#the second library of alexandria

[headknight-oh]

Heyo plagued by concepts again, so y’all must suffer with me

Some sort of argument or scuffle or disagreement between Daryl and someone. Nothing serious, but feathers get ruffled and someone mentions fighting and then

Daryl: You really think you can take me?

Someone: Probably not in a fight, but definitely in bed.

And then he gets flustered and storms off, and they chuckle and claim victory in that argument. And then that interaction haunts Daryl for weeks because a) he’s now thinking about that someone in bed with increasing frequency and b) he’s not used to anyone talking to him like that and has like no sexual experience.

Anyways, flustered virgin daryl Dixon my beloved

[strryhaze]

jackie kennedy and bobby kennedy talking with the dancers at an american ballet theatre production. most likely done at the white house christmas party. december 19, 1962.

[judahmaccabees]

Alrighty I fixed your Spiritual plumbing.

[seat-safety-switch]

The future of food has finally arrived. We are freed from spending a couple hours a day cooking meals, thanks to the self-heating 3D printer. Efficient, tasty, healthy food is just a few button presses away, and if you are feeling really ambitious, you can stick in an SD card and upload some pirated French cuisine. Well, pretty soon you will be able to.

Sure, it's not perfect right now. I'll be the first to admit it sometimes freaks out and tastes like dish soap and burnt hair. Especially if you put it on "shuffle." No new technology is flawless, though. I'm pretty sure that through some kind of arbitrary future miracle, this thing on my countertop that makes the lights flicker in order to shit out a brick of "turkey" will only get better from here.

Hey, don't get too down on this so-called "inedible shitloaf" that you read about in the media. What does the media even know? If they were smart, they'd be trading futures in food-printing companies. Every technology produces terrible things that are unfit for purpose.

Think of cars. At one point you couldn't even charge your smartphone inside them. And then they caught up! Now you don't need to stop texting for anything, including pedestrians. I am certain that smart people will work hard to allow me to replace a million talented kitchen staff any second now, through a process of presumed continuous improvement that I barely understand yet revere as a religious belief.

Because if they don't, my stock portfolio is gonna go in the shitter, and that will be the moral equivalent of the destruction of all human intellectual wealth. Like burning the Library of Alexandria, which I'm pretty sure is the name of a fancy porn site. So when you come to my place next time for a "barbecue" so I can show off my new cooking model, I would really appreciate it if you stopped pointing out how the burgers keep pulsing with a terrifying unlife that reminds you of the fragility of conscious existence. We're trying to make the world a better place, and there's no room for that kind of downer talk around forward-thinking innovators like me.

[clitorphosis]

PINK CELLPHONE

Incel Leon S. Kennedy x OnlyFans reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, INCEST, smut, female reader, reader is a little bit mean, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, teasing, Leon is submissive, nipple play, tits sucking.

notes: uhm, i didnt proofread this so... i want to remind you that english isnt my first language :3 also i imagined re2 og Leon, but whatever! also reblogs and any kind of feedback is really appreciated

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

There was something fundamentally wrong with Leon in female’s gaze.

Maybe he is unlucky or those girls are blind. Really hoping it is the latter, cause it is not flattering when guys with migrated hairline can get cute girls, while he can’t. And 4chan doesn’t help either, those advices aren’t useful when he can’t even talk to a real girl.

Yes, they are blind. He is going to set on that.

So after many years of solitude, his only company has become the blue gleam which most night was the only source of light in the room, while air was full with low noises coming from the old, poor laptop. Trying to survive after years of not being turned off correctly. Multiple tabs on his laptop’s screen, he doesn’t bother to close them anymore, hoarding them like some kind of treasure - Leon doesn’t give a shit anymore.

This century is perfect for a man like Leon, internet may be the second Library of Alexandria. A real paradise, so much colorful and vibrant sites with cute girls showing their bodies if he pays for that content.

Thank god Onlyfans exists. And he is a nice guy, supporting cute and sexy girls.

Paying for limited content can be considered as supporting women, right? Even if he was motivated due to his selfish reasons - to get attention and limited content. Something special for him. It was embarrassing how long he could browse a fair share of accounts and get or even interact with some girls without being rejected and they would not know him. There are a lot of them, all cute and nice, and they acted even better when he tipped them, so they would interact more with him, calling him a ‘pretty boy’. At least it made him feel special for a while. Still, not his fault that their, too perfect, videos or photos led him to lose his interest - their content felt lifeless, without passion or love put in it. Boring. It has become a routine already, finding an account - jerking off until he loses his interest and the cycle returns to browsing the site for someone new to obsess over.

Your account was like a treasure when he found it. Leon got attracted to it like a magnet, comparable to find a needle in the haystack. Sweet thing, really sweet, if he was ever to interact with you he wouldn’t be able to hide his grimace. But that was attracting, he doesn’t know how much money he has spent on your content. Your face was always hidden or cut out by the position of your camera, but there was no need to see your face when people paid to jerk off.

It was nice while it lasted.

Pink cellphone. The little pink cellphone he got his sister, after she nagged him about wanting it, that ended up left alone and not used. You have this pink cellphone, the furniture and a lot of things were identical to his little sister’s room; posters of her favorite bands or that specific blanket she had all her life, but this was quickly brushed off at first, almost all girls like cute stuff and this could be a coincidence. Also that not the first thing a guy notices when he is ready to jerk off. Leon isn’t sure why after seeing that pink cellphone it clicked so quickly, the guilt and shame fill him to the brim, coiling around his neck like a loose invisible tie knot.

This is wrong, wrong like touching his sister’s breast. Your breast. Instead, he was jerking off to your boobs for months. Imagining how they would fill his palms nicely.

The room is the same as before, but now it hits different to be here after discovering what you have been doing here all this time. It has the same smell as always, sweet and too much like you, tightening the invisible knot around his neck. He wants to throw himself out of the window, this is sick and he doesn’t understand why his legs brought him here after work, still wearing his uniform. There are plenty of almost empty and few full bottles of perfume he had bought you during one of shopping trips, while you were nagging him and begging for them. He eyes such little and useless items that in any other situations he wouldn’t notice, avoiding to look at you. His efforts were useless, he is a weak man after all and there is nothing to do other than to stare at your frame; sitting on the bed, confused at his behavior and expecting something - a reason to explain why he is acting like that, staring at you, almost fucking you with his eyes. He doesn’t need Freud to tell him that he wants to fuck his own sister. Were you preparing to do new content for your followers? The thought made his pants tighter, wanting to pull at the fabric to ease it but this would only bring your attention, wouldn’t it? Maybe he wants it.

“You look like shit.”

“Excuse me?” Did he hear that right?

“You look like shit, Leon” you repeat before raising an eyebrow “stop staring, you are going to dig holes into my face. What do you want?”

What a bitch, he would say, but,

“Uhm…” is the only sound he was able to let out, getting closer to your bed and sitting down on the edge. You scoot closer to him as you always do. A sweet habit he always liked, sometimes you even hug him. “Not lady-like, sweetheart. I wanted to talk”

You roll your eyes. “About what?”

“A friend of mine, he sent me a link of a girl, doing porn” his lies flow so fast and easily from his mouth, trying to shift this to someone non existent. “Her face isn’t visible but… her room and she had a pink cellphone, identical to yours… so I was wondering—“

“Maybe you are imagining things. Many girls have similar room to mine” you cut him, your hand lays on his shoulder. Perhaps this is hell, hell would feel like you mock him by pretending that account isn’t you, like those moans he heard weren’t yours while a guy or a dildo was pleasing you, making Leon envious and sour - why not him? The corners of your lips tug up, something good got into your head. “So you are paying for that stuff, huh? Jerking off to a girl similar to your little sister, you are so weird”

“Huh? No, I am not” Yes, he is, that’s actually his favorite hobby.

“Cut the crap, Leon. There is no friend. You probably imagined me, yeah?” He did, he won’t deny this - it would be a lie leading to another rejection, this time by his sister - and he is man, a desperate one. Also poker has never been his strong point nor he can lie well with his hard on. “Nasty, nasty boy”

His blue eyes linger on your mouth as you spoke, watching your tongue rolled sensually and slowly. Your tongue clicks, before applying more pressure on his shoulder with your hand, pushing him down. He is like a rag doll under your touch - his back hits the softness of your bed and now all he can see is your face looking down at Leon before finally sliding on his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, so nicely pressing down on his crotch and making this much harder than it should be. His cock is already painfully hard, straining against the warmth of your pussy which can be felt through thin fabric of your shorts. God bless them. He bucks up his hips, as his hands reach to hold your hips and press them harder against his aching cock while he tries to dryhump you needy - too bad that’s not on your list, slapping away his hands like it is a disturbance which makes him frown.

“Ah-ah, big bro. Don’t touch me” you purr as your head dips lower to press hot heated kiss on the skin of his neck, leaving soft bites and wet trail behind whilst your tongue traces around those bites, like a soothing touch before it starts going up down and up in torturous motions. Until you stop on his Adam’s apple to bite it softly to leave a red spot, your hands dive under his shirt, pushing it up to expose his stomach and making it easier to reach his chest - fingertips brush against his nipples, before rolling and pinch them to force more moans from him. A grown man getting already painfully hot and bothered over little touches and kisses there and then, this causes you to chuckle under your breath - don’t want to hear him complain how you hurt his ego. Man’s ego is more fragile than soap bubbles or the glass, one poke and he would not shut up and fuck your brain instead of your pussy. That won’t do. Your eyes dart up to look into his face - to see that sweet and needy expression, begging more than just teasing caresses from you. Your hips sit so well against his, sometimes creating some friction when one of you move and it feels like he is going to die if his dick won’t be buried in your pussy any time soon.

“I don’t like dirty hands on me” you add eventually with the same purring voice. What can be better than a man being submissive and shattering over nothing?

“Can you just… oh shit!” his sentence gets cut abruptly, when your lips reach to his earlobe, nibbling playfully and it would be really humiliating if he cum here cause of how his ears are sensible. Deep inhale, before speaking again, trying to keep himself at check and not to be so meek while you keep rolling his sensitive nipples in between your fingers. His next words are breathless and voice is shaky, almost at the edge to sound pathetically. Not really manly, but still your clit throbs, only now noticing how your panties are soaked now, uncomfortably clinging to your pussy lips. “…fuck me?”

You stop your assault over the skin of his neck to look down at him better, your hips press against his hard dick forcing a breathless whimper to escape. This little plea, he begs. Your clit throbs again, so uncomfortably wet, you want to dryhump him until he cum in his jeans like a virgin. Instead, he is one. If he was any other men you wouldn’t consider this good enough to comply but the sight in front of you is too much to ignore.

“Fuck.. you?” You echo his words, feigning a confusion, your eyes widen to emphasize the act. A cheap one, cause your hand already tugged down your shorts, leaving you in panties, he has seen them so many time on those videos and photos, his hips buck to press himself to your, still, clothed pussy. His attempt isn’t really successful, your hand unzips his jeans to free his cock. And finally to look at it. “you are so weird… I dunno, to ask that from me, don’t you have any shame in this body of yours, huh?”

“I don’t give a shit, just fuck me” he groans, looking down as you palm his cock, it twitches in your hand, already leaking with pre-cum and you can even notice a little stain on his boxers.

A light urge to roll your eyes arises deep down when you looked down, but it was quickly put down. Rather disappointing as a size, if someone would have asked you, but not everyone can have porno dick or customized one. You can still fuck with that. Leon swallows hard, taking a deep breath in again as he looked at you briefly - your tits are more interesting right now. He hopes you let him to suck on them. His fingers twitch, wanting to reach for your panties and tug to the side, to fuck you, but he is a gentleman. A nice guy.

Your hand pumps his dick, smearing his pre-cum along the flesh before tugging your panties to the side, your glistening pussy is fully exposed to his gaze and Leon almost choked on his saliva when you pressed your slick cunt on his cock. It is a torturous game, feeling you rub slowly along his aching length leading to drip more of pre-cum. You are so wet and warm, your slick coats his dick with every stroke of your pussy against it. This makes his eyes widen briefly at the sensation, he isn’t sure if he would be able to last long inside you. If it ever gets to that, of course.

“Please..?” Leon groans, bucking his hips to get more and press himself tighter for more friction than it is even possible right now. His sounds only encourage you to mess with him.

“What? I don’t understand” you taunt him with a light pout, another long and slow stroke, his cock’s tip was so close to slide into you. “Use your big-big words, Leon”

Your pussy kept grinding, enjoying the way his cock head bumps against your clit and making you wetter, forcing some noises from you too. Your fingers tug on his lower lip playfully - just to tease and annoy him. But he doesn’t let you withdraw your hand by grabbing hold of it. His lips catch your finger, sucking and nipping on it.

“Use me… please” like one of yours sex toys, Leon wanted to add, but, alas his dignity was still in tact, holding barely together by the tiniest thread. And as much as you want him to cum without even a penetration, to embarrass him, your own selfish urge to fuck him is much stronger.

“What a pretty face you have, right, big bro?” Also it is hard to ignore such sight in front of you, with blushed cheeks, his chest raises heavily as he let out breathless groans. “Pretty and pathetic, you would be a perfect sex doll”

Your wet slit kept rubbing, but this time savoring with the last stroke, before finally hovering over his cock - feeling his leaky tip nudging against your slick hole, begging to sink down, before his cock finally slides into you. He watched how your pussy swallowed his cock slowly inch by inch, before Leon thrusts up to meet your downward movement, forcing yours to slam against his, quickly burying himself as deep as he can right now. You moan at the rough motion, now ignoring how his hands reach to grip tightly your waist, not really caring anymore and now nothing stops him by touching you. Your slick inner walls wrap around his cock nicely, tightly clenching and he doesn’t think twice before bucking his hips again as yours started to roll against his - driving him deeper into your soaked hole. His dick hits the g-spot so sweetly, making you gasp and moan with him. His teeth catch the fabric of your shirt, trying to tug it down and expose your boobs to him - and you are nice enough to help him by pulling it aside, a clear permission to bury his face in between them. Sloppily kissing and biting on the flesh of your tits, while you are bouncing on his dick. His lips repeat your name as a prayer, catching a hard nipple into his mouth, his tongue brushes and rolls against the sensitive nub - sucking at it, nibbling messily and leaving wet marks before darting to give attention to another nipple, causing your pussy to flutter around his dick more, tightly engulfing deeper into the slick walls as the wet sounds mix with the skin slapping ones every time your hips meet after every deep and quick stroke that his cock drag against your walls.

“I-I want to fill you with my cum, please”his voice is breathless at the edge of whine even though he tries his best to not appear so desperate, but the plea behind his words is clear. His grip gets tighter, his fingers knead your ass as he grinds his dick against your cervix to intensify the pleasure for himself while his pelvis rubs against your clit as a nice touch. He really hopes you wouldn’t try to be a bitch and let him cum, if not then he is probably going to cry. “Please, please, let me cum… I need this, sis”

“You sound so fucking ridiculous” your voice is breathless too, but seeing him so needy and desperate for his release making this even better. Your hand tugs his hair, pulling away from your tits to look at his face even better - his lips are glistening with his own saliva and parted. Your clit throbs even more, aching for attention, velvety walls clench around him when you reach down to press your fingers on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Come on, fill your little sister if you need this so much”

He whimpers disappointedly when he was pulled away from your sensitive and abused tits, but it was quickly changed into a moan when your pussy to wrap him tighter after adding your fingers in action. Your hips roll harder to meet his thrusts and wanting to see more of his stupid faces. Leon grinds up against sweet spot at every opportunity and every time it gets messier and messier as his balls tightens. His eyes slide shut briefly, now wetly meeting yours and looking more pathetic. What a freak, not like you are better than him.

Your orgasm approaches quickly as you kept rubbing your clit in rough circle motions, making your walls wrap harder around his cock. You arch as the flowing pleasure hits your body hard, having harder time to use your fingers to prolong your orgasm. Your pussy flutters at every erratic and messy thrust he kept making as he chase his own orgasm. It didn’t last long for him either, already a wonder he didn’t cum after sliding into you.

“Fuck- fuck” he slammed in to the hilt one final time, burying it deep and rubbing against your cervix before finally erupting deep inside you. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides in white, as your dripping cunt was milking his cock. Your body fell down against his chest, breathing heavily together and shivering.

“You stink like a wet dog, get out” you complain weakly, trying to push yourself away from him but it is effortless - he buries his head in the crook of your neck, again. His soft cock is still inside you, he won’t let you go. “and unsubscribe from my OnlyFans, creep”

“Later” Leon mumbles absently.

No, he is not even going to unsubscribe. In another life.

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Daddy's Little Dhampir

➳ Summary: All you'd wanted in life was to meet a real life vampire, and by some twist of fate, you got so much more than that (Dad!Vamp!Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, picking up at 6 years post outbreak – references to your childhood

➳ Word count: 2.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of blood and vampire stuff, allusions to typical TWD gore

➳ A/N: I had to dump this rq while we're still on the vamp train, and thank y'all for all the love n 140+ followers I appreciate y'all 🫶

If you could go back and tell your little nine year old self that vampires were real, she'd lose. her. mind.

The nine year old who checked out every book from the library on them and other folklore creatures, and would sit immersed for hours, taking notes and educating herself before falling asleep in front of it all: but picking it all back up the next day.

The nine year old who urged her friends to come exploring with her in the forest after dark, and proudly said ‘Fine. I'll just do it by myself’ when they all declined. Who trekked over dead leaves with a dim flashlight, who's pulse spiked and excitement grew as noises rustled around her and her gaze shot up to the sky to see a bat fly overhead. Who had the widest smile in existence… just to turn and have a blinding light shone in her face and police officers announce ‘We found her!’ – and who pouted when her parents scolded her for sneaking out before wrapping her in tight hugs and saying they were just glad she was safe, and she snapped back with: ‘I don’ wanna be safe! I wanna find the vampires and I was about to and you guys ruined it!’

The nine year old who eventually fell out of her obsessive phase, but always maintained belief. Who retained every bit of knowledge, and would still step outside sometimes in the night, or veer off her path and wander in the woods while walking somewhere. Who traveled to major cities solely to explore nightclubs and hot spots. Who truly believed deep down in her heart and soul that vampires were real.

If you told her, 25 years from then, she'd not only know a vampire, but be married to him, and sit against the headboard in their bed at home with him beside her, head resting on her shoulder as they both stared down at the newborn infant in her arms… you think she'd pass out. Especially if you added the whole part about an unknown virus sparking a massive outbreak that caused people to rise from the dead and turn into rotting, flesh eating monsters, and in return cause the entirety of society across the globe to collapse, leaving only a fraction of the population alive, and that's how she'd even meet said vampire in the first place – and that it's already been 6 years since then.

But while she may pass out, you didn't. It was ironic, how everything you'd ever dreamt about came true in the one way you'd never imagined it. Despite all the negatives, everything you lost; you gained so many positives: the vampiric love of your life, and the daughter you shared.

The smile on your face was wider than the one in the forest that night so long ago, eyes glued to the baby in front of you that slept so peacefully despite the chaos that surrounded her existence. Simply conceiving her was a challenge atop everything else, given the crossing of your species. You tilted your head to the side, resting against the mans, and murmured an ‘I love you’.

To which he shifted his and brought lips to your jawline, returning the admission as a second nature, it having grown so much easier to express such since he met you. And how could he not pour his heart out and remind you every second how madly, crazily, desperately, needily and obsessively in love with you he was – the same way you were in love with even just the concept of his existence – now that you'd carried, birthed, and held his perfect baby girl in your arms.

The newborn wriggled in adjustment, subconsciously cuddling closer to the warmth of your body, fully reliant on you for survival.

“She's gonna be yer little dhampir, Daryl… Daddy's little dhampir,” You spoke softly, admiring the blessing of her life.

“Yea, she is…” He replied, reaching a hand to stroke the side of her face with a gentle finger, which lulled her back into rest. He lived for you, and now he lived for her.

❥-》》—————➣

You loved your daughter to bits, but those books didn't quite warn you how difficult raising a dhampir would be sometimes.

“God, Daryl- What do I do? How the hell do I feed her?!” You asked frantically as the baby screamed and cried so hard in your hold it was concerning. Breastfeeding didn't quench this thirst, yet she had no teeth to bite into you.

“Fuck, jus’-” Daryl sputtered, grabbing a bottle and a knife, and slicing open his palm, flexing muscles to drain it faster into the container before screwing on the lid and shoving it to you to feed her as he spat into his hand to heal over the wound. Crisis averted.

Luckily, she didn't seem to require blood often, and you two created a better system after that: Daryl building an enclosure in the yard and storing live animals he'd find there so you could drain them when needed.

When her teeth did eventually come in, she had the cutest smile ever – small yet pin-sharp fangs poking through the pinkish gums of her mouth.

“Yea? Yer’ah damn lil’ biter, huh?” Daryl chaffed, playfully flicking splashes at her during bath time as you both sat at the edge of the tub.

She giggled, edges of her mouth curling up as she slapped the surface of the water to try and get him back for it – and he'd always dramatically act like he was hit by a tsunami when in reality it was just a few small drops on his arms. Just to hear her laugh.

The moment she was walking, she was outside, stumbling around and soon running, that instinct to be out in nature clearly taken from her father.

“Poppa,” She whined as you set her down at the bottom of the steps outside the house, her turning back and reaching a grasping hand towards Daryl, the other holding yours, as he took a seat on the steps, sun on the other side of the home and shadow protecting him from the daylight, but not the yard.

“Daddy can only watch right now. Remember the sunlight isn't good for him, okay sweetheart?” You cautiously reminded her as her head looked back to you, too young to wrap her mind around the concept.

He'd watch and talk as you two'd sit in the grass and play, sometimes covering best he could and making the sacrifice anyway just to make his daughter happy. And you'd always go out and play at nighttime anyway.

Growing into a toddler and young child, she was an absolute menace, Daryl just fueling her every troublemaking behavior.

“What in the world are you two doing?!” You called from the stairs, wiping sleep from your eyes and catching Daryl and your daughter immediately freeze, having been loudly chasing each other around downstairs with their enhanced agility in the middle of the night – busted.

The child gave an innocent toothy smile, and Daryl a sheepish grin as she pointed at him. “‘Ts daddy's fault!” She always blamed him when it was 100% her doing.

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pinching your brow. “Dixon, get yer damn daughter to bed and your ass into ours.” It was nowhere near the first time they'd woken you up with such.

“Yes ma'am.” And he took the moment of distraction to grab the child as she kicked and squealed in the interlocking cell his arms created.

Then as she aged, she completely mirrored every aspect of his personality, practically a carbon copy of him.

“Shuddup! Yall'ere ah buncha assholes!”

“Ay! Ya better watch yer mouth girl! Ain't nobody tell ya you could be talkin’ like tha’!” Daryl called across the way, catching hints of her civil argument with some other kids – as civil as a Dixon could be.

“That one really is your fault,” You teased him with a smirk, gently elbowing his side as he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“They called me Lucille cause ‘ima bloodthirsty bat’!” She nor Daryl even possessed the ability to transform. That was more fantasy.

He vanished to deal with it before you could finish your blink, leaving just the energy of his protectiveness in his wake.

—

“Hey ma, I gotcha somethin’!” She practically slid across the edge of the kitchen counter, clasped hand held out to you.

“If this is another big ass bug-”

“It's not! It's not!” She opened to a large stone of jasper. “Found it while wanderin’ – inside the walls –, thought ya might want it cause dad always gets ya ‘em, ‘nd yer ring.” She motioned to the band on your finger, adorned with a jasper center. Daryl started collecting them for you after you'd liked the one he found back near the prison.

—

“Nah, ts'only 4.9. Mine's bigger.” Daryl beamed triumphantly as they each weighed cottontail rabbits they'd caught on a hunt. They always had competitions on who could catch more, or the larger game.

“Tha's not fair! Only weighs less now cause it lost more blood on tha way back than yers did!”

“Still counts. Gotta get'ah cleaner shot, babyfangs. Then ya won’ waste so much.”

So many moments were leagues better than what your imagination curated in your youth, full of that real laughter and care and love that you could only placebo before.

But… some moments of it were the hardest, scariest moments of your life.

“Do you have any traces of her at all? Can you smell her??” You asked worriedly through labored breaths as you ran faster than you had from any person or walker or thing before. Fear pumped through your veins, somehow pushing you to keep up with Daryl's vampiric pace as you sped through the forest, bow on your back and crossbow on his, searching for your daughter.

“Yea, she ain't far. Ts’jus’ hard tah pick ‘er out with tha walkers cloudin’ it,” He grunted back, straining his senses to try and focus in on where she'd be. Sunlight seared his skin, having left the house so quickly he had no time to dress in proper attire. He didn't care, he didn't even feel it over everything he felt for his perfect girl.

“Daddy?” That soft, familiar voice ripped you both from your rush, stopping so fast you nearly toppled over and mutually whipped to take hurdles towards your daughter and wrap her in your arms. Now you truly understood your parents – so, so many years ago; that burning, aching dread to do anything and everything for your baby, to exhaust yourself to find them when they were lost, how it felt to have them in your arms again after thinking the worst thoughts one could illustrate. But there were some situations your parents never had to worry about.

“What? What is it?” You asked in alarm, pulling back to look at your daughter's face as tears started to stream down her cheeks and her gaze flicked away, the teenager so reluctant to be honest. “Please baby, what is it!?”

To your every worst fear, she reached up and pulled the neckline of her shirt aside, revealing the distinctive imprint of a walker's bite carved into the flesh on the nape of her neck.

“M'sorry, m'so sorry- I dun’ kno’ what happened I jus’-” She stammered, unable to find the words or will to begin to explain herself. Your stomach dropped so far you wouldn't be surprised if it was down in the molten core of the Earth.

The neck. It had to be neck. If it was the arm, you could amputate it, maybe she'd even have the chance of regrowing the limb, and same with the leg. If Daryl had converted you to a vampire like you'd talked about once many years ago, she never would've been a dhampir, and would never need to care about the risk walkers posed to her – whole vampiric nature making it impossible for the virus to infect them, able to survive bites and just let them heal over. If you'd payed some more fucking attention to what she was doing and where she was going, she wouldn't even be out here. If this, if that. If-

“Am I gonna die?” She sobbed, looking between you two with the most terrified expression you'd ever seen. You couldn't even register her question before her dad answered. He was always better at those split second response times where every extra beat changed the confidence of a statement.

“Nah. Yer not dyin’. Drink.” Daryl tore away his shirt, craning his neck to expose a spot by his left clavicle, close to his heart so it'd pump the most blood the quickest, and he knelt to her level. She was hesitant. “C'mon. Now!”

You watched as she stepped forward and sunk teeth into him, drawing long siphons of his blood. You prayed the purity of it compared to hers would aid her system in warding off the infection, should a dhamir still be susceptible to it. You didn't know. You didn't know if this would even work. Your heart raced so fast you couldn't even feel it anymore, like your body was already trying to shield you from how it may feel if it breaks.

“Daryl, that's enoug-” You started after a long moment, worried he'd just end up killing himself too. You couldn't lose either of them, but especially not both.

“Nah. Drink till ya can't no more – don’ give'ah damn ‘bout how much ya take,” He barked at you, then lightened his tone for her. He was beginning to feel woozy, pressure building in his head as his body's efforts to replenish struggled to keep up with her anxious draws. But again, he didn't care. He would do anything for her. He would bleed himself dry should it mean even the chance of keeping her alive.

But eventually she retracted her fangs, guilt overpowering the rest of her emotions. How could she live with herself if she was responsible for her own father's death? “Daddy, m'sorry, I-”

“Ya needah… drink, moonshine…” He wavered, and you grabbed him steady before he collapsed, resting him back against a tree trunk as you and your daughter sat on either side.

“Shit, Daryl.. c'mon, drink somma mine,” You urged, tugging your own top out of the way and offering to him.

“Nah, m'not-”

“I told ya to fuckin’ drink it!” In the rare times you raised your voice at him, he'd immediately listen: now driving his canines into your body, but taking far less of your crimson than he needed. He was too selfless for his own good.

You brushed the matted hair from his charring forehead, looking back at your daughter who tried to quiet her cries as she couldn't bring herself to look at him, curling into a ball of her own pity and shame.

“Honey, look at me,” You reached out, sliding your hand to cup her cheek and bring it up, her glassy eyes meeting yours. “I need you to help me get him home, okay? Ts’not safe out here.”

She just sat there for a moment, silently looking at you. She didn't want to accept that any of this was actually happening.

“We're all gonna be okay, so long as we get home. I love you.” That motherly tone melted her, and she nodded a little, unwinding and helping you to hoist the archer up and carry him back to Alexandria.

You kept them both in bed with you, nursing Daryl's drained status back to the typical, and keeping close watch on your daughter for any symptoms of the infection. You stayed there hour after hour, only leaving for brief moments to harvest another rabbit or squirrel for your husband, and fluids for yourself to regenerate as you'd been having him feed from you in intervals.

Your daughter spent most of it distant on the other side of the bed, back to you both, but not asleep. And you frowned.

“Babygirl, come here.” She didn't move, prefering to still act like she had nothing to do with any of this. “Sweetheart…” You reached down and forcibly dragged her up to cuddle between you and her father, soothingly stroking her head as she broke into tears again and he wrapped her in a half-dazed embrace.

Daryl was fine, just a little droopy at this point, and you mutually watched and held your girl. You prayed and pleaded and begged more than you had as a child, for a completely different reason. And to your every actually important hope and dream, a fever never spiked. Her skin never grew sweaty and clammy, eyebags never sagged, never grew weak.

Whether being a dhampir alone saved her, or Daryl's healing components pulled the rest of the weight, it didn't really matter. She was alive, and she'd live, and neither of you would ever allow this to repeat.

That customarily fatal bite turned to a scar, then smoothed back out to the unscathed plane it was before. Daryl spooned her as they both drifted into a slumber, a faint smile cresting your lips as you gazed from the opposite side. It wasn't as big as that night as a kid, or when your daughter was born, but it held as much meaning. You were all okay.

You got your vampire, and he got you – and you both got your little girl.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[lichqueenlibrarian]

A LIBRARY SECOND ONLY TO THAT OF ALEXANDRIA II

DIANE

[lubnabowsandpoetry]

I accidentally deleted my work on ao3 and it felt like burning down the library of Alexandria.

Anyways here's the prologue while I go ahead and re-release it. Reader is a firefighter (I watch too much 9-1-1) and Ghost needs therapy.

Prologue (I didn't start the fire!)

The late-autumn air, harsh and unrelenting, seeped through the thin sweater of the lieutenant. Despite his stature his steps were quiet, his boots making little to no sound. His eyes on these streets were always darting around, observing. With his hand clenched in fists in his pockets, his right one wrapped around a combat knife, he started to walk more confidently. He was almost where he was supposed to be. The weather forecast in Manchester predicted heavy rain, yet there was no sign of that. Just the usual cold wind.

When the lieutenant finally reached the address that was written on a note in his hand he took in the abandoned residence. The roof looked like it was about to collapse, the door was barely attached to the hinges and outside walls were littered with graffiti. He payed no mind to the tiny garden gate and walked up the path leading to the front door as if he owned the place. Technically speaking, he did. Kind of.

Just to let out the smallest bit of frustration he kicked down the door. Unnecessary, but it did the trick. He stood in the foyer of the house as if he were a guest expecting someone to greet him and offer him a drink. The remaining furniture looked like it would explode to dust any second. His entire life was being a soldier, and maybe also some of his comrades. He was really beginning to enjoy Soap’s company. He’d never admit it though.

His old life taunted him whenever he came from another mission. There is no distraction that lasts long enough to make him forget.. His past ghost haunting his chambers. Therefore, he decided to dig up the grave of his youth himself. Since the spirits of his past were going to release themselves anyways.

Ever since he saw you.

You who reduced him to nothing but a teenage boy. Reminding him of the childish joys, making him feel giddy at the sight of you.

He just had to see you again.

Carefully pouring gasoline in every single corner of the house. Making sure the outside had its fair share aswell.

He grabbed his lighter out of the pocket of his jeans, the same one he had used countless of other times to light up a cigarette.

Then he set his past aflame.

He watched as the fire started to lick at every inch of his childhood home. He lived there until the age of six. No tasteful memories really resided there. Just an empty shell. He grabbed his phone and entered three digits.

‘’9-9-9, what’s your emergency?’’

‘’Send the fire department.’’ Preferably a specific firefighter

PS: It is out there again. 5th chapter out!

[headknight-oh]

The Second Library of Alexandria

Constellations of Stars and Bruises

Summary: In which Daryl and Finn are on watch and Daryl gives and receives his first hickeys. Prison Era between seasons 3 and 4

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Merle flashback, queer slurs used both derogatorily and reclaimed, suggestive and sensual content but nothing explicit

Hope yall enjoy!

Daryl was put on guard duty with Finn a month or so after the new people started to move into the prison. They hadn’t talked outside of council meetings in a while, not that they were super close to begin with, but he thought it was nice to be on guard with someone that he knows. There were far too many people that he didn’t know around now. As the two settled into the shelled out guard tower, they subjected him to whatever chatter came to their mind, which was an unpredictable flow of updates about all the new kids and how Judith was starting to teethe and how if he wanted them to fix the giant hole in his shirt, he would actually have to drop it in the new mending bin, and how they might be able to move his shirt up to the top of the pile for some adequate compensation.

“Adequate compensation,” he mocked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah. You can either suck my dick or take me to a library next time you go out. I’m also open to offers of equal or greater value upon your suggestion,” they joked.

They laughed, and he scoffed. “Guess I’m findin a fukin library.”

They laughed together then. But there was a heat at the back of his neck and on his ears, as he wondered, not for the first time, if they were fully joking. They did shit like that all the time: making suggestive little jokes, calling him pretty boy and sweetheart, the works. But there was always this air of sincerity about what they said, a look in their eyes or a quirk to their smile that had Daryl thinking that maybe they were only half joking. Or maybe he was just hoping that was what it was. Most of the time, he chalked it up to them playfully trying to get a rise out of him. He tried not to think about it too often, though.

They sat in silence for a bit after that, listening to the euphonious hum of surrounding wildlife and the monstrous din of the dead down at the far fence. At one point Finn stood to stretch, groaning a bit as they cracked their back loudly.

“Damn, that was a good one,” they chuckled. “Oh!” Their hands began searching their person as they said, “I bought us a little treat.” They produced a small baggie and a lighter from their back pocket. Upon opening the bag, an earthy, skunky smell spread through the air.

“The fuck’d you get weed from?” he asked as they pulled the joint from the bag.

“Well apparently,” they said, lighting the joint and breathing in deeply, “The medical facility on that map Glenn found was a medical dispensary.” They exhaled out over the side of the railing. “He took me to read medicine names, and I came away stocked with bud for the foreseeable future.” They took another drag then extended the joint to him. He eyed it, watching smoke curl from the glowing tip. They clocked his hesitation. “Promise I don’t have cooties. But if you don’t want to, I’ll happily smoke it all myself. If I have to deal with walking corpses AND Rickolas for the rest of my life, I’m not doing it sober.”

Daryl laughed at that, and they smiled. They offered the smoke up with another motion and a quirk of their eyebrow. He reached out gingerly after a beat, taking and inhaling. It felt different in his lungs than his usual tobacco smoke, but it was nice.

Finn hummed an unfamiliar tune while they smoked together, eyes turned skyward just as often as they scanned the fenceline. Daryl tried to distract himself from the way their fingers brushed his when they passed the joint, but it became much more difficult as his head grew fuzzier, and he found himself staring. His eyes landed on their skin, their shoulder and collar bone and chest, the exposed bits that showed where their overshirt slid down to reveal their tank top underneath. In the moonlight, he saw little bruises in various shades of purple peppered across their skin. His fuzzy brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing, zoning out with his eyes glued to a particularly nasty looking bruise near the neckline of their tank top.

They must have been talking for a bit, because they were soon waving a hand in front of his face. “My eyes are not in my tits, Daryl my dear.”

He blinked and looked up at their smirking face. They weren’t angry but rather amused. He looked away quickly, mumbling an apology as he handed the dying joint back over. They laughed, and his face and core grew warm.

Flustered, he tried to wave it off, grunting. “The hell happened to you?”

They looked down, puzzled before laughing again and saying, “That swinger couple. That’s what happened to me. But that’s nothing, you should see what they did to my thighs.”

His brain took a moment to process. First, the thought of their thighs covered in the same kinds of dark bruises made his stomach flip in a way he wasn’t quite familiar with. Then, “Swinger couple?” He knew that Georgia wasn’t the best place for people like Finn, but he'd thought anyone they brought back to the prison would at least be civil to them. Why were they laughing at someone hurting them? He felt a different kind of heat in his face: a protective rage.

“Yeah. They’re in their 30s. Chris and Lilly. They’re pretty nice. I typically don’t have threesomes with straight people, but it’s not like there’s a massive dating pool, ya know?”

Daryl didn’t say anything. He just stared at one of the bruises on their chest, cut in half by the neckline of their shirt. His heart sped up as his brain caught up. Threesome, sex, hickeys. Oh. His brain reeled with unwarranted images of what he assumed had happened. He swallowed thickly. He stared for too long again. Suddenly Finn was snapping their fingers in his face, saying, “If you keep staring at my tits like that, I’m going to start charging.”

He stuttered out garbled excuses, their low chuckling not doing anything to help the red in his cheeks or the thoughts in his head. He took the joint back and gestured towards their bruising, “Don’t that hurt?”

They shrugged. “Just as much as any other hickey.”

He scoffed and pretended to actually scan the area surrounding the prison, “Wouldn’t know much ‘bout that.”

They let out a curious noise. “You telling me someone as hot as you has never had a hickey before?”

He just grunted and tried to wave past it. He could already feel his ears burning.

They took that as answer enough. “Huh. Would not have guessed. Well, if you ever get a hankering for your first hickey, I have a mouth,” they offered.

He snorted. “Yeah. And that swinger couple’s got two.” It came out a little harsher, more spiteful, than he anticipated, but they didn’t seem to notice.

They laughed. “True. I can put in a good word for you if you want. Or you can join us next time. Three mouths are better than two, or whatever.”

And that’s what got him. Not necessarily the idea of three mouths, but their mouth specifically, between his thighs, sucking one of those little purple bruises. He made a little noise like a satisfied hum as he exhaled his smoke.

“Like that, huh?” They plucked the joint from his fingers, taking one last drag before putting the small butt out. “I will warn you, they’re biters. Obviously. “They gestured to their chest, laughing. “Might get a bit much if you’re not used to it.”

Daryl looked over at them again. Some of those bruises were pretty dark. He’d had bruises that dark before plenty of times in his life, and he couldn’t imagine any scenario where getting one would feel nice. Maybe it was the weed making a mess of his brain or the latent hormones, but something moved him to speak.

“Get me used to it then.”

Their eyebrows shot up and their smile widened. “Do not play this game of gay chicken with me, Daryl Dixon. My most committed relationship has always been to the bit.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Gay chicken… What?” Maybe the weed was just hitting him a little harder than he thought. Or maybe he just couldn’t make sense of what Finn was saying, like usual.

Finn chuckled. “I mean,” they corrected, “I will gladly give you a hickey if that’s what you actually want, and you aren’t just giving me shit back.”

His momentary courage to speak was gone. He looked down, fidgeting in his seat and chewing at a nonexistent hangnail. His face burned. He made a noncommittal noise, turning back to survey the fenceline. Suddenly, there was a soft hand on his forearm. He followed Finn’s hand with his eyes, down their wrist, over the tattoos on their forearm, up to their bruised shoulder and neck, then finally to their face. It was gentle and open, and their probing eyes had softened into something like fondness.

They moved slowly then, pulling his finger away from his mouth and tilting his head up. He allowed them to position him, breath caught in his chest.

“Ok,” they said softly, much softer than their normal theatre-like projection. “Where do you want it? Shoulder? Collarbone? Neck? We can make the whole prison talk with that one.” Their little joke broke the tension a bit, and he let out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t know. Whatever you want.” He cleared his throat a bit, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Hmm, dealer's choice,” Finn mused as they moved from their seat to straddle his lap. Daryl made a surprised noise in his throat, but stayed still. Almost too still. Finn surveyed him with their hands on his shoulders. They shook them a little, wiggling their own head in time. “Relax,” they said. “I’ll be gentle.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. Finn brushed the ends of his hair off and away from his neck, letting their fingers trace down his jugular to the collar of his shirt. They could feel his racing pulse no doubt. They pulled his shirt to the side slightly, revealing his collarbone. It was flushed scarlet just like his face. Finn leaned in slow, almost giving him a chance to push them away. He didn’t.

When Finn’s lips made contact with his skin, his heart leapt. They kissed at the area a bit before grazing their teeth over his skin. An involuntary groan escaped Daryl’s lips before he could stop it. A warm tongue soothed over his skin before the teeth were back, harder this time. Finn bit down gently and sucked at the skin of his chest. His breath began to quicken as Finn pulled small whines out of him. He was vaguely aware of the pain of it, the breaking of blood vessels and the dull stabbing of their teeth. Finn had bitten him once in the past, in a much less desirable situation than the one they were in now. Daryl much preferred the way they bit him now. This pain was covered in a cloud of pleasure, something he’d felt very seldom in his life. His heart pounded, and his face felt like it was on fire. He had to will his blood away from below his belt; he might die of embarrassment if he got hard while they were in his lap. Like some kind of high school kid.

Daryl felt one of Finn’s hands move to the opposite side of his neck, cradling softly and applying gentle pressure to the base of his skull and jaw. He leaned his head down into their hand without realizing his body was moving. Finn readjusted the angle of their head, licking the area before returning to sucking at the skin. They opened their mouth a bit wider before digging their teeth back into his flesh. Daryl was vaguely aware of the small “ah ah” noise that slipped out of his mouth. Finn hummed contentedly with their mouth still on him.

Before they pulled away, they soothed the reddened area with a few open mouthed kisses that trailed away from the blooming purple on his chest. As they pulled back, their thumb wiped away some of the remaining saliva, still holding back the collar of his shirt. They took a moment to admire their handiwork.

“Pretty good first hickey, if I do say so myself. What you think?” They smiled and looked back up at his face. Daryl blinked a few times to clear the fog from his head before looking down. He could just make out the red and purple of the forming bruise in the corner of his vision.

“Looks good,” he grunted. He suddenly became aware that his hands had settled on Finn’s hips on their own accord. He quickly dropped them.

Finn laughed. They patted his shoulder. “I’m glad it looks good. But how did it feel? That was the whole point.”

Daryl struggled to reel in his thoughts. Finn was acting so casual, as if they sat in his lap and bit his chest all the time, as if they did things like this all the time. Which he supposed they must have. It made him feel conscious of how much it had affected him in turn. He grunted.

“Felt nice,” was all he could manage. His throat was a bit tight and his ears still burned. He could feel the heat from Finn’s body through his clothes.

They smiled. “I’m glad. Wanna give me one for reciprocity’s sake? Or do you want me out of your lap before you jizz your jorts?”

His nose crinkled in disgust. “I ain’t gonna… do that.”

Finn laughed again. “I know. This time I am just giving you shit. But what you say? I got some prime real estate begging to be filled.” They tapped the side of their neck where there was a circle of unmarked skin.

Daryl’s head began to swirl again. They talked about it like it was nothing, like they were shooting the shit or sharing a story. It made him feel funny, vulnerable. But that was quickly drowned out by a seemingly magnetic pull to their neck. He nodded, and they held their hair out of the way.

His lips met their skin gently, unsure and tense. He tried to mimic what they had done to him, starting with gentle nibbles then sucking and running his tongue over the skin. Finn hummed and brought their hand to his head, running their fingers into his hair. He liked that. He liked it even more when he bit down harder and their hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling slightly. Finn let out a sharp breath as Daryl moaned into their neck, sucking and biting and kissing. What he lacked in technique and experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. His head felt all fuzzy again as he lost himself in the feeling of their skin against his lips, the smell of their shampoo, the taste of salt and soap. He had been so tense when he’d received his, his body getting used to the sensation and his brain reeling from the novelty of it all. Now, he allowed the fuzzy, floaty feeling to engulf him as his body moved on its own, small noises coming from his mouth.

Finn was making those small noises too, low grunts in the back of their throat, pleasant sighs, hissed “fuck”s. It made a knot in his stomach tighten.

Eventually, they made him come up for air, pulling at his hair firmly. His pupils were blown wide when he met their eyes and his breath came quickly. His hands had wound their way around Finn’s waist again, tight and grasping at the fabric of their shirt. They ran a hand over his brow, brushing stray hair away.

“Well don’t you look pretty like that,” Finn said, running their thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away some saliva. He began to relax a bit as his breath evened out and his heart slowed down. He found the new bruise he’d just left on their neck; it was small and mostly red, but it was still there. He briefly thought that he would like it much more if it were the only one they had, if his marks were the only ones on them. He pushed that thought away for later.

Finn smoothed his hair down and sat back a bit. “You’re a quick study. That felt nice. A little more suction next time, and that shit will be bright purple.” They quickly tapped his nose with their forefinger before swinging their leg up and off his lap. As they settled back into their own seat, Daryl was saddened slightly at the loss of their warmth against him.

Finn looked up at the stars for a moment then back over to him. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself now. Finn was so calm next to him, like this kind of thing happened every day. He supposed to them, it might. He pushed that thought away too. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finn smiled at that.

“Feel adequately prepared?” they asked.

He nodded. “Ya could say that.” He bit at his lip, tearing off a bit of dead skin. “Don’t think I’d like those other two though. I don’t know them. Wouldn’t be the same.” Merle had always said that was his problem, that he had to know someone, that he should just be able to fuck the whore his brother had bought for him and not waste his money with stiff shoulders and a limp dick. Daryl hadn’t even known her name. Merle hadn’t cared about her name though; he’d ‘got his money’s worth’ himself then spent the rest of the night poking fun at Daryl for being broken or not a real man or a faggot or a forever virgin. Daryl shook the memory out of his head. Memories of Merle still hurt, even bad ones.

Finn just nodded. “I get that. I used to make out with my friends when we went out instead of finding a stranger. It was nicer. And I knew where their mouths had been.” They laughed at that. “We were like a troop of bonobos.”

Daryl’s face scrunched in confusion. “The fuck is a bonobo?”

Finn laughed. “A kind of ape. Them and chimps are our closest genetic relatives. Bonobos have a complex social structure that relies on them all fucking each other though. Strengthens social bonds and keeps aggressive behaviors low. Humans are the same way to me. Fucking, kissing, sexuality, sensuality. It’s all intimate, but people do it for a bunch of reasons. Love, romance, friendship, fondness, religion, therapy, curiosity. It’s nice.” They looked over at him, gesturing to the mark they made. “Means I can give my friends hickies, and it only means I’m a little bit of a faggot.”

Daryl laughed at that. “Thought you was a dyke.” Daryl remembered them using a sarcastic ‘it’s because I’m a dyke, isn’t it’ to win an argument with Glenn the other day.

“Sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both. It’s a very fun little schrodinger’s sexuality situation I’ve got going on here. Any way you slice it, it comes away queer.”

Daryl grunted. He didn’t quite get it, but he didn’t think he entirely needed to. “Does that mean I got my first hickey from a guy?”

Finn smiled, eyes soft, and he saw that fondness again. “Yeah Daryl,” they said. “You got your first hickey from a guy.”

Daryl smiled back at them before turning to look out at the moonlit landscape around them. Finn followed suit, silent in thought. Suddenly, their laughter rang out again.

“You also got a boner from biting a guy sitting in your lap.”

Daryl stammered, face blazing red. He’d gotten so lost in the sensation of sucking on their neck that he hadn’t even noticed. It had gone down now, but even so, Finn was right. He mumbled a sheepish apology.

Finn shook their head, giggling. “It’s all good. I’m just giving you grief.” They kicked their feet up on the railing, leaning their seat back a bit to look at the sky. Their face was alight with silver starlight.

Daryl covered his burning face with his hands, feeling the need to run and hide and never show his face again. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited for Finn to change the subject. He knew they would eventually if he left them in silence long enough for their mind to wander. He sat in awkward silence for an eternity as the next five minutes passed, unable to look at them or breathe properly. Eventually, they spoke.

“I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch the earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia.” They traced patterns in the stars that had no name, grinning in awe. Their voice had the lilt of recitation, of quoting, of remembering.

Daryl was grateful for a new avenue of conversation. “What’s that?”

“Ptolemy. The philosopher from ancient Alexandria.” Their eyes remained trained on the sky, absorbing the cloudy beauty of the milky way now that there was almost no artificial light to drown it out.

“It’s nice. Pretty.” Daryl was finally able to chance a look over at them, his previous shame forgotten.

They hummed. “I think so too.”

Finn looked over at him with a smile that he returned slowly. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, or at least was less eventful. The hum of crickets and the moans of the dead filled the air as the stars ended their journey across the night sky. The warm reds and oranges of sunrise began to paint the trees around the prison. The sky really was beautiful.

[darkwitchingflower]

Cabin 6 -Athena- headcanons

They all have amazing hand-writing

None of them can make it through the harry potter and the chamber of secrets film

Their cabin is entirely spider proof

They all love crime documentaries and shows and have a "friendly" competition to see who can solve it first

They managed to develop glow-in-the-dark and water-proof paper for late night studying and reading or reading while showering

Pencils in their hair is second nature

They can somehow sense when an owl is near

Whenever they need a bookmark one magically appears in their pockets

Like the Ares kids, they are EXTREAMLY competetive

Don't mention the library of Alexandria to any athena child, they are very BITTER about the entire thing

They cabin smells of peppermint oil so much you get a headache but the Campers have become nose blind to it

Since Athena only needs platonic love to "give birth" some of her children will have two mothers and this can cause confusion between Campers when they say "my mother" not knowing which mother they're referring to

This makes them laugh almost as much as puns

They LOVE puns

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

my lucifer headcanons

note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write lucifer, what plays into why i write luce the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- i think michael was very fond of his brother

- when the time came though to listen to dad and fulfill his duty or be a brother to lucifer michael chose duty

- the betrayal is still a sore spot for lucifer

- during lucifer’s “youth” he was curious, always dreaming up incredible creations… it was why he was dads favorite.

- he made the star fish, “because the sea deserves its own stars!” and he also made the duck. the ducks first iteration was quite a bit larger… lucifer and god compromised on a smaller duck. (more like god bribed lucifer.)

- he watched adam be made…. so he was always fond of him and lilith… until he fell in love with lilith…

- he didn’t realize it was love

- but michael knew and michael was scared. so he would draw lucifer away from the garden every chance he got

- lucifer was very naive when he was cast down to hell. he knew so much, he had been alive for so long, but there was so much life experience he didn’t have.

- the first few years in hell were horrible…

- he had hope at first

- maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad

- it was really bad. like really bad. the people who came down to hell were unspeakable devils

- (this is based off a fic i read and i can’t find it, if this rings any bells pls let me know the fic name) but lucifer is continuously appalled and distraught by the atrocities committed in his name.

- it’s one of the reasons he so powerful. he has the angelic power but also the power from those who worship him and make sacrifices for him

he really hates it. a lot. makes him feel no better than the worse overlord (cough alastor cough)

- charlie has no idea and she’ll never know if he can help it

- lucifer smells like apples and vanilla musk, a hint of cinnamon and something floral or citrusy.

- the floral or citrus changes depending on his mood

- he has a huge library. he actually pops up to earth with Asmodeous sometimes and takes books.

- he saved the whole Library of Alexandria’s books before it burned down

- he’s great friends with all the sins

- arguably closest with Beelzebub and Asmodeous

- he loves claw machines. the lights, the sounds, the prize winning???? he’s so fucking happy

- he actually wears glasses to read. he doesn’t need them but he says they make him look smarter.

- is actually a pretty good leader, is not nearly as forgiving as charlie is, but he’s not inherently cruel

- his third favorite color is pink

- his first and second are yellow and red, obviously

- he has expensive ass, maximalist taste.

- he doesn’t use tech because he knows what vox does to said tech.

- he’s always wanted a dog

- he’s very touchy. shows love physically. is only this way if he likes you though

- he has nightmares almost every night

- coffee addict

- because after not sleeping he wakes up looking like death warmed over

- and that’s if he didn’t forget to eat the past few days except for random snacks and didn’t do a 48 hour blitz of staying up working on ducks or the bit of kingdom shit he does.

- he has a handful of servants who he trusts and they are the only one in the house. there’s no team. nothing like that. he keeps it very close

- this was after someone who was a servant tried to throw an angelic dagger at his head because really they wanted to kill him and thought working for him would get them close enough.

- he homeschooled charlie. he knows a lot of stuff and even knew the guy who created calculus!

[dipperscavern]

pondering anon returns… you mentioned losing one of my asks in the burning of the library of alexandria so im gonna bring it up again Sorry If You Just Didn’t Fw This but TEMPERATURE PLAY WITH JON SNOW 😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞 i never request jon so you know its serious Guys lets just close our eyes and take a deep breath… as a matter of fact call the council

OH SHITTTRTRRR SHES BACKKKCKKCKCKKCKC

first off, hi baby i missed u!!!! i did in fact lose your ask (so sorry btw) AND OMG YOUR BRAIN. i’m so fond of you this feels like a high school reunion like hello my og where have you been

second off. ASSEMBLE THE COUNCIL.

can i just say, i think jon would accidentally introduce you to temperature play. like, purely on accident. he’s eating you out, and his tongue is warm in its place between your thighs, but his hands (that are all over you) are freezing. safe to say you discover something new about yourself. i’ve heard adding a blindfold can be beneficial, cause if one sense is taken away it heightens the others (are blindfolds even a thing in fuckin 200 B.C?) (can we please discuss this further im so intrigued) (cause his hands are cold all the time) (ouhhh but his tongue is so warm) :3

[lovelylunasnow]

About the books:

A lot of you asked me about the books and where I got them.

Seeing your curiosity I will tell you all the story, but I got to warn you, it’s crazy and long.

Let me start by saying I live in a small town in the middle of nowhere. (Not joking, nobody will come here as a tourist, if anything they drive pass us without giving my town a second glance). It’s a very old town, kinda charming in its own spooky way as the town was built waaaayy back then in the late 1880’s and a lot of the old buildings are still standing and in use.

One said building is our old “public” library, a focal point for locals as we went there to read or use the internet or pass time as there is not much to do.

Sadly this changed when the old library keeper died, the library while it was use by the public it was technically private property owned and operated by the old library keeper and his family for many generations. His kids without telling anybody sold the library to a group without telling anybody.

Had they known that the town mayor was willing to pay double for the building to keep it being run as it was they would have probably changed their mind.

Sadly this is when stuff goes from bad to worse. The people they sold it to was a cult.

I am not joking, they claim to be people of god but their not, they are extremist who do some…. Very bad things I will not say here… but if I had to compare them to anybody I compare them to Warren Jeff and his cult. (I am not exaggerating).

They let their plans know about how they were going to turn the library to sell books that are “religious” and “safe” and they were going to “purge out” all the evil.

Knowing what they were going to do the town band together to complain even the mayor got involved and offered to buy it back but they refused.

So me and a couple of others knowing what was coming we banded together and made a little group to hopefully save the books as we knew they were planning to get rid of them.

For a couple of nights our group grew and we planned. The first few plans failed…. That being that we tried to check out as many books as we could before they did anything. Sadly they caught on and would stop anybody from taking the books.

Then the staff got involved and grabbed and snuck out as many books as they could and snuck them out before quitting. (Their words “We are not working for those wackos” ) The most smart was the janitor who stuffed as many books as he could inside his janitorial cart and left. He did it several times before he was caught and had to run away with the cart while the crazy people chased after him. (He got away).

Sadly it was not enough and there was still a lot of books left.

Even worse the cult got smart and basically locked the building, not letting anybody in or out as they “Performef a cleansing and got rid of all the words of Lucifer and Lilith”.

There was a chance that we were too late to save the rest of the books and manga but we wanted to take a last chance.

So some of the most bravest, myself included made up an operation which we called “Operation saving Alexandria”.

Me and several others with their pick ups would sneak into the building in the middle of the night, climb up the fence and look around hoping to find where they trashed the books…. Secretly praying they were not thrown into a shredder before being tossed out.

I, another and the driver snuck in, the driver would stay by the car, my partner would help me look around.

Eventually we found this large roll off dumpster, I got in with the help of my partner, at first I thought the books were shredded cause all I saw was white till I opened a bag and saw that they were not shredded, but rather the book binding was torn off and the pages were scattered.

This was salvageable so I began to take garbage bags and throw them to my partner who in turn ran them over and threw them over the fence to the driver who caught and put them in the back of the pick up.

Once the pick up was full we drove away and then the second team was dispatched. Did the same process till their pick up was full and drove off.

Between several of us we emptied out that container. Even though it took several hours and one of the group claims that his group got caught by the cops who then turned a blind eye and let them go, acting as if they saw nothing.

With all the bags placed in a neighbors house who was not only a former library employee but had a large storage barn we began the phase two.

Opening the bags we sorted out all the pages of the books and tried to figure out where they belonged to make the books whole again.

It was not easy work and it also further confirmed the cult was even more of lunatics than we thought as they literally threw everything away. All the history, science, math books ect, all of the manga and comics, fantasy, sci-fi, everything had been thrown out!

So ya, it took us a long time and the effort of almost the whole town (minus the cult) to piece the books back together, then we had a fund raiser to gather enough money to send the pages to bookbinders and such so the pages can be put together in proper hardcover books.

When it was done the storage barn was converted into local public library for all of us to enjoy. We even named the new building “Library of Alexandria” as a tribute for our operations with the people who used to work at the old library working there. (We even joked about how operation will eventually become local legend for us to share with our kids)

This hardcover Pokémon manga was one of the victims of the books that were thrown out and is now salvaged. Lovingly cared for everybody to read to their hearts content.

[vivmaek]

THE PLUTO IN SAGITTARIUS GENERATION Born at the start of Globalization, November 10, 1995 - January 25, 2008

I’ve been talking a lot of shit on here about the Pluto in Sagittarius generation. And while I still think my irritations are justified (lol,) I gotta make it up by doing a complete breakdown. After all, this is the generation I belong to. 

1995: NASA's Galileo spacecraft arrives at Jupiter

With Pluto in Sagittarius, this is a generation full of creatives, visionaries, academics, philosophers and rebels. We’re all about big ideas and moral philosophy. We’ve had the internet within our fingertips our entire lives, an unlimited database of knowledge and social interconnectivity.

We have a lot in common with the Pluto in Leo generation (Baby Boomers,) being that both generations are ruled by fire signs. However what differentiates us is that the Pluto in Leo generation is focused on the self (Sun,) and the Pluto in Sagittarius generation is focused on the collective (Jupiter.) We project a sense of optimism despite having such large ambitions. This will serve as an inspiration for future generations. 

Most of us have parents belonging to the Pluto in the Libra Generation. They raised us with values centered on equality and justice. 

We grew up amongst explosive world events: First Internet Meme (1996), Google (1998), Columbine (1998), The Second Congo War (1998), Kosovo Genocide (1999), Launch of International Space Station (2000), 9/11 (2001), Invasion of Iraq (2003), Darfur (2003), Boxing Day Tsunami (2004), Facebook (2004), London Bombings (2005), iPhone (2007), America's first black President (2008), Global Economic Downturn (2008).

Pluto in Capricorn frames our coming of age story. Our teenage years were harsh and depressing. It was an isolating experience that did not involve much fun. For many people born with a Sagittarius Pluto, their adolescence is defined by a Global Pandemic in which all movement was restricted. These years also put into focus old frameworks that must be destroyed and cast aside.

The Pluto In Scorpio Generation is coming through and uprooting all these frameworks before passing the torch onto us. We will be the ones to come up with blueprints for new ideologies and ways of thinking. We’re aiming forward and casting an arrow for future generations to follow. 

Past events that occurred while Pluto was in Sagittarius: The Burning of the Library of Alexandria (272), first novel published in Japan (1010), Sorbonne founded (1257), first use of eyeglasses (1268), Columbus sets sail (1502), the birth of Nostradamus (1503), invention of sign language (1749), the first encyclopedia (1751).  

Past figures born while Pluto was in Sagittarius: Constantine I (272), Dante Aligheri (1265), Goethe (1749), James Madison (1751), Alexander Hamilton (1755), Marie Antoinette (1755), Mozart (1756,) William Blake (1757), Robespierre (1758).

[bihastuff]

My favorite black butler editor just deactivated their account this feels like the second burning of alexandria library

[fob4ever]

patrick stump & neal avron on tape notes podcast (12.15.23)

songwriting stuff, demos, lyric process, a bunch of things! they talk about the songs lftos, heaven iowa and smfsd.

long summary under the cut!

talked about how they sat outside “emo” because they leaned more towards hiphop/rnb, but also how they didn’t fit in the “pop” genre too and how they would be put on pop shows and “comparatively it was like slayer was playing” lmao “but we’re still a pop band!”

they experimented with reggae and 90s shoegaze and hardcore during the pandemic

they recorded most of stardust together in neal’s house :D at the beginning it was mostly just neal and patrick working together, at the end of the day everybody would come in to listen

patrick said he got “kinda obsessed” with streamlining pete’s lyrics in the chorus over the past few albums: “pete is very wordy. he has all these ideas that take up a lot of space.” and that their manager sat him down at lunch and said “don't do that. you guys used to ramble. why don't you ramble?” and lftos was the first song patrick put together after that convo

lftos writing process: patrick followed what he was feeling, and most of what he did in that song were things that years spent working in pop music had scared him off on doing.

the “every lover's got a little dagger in their hand” lyric tied it all together for patrick: “[i was] singing that line and EAGERLY emailing neal: listen to this!”

they play a little of the lftos demo (16:55). it's wild. VERY guitar-forward

“neal and i lost most of the demos for [folie a deux].” the burning of the library of alexandria. to me

talks about how the folie demos were infinitely stranger than the final versions, “psychedelic at times”

for stardust, they didn't really keep much of the demo stuff- patrick: “and my demos are pretty decent!”

lftos piano demo (21:35)

patrick: i want some drama. when i look back at our records, our best ones start off with a sense of melodrama

they play individual parts of the lftos instrumentation (31:25), andy's drums, pete's bass, joe's guitar. <3

bridges are patrick's favorite thing to write, because he just gets to play

patrick: "pete doesn't even send lyrics in lyric-form, he just sends words. and it's interesting when you see it- it's almost like one-liner after one-liner. and i'll just get an email of those, and then you kinda have to figure out what thematically goes together, what feels like the same song. but then i also try to keep lyrics together as much as possible, because i feel he's in a place where it does feel like one thought."

"when i read it, there's almost a passive thing where i just imagine what it sounds like to me. and [the lyrics for heaven, iowa] scared me a lot, because it felt kind of sparse, and i don't really like sparse- i don't really like singing by myself. [...] i don't like being so front and center, and i could tell that there was something really intimate about this song, and it was a big challenge for me."

everybody immediately went for the heaven, iowa demo- it's from the first stardust session and it took the longest to complete because patrick wasn't satisfied with just his voice over keys- "it was too naked."

patrick doesn't ask pete about lyrics because: "first off, he will not explain things. but second off, i think there is something to that. where i'll read his lyrics, and i'll interpret it one way, and years later i'll realize it's another way. there's so many double entendres that i've only gotten decades later, i'll be singing and go, 'OH it's a sex thing.'"

patrick really attaches to the story of a lyric, the craft of it, and then years later he'll be like "oh that was a HEAVY lyric. [and] pete must have felt that thing! i don't really question it when i'm writing- it's kindof unfair on him, like, should i check on him?"

heaven iowa instrumental demo/instruments isolated (53:30)

patrick would tell joe to "go nuts" on heaven, iowa!

neal talks about the ambient guitar pedal joe plays during heaven iowa and how it worked really well. patrick says this was the kind of thing that saved (the song).

patrick and andy double drummed at the same time in the studio for heaven iowa! <3

pete told joe to go "full slash" at the end of heaven iowa : )

patrick almost didn't send out the demo for the title track, smfsd! he was almost sure no one was going to like it, even though he liked it. but he sent it out, and it "kept surviving"

both patrick and neal brushed smfsd off because they assumed they "couldn't do that", but pete really pushed for it, which surprised patrick.

so much for stardust demo (1:25:07) patrick plays drums on it, sloppily. which he freely admits to lol. it is quite sloppy indeed

patrick: "i'm a drummer too, but andy and i are very different drummers. and it's very cool translating our things between each other, because he comes from metal (...) and i'm more a funk drummer."

lotsa joe layering in heaven iowa and smfsd : )

it was patrick's idea to do a lyrical callback in lftos/smfsd, and pete was hesitant about it. but patrick pushed for it, becasuse it made sense as "story beats"- "it's like 'empire strikes back'!"

patrick doesn't like to putz around the studio that much, he just wants to be recording something.

patrick: "my routine [during the writing of the album] was just to make it to the studio as on time as i can be- i have adhd, it's very difficult- but i'd be there within 10-15 minutes of when i was supposed to be there, and then we'd just work through it."

patrick's advice: FROM ELTON JOHN: when you find your producer that understands you, stick with them. patrick: "and that was on a record we didn't do with neal, and i remember thinking [makes unsure noises]..." also prioritize in the short-term, what's important. take a step back.

neal's advice: if music is your passion, do it, and do it all the time

patrick was afraid people wouldn't like him "rambling" in songs, even though it was honest and natural to him. he was terrified of doing it again, thinking people wouldn't like it. but people did! "don't subvert yourself too much."

the host asks for them to choose a stardust song to close out the podcast, and patrick chooses what a time to be alive :)

the end