#jaaryl fic

[burntwingsandwarpaint]

randomly generated drabbles characters: 8. daryl, aaron, & jesus tropes: 98. Curses & 84. Married to the Job

So this is a loose interpretation of the prompts, more like a general inspo. Also, warnings that this is 1) definitely not a drabble, and 2) definitely not completed. might pop back in with a part two if i’m feeling inspired, but the point of this exercise is to get myself writing again, not to get myself stuck trying to force something, so i’m just gonna post what I have so far. hope you all enjoy nonetheless 😘

In the span of a whisper the blade sank through skin, and the world shattered for all of them.

.-

Paul Rovia was a whirlwind of revelations in Daryl Dixon’s life. Infuriating, frustrating, fucking intoxicating in the span of the first few hours. Daryl’d been hooked in the second their eyes met and Paul had known it. (Hell, Rick had probably known it.) Daryl hadn’t been ready to know it then, though, and so Paul (goddamn Jesus, his salvation and damnation all at once, felt like) had twisted through Daryl in those early days like a thorn in his damn side.

Aaron’d crept up on him slower. Where Jesus had been fire, danger, frustration, Aaron’d always been comfort. From Daryl’s first days at Alexandria Aaron’d melted his way into Daryl’s life, slipping past his walls and filling all the cold empty spaces inside him with endless patience and easy acceptance. Where Jesus had lit him up, Aaron’d soothed him down, a safe space for Daryl to fall into.

If Daryl’d ever thought of himself as someone deserving good things, he’d have thought it was inevitable they’d all find their way to each other. As it was, even if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what they were getting out of it, he was just grateful they did.

It happened slow, in the aftermath of the war. The years after. They took their time with it. Toeing their way toward each other. Skirting in and back over old wounds. And when they finally did, all three of them for the first time together, it’d felt so damn much like inevitable that Daryl halfway hated every second they’d wasted finding it.

He hated them more the instant that blade slid in, and the fire faded from Paul’s eyes.

.-

There were things you learned, spending years living out in the wild. There were things in the wild that learned you. Daryl’d seen glimpses of Her in flutters and lingering shadows, in shapes of trees warped into the semblance of faces, there and gone the next time he went through. He knew the swamps were Her territory, but he’d never bothered Her much and the things that did seemed to go quiet soon after. So they’d spent the years in a comfortable sort of coexistence. Understanding, distant respect.

Until She came to him in the lonely dark of Paul’s grave.

One hundred dead each day, she’d offered, voice a rustle of leaves through winter forests, a groan of branches in the wind. One hundred dead souls each day for a hundred days, in exchange for your lover’s life.

She’d held it out to him, tempting, like a needle for a vein. A sweetness and a promise of salvation that’d kill him slow in the quest for it. 

And that night, curled against Aaron on their too-empty bed, feeling his lover’s already battered soul breaking a bit more on the pressure of choked, brittle sobs, Daryl knew his answer.

Outside the window, the leaves burst into a rush of laughter, and Daryl curled Aaron closer.

And the next morning, he set to work.

.-

Aaron wouldn’t understand, was the thing. Couldn’t. People who hadn’t lived in the wild, who didn’t have it singing through their veins, they didn’t get shit like Old Ones and Bargains and the things that were possible if you were willing to risk worse things than your soul dealing with Them. Daryl slipped out in the morning after Paul’s death and started tracking fresh Walkers. Found a trickle of them, then a herd, and by mid-afternoon he’d reached his kill count. Felt the caress of a twig nicking the back of his hand –– a deal struck, marked in blood –– and made his way home to Hilltop.

Aaron hadn’t said anything, but there’d been a glint of pain in his tired eyes when Daryl’d found him. A hesitation. And then he’d brought Daryl some food and wiped the blood and filth off him, and dragged him back to bed where they’d tried and failed to learn the shape of the world with just the two of them living in it.

.-

On the fifth day, Aaron parted his lips to talk about it. Said “I know you’re hurting, I get it, but––” And Daryl’d shaken his head, a little frantic, and caught Aaron in a too-rough kiss.

He wouldn’t understand, and Daryl couldn’t stand to hear him say the words on the edge of his tongue.

.-

Sixteen days, and Daryl didn’t make it home that night. The sea of dead around them felt endless sometimes, but even they had their limits. Every day he needed to venture further out to find them. Try new paths, weaving deeper into the wild. Every day he had to work harder to find fifty, then eighty, and by the time he’d hit a hundred he’d been scrabbling frantic, tossing himself too deep into danger, close to midnight.

He’d kept working straight through, fighting his way through the night and past dawn. Found his way back to Alexandria halfway through the next day in a daze of bloodied exhaustion.

“We need to talk about this,” Aaron’d told him, eyes stern and voice achingly soft. And Daryl’d nodded, grunted “in the mornin’” and passed out between that and the next breath. In the morning there’d been no words to begin to explain it and Daryl’d left a still-sleeping Aaron with a back soon scrawled on a strip of paper and a kiss cooling his brow.

.-

Twenty days, and She tripped Daryl with the subtle shift of a root as he dodged back from a Walker’s grasp. Twenty-six and She caught at the dead’s flesh with thorny fingers as a horde chased close on his tail. Her whims shifted with the weather, but as far as Daryl could tell he was paying his way by entertaining Her.

He did his best to give her a show.

Thirty-one days and he killed a mass of dead in an explosion. Felt like a hundred-fifty, easy, ‘til a rush of doubt set in and he spent the rest of the day killing another sixty in a panic and praying to whatever blessed damn Old One might be listening that there’d at least been forty in that first blast.

Midnight came and went, and She didn’t appear to tell him he’d failed his task. After that, though, Daryl killed them by ones.

.-

Two months and Daryl was spending more nights away than with Aaron, tracking herds and then hordes for miles. Picking them off slow where he could, counting kills under his breath like a mantra. And when he couldn’t get ‘em slow... hell.

Then he fought.

He collapsed onto Aaron’s couch (their couch, still didn’t feel like theirs) after eight nights gone. Nearly dozed off ‘til he felt a shadow standing over him.

“We need to talk about this.” Aaron’s tone was all stern this time, that soft understanding of the past weeks scorched out of him. Daryl thought about pretending to be asleep. His aching body begged him to.

He slitted his eyes open.

“I know you’re grieving,” Aaron said, and Daryl’s throat choked on a growl, denial tightening it to something painful. Grief was an aftermath. Grief was acceptance. Daryl hadn’t been grieving.

“I know this is what you do, how you process, but––”

“What I do?” rolled out, and it was clipped, aggressive. Exhausted. Daryl’s body was a wreck of bruises and strained muscle and every inch of it wanted to crawl against Aaron for comfort. But there was a chasm in their chests keeping them separated and Daryl hadn’t even noticed himself digging it.

Aaron didn’t flinch.

“Hide. Run.” He answered plainly. “Cut yourself off, like you did after Rick––”

“This ain’t that.” It wasn’t. Rick had been a hunt. This was a quest. This was different. Rick was blind hope, but this? There was a clear end in sight. Forty-two more days –– not two months, even –– and the whisper of the wind would hand Jesus back to them.

Aaron was riling, though. Tensed tight, his infinite patience worn to rags as he stalked in a step and hissed, “So what is it like, then? You looking to die? Looking to go out like he did?”

It hit like a blade sinking through. That notion. ‘Cause Jesus wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. Not unless Daryl fucked up here.

But... hell. To Aaron he was.

The thought stalled Daryl’s righteous rage in its tracks. To Aaron, he was. Daryl hadn’t been grieving all this time, couldn’t be, but Aaron had been. Alone.

Daryl pushed to his feet, ignoring the protests of his wrecked body. For the first time in weeks or longer, he took in the worn lines of Aaron’s face. How much older he looked now. Exhausted. And that’s how the gulf had gotten there. All these weeks Daryl’d spent chasing the lover they’d lost, he’d lost track of the one standing next to him.

“Hey...” His hand lifted to catch Aaron’s cheek, but Aaron wasn’t ready to be calmed. He catted out of the contact, caught Daryl’s shirt. Held him for an aching beat, then shoved back.

“Paul’s gone, Daryl. He was reckless and restless and went out looking for a fight and it got him killed.” The words were blades. They were wrong. But... they weren’t. Jesus’s soul had been born for the wild, same as Daryl’s. Maybe that was why She’d been willing to deal for him in the first place. But Aaron didn’t know that. And he was all balled up exhaustion and anger and still-bleeding wounds as he snapped: “I can’t deal with you doing that too.”

It was an ultimatum. A wall building. In or out, and Daryl could feel the pressure of it hitting him straight through the middle as he dug for some loophole, some door.

“Ain’t what this is,” he managed, and Aaron looked at him, every bit as wrecked as Daryl felt as he asked plainly: “Then what is it?”

But what could he say?

A second dragged past, then another, in frozen quiet, broken finally by Aaron’s tired sigh.

“I can’t do this again, Daryl. Eric, then Paul... we lose people in this world, I get that. But I can’t just wait around watching you chase it. So you either give up whatever the hell this is, whatever revenge mission you think you’re on out there... You either stay here and figure this out with me... grieve with me... or you go.”

A branch rustled the side of the building. Daryl’s lips parted and shut. Forty-two days left, and Aaron would understand.

Daryl went.

.-

Seventy-six days and Daryl was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, wrapping gauze along his stitched arm. He’d been slow, stupid. Clumsy. Running on fumes. Tripped straight into the edge of a rusted car door and split his skin open.

He’d thought about going to Hilltop. Getting stitched up by Enid, safe and far from the still-bleeding wounds left behind here.

But Alexandria’d been closer. And gods knew he didn’t have time for damn detours.

A lanky shadow fell over him.

“Heard you were here.” The voice was soft. Soft enough Daryl almost forgot the last, brutal words he’d heard from it. When he looked up, Aaron’s eyes were carefully cold.

“Got cut,” Daryl said, like that was any kind of an answer. He watched those eyes shift to the wound, caught the flicker of something in them. Pain, frustration, aching want.

Or maybe that was Daryl, projecting.

“Still fighting, then,” Aaron said, and Daryl wondered when they’d become the kind of people who’d communicated in two and three words. Seventy-seven days ago, whispered through him like the slice of a blade, but he wasn’t sure that was right. The estrangement, the coldness, the endless gulf and the wall Aaron’d built to ward it... all that’d come after.

Daryl wondered for the first time, vague and distant, if this wasn’t the true price he was paying. Not a hundred a day to win Jesus back. Just one. Lover for a lover. Gain one back, but lose another along the way.

It had Their kind of sick humor in it.

And Daryl’d never thought of himself as someone deserving good things. Lived a lifetime of bloodied teeth and hope ground out under cruel, careless heels. He’d dealt with it all ‘cause he could. ‘Cause what the hell else could he do but take his losses and keep moving forward? But now, watching that worn, resigned look in Aaron’s eyes, feeling the gulf stretching seemingly endless between them... that didn’t feel like an acceptable loss anymore.

“He ain’t dead.” It fell out on a breath, barely a rasp of sound. But it was enough to break through Aaron’s apathy. He froze, his furrowed brows pinching deeper. Confusion bleeding past the cold. His lips pursed, a shape of a what rising and fading. And Daryl sighed, pressed his eyes shut, and spoke.

.-

Aaron couldn’t understand.

They were back in their house now. (His house... or was it?) Stood at opposite ends of a too-long couch, squared off. Daryl could see the panicked spin behind Aaron’s eyes the second he’d started explaining. Slow swirl of confusion speeding to something else. Concern. Doubt. He said “Daryl,” just that, and the careful pitch of that tone nearly broke him.

Daryl flinched.

“Don’t say it ain’t real.”

A careful pause. The coldness was gone like it’d never been there, but the thing in Aaron’s eyes now was so much worse.

“I... know you want it to be real.”

“Don’t.”

“Daryl, you just told me the wind whispered to you.”

“Ain’t the damn wind.” Aaron couldn’t understand. Daryl couldn’t explain it. How could a person explain the kind of shapes Old Things took, the subtle ways they let you glimpse them? Daryl’d had a sense of them his whole life, seen shadows and signs since he’d stepped into his first forest. Learned lessons on his mama’s lap back before he’d been old enough to have the rules of real and fantasy drilled into him. Daryl knew, deep in his bones, but there was no way of describing it.

Aaron’s eyes were the eyes of a rational man faced with the notion of a loved one’s madness. Worried. Heartbroken. Eyes of someone debating calling the loony bin on him, if there’d been a loony bin left to call.

“Month left,” Daryl tried, grit and a ragged plea laced through the words all at once. “Twenty-four days, that’s it. Then call me crazy.”

“I’m not calling you crazy,” Aaron said, soft. His eyes begged to differ. He took a step, then another, to close the gulf between them. His hand lifted to brush Daryl’s cheek. “I’m... Daryl. That’s two thousand, four hundred Walkers. That’s over two thousand risks you’re taking.”

Daryl’d never bothered doing the math. What the hell’d math ever done for him but try to stick him up, thinking on it. He pressed his eyes shut, leaned into the achingly sweet warmth of Aaron’s hand. Said, clear as he could manage: “S’one shot to get him back.”

Aaron didn’t answer, but when Daryl opened his eyes again he saw a sickly understanding in Aaron’s own. Lips parted, an argument rising and dying as Daryl watched, and then Aaron was leaning in to press his forehead to Daryl’s.

For the first time in seventy-six days, it felt like coming home. They lingered in the contact for a few seconds, savoring. And then, soft, comforting, Aaron kissed him.

“Your life’s worth something too,” Aaron murmured, and Daryl felt some fractured piece of his soul mending. A smile ghosted his lips. He pressed it into Aaron’s bushy jaw.

“Ain’t gonna get myself killed. Can’t finish savin’ his ass then.”

It was half a joke, reflexive brush-off of those heartfelt words, but he felt Aaron’s body unclench at them. Like he’d really been terrified, all this time, all these kills... really were just a suicide mission.

Daryl led Aaron to bed and kissed him soundly ‘til the last one of those notions left his head.

.-

In the dawn light, as Daryl dragged himself out of bed and dug around for his scattered boots, Aaron offered: “I could come with you.”

“Couldn’t,” Daryl answered, not glancing up from the knot in his lace. “S’my deal. My kills. You takin’ some’s just gonna make it harder.” He could feel an argument building, sleep-fogged but passionate, in the way Aaron shifted against the sheets. And Daryl half-wanted to let him. Wanted to be talked into it. Into the company, at least, or the sensible head on Aaron’s shoulders. Into having someone to watch his back when a herd caught his scent, or flash a grin at after a narrow escape.

God, the loneliness had seeped so deep inside him these past months. He just wanted something to lean on.

He set a hand on Aaron’s knee. Dragged it down his shin, soothing. “And you got Gracie to think of.”

That settled it. Daryl felt the fight go out of him, the tired sigh. Winning didn’t mean Aaron liked it. When Daryl looked over, he saw a helpless war fighting through him. Ache of an almost-plea in those eyes. Stay.

It wasn’t anything to do with Jesus. Aaron still couldn’t believe that, even if he was trying. He was too rational. Too solidly set in what the world was supposed to be like, not what it was. He was looking at Daryl, saw someone grieving. Saw someone sick in the head, probably. Was just trying to figure out what Daryl needed to keep him from snapping harder.

Your life’s worth something too, he’d said the night before.

Daryl let his boot drop, turned to lean over Aaron.

“Hey... You trust I ain’t gonna get myself killed, out there?”

There was a heavy pause. Aaron sighed.

“No one plans on getting themselves killed, Daryl.”

And there was truth in that. Painful, bitter, and too familiar on the back of both of their tongues. If planning to live meant any damn thing at all, the world’d be full right now and Daryl’d have no walking corpses to fill his deal with. Hell, Jesus would be here, wrapped up safe in this bed, and Daryl’d have no need to fill it.

His gaze softened. He leaned down, kissed Aaron. Raw and quiet against the brush of his lips, offered: “Trust I love you?”

Eight years, probably, of that being true, and Daryl’d never managed to utter it. Sure as hell never braved those words to Jesus, before he fell. Aaron stared up at him, eyes a watery gleam in the dawn light. He wet his lips, bobbed a nod.

“I trust that.”

“Good. Hold that, ‘til I come back and say it again.”

.-

[drcloyd]

wip guess: heart

“There’s a beeping noise, and he frowns, turning toward the machine - a monitor - and watches the little spikes cross the screen. Monitoring someone’s - his? - heart rate. It seems….normal. Or at least, it’s not flat, which means he’s not dead.” 

- from a wip kicking around my google drive where jesus is in a coma after being stabbed but is kind of kicking it as a not-quite ghost. 

[lucihatesgoats]

It hasn’t been too long since the incident but Jesus is going crazy being stuck in the infirmary trailer. It takes days of begging, but Aaron eventually gives in and helps him go on a short walk. They don’t even make it halfway through the first lap around the yard when they see Henry crouched down next to Hilltop’s makeshift jail. Henry notices the pair walking over and before either can speak he’s pressing a finger to his lips and motioning to the small window. It’s Daryl that they hear talking from inside.

“You know, some dads come up with any excuse just to beat the shit out of their kids. Maybe they’re drunk. Maybe they can’t get drunk. Belts are good. But these assholes ain’t picky. They’ll use whatever’s layin’ around. But a good switch from a birch tree... that’ll work. Your dad sounds a lot like one of those dads. Except the part where he sang to you when you were scared. Those dads... they like it when you’re scared.”

Jesus and Aaron look at each other, eyes wide, as they listen in on the conversation. They knew Daryl was probably abused as a kid, it’s just a fact that everyone knows but never says anything about it, but this is the first time they’ve heard him even hint at it.

[saintdixie]

IDK what happened here, but this is me throwing in my version of what should’ve happened during the mid-season finale. (FTR, the AO3 link is here) Getting stabbed hurts. The sudden, piercing pain, the breath rushing out of you, the warm gush of blood as it slowly soaks your shirt...it all happens in an instant, but it feels like forever. The jumble of panicfearpain makes it hard to try and get a breath, to get your bearings. Jesus blinks, trying to breathe and only managing small gasps. He shivers when the walker behind him leans forward, their breath rasping over his ear. "You...are where...you do not...belong." The blade is yanked out and he falls, landing hard in a graceless heap. He hears a shout and rushing footfalls, hears fighting and the sickening crunch of a blade through skull and a body falling down dead before it quiets. He stares up at the fog, blinking slowly as he tries to breathe through the pain. He manages a small smile when Aaron skids to his knees next to him, his eyes wide and anxious. It bleeds into relief once he realizes Jesus is still alive, tears gathering and falling as a smile breaks out over his face. He looks up, simply saying, "He's alive." Jesus almost laughs when he hears Daryl grunt. He turns his head a bit and sees Daryl staring at him, then out at the fog, frowning deep.

"Ain't outta th' woods yet," he says, fingers tight on his crossbow strap. "Got more incomin'." "Then we need to leave," Michonne says crisply. "Can we be sure there's not more of them?" one of the newcomers asks. "We don't," Daryl says, scowling at the walker. "We even sure they're walkers?" "Sure looks like a walker to me," Eugene mumbles from his space by the wall. Michonne frowns and goes over to the walker, crouching down for a closer look. Her brow furrows as she reaches a hand out, brushing aside some of the hair. "What the..." Daryl goes over and crouches down beside her. He hums softly as he takes out a knife and begins cutting where Michonne was looking. He then takes hold of the hair and starts pulling, wiggling it around until it finally pops free. It was clear they were both expecting more than just the skin of the walker because both their brows shoot up before they look down at the body. Staring back at them was the face of a man, not a walker. "The hell?" Daryl mumbles, looking back at the walker face and twisting it around. "We'll figure it out later," Michonne says and stands. "We need to get out of here, now." Daryl nods and drops the walker skin as he stands. He goes over to Aaron and Jesus, crouching down. He glances at Jesus before turning his attention to Aaron. "He gonna be a'right?" he asks. Aaron nods. "I think so," he replies, "but we need to put pressure on the wound before it gets worse." Daryl nods and gets out a different knife, silently asking permission before slicing off Aaron's sleeves. There's the sound of ripping from elsewhere and Daryl looks up when more fabric is thrust at him. He nods his thanks at the newcomer and takes the fabric, watching as she spins and goes back to the other newcomer, crossing her arms and frowning. He and Aaron get Jesus upright, Aaron murmuring apologies when Jesus sucks in a pained breath. They carefully get him out of the armor before Daryl hands two pads of fabric to Aaron, who promptly puts them on both wounds. Daryl then fashions a long strap from the rest of the fabric, looping it around Jesus and over the pads, cringing when he ties it tight and Jesus lets out a pained cry. "I'm alright," Jesus murmurs when Daryl opens his mouth. He smiles lightly. "The tighter, the better, right?" For some reason, that makes Daryl blush and duck his head. Jesus had a brief, fleeting thought that blushing was a good look on the archer before shoving it aside to focus on the now. They get the armor back on him, then help him stand. It's then that they start hearing the walkers, and soft rasping whispers under that. "Keep...them together." "Don't...let them...escape." Eugene whimpers, trying to curl further into the wall. Michonne falls into a defensive stance, eyes darting around. "We need to leave," she says, hands tight on her sword. Aaron turns to Jesus. "Can you walk?" he asks. "Walk, yes," Jesus replies, grimacing. "Running, I'm not so sure." "I'll help 'im," Daryl says, shaking his head when Aaron opens his mouth. "Help Eugene. I got this." Aaron looks like he wants to argue, but he closes his mouth and nods tightly. He goes over to Eugene, one of the newcomers doing the same, her face brooking no argument that she was going to help him. Daryl turns his attention to Jesus, noting the pinched look on his face. "Y'gonna be a'right?" he asks. "Going to have to be," Jesus replies with a shrug. Daryl hums softly. Soon enough, they're making their way out of the cemetery, Michonne taking the lead while the other newcomer trails behind. It's slow going with the fog so thick and two of them injured, but they somehow manage to make ground with little incident. It's once they hit the tree line that things go sideways. The fog thins out so it's easier to see, but it also means that they've lost their cover, which puts them in clear sight of the walkers. Daryl sees the way Eugene freezes, hears his whimper as his eyes land on the herd. Aaron and the newcomer have to force Eugene to move, practically dragging him through the underbrush. Daryl thinks he hears someone mumbling about not making it and frowns. Suddenly, without warning, a walker barrels towards them, closely followed by more and panic breaks out. Arrows fly through the air, some hitting their target while others miss entirely. Daryl hears Eugene's panicked cries, hears the cursing from the other newcomer and Aaron's soft words, trying to get them moving. He glances at Jesus, who looks back at him with a determined set to his mouth. "Help them," he says, wincing as he squirms in Daryl's arm. "I'll be fine, but help them." "Y'can barely hold yerself up," Daryl says. "So, prop me up somewhere," Jesus retorts. He taps at his sword when Daryl opens his mouth. "I can defend myself if I need to." Daryl makes a frustrated sound, but nods. He props Jesus up against a tree, waiting until the other unsheathes the sword before swinging up his crossbow and turning, letting a bolt fly. It hits true and Daryl loads up another, cursing softly when he fires it and it misses. Jesus watches the others fight off the walkers, and not-walkers, fingers tapping at the hilt of his sword. They all collectively startle when one of them screams as Michonne takes out one of the not-walkers. "Joshua!" Paul blinks. "They have names?" Daryl scoffs at the mumbled question, glancing back briefly. Jesus shrugged a little helplessly and Daryl huffed a sigh and turned back. The one that screamed charged at Michonne, but darted back when Michonne swung her sword in their direction, clipping them in the shoulder rather than their head. The not-walker fell to the ground with a cry, staring at the wound with wide, shocked eyes. They looked up at Michonne, her sword held aloft to deliver a killing blow, but hesitated when their eyes met. "Please don't," they say softly. Michonne frowns, lowering her sword a little. "Why shouldn't I?" she asks. When they simply kept staring at her, Michonne lifts the sword again, intending to kill the not-walker when Aaron steps in front of her, frowning. "Move," she says. "She might know something," Aaron says. "She'd be able to give us answers." "So we should keep her?" Michonne asks, frowning. "Let her know where we live?" Aaron makes a face. "Something tells me they already know," he says. "We kill her now, we won't know how to defend ourselves against another attack, or how many there are." Michonne appeared to debate with herself for several long minutes before finally heaving a sigh and lowering her sword. Aaron smiled and nodded in thanks before moving away. Michonne frowned at the not-walker, eyes narrow. "How many more are out there?" she asks. The not-walker tilted her head. "Not many," she replies. "Then we have to move," Michonne says decisively. She walks up to the not-walker and hauls her up roughly, ignoring the cry of pain. With one hand on her sword and the other wrapped tight around the not-walkers arm, she marches forward, making everyone else scramble to follow. Daryl watches her as he puts his bow on his back, then turns to Jesus with an uncomfortable look. "Don't think we'll keep up the way she's walkin'," he says, scuffing a foot, "so 'm sorry fer what I'm 'bout t' do." Jesus gets as far as, "What do you..." before he's hauled up on Daryl's shoulder. He hisses in pain when Daryl adjusts his hold and starts walking, steps careful, but quick. Jesus catches the surprised look of the others as they're passed, shrugging when Aaron gives him a particularly confused look. "Can't say I'm arguing about the view," he quips, laughing lightly when Daryl spits out a few curses. "I'll drop ya," Daryl growls. "Don't think I won't." Jesus hums, but says nothing. It doesn't take long to get to the horses. None of them question how they managed it without running into more walkers and not-walkers. Instead, they simply climb onto the horses and make haste to Hilltop. ~ "It's going to take some time to heal, even longer if you don't take it easy." Jesus makes a face, but nods. Siddiq smiles lightly at Jesus as he places gauze over the stitches on one side, then the other, carefully taping both down. He then goes over to the medicine cupboard to grab something, returning with a bottle in hand. "If you need them," Siddiq says as he hands over the bottle. Jesus took the bottle, murmuring a soft, "Thank you." Siddiq nods, looking over at Aaron. "Make sure he rests," he says. "The stitches need to come out in a week or so, depending on how he heals. Make sure to keep the areas clean; I'm sure none of us want him to have an infection." "I'll keep him occupied," Aaron says, then flushes when he realizes the implications. "I mean, not like that. I mean, like, y'know..." Jesus laughs softly while Siddiq shakes his head. They exchange a few more words before Siddiq departs. Aaron helps Jesus put a shirt on, then helps him walk out of the medical trailer and into his own, guiding him to sit on the couch. "I'm not an invalid, you know," Jesus says, a little petulantly. "I know," Aaron says easily, rummaging through the cupboards idly. "Just wanted to help." "You can help by sitting with me," Jesus suggests. Aaron hums. "Food first," he says. They both freeze when there's a knock on the door. They share a brief look before Aaron goes over and opens the door, blinking in surprise when he sees Daryl on the stoop, a tray in his hands. When the silence stretches, Daryl ducks his head and shuffles his feet, chewing on his lower lip. Almost immediately, Aaron opens the door wider and steps aside, letting Daryl inside the trailer. Jesus smiles at the archer, glancing at the tray, then back up. "What brings you here?" he asks. Daryl wobbles the tray a bit. "Figured y'might need food," he replies simply. Jesus tilts his head just as Aaron says, "You didn't have to do that." Daryl shrugs, putting the tray down on the table. "Wasn't sure what y'had in th' cupboards," he says. Jesus squints a bit. "You know what I have in my cupboards, though," he says. Daryl flushes and ducks his head, mumbling something too soft to be heard. Jesus sighs and shakes his head, smiling fondly. Aaron glances between them, then shakes his head as well. He lightly claps Daryl on the shoulder as he passes the other, pulling the cover off the tray, whistling appreciatively. "This from the kitchens?" he asks, inhaling the delicious aroma of the food. He looks up when Daryl remains quiet, the flush now darker on his cheeks; he smiles. "Made it yourself, then?" Jesus perks up when the smell reaches him. "Is that your stew?" he asks. Daryl nods silently and Jesus makes a soft sound, hands reaching out in little grabbing motions. Aaron chuckles softly and lifts up a bowl, grabbing a spoon before bringing it over to Jesus. Jesus practically snatches the bowl out of Aaron's hands, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply, sighing softly as his eyes flutter closed. He opens his eyes and looks at Daryl, smiling wide. "Thanks, Daryl," he says. Daryl gives a half-shrug. "Weren't nothin'," he says. "You don't usually go all out with your stew," Jesus remarks, lightly teasing as he takes the spoon Aaron hands him. "Maybe I should get hurt more often." He startles when there's a pair of wounded noises and two pairs of eyes staring at him. They're both equally devastated and what seems like the span of a blink, both men are on the couch with him. "Don't say shit like that," Daryl growls, bumping their heads together. "Almost lost ya last night." "What he said," Aaron says, crowding in close. "I don't know what either of us would do without you." Jesus would make a quip about them having each other, but he knows it wouldn't go down well. Instead, he settles down into the cushions, making sure not to jostle his bowl of stew too much. Aaron stretches down to remove both his shoes and Jesus' before snuggling in next to the scout. Daryl gets up to retrieve the tray and coming back, waiting for Jesus to lift his arm before setting the tray down in his lap. He then takes his own bowl and sits on the couch, relaxing enough to brush their legs together. It's a little warm being trapped between the two, but it's comfortable and more than a little reassuring, so Jesus doesn't complain about it. He digs into his stew, savoring each bite and basking in the feeling of safety and contentment. A thought comes to him and he grins, swallowing his mouthful. "You know," he says slowly. "Maybe once I'm better we can have some fun throwing each other around." He gives Daryl a look, who immediately blushes darkly. "See who's the better man-handler. What do you say?" Aaron starts laughing while Daryl splutters, almost spilling his stew. Jesus bites on his lower lip, eyes practically sparkling as he waits for Daryl's reply. Slowly, Daryl peeks over at him and nods, but there's a playfulness in his eyes. Jesus waggles his eyebrows as he settles back down. "Excellent," he purrs. "Soon as I'm able, your ass is mine." He starts eating again, heedless of Daryl's protests.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Blackleatherjacketz’ Anniversary Writing Challenge

Hey there friends! I’ve been writing fan fiction for two years now, and in order to celebrate I’m going to host my first writing challenge!

1. You can write for any fandom I’m involved in (The Walking Dead, The Punisher, Marvel’s Cinematic Universe, Hannibal, Brooklyn 99, The Good Place or even Star Trek!), although you probably know who my favorites are by now.

2. You can write for any character(s) in the fandom including canon ships, rare pairs, reader inserts, original characters, or even crossovers if you want!

3. You can write any genre (fluff, angst, smut, etc.), just no rape or non/con!

4. You must include trigger warnings and/or citrus scales at the beginning of the fic along with a word count.

5. If your fic is over 500 words, please include a “Keep Reading” line.

6. No incest or pedophilia, please.

7. Send me an Ask with the Character/Fandom/Prompt you’d like to write for.

8. Follow me and tag @blackleatherjacketz in your fic so I can reblog it and include it in a final master post!

9. Use the tag #blackleatherjacketzwritingchallenge

10. Deadline is April 15, same day as your taxes :)

11. Reblog this and share with your friends. I’d love to meet new writers.

12. Have fun, and feel free to message me at any time!

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

Situational Prompts:

An Unexpected Union

Today at the Amusement Park

A Romantic Scene in an Unromantic Place @annablack1102

A Much Needed Vacation

Having the Boss Over for Dinner @genevievedarcygranger

A Strange Proposition From a Stranger @rasa1945

Picking Up a Hitchhiker @chuckyegg7

Amnesia @onlydarylnormanfic

The Main Character Wakes Up Missing One of the Five Senses

A Spy on the Job

A Famous Fictional Character in the Wrong Story

Enemies to Lovers

Time Travel @sloth-lady-s

A Deal With the Devil

Caught in the Rain

Blast From The Past

Stranded on a Desert Island

Snowed In

Dialogue Prompts:

“You did what?”

“This isn’t fair!”

“You make me feel... things.”

“Can we just get this over with?” @sweetcannolicarisi

“That looks nice on you.” @negansdirtygirl22

“That was your choice, not mine.” @sexykitty96

“What are we going to do?”

“Scoot over.”

“You’re mine.” @rasa1945

“I want to hear you say it.” @acutecupidity

“I tried.”

“It’s over.”

“This isn’t what I expected.”  Me

“But you promised!” @jewelswrites-ish

Tags: @annablack1102 @ne-gans @negansdirtygirl22 @negans-network @acutecupidity @frankcastiglione @twdsunshine @jewelswrites-ish @skittle479 @rasa1945 @thedeadwalks @sherrybaby14 @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @ptite-shit @crzcorgi @collette04 @mblaqgi @letsby @genevievedarcygranger @inappropriatecabbage @evansrogerskitten @daisysouthmoore @hatterized @i-am-negan-trash @sloth-lady-s @castleadixon @onlydarylnormanfic @bernthalus-christ @jaaryl @notyourfriendok @chuckyegg7 @eugenessix @negan-the-cat @love-buckybarnes @ohcaptains @chamberofsloths @alaskanlicenseplate @daryldixon83 @loldinson

[mugsywrites]

Your PS/TWD crossover isn’t self indulgent at all. Please indulge us all 😈

I have thoughts that are constantly evolving after each episode, lol. Right now I’m sure of a few things: Daryl will *hate* Malcolm, Paul will have zero interest in getting to know their father, and at some point Paul will teach Malcolm some advanced martial arts to help him focus.

I have too many WIPs at the moment (Unquiet Grave, Wildlife Photographers, Jaaryl dragon fic, my It: Chapter Two fic, and another Good Omens fic) so it might be awhile before I have anything that I feel like posting on Ao3, but I’ll be posting snippets and the like here.

[ivebeenmade]

Working On A Vampire!Jesus Au (still set in zombie apocalypse)

I have an outline for a 1st chapter: mythology rules (I'm a huge nerd for this so that's pretty well fleshed out), a comic canon bf donor at the beginning.

It's going to be Jaaryl- starting off Jaaron but endgame Jaaryl

The fic is going to revolve around the fact that he doesn't die in the cemetery and should have.

Thinking Aaron might know before the mortal wound

At the moment I'm working out when Aaron finds out and why they have to hide it

If anyone wants to send asks/pms with thoughts I'd really love this to be sort of a collaborative thing. I don't usually write anything but Jaaron (as most of you probably know) but I wanna challenge myself.

The inspiration here is trying to find yet another original way for Jesus to have survived, and partly inspired by a meme about vamps and mirrors

For @neekanoo

Questions we're answering at the moment:

Surviving sunlight, how long undead, what holds him back from turning his friends

Again, pretty please, love some help.

[jaaryl]

jaaryl (or if someone beat me to it, daaron)

Some answers are going to be based on the rewrite of my Daaron fic which is going to be set during 9.16 (that one day I will get around to finishing I swear lmao).

So, spoilers for that I guess lol. 

1. Who makes the first move and how?

It would have to be Daryl.

Even though Aaron has the most experience dating another man/ person in general, I have no doubt in my mind that he would find it incredibly daunting to even try and proceed a relationship with Daryl. His friendship with Daryl is one of the few bright spots of the apocalypse and it would absolutely break his heart if he scared him off or was rejected.

Since my fic is set during the 9.16 blizzard, the two of them are going on ahead to collect supplies at the next way station and, of course, it has to have the cliche trope of Aaron being all heroic and pushing Daryl out of the way of cracking ice so he’ll fall through instead… all while they are escaping ice zombies. Cue the trope of them cuddling naked for warmth and waking up with an awkward situation yada yada.  

Aaron: [incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out] This doesn’t have to change anything.   

Daryl: [also incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out, and just fresh off thinking Aaron could of so easily died one (1) day ago and not wanting to waste what time they have together] Ahhhh I kinda want it too????          

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Being seen as outcasts still bothers them a lot, even if they try their best not to show it. No matter how far into the apocalypse, or how important they have become to the success of the communities, there will always be those douches who look down on people for being different. And the best thing about Daaron is how leaning on each other for support and having each other’s backs when they are feeling this way is literally the foundation of their relationship.          

3. Who is the most romantic?

Aaron’s the obvious choice with his tendency to be extremely tactile and handing out affection left and right while also giving away huge gifts, like the bike. However, Daryl is incredibly sentimental, and loves and cherishes that bike like it’s one of his most precious possessions, and he also shows his love by making sure the people that he cares about are well provided for. So, it’s for you to decide.  

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Daryl is extremely touch-starved but he is also pretty awkward when it comes to asking for affection. Aaron is a mix of very tactile, begging to give hugs and super lonely. 

So, once Aaron figures out that Daryl wants to be touched more than the occasional hug, handhold or brush of arms all bets are off. I can only imagine how bad it will be when they get into an actual relationship.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I feel like Aaron has said those words long before they started dating, “Daryl, I love you, but no,” and completely mean them (both platonically and romantically). So, the moment Daryl says the words back for the first time…he is kinda worried Aaron’s smile is going to split his face in half.    

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Season 5: Eric, for obvious reasons.

 Season 9: Paul, most definitely, hot, gay, single and already someone they both trust completely. 

Post 9.08 though? Ah, no one? Aaron is literally the only male character that Daryl is close to lmao.  

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

I doubt there is much to do datewise beyond the wall, even for two bamfs like Aaron and Daryl. Maybe fortnightly overnight camping trips when it gets too stuffy in Alexandria and they need to escape for a bit.   

On the nights that they have the house all to themselves, it is pretty quiet. Just the two of them hanging out, kicking back beer, pressed up against each other, talking about mindless topics, and having sex etc.                  

8. What do they like in bed?

Daryl: when you said “magical in bed” this isn’t exactly what I was exp-

Aaron: *holds up 8 of hearts* is this your card

Daryl: *softly* holy shit

Aaron knows that Daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience in the bedroom department, and is happy to help guide him. I see Aaron as someone who is super into foreplay and body worship, especially on someone like Daryl who needs all the touch he can get and is v receptive to praise kink. As Daryl becomes more confident I do see him taking charge a little more, maybe some manhandling etc and he doeeesss have an oral fixation, always putting things in/exploring things with his mouth so take that as you will lmao.    

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Honestly, Aaron is pretty hard to embarrass. Like, sure, he does embarrassing things but he’s always the first one to laugh at himself. Things like his over-the-top dorky dances to make Daryl laugh, his celebrity impression of people Gracie has never even seen, or heard of, and she is super embarrassed about when he pulls it out as his party trick, his off-key singing to Disney songs with Gracie and trying to get Daryl to join in (AK can take Disney nerd Aaron from my cold dead hands these people have solar panels and the kids have definitely seen movies).   

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Damn, I can’t cheat and answer with ‘a book on how to build a raft’ or ‘survival guide for dummies’ because they are both very survival competent lmao.

For luxury items: Daryl’s crossbow and Aaron’s knife.

Ahhh I am worst at music questions! I can see Daryl being a sentimental loser and bringing Rick’s terrible music with him even if he hates it.

 Ross apparently headcanons Aaron’s favourite song as “Hand in Glove” by The Smiths, so why not?

11. What do they hide from one another?

Their unspoken feelings uwu (lame).

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Their relationship status.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

There has always been something simmering under the surface of their friendship. From the very beginning, Aaron has been incredibly fascinated by everything Daryl Dixon and Daryl in return has found comfort, acceptance and an overwhelming amount of fondness towards Aaron.

It has just never been the right time to explore the unspoken thing between them. But after the six-year time jump, Daryl is finally in the right emotional place to settle down and Aaron has been ready for a long while. Daryl is confronted once more that the world is a dangerous place when Aaron almost dies again (in the fic) and the prospect of leaving their relationship open-ended weighs on him heavily.      

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Aaron has been run ragged by the worrying he has done about sick Gracie all week (even just a cold in the apocalypse is a scary thing for Aaron with all that he’s lost). He probably got one good day in before his own immune system came crashing down hard. Daryl feels a little useless that he can’t really help him get better so he goes out and hunts whatever bird he can find so he can cook him something at least resembling chicken soup, and distracts Gracie for the next couple of days so he can get some rest.        

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

In this house, we appreciate animated films and since Lydia and Daryl are not really accustomed to the broad range of them they get the final vote. It would probably be Jungle Book (after years of rejecting civilization they finally rejoin it) or even something like Spirit (refusing to let anyone tame their wild).   

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Do I need to answer this one lmao?

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

Try and change the events of 8.02? Saving Eric and having the three of them adopt baby Gracie? Changing the events of 9.08, so Paul lives and Jaaryl can happen? 7.01, so Glenn lives? 9.05, Rick never blows up the bridge? 9.15, so there are no pike deaths? 

Ahhh there are just so many options, these two have such a sad life!     

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Out on a hike in the woods, a picnic is involved.  

20. Where do they go on holiday?

You and @boltsandashes have given me major daaron beach day feels, it’s an absolutely adorable visual. Aaron making sure Daryl has the best day possible visiting the beach for the best time? I dieeee.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

They are still both not the biggest fan of parties unless it is a family event with people they like. 

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Waystation cabin.  

Aaron makes sure to ask him if it’s okay if they kiss for the first time after they are already in a heated grinding session, the goober. 

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Beyond the walls and out in the woods hunting, hiking, exploring ect just like old times.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Waystation cabin.

25. Why do they fight?

Pissed at each other for being so damn self-sacrificing (“Whether we make it or not, we do it together,” remember that, asshole?!)

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Aaron’s first priority is his daughter’s happiness so it is pretty crucial to find out where their relationship stands before it gets way too deep (which good luck on that one), it would be different if Gracie wasn’t in the picture but she is so he needs to know if Daryl is 100% on board with being a parent to her or not.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

The shifty way they try and keep their relationship under wraps. 

There’s nothing strange about Daryl moving in with Aaron, they are both close friends, right? But what is strange is Aaron turning up to every council meeting absolutely glowing and grinning ear to ear, and Daryl being a super nice to everyone in Alexandria.

Are they sick???   

It goes on and on until Gracie accidentally spills the beans when she excitedly tells Judith that her daddy and Judith’s uncle are dating(not that Gracie knows all the details of their relationship or anything it’s just what she suspects lol).

They probably going to get married one day, and it will make her and Judith related!  

So, Judith goes home and asks her Michonne if Aaron and Daryl are dating, causing Michonne to finally connects the dots on why the hell they have been acting so weird.         

28. Why do they get jealous?

Aaron is super jealous over how cool Daryl looks on a motorbike, while Daryl is pretty jealous over how well Aaron can articulate his words to describe how he is feeling.    

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

When Daryl is being absolutely precious with Gracie, Lydia and Dog. It makes Aaron’s chest tighten and his heartbeat frighteningly fast. Those are the moments that Aaron wants nothing more than to raise a family and have a future with him.  

Aaron is probably being dorky af just to make Daryl laugh, for real not just an under the breath chuckle. Every time he pulls one from Daryl, Daryl can feel his heart expand tenfolds.       

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Oh man, I could write an entire essay on why these two are perfect for each other but to really simplify it: they already have a super strong bond, they are comfortable with each other and trust each other, both relate to feeling like an outsider, both like kids, they have history, their personalities balance each other out etc

It’s one of Daryl’s healthiest relationships on the show I don’t think there are any reasons why not?

[boltsandashes]

6 & 8- godblessrickgrimes (tag pls!)

mun related shipping questions || accepting || @godblessrickgrimes

6. Do you have an OT3 for your muse? Are you open to polyshipping?I’m definitely open to it! Jaaryl’s a big OT3 for me and I’m open to a number of other trios depending on the chemistry. I’m enjoying Daaric (Daryl/Aaron/Eric) a lot in a thread right now, I’ve thought a lot about how Daryl/Rick/Michonne could play into the later seasons, and there are a handful of others I’ve thought about or enjoyed in fic. There are some that I’m more or less open to, but I could probably get on board with most ships if there’s a good chemistry/story for it.

8. Does your muse get jealous easily?Honestly, yeah. Daryl’s pretty insecure along the majority of the emotional spectrum so if he sees anything that resembles flirting he’ll probably take it the worst possible way. His jealousy will tend to manifest as him shrinking in on himself/avoiding the object of his desire while he’s upset instead of lashing out, though. Just instinct to accept that he’s not worth fighting for and make himself scarce, bow out (instead of sticking around and risk being rejected... I’m sighing at you as I write this Daryl, you need hugs).

But this is something that would fade over time, as he got more secure in the relationship, his partner, and his own self-worth.

[canoncannon]

You said you’d be bored, and I had my bookmarks open already, sooo lmao plz don’t hate me! 1, Nightmare and Loop 2, Performance Anxiety and Kid 3-4, Together (my fave) 5, Miscommunication and 16 Months 8, Through the Wall and Notice 11, Different and Complexity

Lolllll thank you, I am indeed bored (haha I should be working) so I’m very happy for the ask, even though I’m getting to it a little later than planned

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Nightmare... is a weird fic. Idk. I liked the idea of Jesus being a bit of a fuck up who is suddenly forced to take something seriously and has to figure out what the hell he’s doing. I’d also just had a conversation with someone who LOVED Shane and I was like... heyyyyy so remember when he tried to rape Lori? Maybe not the best father figure for Carl, eh?

For Loop I wanted to try a different, kinda odd narration style (they’re supposed to be robots, y’know?), but I also wanted a comprehensible narrative. There was a Desus sci-fi challenge and I’d never written anything remotely like that before, so it was fun. Also just thought it was a cool crossover and that a zombie land in Westworld would make perfect sense.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Performance Anxiety stemmed from a prompt from the lovely @ajwmagickl and she asked for a specific song to be used, so I wrote that part first :)

Kid came out of A Date, and earlier fic. It’s one of the only fics I’m mostly writing in order, so the first chapter came first for once :P

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Yay, glad you like it! Dialogue is easy:“Tell Maggie what?”

“That we’re… that we’re… what the fuck are we?” Paul waves a hand between them.

“I dunno,” Daryl says, startled. “Thought you knew.”

For narration... kind of long, but this:

That same evening they're meandering around the trailer before bed waiting for the girls to finish in the bathroom when Paul leans into him, then stands on tip-toe to kiss him.

Daryl glares but allows one quick peck.

Enid and Maggie are a few feet away getting into their pajamas and doing whatever else it is women do before going to sleep, but the little hippie has no fucking shame, apparently, because he immediately tries for more. Daryl dodges to the side and wriggles away. They play at fighting in complete silence, Paul’s deft hands grasping his elbow and pushing his shoulder as though to pin him against the wall. Daryl bats them down, pointing insistently at the bathroom door with a roll of his eyes, and Paul smirks, shrugs, and steals another kiss.

Maggie asks Paul several times what he’s grinning about as they all settle in to sleep.

5: What part was hardest to write?

Oof. At this point Miscommunication was too long ago for me to even remember.

For 16 Months... the part I’m writing now XD

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Nope. No real life eavesdropping or jealousy-inspiring kisses.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

For Different, I liked that I started out intending to just write filthy smut, but people ended up appreciating the thin little plot as well :P

I wrote Complexity because I’d gotten a couple of Jaaryl prompts, and I honestly was just pleased anyone liked it. Writing ot3s is not my usual bag.

Thanks so so much for the asks, this was fun :)

[callicocatrex]

I have a fic idea that I really kind of want to write, but I’m still stuck in my other fic, and this new idea would take a lot of research on my part, but it’s been bothering me for the past week. Not sure if I’ll ever write it, and if I did, I don’t want to start something else while what I’m in the middle of isn’t done yet, but.... this is what I keep thinking of.

Non-apocalyptic, modern AU. Daryl, as an archaeologist. Or maybe a paleontologist. Not sure yet, but probably the first. Not like the head, well known leader, but like a helper. But I can just see him being happy digging in the dirt, discovering lost civilizations or uncovering the remnants of dinosaurs, content to spend as much time needed in remote and sometimes harsh environments. But, him being at a dig, meeting Jesus, who is a journalist that’s come to write about some new amazing thing someone has found. And Jesus, being from the city, not really suited to stay in the area the dig is in, and Daryl being assigned to keep an eye on him and show him around. And hell, I don’t think I could ever write Jaaryl, but Aaron could be around as an interpreter to the locals or something.

That’s it, just this bit that’s been stuck in my head. Is it something anyone might be interested in reading at some point? Or is this just my own love of history rearing it’s head again that no one else really finds palatable to read?

[gayliensav]

I’m going to start taking requests for different moodboards. You can see the ones I’ve created in the past here. Basically, send me a Jaaryl prompt (Daaron, Desus, Jaaron as well) and I’ll make a moodboard based off your idea. I can also do requests for moodboards for your fics and stuff, if you want.

Send prompts here.

[d-j-marlowe]

I think I`m in the depression stage of grief right now. I still love the Desus and Jaaryl `ships and have some WIP in the pike, just not feeling very inspired at the moment. It`ll pass when I feel it`s time for me to move on a bit. I never thought I would ever mourn a fictional character in this way. It made me sick how the show treated the character and Tom. With ‘Prodigal Son’ I hope he gets his due. I may eventually write a story, nothing shippy, with PS, once I get to understand the story and the characters better. To be honest I was never a `ship type person, but Desus just spoke to me like no others. I invested a lot of time and energy not only in fic writing, likewise commenting about it on TSDF. In a lot of ways it was my response to Caryl, which I personally don`t support, (even though it looks like that`s where it`s going, boo-hiss haha) I won`t put down those who do support it. I won`t watch the show anymore because there is too much ooc crap going on. I wish I could march into the writer`s room and just ask them “what the hell are you thinking?” I could rant on this all day, but I won`t. Most talking points have been covered anyway.

For the first time, I feel like I belong. Trying to make sure you and Sasha became a part of this made me a part of this. When I was first here… I was never here.

[mugsywrites]

Mugsy’s Shipper Evolution

Stage 1: Desus is amazing, I will go down with this ship. Jaaron is predictable and boring, I can’t imagine finding it interesting. I mean, if it happens I’ll be cool with it because I love them both but will always see it as a missed opportunity.

Stage 2:  AARON SWEETIE I’M SORRY! HOW COULD I THINK A SHIP INVOLVING YOU COULD BE BORING? JAARON 5EVER. That being said I still ship Desus, I’m just a multi-shipper now. I’m not really here for Jaaryl tho, one or the other.

Stage 3: Write a 100,000+ word Jaaryl fic.

[mugsywrites]

What’s Wrong With Me

me: I have an idea for a ghost story Jaaryl fic. It’ll be short, only twenty thousand words or so, then I can get back to my WIPs.

my brain: :) :) :)

me: ho don’t do it...

my brain: actual *spews out thirty thousand words of story and more is coming*

me: oh my *good*

[lucihatesgoats]

Hello yes, @jaaryl my new favorite tumblr account, will you be making this into a slow burn fic? Because I need it in my life

Jesus: Fuck me if I’m wrong-

Daryl & Aaron: You’re wrong.