#before the fandom becomes to hostile to enjoy

[endlessburningdarkness]

That "perfect victim" post you reposted has me all fucked up because it makes me think about Shen Jiu, and how his treated.

His a victim of severe trauma, and it manifests in ways that are "imperfect." It always pissess me off when people say, "if only Shen Jiu had tried. " Tried what? Get over his trauma? It's hard to do when A) there is no therapy and you have no real support system. B) The people around you don't give a shit and are hostile. And C) the before mention people make the trauma worse by making you feel unsafe or invalidating you. Try to get along with his martial siblings? He tried, but every time he did, it backfired and made everything worse for himself. He tried to save Liu Qingge's life twice, only to end up getting accused of murder each time. Try to be kinder? He tried with Ning Yingying, only to be accused of grooming her because of one of his coping mechanisms.

It was never about Shen Jiu not wanting to get better but that he couldn't.

What makes it all the more fucked up is how everyone treats Shen Yuan compared to Shen Jiu. SY acts "normal" because he has no trauma, so his liked. The peak lords would rather deal with someone "normal" than a victim and their trauma. Even Yue Qingyuan seems it easier to deal with a Shen Qingqiu who doesn't know him than one that does and actually dealing with the trauma.

And ain't that fucked up.

it is incredibly fucked up.

I love Shen Jiu (and Harry) because they are rare examples of imperfect victims. Because most victims, shockingly, are not perfect. Trauma rarely makes you a better person. In fact, more likely, it will make you angry, difficult, bitter and even cruel.

I find this type of character much more relatable and realistic than "perfect victims" who are sweet and kind and forgiving and let things go and are never ugly, hurtful or vicious in their trauma response. I think it really comes down to the idea that trauma isn't some fun thing you can brush off, you can't be normal after significant trauma. It will leave a mark, it will change you, sometimes permanently, sometimes in ways that are embarrassing and frightening and unattractive. Sometimes, you'll do awful, hurtful things to cope.

And I think that's fine. It's fine for Shen Jiu to be traumatized. In a way that isn't palatable to the reader or to society. It makes sense for him to be the way that he is. After the life he's lived, he is still shockingly kind to a number of people and as you've noted this backfires on him spectacularly. He had no parents. No one to teach him healthy ways of doing anything. He was enslaved, treated like an object, a dog, and then he was betrayed by the one person he thought was on his side. Anyone would be fucked up after that. Anyone would give up trying to be better. And that's fine too.

I think it's hard for people to face that trauma, real trauma that is, isn't this pretty, enticing thing which makes someone cooler, but genuinely painful, damaging, and difficult to overcome. That is what makes Shen Jiu's and Harry's attempts to overcome their trauma so damn impressive and compelling. That Shen Jiu fails is not due to some inherent flaw or weakness on his part but because it's so fucking difficult, even with support, to recover from the awful things that happened to him.

Often traumatized characters are expected to react perfectly, and a lot of fanfic of them is all about hashing out the ways they would overcome their trauma in an ideal way and become "normal", happy, well-adjusted people we can enjoy without feeling bad. For example, character's with sexual trauma magically overcome it by getting fucked by the right person.

And this is exactly why Shen Yuan is easier for the other characters and the fandom to love. He doesn't have Shen Jiu's baggage, he isn't damaged, he doesn't have trust issues or paranoia or jealously or hatred. He doesn't have the trauma. It's easy to be good when you're not hurt and no one has betrayed you. It's easy to be nice when you've never had to beg for every meal. Shen Yuan has everything on easy mode, and that's the appeal of him in many ways. The quicker, easier, smoother route to happiness.

I for one however, prefer the harder road. I am here for when characters don't respond to awful things happening to them in polite, unchallenging, comfortable ways so the audience can enjoy it without flinching.

Because the message I am interested in is that it's okay. It's okay to have trauma, terrible and unwholesome trauma even. it's okay to be broken in ugly, painful ways. It's okay to never become "normal" like other people. It's okay to never do the things that trigger you. It's okay to be traumatized and to act like it! And that's why I love these types of characters.

If you're interested in an exploration of Shen Jiu's sexual trauma, I'd like to recommend my fic, not to me, not if it's you. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

[swashbucklery]

Me: oh no I think I like Critical Role now, I’m all caught up and I have a lot of fan theories! I should find some people who also like Critical Role to talk to!

Also Me: I AM GOING TO FIGHT MATTHEW MERCER IN THE TIM HORTONS PARKING LOT FOR BEING WRONG ABOUT DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS

[death---dealer]

Bitter Sweet. ( Five x Reader Oneshot. )

i have no explanation other than my babies are still alive and that season 4 never happened SEASON 4 NEVER HAPPENED---- Give me snarky, asshole, pragmatic five back before i die. Reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated, thank u.

Title: Bitter Sweet. Fandom: The Umbrella Academy. Pairing: Heavily Implied ! Five x Reader. Rating: T. ( Language, lol. ) Words: 1.2K+ Summary: ( Taking place in an AU after season 4, let me live in my fantasy that's what fanfics are FOR ). You knew how specific Five was about his coffee. You knew he would speak his mind regarding and it was too much fun to let go of.

════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ 

Four cubes. 

No, no… Five felt his mouth part in astonishment, crystal clear green eyes peering in languid judgment as your plucked another sugar cube from a pristine porcelain bowl and plopped it right into the white coffee cup that was placed in front of you. It sploshed happily, absorbing the coffee and sweetening the deal for you to enjoy, but that was never the point in the grand scheme. You were ardently aware of how irritating it was, one cube after another. The quantity itself was deliberate and you knew… How you were able to feel his stare hell-bending holes into your face. He was unable to see the liquid despite trying with a narrow gaze but he was willing to bargain much of what he owned that it was pale in color, not even teetering towards tan but more towards plain white.

 A grimace was noticed by Klaus who bargained a chuckle as he looked towards you, seated beside him with raised eyebrows of acute amusement, “You��re desecrating whatever coffee you had, I think Five is going to lunge across the table and take you by the neck---” “Five can shove it.” The innocence that rode against your face was evident as the Hargreeves man  across from you scoffed under his breath at the juxtaposed expression coupled with the aggressive nature of your words. “It’s my cup, not his. We can’t all drink it b---”

“Black like my soul, right?” Five rolled his eyes, shoulders drawing themselves in some minor defense and you were able to see the tightness of which he held himself from the tailored nature of his suit. Five was lanky and skinny, but that didn't seek to say that he was without defined muscles against his sweeping collarbones and it was evident in certain motions that left you reeling back from the hardened words that he responded with.

“Get some original insults, (Name). You’re becoming way too predictable. Boring even---” His voice was incredulous, sticking towards monotonous but still held irate interest in speaking to you, only detectable around the edges and it sang against your ears. 

Flirtatious only to you, aggressive and leaned with hatred to others. A game of cat and mouse, though at times, you were unsure of which one you were playing. “I was going to say bitter just like your personality, but you know me. Predictable.” Klaus held a defensive hand up, grasping at his own cup and pretending he was beckoned elsewhere to avoid the confrontation that was inevitable coming in the way that Five cleared his throat, a hand raising and tightening the bundle of fabric where his tie rested against his throat. 

He straightened it, you noticed with acute mirth, but there was no need to. It was already perfectly placed, part of the morning ritual you imagined he held close to his chest after spending so long cultivating it. Five was… A creature of habit, to many extents. Needless to say, it was one of those simple actions that you enjoyed seeing none-the-less, fingers twitching in a finite need to deshevel the pin-black tie to further push the boundary of where you and Five so often tightroped. No solace was given to either party as his knuckles rubbed against the underside of his sharpened jaw. There was hostility tangling in with notes of attractive coyness as he snapped at you, “You’re a goddamn monster, you know that? Fuck---” “I’m not the one getting angry over how someone else makes their coffee.” You bit back without reserve and another sickly smile placed towards the brunette as you finally picked up your spoon and allowed it to sink into the cup. It scraped -- Horrid, Five felt a shiver run down his spine at the vibrations he could feel against the oak table from your simple movement. Like nails against a chalkboard. 

“Can you even call that coffee?” Five spliced and looked down at his own mug, half-emptied and his saliva still coating and drying where he had last taken a drink against the curve. “Did ya even put any in there? Any beans? Any espresso?” “There’s some in here.” There was a justification with a faux pout which Five remarked as being feverishly unfair. You were good at playing expressions, he was good at playing words. “I think….” You mused and lifted your cup up to your mouth and kissed the rim. Five swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing which was feasted upon by your eyes before you took a long sip. Control rested in your hands as you refused to let him look away from you. 

Five sneered, your eyes taking in the delectations of seeing his sharpened canines. “You’re going to lose all your teeth from all the shit you put in that. Creamer and then what? Five sugar cubes? Are you a horse? Want me to feed you them straight from my hand?” There was a rustling sound as Five leaned inwards, his suit jacket pulling up with the motion that was placed as he so graciously plucked a sugar cube from the bowl that had been nearly emptied by you and offered it in the palm of his hand. “C’mon, take it. Be a good little horse.” “”Ha-ha,” You laughed sarcastically, smacking his gesture away which sent the cube flying off to be cleaned up later. “I’ll bite your fingers clean off.” “Not if you don’t have any fucking teeth! I kind of hope you do lose them. Hell, take me to the dentist when you get them pulled, I’ll bring them home and make a necklace for you.”

“You DIY things, Five?” There was another laugh from you as you took a sip of your drink, “Never pegged you to be that crafty.” There was emphasis on the word ‘pegged’, Five catching hold of the implication which garnered you that shit-eating grin that was more than infamous at this point. “Just this once.” He smirked, giving you a dimpled smile of feigned innocence to rival the one you splayed for him earlier. Sitting up in his seat, it scooted against the floor below with a loud bellow and you watched with bated astonishment as he leaned against the table to bring his upper half closer to you. Face only inches apart now, you refused to relent eye contact with him and tried to desperately shove down the connotation that you were able to clearly smell the after-shave that he favored. Pinely in scent, you wanted to grasp at his chin and feel the stubble against your fingers but that wasn’t the point here. The point was to be the cat while Five was forced to be the mouse.

“Just for you, a nice necklace and some earrings. Bracelet, maybe? A matching set. You'd look like such a doll."

“I’ll wear the set to your funeral. Clutch them instead of my pearls as I sob, telling everyone what a wonderful ray of sunshine you were to be around before you so tragically died.”

“Is that a date?” 

Five huffed at you as you stood from your seat, his gawk watching the movement with hostility as you craned your body towards him and grasped the base of his tie. Enlightened with curiosity, the disgusting smile of attraction rose along his cheeks, quickly torn to shreds as you pulled the tie downwards, the knot coming undone without reserve. 

“With you six feet under? You bet your damn ass it is.”

[jessybarnes]

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation. 

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy. 

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly. 

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with. 

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically. 

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.” 

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table. 

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer. 

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes. 

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again. 

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them. 

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence. 

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings. 

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves. 

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep. 

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted. 

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door. 

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet. 

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you. 

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit. 

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features. 

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. 

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. 

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you. 

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing. 

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were. 

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship. 

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm. 

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. 

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued. 

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor. 

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly. 

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep. 

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement. 

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

[the-invisible-foe]

what are some common misconceptions about pathologic characters that ur sick of seeing in fandom spaces

anon thank you for blessing me with this wonderful ask this fine day

i'm gonna keep it pretty short for daniil because i don't want this to become a defense post about him and i think i've already said all there is to say but literally can we stop mischaracterizing him to this degree? it's very obvious that daniil does care about the town and the people around him given that he keeps trying to help in any way he can even when he has nothing to personally gain by doing so. and unless you're going for all the 'i'm an asshole' options in his dialogue he's actually polite and even endearing at certain points? especially that considering that during his own route he's pretty much thugging it out on his own, if anything helping the other two playable characters instead of the other way round, but in the haruspex and chageling route he's the one you turn to for help when stuff gets tough. here's a post that includes some of his lines that illustrate this point. also the implication that he's some clueless asshole that doesn't know what he's doing while artemy is The Good Doctor That Saves Everyone TM is a horrible misreading of the story and the framing of the plot. the bachelor's route is specifically a story about a person who finds themselves in such a hostile setting that, despite their best efforts, is unable to find their footing and ultimately fails at everything they try to accomplish. by interpreting this aspect of the game as daniil himself being incompetent you have missed out one of the most major points this game is trying to make.

as for artemy, i partly blame this on the developers themselves and how they handled his p2 characterisation but i dont like how the grittier aspects of his character are ignored in favor of a loving father persona. artemy can be a huge dick in classic, as can all three playable characters and a big part of why i like his and daniils relationship so much is because they're both these cold, reserved, introverted guys but allow themselves to enjoy an easier dynamic between them. i think that aspect of their relationship doesn't really work if you hc artemy as someone who is kind and cheerful from the get go.

in a similar vein i also don't like how perceptions of clara often boil down to silly teenage girl who makes meta jokes when her character is so much more than that. people completely ignore the unflattering aspects of her character, like how self-righteous she really is. i mean she's literally making it up as she goes and yet she feels so confident in herself and her methods that she finds it acceptable to trick the only two doctors into a rivalry (and then sell them out to each other for supplies despite fully believing that they intend to kill each other). also, most of the time she is not as silly and impish as people make her out to be- that's mostly the changeling. in the moments when she is herself, clara is pretty depressed.

i also dont like anna angel slander because, is she a child murderer? yeah. was she also abducted as a child herself and found herself in an extremely difficult position at a very early age? also yeah. iirc correctly shes 18 in the game and the ace of diamonds events happened years prior so basically she was a child herself. not that its wrong to criticize child murder because obviously but the way some people speak about her is insane.

also this is completely hc based and of lesser importance than everything else but i have difficulty getting behind anything remotely kinky when it comes to burakhosky because to me they will always be the kind of couple that read in silence next to each other before falling asleep at the late hour of 10:30 pm.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

heyyy I'm the anon who was kind of freaking out about the yuus in the anime 😭😭😭

you're right, I should probably just focus on my enjoyment and not the fandom- it's smth I've always struggled with. but I just saw ppl who clearly never had heard of twst saying "reverse harem" stuff and that's why i started panicking 😭

but yeah... I guess we'll have to wait and see. thank you for ur opinion and for your advice 🫂

[Referencing this post!]

Hello and welcome back!! Thanks for checking in. I hope that my response helped to ground anyone who might have been having similar thoughts or feelings. I know I can come off as stern or even disappointed in my advice posts, so 💦 if you got something out of it, then that makes me glad.

I think it's safe to say that fandom is a double-edged sword. It offers a community of people with the same interest to talk, interact, and create with--but in fostering that community, we can sometimes become so obsessed with defending it or caring about that community's opinions. It's important to draw the distinction between yourself and the fandom you engage with so you can still enjoy Twst on your own terms, separate of fandom. Otherwise, we may take things too personally and react very emotionally when we perceive others as treating Twst or its community in a way we don't approve of. Again, you should definitely prioritize yourself because ultimately we're not in fandom to argue with people, we're in fandom to have fun.

I've said this before, but I'll say it again because it might be helpful for those moments when panic strikes again. When you see someone making a claim about your fandom or related projects that makes you upset:

Stop yourself before you say or type something you might regret later.

Take a deep breath. Maybe sip some water.

Ask yourself questions like:

"Is what I'm about to say/write based on evidence or is it based on a gut feeling or a strong emotional reaction I'm having?"

"Am I expressing my opinion in a way that may be perceived as unfriendly or hostile?"

"How would I feel if I saw someone else assuming this about something I care about or was considering getting into?"

"Do I know the person misinterpreting my fandom? Whether yes/no, do I, on an individual level, care what they think? Why?"

"Does the person misinterpreting my fandom alter my own enjoyment or understanding of it? If not, what might the source of my anger and upset be?"

"The block and mute buttons exist. Is this an issue using one of those might resolve, or is it something that must be said or interacted with?"

Of course, I don't mean to police how you act and react in this space. These are only suggestions based on what I like to do. These strategies may not work for you, or you may not be interested in them at all. And that's okay! The only takeaway I'll ask of you is that you continue to navigate the Twst fandom in a mindful manner :>

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Tour de Richmond

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Jamie gives you a tour of Richmond as well as gets to know you better. When you tell your cousin of his teammate's generosity, he suddenly becomes a bit hostile towards Jamie.

Meet Cousin McAdoo | Caffeine Crash

A/N: i looked up the bare minimum of the Richmond area. if anything is wrong, please let me know!

"So you've been around here, yeah?" Jamie asks, gesturing to the small shops that neighbors the cafe you were just at.

"A bit. Haven't really gone in any of these shops. But they're cute!"

"We can pop in a few if you'd like?" he suggests, pointing to a bookshop to your left.

"Another time."

Jamie shrugs, "Suit yourself."

He guides you away from the shops and towards, "The Richmond Green. The general gathering spot for people here. Kids like to play football here. There's sometimes cricket tournies here too."

You smile at the gathering of people scattered around the green acres. You see a small group of people doing yoga, three teens kicking a football around, people walking their dogs around. It's a very comforting atmosphere.

Jamie does his best not to be obvious about looking at you. He finds himself smiling to himself because you seem to find joy in the sights before you. He then turns to the view and realizes that he's never really enjoyed watching everything and everyone. He's always ran past them all during trainings and whatnot.

"Sorry, is it okay if we sit down and people watch for a little?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," he follows you to a bench where you both sit down.

You sit your drink and stare, "It's nice to just sit here and watch everything. I find it very calming. I don't get to do it much back home, though, always too busy with work and life."

"I don't think I've ever done this. I felt like I need to be on the go, ya know? Spend my time trying to get better, improvin' and all that."

You turn your attention to him, "You've never given yourself a break? What do you do during the off season? Don't you go on vacation?"

He shrugs, "I'm busy practicin'. I'll visit me mum and Simon sometimes, but they're doing their own travelin' a lot of the time," he nudges you with his shoulder, "What about you? Have you done any travelin'?"

"When my aunt married Isaac's uncle, that was the first time I travelled. They had a destination wedding in France. Wanted to be in the city of love and romance. That's where I met Isaac. We became really close through that trip. He's like my big brother. Always looking out for me." you take another sip of your drink and stand to your feet, "Okay. I'm ready to continue."

Jamie follows as you two continue to walk around the green. He points over in one direction, "Right there is the Richmond Palace. The Tudors lived there and some shit. Over there is the Richmond Theater. They do plays and stuff there."

You snort at Jamie's explanations, "Some tour guide you are! You're not going to give me a brief history on the town or these historic landmarks?" you give him a playful smirk.

He chuckles, "I'm sorry I didn't do me homework before offerin' you a tour. Here," he pulls out his phone, quickly typing something and clearing his throat, "Richmond was founded following King Henry VII's building in the 16th century of Richmond Palace.  The town and palace became particularly associated with Queen Elizabeth I , who spent her last days there," he lowers his phone down, smirking at you, "Better?"

You giggle, "You're funny. Are all of Isaac's teammates like you?"

"Nah. I'm the best outta all of them. I'm the funniest, best lookin'-"

"Most humble," you add with jest.

Jamie's smiling at you. He enjoys your company. He feels at ease around you and he's only spent maybe an hour in your presence. He likes this little back and forth you and he seem to be doing. It's nice. It's fun. Maybe-

A ringing comes from your bag and you swiftly pull your phone out, answering, "Good morning, sleepy head...I woke up early and thought I'd grab a coffee," you roll your eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Isaac, I'm an adult. I can handle myself...I'm not alone. Jamie." you sigh, "Yes, Jamie Tartt. Hold on," you pull the phone away from you and hold it out to Jamie, "He wants confirmation I'm really with you?"

Jamie takes the phone and presses it to his ear, "Yeah, what's good, man?"

"You better keep her safe, bruv. If anything happens to her-"

"Oi! Chill man! We're just walking around the fuckin' park."

"I'm serious, Jamie."

"We'll be fine. She's a grown adult, man. Let her be," he hands the phone back to you.

"If you're going to be like this my entire visit, I'm getting a hotel, Isaac...yes, I'm serious! ...again, I can handle myself. I'll see you soon. Bye!" you immediately end the call and take a long sip from your coffee.

"I get he loves you and all, but Jesus. I can practically see that vein in his head ready to pop out."

You burst out laughing, "I know exactly what you're talking about! Also the way he frowns when he's all serious. Like," you do your best impression of Isaac frowning and Jamie laughs, "That's pretty good."

"Thanks," you reply with a smile, "I'm sorry about Isaac, by the way. Like I said, he's like my big brother and he sometimes takes the role too seriously. But he means well."

"I know. He's a good guy."

Another hour goes by of you and Jamie chatting, him occasionally pointing out some other Richmond landmarks. It was a very pleasant morning spent. He walked you all the way back to Isaac's.

"Thank you, Jamie. This morning was fun."

"I'm glad. Sorry again for crashin' into ya like that."

You shrug, "It's okay. It led to a fun little adventure with you."

Jamie slowly backs away from you, "See ya around."

"See ya!" you wave as he's lightly jogging down the street. You continue to watch him as he fades from view. There's a little fluttering in your chest and you feel a bit giddy.

You open the door to Isaac's and you yelp in surprise as he's standing there, arms over his chest, looking very stern.

"Uh, hi?"

"Did Jamie try anything?"

"What? No! He just gave me a tour of the town!"

"So he didn't try to kiss you or nothin'?"

You roll your eyes, "Nothing happened, Isaac. And if something did, it's none of your business! Besides, I thought you said Jamie is a better person now."

"Doesn't mean he can date you."

"Whatever," you pass him and head to the kitchen to make yourself a snack.

[bucksboobs]

I feel so bad for Buddie fans that are completely normal about it. I can’t imagine just wanting to have nice things and enjoy your fun little ship and people associated with it keep bringing such an insane amount of hostility.

Plenty of people are very normal about shipping Buddie and only Buddie! It’s just unfortunate that the loudest voices are often the most unkind ones. If I was less generous I could point out that these people only have such far reach because they tolerate each other’s homophobia has just “normal fandom toxicity” (<- real thing someone said as if it excuses it) and the more they ignore or isolate Certain Users the kinder the fandom could become but honestly I don’t think everyone is checking before reblogging Buddie posts from the most toxic of users.

Side note but I feel similar about so called Eddieblr which has now seemingly adopted Tommy hatred as a core tenet despite Eddie and Tommy being friends in canon. I would love to talk about the tormented Catholic boy that I relate to on many levels without worrying that it’s going to mean someone talks shit about the gay guy I relate to on many levels!

[eye-of-yelough]

why do you assume people are “afraid” to make their durgetash more toxic? that they should “come over to the dark side and have some fun?” people are having fun, they’re just not into what you’re into and thats fine. i think your durgetash stuff is very interesting, but i dont know why you have the need to post about how other people should feel, or how they should interpret gortash.

i guess because some of the people i’ve talked to have told me they were initially afraid to break the mould, as i was myself until recently, what with how sanitised fandom in general has become lately, and the whole “if you enjoy problematic media without giving a disclaimer that you don’t condone the actions taking place that makes you problematic” mentality. and i’m fine with people enjoying what they enjoy!

i’m not gonna pretend my last few posts about it haven’t been a little hostile and petty, they have been, but that’s just how i’ve been feeling lately. 90% of durgetash/gortash content is just . so not what i’m looking for. which would be fine, live and let live, but man does it make me feel like i’m losing my mind, the amount of people i see just ignoring canon to say gortash “worships the ground durge walks on”, or “just wants to be loved”, or “cared about karlach deep down”, or, worst of all in my opinion, is somehow “redeemable”. Mr “i want those Gondians aware of what they’re doing and deeply unhappy about it”. Mr “tadpoled and harvested the brain of a child in her sleep” to.. what? what the fuck was he doing with that kid?

ooh i know! what about Mr “renews his pact with The Dark Urge swearing to bring them no harm -

- only to subject them to psychological torture with his machines 2 minutes later for daring to refuse to Witness His Ascension”

but yeah, sure, their relationship was totally healthy and respectful….

…anyway. i’m being petty and hostile again arent i.

i genuinely harbour no ill will towards people who enjoy durgetash in the popular shippy way, it’s just that gortash is my favourite character at the moment, and he’s my favourite character because he’s awful. because he terrifies me. because he does 6 absolutely heinous crimes against humanity before breakfast. and the gortash fans who, like me, like to really embrace that and put serious thought into to what that means about him, how his brain works, how that effects his interpersonal relationships, are startlingly few in comparison to the sheer amount of people who seem to just. see him as someone to ship their durge with.

TLDR: every fandom has a fanon-ised version of events that gets passed around and around until it starts getting accepted as canon even though it isn’t. and sometimes those fandoms need a few people screaming no. so that’s that i’ve been doing.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Cherrytober 2024 Day 5

"All Out Of Fight, Astrid?"

Summary: Set during RttE. Heather has a moment to tease Astrid.

Warnings: Sexual Content

Rating: Explicit

Words: 774

Prompts: Foreplay, Knifeplay

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Astrid, Heather

Pairing: Heathstrid (minor Hiccstrid)

Author's Notes: Got caught by the good ol' Covid and needed about a week before I could get back to writing whump and posting fics. Pretty much slept most of the time, honestly. Not entirely back yet, but I'm getting there. :) Watched the entirety of Miraculous Ladybug in the meantime.

Anyway, this was a fun one!

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Heather has Astrid pinned to the forest floor with a knife she pulled from her person. She straddles her, both of their axes somewhere forgotten in the battle nearby.

They aren’t enemies, not really, but they had to pretend they were. Because Heather is undercover to gather information on the Dragon Hunters and they have to be careful. Doesn’t stop one woman from pinning down the other and straddling her, apparently.

Astrid stills, sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead as she looks up to the other, who brandishes a dagger she stole from her.

“All out of fight already, Astrid?” She asks, the blade glinting in tonight’s bright moonlight.

“Only because you’re such a lousy fighter, I got bored,” Astrid shoots back. The hostility in their banter is no pretend, it’s how they like it when things get tense.

Heather leans forward, a hand resting in the grass besides the other’s blond head, her braid becoming undone, and bringing the tip of her knife to Astrid’s lips. She presses it down, just shy of breaking skin.

“You want me to make things a little more exciting for you?”

Their fighting isn’t real and yet Astrid finds her heart pounding. She trusts her not to actually hurt her, but the tension is still there. The “what if” that she can’t quite ignore. Her hands move up Heather’s thighs, she squeezes them lightly.

Heather trails the tip of the knife down her chin, moving slowly across the skin of her throat. She watches Astrid swallow, watches her chest heave, captivating breasts hidden by clothing. Any one of these moves could be the wrong one, the one to end her life. Even so, she trusts her completely.

The cold blade of the knife crosses Astrid’s collarbone and passes the leather connection her pauldrons. It finds her top.

“Do you think Hiccup will mind if I strip his girlfriend?” She asks, causing Astrid to blush. She and Hiccup aren’t together, she wonders if he even likes her like that anymore, but still the thought of returning to him with her clothing in tatters sends chills up her spine.

Heather grabs the top of her clothing and she begins to cut, the blade sharp enough that it makes quick work of the fabric. Astrid gasps. The other smirks down at her and spreads the remaining flaps of her top open. “Freshly sharpened by him, too?”

Astrid swallows again as the blade dips below her bindings, resting on her sternum with the flat of it. “You want me to cut through these as well?”

She should say “no.” She should tell Heather that this is far enough, that someone other than the Dragon Riders could stumble upen them and Stormfly and Windshear are both busy. But she doesn’t and Heather innocently turns the blade and puts pressure on the bindings as she pulls upwards. Either they get cut or they get pulled out of place. Either way, those bindings will not hide her breasts from her. They give in.

Astrid gasps as the cold air wraps around her chest, nipples perked, and Heather grabs a handful.

“They are so nice and full,” she compliments her with a breath, the knife trailing a way down her unattended breast to then press the tip against a nipple.

“Where is this going, Heather?” Astrid asks, panting and trying to keep her sounds to herself even as the other woman gently squeezes her breast before rolling it around, massaging it before pulling on that nipple. How far can they go before they’re caught?

“To somewhere exciting. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Heather asks, the tip of the blade trailing further downwards. Meanwhile, she becomes aware of the skulls on the other woman’s dress and she settles on one with a smile, using it to grind her clothed pussy on.

Astrid can’t possibly feel that and she still makes a strangled noise.

She wants to go there, to that “somewhere exciting,” but it’s in conflict with the rational part of her, the part of her that’s listening to the sounds of battle in the distance and worries. For Hiccup, Toothless, Stormfly, for herself and Heather. They can’t keep going and they should both know this.

“Do you want my knife inside of you?” Heather asks. “The shaft , of course. I wouldn’t want to damage your pussy before I’ve had a taste.”

Astrid feels herself burning at that question. Heather leans forward again, still grinding herself on that skull decoration of Astrid’s skirt as her face hovers inches above hers.

“Do you?”

Astrid lunges forwards, cupping Heather’s cheeks and kissing her full on the lips.

[conundrumoftime]

Is there any space that's safe to enjoy my ships anymore? I feel like this place has become quite hostile recently due to misunderstandings.. I and a couple of my friends are looking to move to other sites but the format of blusky is unfamiliar and intimidating. I'm not used to non blog sites tbh. Most of us like other ships besides the 'problematic' one but ships shouldn't be used to ridicule or attack others. It's making the entire fandom on tumblr look like an unwelcome space for new fans. All because someone took one terrible unhinged person and made it to be about ships. Is there a discord too? I'll come off anon if needed. I'm just so tired to feeling like I have a target on me at all times just for what I like. Some ppl just dont want to SALS on here it seems.

I don't know what's happening/has happened with Tumblr and I'm not on here often enough to speculate, but yeah, the TROP part of this place feels very hostile and weird at the moment. (And I haven't seen much about the stalker specifically here but I know of that stalker/other bad fandom behaviour around the actors & their families and have seen it discussed this week on Twitter, so I will say this: in my view, making behaviour like the stalking weirdness into something about ships and why Those Shippers (whoever the assigned 'Those Shippers' are this week) are Bad trivialises the actual harm done to actual people, and therefore I don't think is ever a good road to go down.)

As for where's better: I don't know, alas. Bluesky is still so new it's hard to see how the culture will shake out, and it's not really doing the same thing as Tumblr anyway. Twitter is toxic, Reddit is weird, DreamWidth is really really quiet. of There are Discords but most of them are either ship-specific or tiny little groups of friends, but I think there is at least one general TROP one that's good that I've seen mentioned/promoted on here before, and at least one Haladriel one I saw last week in the tags here that said it was multishipper-friendly.

But! It's also my view that most people in fandom (here & elsewhere) aren't here to yell and shout and spend all their time fighting ship wars and don't see fandom as something you can Win - it's just that the few who do seem to think like that are always the loudest. It's hard not to let it get to you, but I do not intend to let the people with that attitude ruin my fandom experience. so whatever happens with Bluesky or other platforms, and whatever someone's elf-related grudge on here might be, I'm going to keep talking about the stuff I like and writing about the stuff I like anyway.

[sir-adamus]

god the rwby fandom is becoming so fucking hostile, especially on twitter

like, the downside of it being web-based media means you've got a lot of people who are already terminally online in there, who are always ready to blow up at the slightest provocation over entirely meaningless shit (and i'm gonna be real, massively hypocritical, because the shit that results in harassment so bad that folks get run off the site is never anything actually important when, especially in our fandom, we have massive dirtbags who are in terrifyingly influential positions who get almost zero pushback. like where's the energy for those creeps? why dogpile on someone who may have phrased something poorly, or someone who was genuinely ignorant as to what the problem was? makes it kinda seem like you don't actually care and just want an excuse to justify bullying someone - oh hey, purity culture 101 rears its ugly head again)

and then it's twitter, which was already a cesspit full of people too highly strung to have a rational response to anything on any given side of a debate, even before it was bought by the world's most divorced moron. with the rwby fandom getting increasingly more insular and divided thanks to commentary dipshits being inflammatory asshats and non-fans crapping on the show because they know a guy who was told by a guy who watched a youtube video that says it's a bad show has just exacerbated the whole problem

and even the folks who aren't mass-harassing people can still get excessively vitriolic over non-issues; they just rationalise it being for 'the right reasons' so they don't have to address how aggro they're getting over nothing remotely important

like, enjoy the show, enjoy fan content, block assholes looking to start arguments and if someone genuinely doesn't know there's a problem, for fuck's sake don't make another problem

[suhjihanma]

☩ 𝕻𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖗 𝕹𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖗 ☩

☩ Kink: Blood play ☩ Word Count: 1,149 words ☩ Pairing: Sukuna / Female!Reader ☩ Content Warning: Monster formation Sukuna, mentions of blood, slight mentions of possible death and dying, mind break, bodily fluids, human degradation, bruising, scaring, torturing. ☩ Author's Note: My first debut within kinktober. This is an ongoing compilation of stories written once a day. As I continue to post stories for kinktober, please note that I will ban minors who interact with my series or other stories apart from this project. Also, kink shaming is not tolerated within my fics. If the kinks that I write are not for you, please do not come with hostility in my inbox. Just simply ignore them. And, for those who are just morbidly curious about dark kinks or just love the smutty, dark content, I appreciate you guys for liking and reblogging. Reblogging helps me out tremendously as a fairly new writer for the anime fandom. Other than that, I hope you all will enjoy the daily content. I will be placing my fics on AO3 soon. I created this first story on Sunday morning.

The faint shrills of your voice were now engulfed with the soaked cloth that was around your lips. You now believe being spared was a foreign concept. How someone could leave you in a position so vulnerable that it made you fall to your knees was baffling. Humorous at best. 

Who wouldn't say that lady luck strives for you to be pleading with tears coming down your face?

A stranger to the dark-lit room that reeked with the odor of bodily fluids, your body sat aimlessly on the floor, with teardrops and mucous secretion mixed in with several droplets of blood now running along with a stream that flows steadily to your arms. You have been taught modesty, yet showing yourself nude among a man who would not give a damn about your condition seemed hopeless. Frankly, you lusted for the attention of wanting to be studied at beyond covered clothing. The eyes of a man who gazes upon a woman like yourself, to “undress” you with his eyes or some of the cliched sorts. A man like Sukuna would definitely be the one who would give you the favor. 

Especially for a woman who is decorating among bruises, welts, alongside scars.

Reality now became intertwined with hallucinations as you desperately reached for whoever’s hand. A hand that will possibly guide you among distorted illusions, or a hand that will hinder your senses towards insanity. Both options are similar causes, yet these causes are the factors for your sudden blood loss. The eyelids that were once filled with life suddenly became too heavy to bear. Exhaustion was beginning to weigh on you as you desperately called out the name that harbored fear yet of whorish passion. The amount of blood loss that you endured now was hindering your mental state. You wondered how you were still presenting yourself to this man above you, a man that only looked at you and smiled cruelly. Sukuna continued to gaze his eyes around your body, a body that was reaching its limits and now succumbs to more than torture. 

“You look like you had enough.” Sukuna jeered, his fingers slowly hovering over the pool of blood that formed over your thighs. Before, his hands caressed the top, savoring the warm skin before all became lost. His fingertips reach for the pool and the shade becomes decorated with his tips. Shades of blood were slowly beginning to turn dark as he brought one of the coated fingers to his lips, savoring the metallic taste that coated his tongue. Tiresome as it was, reacting would gain nothing from your situation. You were helpless in Sukuna’s domain. Escaping would be more than less futile in your stance. All your tired eyes could do was watch, and the body that was slowly succumbing to shock was close to giving up. His laughter and excitement made you rage inside your living hell, yet this living hell was real proof. Then again, his giddiness excites something inside you. Playing with your essence in his fingertips was truly something a man like him can toy with. Humans are descriptive as slaves, peasants, low-lives, everything at the bottom. Sukuna reminding you of your place as you bleed your life essence for him seemed appealing. A lifeless slave that you were, you couldn’t help but to whimper at his mockery.

“Please.” You whined, thighs squirming in the cold blood that sat across your legs. Exhaustion was soon to form over as you lowered your head. Sukuna looked over your falsified bow from the exhaustion and his eyes perked up, now dilated from your heightened erotic stance. 

Please, what?” He questions you. The soft pants that came from your cloth steadily continue as he looks at you with piqued interest. As he continues to look over your greatly bruised body, he smiles to himself before licking one of the open wounds that became exposed on your shoulder blade. Your face begins to tighten as Sukuna continues to entrance his tongue on the opened entrance. Pain engulfed your body as you helplessly whined out in agony before succumbing again to exhaustion. A laughter rolled out from Sukuna as he continued to shoot every weakened nerve in your body, desperately wanting you to fall further into his hellish embrace. Beyond overcoming mental break, your body could only take so much as you fell into a deep slumber, one where a voice that lingered nothing but sultriness ringer through your ears. 

“Develop a false intimacy with you? Fuck you in this pitiful pool of blood of yours? Surely that will bond us together, but it seems like you are already there.”

[darcytaylor]

It is tiring, is it not, trying to be a voice of reason in a fandom hell-bent on indulging in anything but? I admire your conviction and constancy, you're a stronger soldier than I.

Day after day I log in, finding very little in the fandom that interests me. I deleted my original blog because I was getting hate in my inbox on one hand and getting blocked by certain accounts then getting shit-talked by them on the other and people telling me about it. I don't need something like that in my life, especially not about something as inconsequential as a bloody TV show. Now I just mostly observe and occasionally slide into the ask box of people like you.

I think it's important to realize that at its core, this isn't about the show or Nic or Luke at all, it's about people meeting emotional needs by latching onto a piece of comfort media. A lot of the more extreme accounts in the fandom seem to be run by people with substantial trauma who are just trying to cope with the realities of life by rejecting them. It's unfortunate that they're taking it out on real people who just happen to be actors, but my hope is that the outlandishness of the claims makes it very easy for Nic and Luke to dismiss them outright and protect their peace.

I've been protecting my peace as well by not engaging. It just... It doesn't matter that much, none of this does. It's just entertainment. One day, people will delete their blogs, Tumblr will cease to exist, and so will the Universe, eventually. Not to get all existential on you lol, but everything that's ever been created and will ever be created will fade into irreversible nothingness. Do we really want to spend the limited time we have on Earth having bad experiences, especially unnecessary ones? The answer for me is no. But if other people are choosing this distress, it's not for me to tell them not to. It is their job to protect their own peace, if they so wish. And if they don't - well, it's their life to waste.

Appreciate you and hope we get more good career news from Nic and Luke soon! Have a good one.

Well, this is a thoughtful and introspective ask. Thank you for taking the time to share this, and for your kind words. It can definitely feel exhausting sometimes, trying to keep a level head in a space that can be so volatile and toxic. (I wouldn’t call myself the voice of reason - I’m just a human trying to be a positive presence online). But messages like yours remind me why I try - because there are people out there quietly observing, navigating the chaos in their own way, and some who may find some value in what I share.

I completely understand your decision to step back and protect your peace. That’s a smart move, and honestly, a much healthier one in a lot of ways. I’m sorry you had to deal with hate and gossip - it’s so disheartening how a space meant to bring joy can spiral into something so toxic. Like I’ve said before, if you don’t like a take you come across that isn't hurting anybody, there’s no need to respond in a hateful way (I do it all of the time!). People don’t need to belittle others for thinking differently. That doesn’t create an environment where everyone can actually enjoy themselves, learn, or connect. Instead, it just breeds hostility and defensiveness. And when people feel attacked, they’re less likely to engage in meaningful ways and more likely to retaliate. It’s just a vicious cycle of negativity, and no one wins in the end.

You bring up a good point about fandoms being a way for people to meet emotional needs (I mean I guess that's one of the reasons why I'm here). It’s such a bittersweet thing. On one hand, fandoms can be this amazing space for creativity and connection, but it can also turn into an unhealthy escape for some. Like you said, when this need for comfort becomes fixated on, it can lead to harmful projections - where the lines between fantasy and reality blur, and the people involved, like Nicola and Luke, are treated as though they’re part of that escape, instead of being real individuals.

I'm sure that Nicola and Luke are able to dismiss the more extreme stuff. I imagine that as public figures, they’ve probably had the opportunity to get some training or support to help them deal with everything that comes with fame - whether it’s media training, social media strategies, or just leaning on the people around them. They should hopefully have the tools they need to manage.

It’s a bit of a comfort to think that the more outlandish claims might be easier for them to brush off though, but it’s still a shame that they even have to deal with it in the first place. It’s a good reminder for all of us to try to approach spaces like this with more care and awareness.

Your existential perspective makes sense, none of this will matter in the grand scheme of things. What does matter is how we spend our time and the experiences we choose to let into our lives.

Thank you for your kind words and for this reminder about the bigger picture. Take care of yourself, and know that your choice to protect your peace is something to be admired.

Bring on more good news from Nicola, Luke and the rest of the Bridgerton cast! ❤️

[coolstoriesbro]

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 2

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER TWO: New Girl

WORD COUNT: 4k

SUMMARY: After spending the last few weeks getting to know the other residents of the prison, you begrudgingly join Daryl on a hunting trip at Rick’s insistence.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Animal Death (Hunting)

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m completely blown away by the response that Backseat Driver received, and am now planning to turn this into a series entitled For the Ones We Love. Thank you for all the likes, reblogs and comments. They definitely helped in getting this next chapter up so quickly. (Also, couldn’t resist since yesterday was Norman’s birthday!) My plan for this series is to start from the Prison Era, and go all the way through to the Commonwealth Era. I will not feature every event in my series, but the key plot points will be mentioned and it will (more or less) follow the same timeline. Readers, please be forthcoming with what you’d like to see. I have my own favorite tropes that I’m going to follow, of course, but would love to hear yours as well. You never know what will inspire a writer!

“Mornin’,” Rick greeted you when you joined his family in the part of the prison where everyone ate their meals.

The former Sheriff’s Deputy offered you a warm smile as you sat down across from he, Carl, and Judith. While they did have an actual cafeteria available, it was a good distance from their living quarters and a trek through the tombs, so the group had decided to move a few tables just outside their cell block instead.

When Daryl brought you back after his run several weeks ago, Rick had been surprised to hear that he’d found you alone. A woman by herself in the middle of nowhere was always an eerie sight, but even more so these days. That knowledge alone was enough to tell him not to underestimate you. The fact that you had been able to stay alive while on your own also made him think you could become an asset to the group, which he discovered was true after he’d taken you for target practice the other day.

Carl was all smiles around you, which Rick was relieved to see. His son hadn’t had much to smile about, not since Lori died giving birth to Judith just a few days after they arrived at the prison.

“Morning,” You replied, returning Rick and Carl’s smiles with one of your own.

Rick Grimes, the leader of Daryl’s group, had kind eyes that made you feel welcome. He was a good man, and had gone out of his way to reestablish society within the prison. Upon arriving, you trusted your first impression of him enough to relinquish your weapons, temporarily and just as a precaution, he’d assured you. His rules were fair and easy to follow, and you found yourself incredibly lucky to have landed in his group. You could recall the feeling of relief settling into your tired bones; a feeling that you’d thought you’d never experience again, when you and Daryl pulled up outside of the prison that first night. Daryl may have been a lot of things, but at least now you knew he wasn’t a liar.

Over the past few weeks, you had made your rounds, getting to know all the other residents of the prison. You weren’t sure how long the group had been together before you came along, but it had certainly been long enough for them to develop friendships — even romantic relationships. You had warmed to Glenn quickly, much to his girlfriend Maggie’s dismay. There wasn’t a physical attraction on either end, but you could sense hostility coming from Maggie every time you were near. As much as you enjoyed Glenn’s company, you’d decided not to make a habit out of being alone with him. The set-up at the prison had very much saved your life, and you didn’t want to blow it over something nonexistent.

Being the leader of the group, Rick always seemed to be busy with something. Maggie’s father, Hershel was an older gentleman who spent a lot of his time planning a garden out in the prison yard, and you welcomed the things he taught you about harvesting. You noticed more than once that Daryl stood off on his own most of the time, but when he did speak to anyone, it was usually to Rick or an older woman named Carol. The truth was, Daryl hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you since the night he brought you back to the prison. While you weren’t exactly expecting that the two of you would become best friends, you wondered why he seemed to be keeping his distance.

Which left Carl and the baby, Judith. While your chores kept you busy, there was also a fair amount of downtime, and you usually spent it with them. It began gradually, since you felt it was best to keep your distance out of respect for Rick. After all, you were a complete stranger and the man was kind enough to allow you shelter in his makeshift home. You didn’t want to make him uneasy by spending too much time with his children. Carl, however, always seemed to find you, and where Carl was, Judith usually was as well. Regardless, Rick had gotten to know you well enough that he didn’t seem to mind, and had even started to ask you if you minded watching Judith when he was busy.

“What’s for breakfast?” You asked, your eyes going straight to the two beige plastic bowls that were currently sitting in front of Rick and Carl.

“Oatmeal. Actually, you can have mine!” Carl offered graciously, pushing his bowl towards you. “It just cooled off; I can make another one.”

Before you could reply with so much as a “thank you”, the younger boy hopped up and hurried over to a counter that housed the breakfast foods.

“I’ve never seen him so excited about oatmeal before.” Rick grinned, finishing off his own breakfast as he cradled Judith in his arms.

You returned Rick’s grin with one of your own. You had been given enough attention by boys and men in the past to know that Carl was crushing on you. He was a cute kid, and you enjoyed his company, but didn’t want him getting his hopes up. You were more than twice his age and any feelings you had towards him would only ever be platonic.

“Hey Juuuude,” You sang softly, leaning over to give Judith’s smooth head a gentle stroke. You had formed a habit of singing that song to the baby as a lullaby during the days you put her down for her naps. You remembered how your mother used to sing that song every time it came on the car radio, and the memory made you smile.

As you hovered over Judith, Rick was practically beaming. You were kind, and so good with his children. Hell, you were honestly a blessing after the death of his wife had taken place so recently. Rick’s smile grew as Judith waved her arms and kicked her legs excitedly at the sight of you.

“You know, she never gets this excited when I sing to her.” He commented, a comically offended tone taking over his voice.

“That’s because you don’t sing her the right songs!” You teased, sitting back down at the table and taking a bite of oatmeal.

“That right?” Rick chuckled, taking a sip from his cup of coffee just as Daryl exited C-Block and joined them.

“You headed out?” Rick asked, looking up at him.

Daryl nodded. “Can’t live on this prison chow forever. Gonna go to the woods, try to find some meat.”

Daryl took quick notice to the fact that you were spending time with Rick, Carl, and Judith. Again. It didn’t annoy him so much as throw him off. For so long it had just been them: Rick, Carl, Carol, Glenn, Hershel, and Maggie. He knew he’d done the right thing when bringing you back that night, but he still hadn’t gotten used to your presence.

Daryl may not have said much to you over the past few weeks, but he’d gone out of his way to keep an eye on you, whether you realized it or not. The truth was, he had never had to deal with a newcomer apart from Rick, and that had been entirely different. Before Rick, he and Merle had been the last to join the Atlanta group, and after that they’d all become the new addition when ending up at the Greene Farm after Carl’s accident.

“Why don’t you take her with you?” Rick suggested, nodding towards you as he patted Judith on the back.

“Why?” Daryl grunted as he lifted a cup to his mouth.

Rick glanced at you, an apologetic look on his face. “Because we could use another hunter around here, and she’s been doing great at target practice. I have a feeling she’ll do just fine.”

Daryl made a noise, somewhere between a scoff and another grunt, but nodded his head whether or not he agreed with Rick’s suggestion.

Scrunching up your nose, you spooned a few more bites of oatmeal into your mouth in attempt to hide just what you thought of Rick’s feeling. While you didn’t mean any offense to him, hunting had never been a favorite pastime of yours. You’d gone on many trips with your father and brother when you were younger, mostly as a way to spite Evan when he got cocky about his skills with a shotgun, but you’d never enjoyed it.

Then there was the thought of going off alone with Mr. Pleasant.

Oh, joy.

“You OK with that?” Rick asked.

“Sure.” You nodded, pushing yourself up from the table. “Gotta start earning my keep around here.”

“I didn’t mean—“ He started.

“It’s fine, I want to.” You smiled reassuringly at Rick, even though you were lying through your goddamn teeth after witnessing how Daryl seemed less than thrilled by the idea of you tagging along.

“Can I come?” Carl asked when he returned to the table with another bowl of oatmeal.

Opening your mouth, you were prepared to agree if Rick didn’t object, when Daryl shook his head.

“Takin’ the bike, not enough room.”

You could see how bummed Carl was by the way he slouched back into his seat, which you hated to see. Especially now that you’d learned his mother had passed away so recently.

Not wanting to disappoint the kid, you stepped in front of Daryl.

“You mean the bike that broke down?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s fixed now.” Daryl said defensively, coming to a stop in front of you as he pulled on his leather vest.

“More like for now.” You mumbled, smirking as you caught Carl’s amused gaze with your own.

Carl chuckled at your smart ass comment about the bike, but after catching sight of Daryl’s face, suddenly became very interested in Glenn and Maggie as they sat down at the next table.

“That’s right, ya only like backseats, don’tcha, Betty?” Daryl asked you tauntingly.

You frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rick shook his head. “Daryl, ease up.”

With a shrug of his shoulders and another grumble, Daryl crossed the room, busying himself by adding his cup of coffee to the tub of dirty dishes. You narrowed your eyes, watching him as he walked off.

Rick stood up, handing Judith to Carl before stepping over to you.

“Sorry about that.” Rick began, lowering his voice. “He’s just—“

“An asshole?” You finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Rick chuckled. ‘Asshole’ had definitely been on the list of words that he’d categorized Daryl Dixon under after first meeting him a year ago, but that had recently changed. The youngest Dixon had stepped up when he’d gone out of his way to track Sophia back at the farm, and had only continued to prove himself since then. Stepping in when Rick struggled to put Dale down himself; protecting their group as they moved from one location to the next; hunting and providing food for them — the list of his good deeds went on and on. Since then, Daryl had more than earned the title of Rick’s right-hand man. Rick just wished that he would open up and show his softer side to you as well.

“He’s a good guy. I think you know that, given how you met.”

“Well, I’m starting to think that he’s regretting bringing me back here.” You muttered.

“Give it some time.” Rick pleaded, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Ya comin’ or not?” Daryl asked, reappearing with his crossbow and the rest of his gear over his shoulder.

At Daryl’s question, you looked to Rick, who shot you another sympathetic look. Before you could respond, he raised his hand to signal for Daryl to wait. “Hold on.”

Turning away, Rick hurried down the hallway to his cell, returning just a moment later with your revolver and knife in his hands. While you’d felt safer in the prison than you had in a very long time, the sight of your weapons brought a smile to your face, as did the thought of what it meant that Rick was returning them to you.

“I take it I’ve proven myself not to be a total psycho?” You smirked at him.

Rick chuckled, nodding as he handed your weapons over. “Just try not to kill him, would ya?”

“No promises.” You muttered, the smirk never leaving your lips as you slid the knife beneath your belt and the revolver into the waistband of your jeans.

When you joined Daryl outside by the gate a few minutes later, he unceremoniously tossed you his backpack before hopping onto his bike.

“Ya ever ride before?” He called over the rumbling noise of the engine.

You nodded, pulling the backpack onto your shoulders and adjusting to the weight of it.

“By yourself, I mean.”

“No, but my ex had one.”

Daryl grunted. “What kind?”

You hesitated. “A . . . fast one?”

As you watched Daryl’s reaction, you could have sworn that you saw the corners of his lips turn up with the slightest hint of amusement, but he soon made another disgruntled noise, making you assume that you’d imagined it completely.

“Yeah, well, mine’s faster.” He grunted. “Get on.”

Raising your hands at his declaration as he turned his back to you, you made a face as if to say “Ohhh, I’m so impressed — NOT!”,  then rolled your eyes while swinging your leg over the seat and climbing onto the back of the bike. Men were absolutely ridiculous when it came to their motorcycles. It was truly the biggest dick measuring contest there was.

Daryl felt the bike shift slightly from your weight, but kept his feet placed firmly on the ground as he straddled it, making no move to go. With a confused frown, you leaned in towards his ear. “I’m ready.”

“Told ya it’s fast.” He grumbled.

Finally understanding that this was probably as close to a warning as you were going to get from Daryl Dixon, you scooted your body closer to his, lowering your hands to his waist and gripping onto the worn leather of his vest a little harder than necessary. It wasn’t that you were nervous on bikes, just that you could feel another smart ass remark dancing on your tongue and were trying hard not to say it out loud.

Shut up. You promised Rick.

At the feel of the warmth and proximity of your body behind him, Daryl kicked his bike into gear just as Carl hurried over to open the gate. Beaming at Rick’s oldest, you raised your arm and waved goodbye as Daryl pulled the throttle, sending you both hurtling past a cluster of walkers that had gathered at the entrance of the prison.

When you arrived at your destination several miles down the road, you followed Daryl’s lead and slid off the bike before walking a couple of paces behind him into the heavily wooded area.

“Soil’s pretty soft here.” He stated, though his tone wasn’t exactly conversational. Mostly he seemed to be thinking out loud. “Gotta be somethin’ close by.”

You squinted at him in the daylight, your hands on your hips. The Georgia sun was unforgiving, as fucking usual, and you were quickly remembering another reason why you hated hunting.

“So, how’d you learn all this?” You asked; your attempt at small talk.

“Gotta eat.” He replied simply.

“But who taught you?”

Daryl shrugged.

“Your dad?”

“Not really.”

When Daryl refused to elaborate, you got the hint. His father obviously wasn’t on the list of topics that he liked to converse with people about — if there happened to be any at all. The next few hours went by agonizingly slowly as you trekked through the woods together. Though Daryl’s personality left a lot to be desired, you had to admit, the man was patient. You, however, were not.

“Maybe there’s a creek nearby?” You suggested, standing up from where you’d been leaning against a tree and brushing your hands off on the back of your jeans. “We could look around.”

“Ya bring along any fishin’ poles? Any bait?” He grunted, making you feel like an absolute idiot.

“Well, there could be mussels . . . or something close to shore.”

“There ain’t any creeks nearby.” He assured you, hefting the half dozen squirrels he’d shot and strung together over his shoulder.

As you pressed your lips together, you chanted that same mantra in your head, over and over again:

Shutupshutupshutup. You promised, Rick. Remember your promise to Rick.

As much as you wanted to keep said promise, the sun was close to setting and your patience was wearing thin. You were about to say as much when you caught sight of several streaks of gray just a few yards to your left. Daryl, clearly having had enough of you, had gone off in the opposite direction. He’d walked too far for him to hear you speak unless you shouted, and you weren’t going to risk scaring these rabbits off.

Remaining where you were, you raised your revolver in both hands, closing your left eye and lining up the barrel of the gun with a rabbit. Releasing a deep breath to steady yourself, you slid the hammer back and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.

One – two – three.

The bullets fired and soared through the air, hitting two out of your three targets. Daryl whipped around at the sound of gunfire and watched you from behind as you stood with your back straight, your gaze focused. After slipping your gun down into the waistband of your jeans, you did a little happy dance while making your way over to collect your prize.

Picking up a rabbit in each hand, you frowned down at their corpses and muttered under your breath. “Sorry little dudes; gotta eat.”

When you looked up you found Daryl staring at you, and hesitated briefly before deciding that you weren’t going to let the permanent scowl on his face ruin your joy of contributing to their dinner.

“Aww, you’re jealous that I found them first, aren’t you?” You called tauntingly, smirking as you watched him walk towards you, shoulders tense.

Daryl huffed, readjusting the strap of his crossbow. “Beginner’s luck.”

When you returned to the prison about half an hour later the sun had begun to set. Once you secured the gate, you both headed towards a small area where a campfire was set up. Stepping towards the pit, you watched as Daryl got to work on building a fire, your gaze going to your knife as you laid the rabbits down on a nearby table. Then realization suddenly dawned on you. You may have known how to shoot those rabbits, but you had absolutely no fucking idea how to prepare the meat.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he seemed to read your mind.

When you looked up to find Daryl staring back at you, your first thought was that he might actually be cute if he didn’t glower all the time, but that feeling was quickly replaced with annoyance over the fact that he was trying to take you down a peg or two.

“You know, I’m surprised you can shoot anything with that hair hanging in your eyes all the time.”

He scoffed. “Been huntin’ longer than ya been alive, girl.”

“In that case, maybe you’re getting a little too old for it?” You suggested, not even missing a beat.

While you didn’t know Daryl’s exact age, you were assuming that he was in his mid-thirties, which made you over ten years younger, and therefore gave you every right to refer to him as “old” — whether or not you actually thought that he was.

Daryl scoffed once more, but grew quiet, his steadfast gaze easing slightly.

“That wasn’t luck; your shootin’.” He finally spoke a few minutes later. “It wasn’t somethin’ ya picked up from a few days of target practice neither.”

“You’re right.” You admitted, and as you looked at him your grip tightened on the handle of your knife. You may not win this damn staring contest that he’d started, but you were at least going to give him a run for his money.

Daryl hummed and began chewing on the inside of his bottom lip as he appeared to be thinking about something. As much as you were tempted to keep an air of mystery about yourself in the same way that he seemed to like to, you sighed, deciding to just take it as a win that he was at least talking to you now.

“I have . . . “

Had?

No, that hurt too much to think about. Until you knew for sure, you would continue to use present tense when referring to your family.

“ . . . a very protective father. He wouldn’t let me move out on my own until I got a gun permit and went to the shooting range with him for an entire month. He also took me and my brother hunting when I was a kid.”

Daryl seemed to take a moment to consider that.

Again he stared, and again you stared back, wondering if perhaps he might take this opportunity to share something about himself. Instead, he finished building the fire and dusted his hands off on his pants before walking over and setting the squirrels down on the table across from you.

While you were lost in the puzzle that was Daryl Dixon, you’d mindlessly started to work the rabbit over with your knife. With a tilt of his head, he removed his own knife and slid the blade into the stomach of one of his squirrels.

Catching your eye, he nodded in the direction of your rabbit. “Try cuttin’ closer to the bone, like this.”

Your gaze went from Daryl’s face to his hands as he demonstrated by slicing into the squirrel. After a moment spent studying his technique, you used one hand to slide your blade deeper into the animal, and the other to hold it steady. Glancing up at him, you opened your mouth to ask him how you did, when you caught sight of movement behind his shoulder.

Out in the field beyond the fence stood an injured, dark-skinned woman with dreadlocks. At first you assumed it was just another walker in the crowd that seemed to permanently loom outside the gate, but then you looked closer. She was limping, bloodied, and beaten — but what truly stood out was the fact that her eyes were also dark, not the otherworldly green that all walkers possessed. This woman was human, yet surrounded by the dead, and they were completely oblivious to her presence.

“Holy shit.” You breathed, looking to Daryl before raising your arm and pointing out towards the woman. “Who’s that?”

CHAPTER THREE

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Taglist: @azanoni​, @rickysgrimes​, @dillie60​ @darylsmavis​, @starfirette​, @dxrylswalker​, @luckily-gray, @nuhogom​, @ibellpepper, @angel-winchester-dixon-mendes​, @tryingddfffggt, @averyhockstetter​, @geronimasyaferninblog, @jackstergrey 

[cgcgs43046]

Call to all Multifandom Writers 🗣🔥

Welcome to my corner of the woods! Here, we’re reshaping and enhancing the Hellaverse by rewriting key moments, giving beloved characters a fresh look, and adding mythological, biblical, and theological depth to the lore. We’ll also explore personal rewrites of the core themes that drive the story.

This community is now also space for roleplays, sharing fics, AUs, and creative re-imaginations. You can showcase your work, discuss it with readers, share ideas, and recommend fics. And is now also multifandom.

We're seeking writers, artists, and concept designers to join in. While writing is the main focus, all contributions are welcome. I’ve drawn inspiration from creators like LovesArt23, Kaldeya, and others, and I’m blending in my own characters and lore.

Animators and concept artists won’t have too much work since this project focuses on writing, but fresh visuals are always appreciated!

This server is strictly 18+ due to the nature of the original show. If you’re underage, you’ll be banned for safety reasons. Once you're 18, you're welcome to return!

Rules below:

NO MINORS

This server is intended for individuals who are 18 years old or older. If a minor is found using this server, they will be banned. It is illegal for underage individuals to access adult content. Please adhere to this rule for your safety and the safety of the adults involved. If you are underage and are caught using this server, there could be legal consequences for both you and us. Please be honest about your age, and thank you!

Always engage with fellow server members respectfully and kindly. This server is a community built on mutual respect and collaborative spirit. Any form of bullying or disrespectful behavior will lead to an immediate ban.

No slurs or derogatory language will be tolerated under any circumstances.

Engage in communications that uplift and respect all individuals.

Please keep the server focused on media critique and related discussions. If you wish to engage in political discussions or other potentially divisive topics, kindly do so through direct messages (DMs) rather than in public channels.

Explicit NSFW content is allowed. Artistic expressions such as nudity in art, pinups, and sex-related jokes are permitted as well but must provided they are preceded by a clear content warning to respect the sensibilities of all members or with a spoiler tag.

Engage freely, share your interests, and have fun! This is a space for you to enjoy and feel part of a welcoming community.

P.S.:

As more people join this server, everyone needs to maintain a civil and respectful environment. I don't want this space to become a breeding ground for negativity or hostility. Over time, I've learned to engage more thoughtfully with those who hold differing opinions.

To clarify, there are generally four types of individuals in any fandom:

Antis: Actively dislike a show, often vocal about its flaws, and criticize its fanbase.

Critics: Provide balanced reviews, acknowledging both strengths and weaknesses without personal attachment.

Fans: Enjoy the show and appreciate its characters and story while being open to minor criticisms.

Stans: Deeply dedicated to the show, defend it passionately, and often overlook flaws.

Personally, I consider myself more of a critic than a fan. While I may occasionally critique strongly, I don't want to hurt anyone.

If you're interested in participating in the writing process, please read this document carefully to understand my criteria. If you believe this aligns with your skills, send me a direct message so we can discuss it further. Make sure you fully understand the content before reaching out.

The document above is a work in progress. New disclaimers and specific information will be added periodically.

If you’re not interested in actively writing, that’s perfectly fine! Feel free to simply observe and enjoy the writing process. If you’re an artist and feel inspired, you can also draw your own interpretations of my character redesigns based on the descriptions I provide. Feel free to explore ideas, backgrounds, props, or anything else that brings the characters to life. And please don’t worry about perfection. This is your interpretation of my description, and people have different ideas—that’s totally fine! So relax and have fun with it. :)

Looking forward to working w/ you guys :)

Byeeee~ :D

Oh, and here's the link to the actual fic: