, which is important in a relationship. tom is a bit more demure, but he does point out that he and harry look alike, so clearly he's been checking him out.

their mind connection is also hot, as generations of smut writers know.

thinking about how all harry's friends react to the revelation that he's banging the dark lord entertains me endlessly. ron, a stoic, can handle it; hermione, very much not a stoic, cannot. my guilty pleasure is the idea that dumbledore secretly ships it.

the pairing lends itself really well to a vast variety of themes and genres. darkfic, villain-redeeming fluff, time travel, stockholm syndrome, crack, horror, pwp? yes, all yes.

and then the main, and much more serious one:

harry is, canonically, the only person to believe in the possibility of voldemort's redemption.

the complexity of grief, anger, and atonement is something i like to explore in my reading and writing, and voldemort being someone whose obvious damage has led him down very dark paths is my preferred way of seeing him. i love an outrageous villain voldemort as much as the next girl, but i definitely would rather write him as slightly more fragmented and, therefore, slightly more capable of doing something with his life beside killing and being immortal.

harry gives him that space, and the pairing has so much potential for being a genuinely beautiful meditation on the power of forgiveness and love.

i'll try most things once, but i have developed some tomarrymort dislikes:

the forgiveness point is the reason that i don't like the subgenre of tomarrymort in which voldemort has all the power. the prophecy said the dark lord shall mark him as his equal, but that seems to be absent from lots of fics.

the canonical harry does not respect the canonical voldemort as he behaves in the series - and he certainly does not and would not submit to him, even in the face of torture [he refuses to bow to him in the graveyard when he's fourteen, he's not letting him run rings around him as an adult].

similarly, while harry is prepared to be morally flexible in pursuit of the things he wants, i don't think he would ever accept a relationship with voldemort in which voldemort actively refuses to change even a little. this doesn't mean writing voldemort as suddenly becoming a meek little lamb, but it does mean harry fighting him on his worst instincts and, very probably, winning. that isn't to say that i don't like dark stories with the pairing, but i much prefer those fics if harry stays defiant and aggro until the very end in them.

on a similar point, i'm not fond of harry when he's written to be fragile, delicate, or stereotypically feminine [he's a jock who wants to become a cop!].

i'm a member of ham nation, but i'll happily read fics in which harry bottoms, but i would like it if authors could move on from equating that with a hyper-submissive personality, completely subsumed and controlled by voldemort. maybe they do have dom/sub vibes in the bedroom - i love that for them! - but that's not the same as top/bottom and it doesn't mean it spills out into everyday life.

i very rarely read fem!harry stories for a similar reason.

and then, in general, i don't read non-magical aus, and i prefer fics without dumbledore bashing, which can be hard to find.

[laxibbeb]

Don’t worry, it’s truly been a week for us all. And not to flood you with asks, I just happened to have this ready at the same time as your snippet:)

I’m a fan of those Greek mythology retellings (although I haven’t finished Song of Achilles because I know how it ends and I’m scared of getting hurt). And I don’t know if you’ve ever read Gods of Jade and Shadow, but it was interesting.

Ninth House is fun, it has that mystery vibe to it while still being dark urban fantasy. Which is a genre that I don’t typically enjoy?

Also I enjoyed Too Good to be True. It was interesting trying to figure out each character’s motives throughout the book.

Have you read Priory of the Orange Tree? I loved it, but I ran into the same problem as you. I had a massive book hangover and haven’t been able to get into the second one yet 😂

I…am hesitant to tell you one of the things I’m pretentious about. I think it might give me away. I can tell you it has to do with one of my hobbies, though! For the other, I can be a bit of a snob about wine. I love a good Sauvignon Blanc. Truly immaculate. (But YES! Let’s be pretentious bitches together. That’s truly the dream. It’s also what Mor x Nesta could have been but anyway) haha maybe I’ll indulge both of us and write that someday 😊

Ooh the weaver? I see the appeal! It’s hard to pick one for ACOTAR because most of the characters are already hot. Andras, maybe? Dying for the sake of the plot? What a guy. Although I guess he’s not special in that regard, if you think about it.

I’m so sorry I just started talking😂

For non ACOTAR? I’m going to be honest I didn’t think about this either, so I’m doing the same as you. Uh, this is definitely a popular one, but that one fish from finding Nemo. Gill, I think his name is.

I can verify I am not one of the two people in the fandom who can understand that reference. Unsure if that narrows anything down for you (so I’m going to narrow it down even further and tell you I’m American)

I feel like these asks keep getting longer and longer. I don’t know what that says about us.

Anyways!

Do you have any favorite fics? They could be for any ship, honestly. I also enjoy Nessian and sometimes Feysand, and am open to other ones too.

Do you play any instruments? (I don’t think I asked this already?)

santa ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 i hope you flood me with asks, i love them

oH MY GOD i do that too, where i leave a book when i know it'll get bad 🫢 i'm scared to proceed with other books form "The Poppy War" for an example, because i have a vague idea of what will happen and i just. i just can't i've not read "Ninth House", i wanted to but not gonna lie, i'm scared i won't like it.. leigh bardugo hasn't ever done it for me before

i wanted to give something new of hers a try, though! so maybe?

"Too good to be true" is actually going on my tbr now, especially since i promised myself i'd read more thrillers (and haven't but shhh)

i HAVE read priory, (i have like, 80 pages left, but i'm GETTING TO IT so let's say i read it for a moment) it was so good! but yeah, the second one is gong to have to wait

(i would absolutely read an 800 page long, day to day account of tané's life, though)

---

OKAY, a wine snob??? that's so classy and sophisticated of you, santa (might i say - hot) i'll wait for your other pretentious thing, that's ok see! you see the mor x nesta potential for what it really is... divine and so, so sexy if you ever decide to write mor x nesta i'll owe you my firstborn, actually

---

OH MY GOD, THE ANDRAS SHADE (i wish the most important man in the acotar series had a single speaking line, not gonna lie)

okay, here's the thing - i've watched nemo one time and, stupid me i thought that was it, so i deleted all the memories i had of this movie. little did i know people would be referencing it for the rest of time i googled gill the fish from finding nemo and you know what? i GET IT. it's his slutty fin swoop

---

you know what, if you said that you recognized what i was talking about, only then would i have IMMEDIATELY known who you are

i now have 3 pieces of information that could possibly help me in figuring out your identity, and let me tell you, it doesn't narrow it down that much 🤣 so you're in the clear

---

I BRING FORTH MY FAVOURITE FANFICTION:

i cannot have a favourite fics list without mentioning @separatist-apologist, as she's the reason why i'm even in this fandom to begin with, so even though we all know this already -> take your pick and it's my favourite ever

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why by @foundress0fnothing THIS ONE IS SO MUCH FUN, and it has bi lucien; what more could you want

Springtide by @clarafae i've been really enjoying this one and i'm not done with it yet but it belongs here, ok i did not think i could like high lady of spring!elain but turns out i just needed a good fic

also, i've started A Blaze in the Dark by the famous @the-lonelybarricade and i can already tell you it belongs here as well

lately i've been reading a lot of azris, actually!

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows by @jules-writes-stories (if you're reading this because ot the tag, jules please know i haven't forgotten about you, I'LL COME BACK) anyway, i love this one and i've been having so much fun reading it

i'm due a reread of Kerosene by @chunkypossum which is my absolute favourite and changed my life, actually

AND there are so many more but i need to finish replying to you before i turn 80 years old, unfortunately

---

i do not play an instrument :(( i used to really want to play the violin when i was a kid but when i asked my mom if i could attend music school she got war flashbacks and said she wouldn't put me through that (she also said i have no predispositions for doing music, which wow, thanks mom (she was right) 😋) so no instruments for baby laxi but i like to sing in my car when i'm driving 🤣

---

we're writing love letters to one another from across the sea and as the time passes they get progressively longer we just need to embrace it

it got to the point when i'm putting dividers whenever i change the topic to make it easier to read 🤣

as always, santa tell me your answers too, please!! and have a

[dix0nvix3n]

➳જ⁀➴ 𝕯𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ⟡ [𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔘𝔭𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡: 7/25/24]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℑ𝔫𝔣𝔬:

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'd rather not reveal my real name here so please call me Dagger.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm genderfluid and my pronouns are they/he/she.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm 22.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Even though I'm genderfluid anything I write the reader will always use she/her pronouns but potentially I may be able to write for a gender-neutral reader.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm a big time rambler/yapper so please dm me any time you wanna talk! (Please know that I'll often forget to respond or go through periods of time I can't talk though.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm autistic and have an ADHD riddled mess of a brain which is the core factor of why I write so slow along with me being new to writing and not grasping it easily so please be patient with me. Trust that I have several wips at all times that I can never finish.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Another part of being neurodivergent makes it so that I have a harder time interacting with people here. I often don't reblog and sometimes I won't even like a post because I feel like I'm bothering the person who made the post somehow. My brain isn't very nice to me. I'm trying to get past this but it's hard.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I currently only write for Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead and Scud Frohmeyer from Blade 2 but I hope to write for other characters Norman has played some day.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My fics will always come with a warning description of some kind and if l ever miss something you think should be in the warning, please let me know!

𓆩⚝𓆪 I post edits @ daryldixonvixen on tiktok, if you're also an editor please tell me and I'll follow you!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔉𝔲𝔫 𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰:

𓆩⚝𓆪 My favorite TWDverse ship isn’t even from TWD, it’s actually John and June from Fear The Walking Dead and my favorite Non Canon TWD ship is RosiTara. I don’t ship Daryl with anyone probably cause of how attatched I am to him so don't expect to see any ship posts. (Your ship opinions are valid though so don't come bringing ship discourse to my page. I hate Bethyl though and if I see you supporting the ship it's an instant block from me.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I have 10 piercings. Septum, right eyebrow, a daith, a conch, a bridge, four helixes, and a left nostril.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I first watched The Walking Dead at a themed birthday party for it when I was in 7th grade when I was 13, we watched the whole first season and I wanted to continue watching once I got home but I couldn't find any way to watch it so I didn't end up watching again until December of 2022 when I was 20. The only things I could remember from when I first started watching were Glenn and the horse dying lmao. The show forever changed me and has become a major source of comfort for me and became my special interest, I'm just so mad it took me so long to watch more of the show.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I don't understand zodiacs too much but I'm a Cancer Sun, Scorpio Moon, and a Capricorn Rising.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My current hair style was inspired by Scud since I loved his hair so much!

𓆩⚝𓆪 How Daryl would help you on your period

𓆩⚝𓆪 Trimming Daryl's hair blurb

𓆩⚝𓆪 Convincing Daryl to wear reading glasses to help with his squinting

𓆩⚝𓆪 Music Daryl Dixon would listen to but it's accurate spotify playlist

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl running from the cops from a house party blurb/ inspired by Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy Macmanus speaking multiple languages when dirty talking to you

𓆩⚝𓆪 Piercings that Scud would look good with ramble

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl with a reader who has multiple piercings

𓆩⚝𓆪 My Travis chai bot

𓆩⚝𓆪 The Summer of 1992 and What Came Before and After (Will be putting a link to a new masterlist for the series here instead at some point.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 1

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 2

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Sandman edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Blue Monday edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy, Carnival edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Scud, Can't Get You out of My Head edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Multiple Norman characters, Hotel Motel edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 To see any of my various shitposts go into my search under the tag ;daggershitposts📣

𓆩⚝𓆪 And here's a Daryl and me face reveal moodboard. This is probably the only place here on my account where I'll show my face. This really shows why I wrote the reader from The Summer Of 1992 and What Came Before and After as alternative cause I myself am alternative!

[tommykinard6]

I don't mean to pile onto your bad day but I've been seeing a lot of creators on tiktok complain/compare the bucktommy and henren tags/fic count on ao3 because there's almost more bucktommy fics then there are henren fics. The number one claim is always that bucktommy writers are racist because we don't write for henren. But like, that's not correct at all? People can write fanfiction for whatever they want to. If they want to see more henren stuff then they can write it on their own.

We can coexist without fighting each other. I'm just tired of people screaming about how bucktommy is anti this or anti that, when we're just vibing by ourselves and don't want the drama but the drama finds us anyway because Sucky People are loud and get heard the most.

You’re good, anon. It actually gave me something to think about during work.

As a quick disclaimer, before we begin, I’m not a POC. I am not speaking for anyone in the Black community and am not attempting to speak over them. My following thoughts are as a queer woman-ish who is also a writer.

I think it must be noted that Hen and Karen have been overlooked since day one. The fact that Buck coming out made it the “gay firefighter show” when we’ve had a beautiful canonical lesbian couple since the very beginning? Is only proof. Is this proof of racism in the fandom? Maybe. Quite possibly. I would argue that it comes from a misogynistic point as well.

If you look in any fandom, regardless of the color of their skin, any wlw ship is horribly overlooked. I’ve done some tag searching on ao3. Straight and mlm ships battle for dominance while there are canonical and fanonical wlw ships that have a drastic difference in numbers. This isn’t a good thing. But it’s an experience that spans fandoms.

I find it sad that BuckTommy has almost more fics, with only two episodes under their belt, than Henren with 7 seasons. However, this isn’t a reason to hate on BuckTommy. The ship didn’t do anything wrong. Comparison is the thief of joy and it’s also rage bait. I think that some creators simply are using anything they can to hate on BuckTommy. Which that makes it sadder, that they aren’t concerned about Henren other than pushing their own agenda.

This isn’t to say all creators who are speaking about this are doing this, but I guarantee some are.

Now, let me speak as a writer.

As someone with 62 published fics on ao3, I write almost exclusively mlm ships. This isn’t because I hate women. And as a queer woman-ish, don’t even start about homophobia. But for some reason, I find it so much easier to write men than I do to write women. This is true for straight and wlw ships and also just in general. I love Henren, but I don’t have the faintest idea about how to write them.

It’s hard enough to write as it is and I’m already writing on ships that are easy for me. I try to write women and it just hasn’t come out right. I want to challenge myself, branch out, and maybe I’ll write for Henren to do that. But I say all this to point out that for some people like me, writing some ships and demographics of ships are just a little more difficult.

That leads me into something else.

I, as a white person, worry about accidentally writing non-white characters wrong. And this was reinforced not too long ago when we had that whole thing on ao3 with deliberate racism in 9-1-1 fics. If anyone has resources or advice for writing non-white characters, I would love to hear that! The last thing I want to do is cause any harm.

I feel like I’ve spoken a lot about me, but that’s because I can’t really speak for anyone else. I can only speak from my experience.

We already have a ship war between BuckTommy and Buddie. We don’t need to pit more people against each other. I think we can love BuckTommy while agreeing that Henren needs to be seen and appreciated and treated equally.

End note to say: I tried to speak as delicately and as sensitively as I could, but if anything came out wrong, please feel free to point it out (kindly). Again, I speak for no one but my very little section of the world. I’m interested to hear what people of other backgrounds have to add!

[arendaes]

Seelah for the ask game?

Thank you Emi! My favorite paladin ❤️

How I feel about this character

I love her! Besides Daeran and Woljif she's my favorite character in the game. She's a staple in my party and I only go without her if I absolutely have to.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Arueshalae! I've shipped them together since I first started playing the game; if you go back to my first fic, Only Love, you'll find me making little asides to mention them interacting.

Also, on a more crack ship angle...Daeran. I've always kind of liked the mental image of Daeran trying to woo her by like filling her training area with red and white roses, much to her exasperation. I don't think she'd really give him the time of day, though.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Woljif! I already mentioned it when I answered for him but I love their interactions so much. I think she sees a lot of herself in him and just wants what's best for him.

She and Sosiel are also really great. I love their banters and with so much in-fighting in both this game and Kingmaker it's nice to see an inter-faith friendship that isn't all snide comments and backhanded compliments.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think people are too hard on her for her reaction to Ember. I don't know if it was ever as bad here as it was on Reddit, but the things I saw said about her just because she doesn't treat Ember like an "uwu baby", especially when Ember's insulting her faith directly to her face...idk, maybe it's because I'm not the biggest fan of how Ember's written myself, but I feel like when you have context for how and why the gods of Golarion are worshiped it changes the perspective on their relationship a little bit.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

She should've been romanceable! I also would've liked to have seen hers and Arue's relationship develop, not have it regulated to an ending slide.

[voxofthevoid]

(Feel free to ignore this if this is too much or I'm overstepping)

I think I picture a Getou and Yuuji relationship (or at least in the scenario of Gojou keeping Getou in his basement) as Yuuji just smothering him in blatant sincere care and worry. Doing things like trying to get Getou to smile(sincerely), feeding him home cooked meals, bringing back trinkets or flowers he's picked, just something to brighten his day. He just slowly works his way past Getous defenses.

Possibly devolves into arm/leg/back massages to try and make him more comfortable? To get touching rolling plot wise? Or Yuuji offers hugs? Accidnetal Cuddling during a movie? Falling asleep on someone's shoulder?

And any hostility, insults and lashing out at Yuuji(in the beginning?) is just water off a ducks back to him, Yuuji just keeps coming back, or maybe Yuuji would possibly respond to said hostilities with "Sukuna has said worse/called me worse things" which could be a punch to the gut depending on what it was Getou had said.

Maybe they'd bond over knowing curses tasting absolutely awful? maybe Yuuji could end up cannibalizing Mahito after a chat with Getou? Like he took inspiration from him? And just chomped? Or just curses in general after talking with Getou about his technique? Comparing everyday curses to eating Sukuna's poison. If eating Sukuna won't kill him what could it hurt to eat some curses kind of thing? Sorry that is a bit off topic, i have no idea what kind of plot you'd be going for for this fic. I'll stop rambling now sorry

Anyways it is admittedly kinda hard to picture what their interactions would be like, and i am definitely looking forward to seeing how you decide to portray their relationship. You mentioned not quite knowing what to do with a Yuuji/Getou relationship or something, so I hope this might help you get an idea of how you would or would not want to flesh them out!

You're not overstepping, dw, but you are about to find out how picky and particular I am about characterization, especially when it comes to Yuuji 😂

First of all, in JJK, my process for figuring out a specific character or relationship involves just simmering in canon for a while (for other fandoms, I usually mixed canon with extensive fic reading, but with JJK, I don't engage with fanfic much, so it's just canon that's relevant) before taking the plunge and writing something. For instance, serpent tongue and little lamb are how I got a handle on Gojou and Yuuji, respectively, as well as goyuu in general, while isolation neophyte and bloodstains on the collar helped me sort out Nanami and Sukuna, in that order.

So with Getou/Yuuji, the main issue is that they have zero canon interactions; on top of that, while I'm pretty comfortable writing Yuuji at this point, I've only tackled Getou in very small doses, mostly from Gojou's PoV. The sole Getou PoV thing I wrote was also very Gojou/satosugu-focused. Both the relationship and one half of the ship are uncharted waters for me, which means I'll need to either actually write or envision/outline their scenes to get a handle on them. Since that plot bunny is low on my priority list, that likely won't happen unless I'm suddenly zapped by inspiration.

Now, the thing with Getou/Yuuji is that they'd be fairly easy to sort out in a peer AU, like a senpai-kouhai situation, or even a modern AU. Adult Getou in canon complicates matters because he is, at his core, a genocidal bigot. Yuuji's not lacking compassion for his enemies, but he's also fucking violent toward them. And the one thing he can't stand is people who devalue life—which is precisely what Getou does, only applied to non-sorcerers instead of everyone. He's hardly shy about his ideology either, given that he believes himself to be in the right. Two minutes of honest conversation, and the man would land himself in Yuuji's shitlist along the likes of Mahito and Sukuna.

Compassion and kindness wouldn't really be his go-to techniques there. And Yuuji's pretty tolerant of insults directed toward him, in that he doesn't take them to heart most of the time, but he also bites back easily and often—look at how he treats his grandpa in the hospital, how he's visibly exasperated with Gojou, how he banters with Nobara and Todo. With Getou, there wouldn't be any fondness to make him tolerant of any bullshit, and Yuuji's default friendliness wouldn't survive one(1) explication of Getou's ideology.

I don't think he'd write Getou off. God knows the kid didn't write off Sukuna himself, in the end. And unlike Sukuna or even Mahito, Getou appears reasonable and open to dialogue, though the few canon conversations we see along those lines didn't really go anywhere. Still, there are conversations to be had there, but they'd be arguments two exchanges in. Yuuji's staunch faith in the inherent value of life is fundamentally at odds with Getou's equally firmly entrenched ideology about sorcerers and non-sorcerers.

And then there's Gojou, engineering this situation and watching whether it'll work out or backfire. There's also weird dubiously consensual sex complicating matters from almost the get-go.

It's a soupy scenario. I'll tackle it eventually, assuming my interest in JJK lasts long enough.

[infernothechaosgod]

you know it truly amazes me how you can't do practicly anything on tiktok or search the thing you like without getting absolutley shat on

Like I'm feeling a little in the mood for rottmnt angst A lil bit of that kick in the gut, and I can't go 3 minutes without one of those made in 5 minutes max videos that's just background video and text over it Saying shit like "Yall need to stop with the rottmnt angst it's getting annoying" or "the rottmnt angst artist need to chill out" or even better "The rottmnt fandom needs to stop the angst it's just a show for kids"

First off, if angst isn't your thing, you can block it or just scroll pass it OR you know what if youre feeling like a little shit you can hate read it or whatever but keep the comments TO YOURSELF

Second off I checked what the content of most of these people is And it's always goddamn always those 10 second background videos with text over it

nothing more

I dare these people to even try to draw the shape of leo's head, or write out something more than 40 words I accualy dare them. do it.

Also the same goes for shipping over there

Let's say you see a legal completly normal ship you don't like Example let's say leo x usagi or raph x mona

What you wanna do is scroll or block it

NOT make up info to make others stop shipping it, I'm sick and tired of people non stop saying that usagi or mona are adults or that their entire characters are being love intrest in the fandom's eyes Because if you look at any of the fanfic's or fan content of those Yeah it's easy to find content where there love intrest's but it is hard to find content where there ONLY love intrest

People love mona so much for the fact that she's a badass warrior who loves her planet and people they often give her more backstory focused stories that explore how she would feel depending on where the writers story will go or already went, I have never seen anyone maker her just a typical love intrest (witch honestly suprised me)

Usagi? People have more free will with his interpretation's so he has many many diffrent faces backstories, personalities but often people make him focused on something in their stories, examples being, getting back home, protecting others, getting over something, fighting in battle nexus and exploring how it would be Etc. Etc. That mixed with being a love intrest

The only times when these two can be seen as just love intrest and nothing more is in

Edit's/tiktok content where everything is short af (and even then sometimes people give em backstories and their own lore it really amazes me sometimes lmao)

short (usualy) tagged as fluff without plot fics on ao3 (witch you can litellary tag out SO easily)

Little comics/some art pices That HAVE VERY STORT LIMITS

also this might suprise you it really might but DRAWING IS HARD AND TAKES ALOT OF TIME SAME GOES FOR MAKING THE IDEA UP

And when it comes to their ages we all know there not adults, littelary where did anyone mention mona being an aduly ever, and the only times when usagi and leo accualy interact is when there in similiar if not the same ages

(in 2003 usagi and leo are close friends and Both teens, in the early comics there both adults when they first meet, even in 1987 version there both shown to be close if not the same age, the ONLY TIME where leo and usagi have very diffrent ages is in 2012 and honestly i have a little theory on why specificly that version had them be you know that but that's for another post)

Seriously what the fuck is tiktok's problem with any form of fanon content? You want the fandom to die? It aint gonna happen, you either get used to some bad stuff existing there and there and ignoring it (reporting then ignoring it if it's really bad) OR you keep quiet OR you will get banned by alot of creators after crying in their comments, then cry when you can't find something they made anymore

Tiktok man, good for daydreaming to the sounds, looking at edits and for some art trends but litellary can't let anything else exist on there or else you'll explode

(Also I bet if some of the fanon angst made it to the accual show they would deepthroat that shit right up and call it writing of ceuntry)