#trading post missionary

[illiana-mystery]

1995

[doctorbunny]

Amane's birthday flower tweet

(tweet links here)

Happy Birthday to everyone born today. Today is also Amane Momose from #MILGRAM's birthday. Her birth flower is Passiflora caerulea (tokeisou/Blue Passion Flower). The name "Passion flower" [tl note: passion as in "the passion/suffering of Christ, not enthusiasm] was used by Christian missionaries, it comes from the stamen's resemblence to the Crucifixion of Christ, with the 10 petals representing 10 Apostles. The passion flower's hanakotoba are "Faith", "Sacred Love" as well as "Religious fervour". Just so you know, this is simply an annecdote about the flower, it's not directly related to Amane's origins. Hanatokoba is purely allegorical. Simply put, just because the blue passion flower has this kind of backstory and hanakotoba, it doesn't mean Amane's religion is the same. Just added this supplement in case this is the first time you've had a run in with the Hanakotoba Guy and found it hard to understand. [Note: 花言葉おじさん Hanakotoba ojisan aka Hanakotoba Guy/Old Man Hanakotoba/Mr Hanakotoba is Yamanaka's nickname for himself when he does these things, he also used the term in Mikoto's birthday tweet]

本日お誕生日の方おめでとうございます。 #ミルグラム では桃瀬遍の誕生日でもあります。 誕生花はトケイソウ。十字架にかけられたキリストに似た雄しべと10人の使徒に見える花弁から別名「受難の花」と呼ばれ、キリスト教の布教に利用されました。花言葉は『信仰』『聖なる愛』そして『宗教的熱情』。 ちなみにこの花に関してのエピソードなだけで、本人の出自とは直接関係ありません。花言葉はあくまで寓意です。 噛み砕いてわかりやすく言うと、トケイソウってお花にそういうエピソードと花言葉があるってだけでアマネの信教がそうだって話��ゃないよってことね。花言葉おじさんと邂逅するのが初めてだとわかりづらいだろうなと思って補足。

[hornyjorny]

following the river

summary: almost a frame-by-frame fanfic of river's scene in-game, but better :3 ish!! an- guys i am so fucking sorry i haven't posted in fucking AGES i've been absolutely dogged with work n shit and i'm depressed as fuck. anyway. here's to my loyal river fans (all twelve of us) hashtag justice for river ward ive literally spent months on this for no reason warnings- smut (18+ mdni), cowgirl, first time, you're both nervous as fuck, multiple positions, switch!v, switch!river, fucking the police, johnny ment, oral (f receiving and very brief lol), missionary, mild angst with cavity-inducing sweetness at the end, river and v are very much in love, cuddles

wc: 9.2k

If you had told yourself you’d be spending the night with an NCPD badge a month ago, you woulda’ laughed in your very own fuckin’ face. But between those heated kisses and those soft, hushed whispers, River Ward leads you by the hand into the silence of his bedroom— and it all feels far too unreal. 

But the truth is, reality is a bitch. And now here you are, tangled in a contradiction of your own making. Guess you misunderstood the whole “FUCK THE POLICE” thing. 

He oughtta be chasing you down, not holding you close. But fuck, this whole situation with River is just so thrilling, and it’s absolutely undeniable that he’s more than just some badge. 

There’s kindness, there’s goodness in him that transcends that old, dumbass uniform he used to wear. Night City may be bleeding, and Johnny Silverhand may be a relentless presence in your head, but River offers something more—a promise of a future beyond the consistent chaos as he leads you into the quietness of the trailer. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if you’re entirely in love with River— sure, you’re attracted, and sure, your heart beats a million times faster when he’s around, and sure, you think about him all the fucking time, but shit, you don’t know love. But fuck, whether you deserve it or not, there’s just something about him, you don’t know what feels… safe. 

River represents something you’ve never really had: hope. The hope for a promise of an actual future— a real-ass life. Not just surviving but living— happily, at that. 

And for tonight, that’s enough.

Never before have you encountered someone as gentle, as fucking sweet as River. His kindness, his sincerity, it's like a lifeline amid chaos. But with each tender moment, each stolen kiss, you can't shake the gnawing feeling of guilt eating away at you. Oh, how you don’t want to feel this way, but here you are regardless, falling and falling for River, and allowing yourself to embrace the sensation of being vulnerable in more ways than one. And oh— is it such a bad time to catch feelings; your time on this earth is limited. 

You’re a merc, one with a ticking timebomb of a narcissistic rockerboy lodged into your head, just waiting to take over your body, waiting for you to finally kick the bucket so he can take control. You’re not exactly girlfriend material. You’re neither beautiful nor are you admirable. You are tired. You are bruised.

You're a mercenary, a killer by trade, and here you are, falling for a cop—a man dedicated to upholding the law you so often break.  

You know you should push River away, distance yourself before it's too late. But goddamn it, you can't bring yourself to do it. 

It’s almost funny, you think. Funny to have found a love oh-so-precious—oh-so beautiful, only to have it ripped away from you by a little piece of plastic nestled in your skull. River’s warmth, his unwavering support, it's all both a blessing and a curse. You desperately want to hold onto this love, to cherish every moment you have left, but the knowledge that your time is running out gnaws at your very soul. 

You sigh. Fuck, you know you can’t think about this now— you know it’s best to enjoy the moment rather than to trouble yourself with the moral implications of it all right now. You’ll destroy yourself otherwise. 

And little do you know, but River’s thoughts are mirroring your own. He's fucking scared, terrified of the way you've woven yourself into the fabric of his life. As a detective, he's seen the darkest corners of Night City, the horrors that lurk in the shadows. But when it comes to you, he's lost, unsure of how to navigate the maze of emotions that swirl within him.

You're the very embodiment of everything he's sworn to protect the city against. And yet, he can't help but fall for you. Behind the walls you've erected to shield yourself from the world, he sees the vulnerability, the genuine warmth that draws him to you like a moth to a flame. But there's a part of him that fears the truth, that fears what he might discover if he delves too deep into your world. And as you stand together in the silence of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but wonder if this fragile bubble of happiness is destined to burst, leaving nothing but broken pieces in its wake.

The linoleum floor creaks beneath your steps as River leads you further, navigating the narrow hallway. Anxiety continues to brew within him—shit, he just hopes you like him back.

He hopes his choice is right. He hopes he made the right choice by bringing you around.

But all of the chaos, all the fear building within, completely evaporates away when his eyes finally meet yours, his anxiety dissipating into nothingness. Tonight, all he wants is for the two of you to be one, where nothing in the world matters. It makes everything else seem so distant and minuscule, and that, oh, it’s the closest thing to heaven that he’s ever known.

Nothin’ else matters—except for the moment.

River pauses at one of the entryways, silently gesturing to his niece and nephew, sleeping peacefully. You understand what he’s communicating to you immediately.

You two need to be quiet tonight.

Tonight is the perfect time to forget that you’re a mercenary and he’s a cop. No badges, no guns, no uniforms—and no parasitic rockstar in your head, either. Just you and him.

So you nod your head in acknowledgment as you ease past the kids and follow him into the silence of his bedroom. Your stomach flutters in your chest; oh, fuck, you feel like a couple of giddy-ass teenagers. 

You’re relentless, in all the right ways. Your desperation to feel River, to kiss him— it’s intoxicating. Once the door clicks shut, you immediately rise up on your tippy-toes with zero hesitation to press your lips against his; you could do nothing else. 

Fucking finally. 

One kiss, and you know you’re addicted to the taste of his lips on your own. You know then, that nothing else could give you such a natural high. You must confess, that your thoughts are impure, and the fire is burning within your bones. Shit, it excites you so much, just the idea of riding him absolutely senseless— you’re gonna fuck away his entire moral compass by the end of the night. 

It’s as your lips press together, with all the desire arousal, and heat you have to offer, a wave of cruel exhaustion washes over you as River embraces you, finally making its way to the forefront of your mind. His warmth almost feels like a blanket, of sorts, soft and comforting.

A soft pleased hum escapes River’s lips as he presses himself against you, moving his hands to grip the back of your head tightly, returning your kiss with the same raw passion. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his body pressing against yours— fuck, it feels so nice to be held by a body that feels like home. 

And for once, it's not Johnny who takes over your thoughts, but River. You need him—now. The heat of his lips on yours is fucking intense. It's like everything else in the city fades away, and for once, even Johnny’s presence is just a distant buzz in your mind.

And all there is, that's all that matters—River, you, and the rest warmth of his lips pressed against yours.

Your fingers claw at the fabric of his tank top, holding onto him tightly as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that’s been building up within you for entirely too long. You’ve wanted this—you’ve fucking needed this, needed to feel the warmth of another in a world so dauntingly cold. 

Every breath feels new, every sensation is amplified, and all you can focus on is River. River, River, River. He’s real, and you feel him like never before. He’s yours, and you’re his. 

Your breath is getting shorter, and your thoughts are being consumed with just one word: more. More, more, more. You need to feel his love. 

How good it feels to have something real. And fuck, is it nice to have something else on your mind except for your impending and unavoidable death. No Johnny, no Arasaka, no Relic. Just you. Just him. Just two desperate people wanting desperately to cling to the idea of feeling alive for just one night.

You practically moan into his mouth as you lean back, letting his strong, secure arms wrap around your body. You press your body up into his, craving his warmth, craving his presence, craving him. It’s like you’re slipping into a deep trance-like state, one where all that matters in this very instant is River, this one fucking detective, this one stupid badge. 

“River,” you whine quietly. “I need you.”

The words slip out before you even have time to stop them, the sound of them leaving your ears ringing. 

Fuck, does he feel like the luckiest person alive when you utter those little words, the sound of them barely audible against the city’s distant hum? For such a tough merc, you sound so cute—so needy, that it makes his heart jump in his chest. It’s such an unexpected, quick change for you, and you swear you catch his mechanical eye shining a little brighter as his rough hands graze against your hips. His body presses tightly against yours, lowering his voice to a whisper that makes your tummy flutter.  

“Shhh… I know ya do, V…” 

The words feel so foreign slipping from his lips, but god, he can’t help it.  River leans even closer to you until you can feel the warm breath of his body tingling inside your ear—his lips press up against your neck softly, trailing little wet kisses up and down the sensitive skin there. 

“Just let go…” 

River whispers again, moving his hand down your back and caressing the skin that he can feel through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips flutter up and down along your neck, nibbling gently on your skin. Rough, calloused hands trace down your body, before pulling your hips to his so there’s no space between you. 

River’s voice turns deep; husky. 

“Just let go of everything but me…” 

After all, he’s done for the city, for the world, no one has ever wanted him in such a way that they wanted him, not just his title, his body, but the person behind the piercing glow of his mechanical eye. 

River’s ganic hand trails gingerly up and down your torso, his fingers playing gently with the fabric of your shirt as his lips press against your neck. The delicate sensation sends ripples of pleasure through your core— fuck— you’re getting wet. 

His words trigger an immediate response from you. Excitedly, you push back against him as you moan quietly in his ear, fingers digging into the fabric of his red tank top— breath halting in your chest, growing shorter and more agitated. You raise on your tippy toes, attempting to return the favor by kissing his neck. 

As you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him, pushing a hand behind his neck, your fingers grip tight along the back of his neck. Slowly, you brace one hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing along the hard muscle that hides below his shirt, your other hand falling to fidget with the neckline of his tank.  

You can feel it— he’s muscular; he’s strong and hard. He’s aboutta be all yours, and the thought alone makes you feel weak, weak in the knees with how hot he is.

When you’re slipping your hands below his shirt to feel the skin beneath, River’s steadiness finally falters. Unknowingly, he backs up into his desk, causing an empty beer bottle to topple over— crashing to the floor in the silence of the trailer.

Fuck. 

For a brief moment, panic seizes over your entire being. Shit. Your heart pounds in your chest, shit, shit, shit— what if you woke everyone up with the crash? What if he’s upset with you for pulling such a gonk move, fuckin’ shoving him into his desk? What about the mess? 

You swear you’re doomed. 

But to your surprise, River's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his mechanical stare. Was his amn fault for being so clumsy, anyway. 

When the warmth of his lips caress yours, you feel a deep wave of relief. Thank fuck— you think to yourself as you realize that your actions didn’t cause all hell to break loose. 

Instead, he’s too amused by your excitement, and that only serves to turn you on all the more. Hell— River finds it adorable how badly you want him. He can deal with the mess later. He’s too lost in you, too lost in the tide of passion to give a shit. Instead, his focus is entirely on you, and all rational thought is overshadowed. 

His hands find their way to either side of your face, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he's determined to memorize every curve and contour of your face. River stops, an urgent whisper, his voice barely above a breathy murmur. 

“You've got me. Don't let go. Don't let this moment, this feeling—this feeling of you and me, don't let it end.”  

But before you can even process the full weight of River’s words, his lips crash into yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. It’s like a tidal wave, consuming you with its intensity, and you find yourself melting into his embrace without hesitation. You’re safe. 

In turn, you respond eagerly, matching his passion with your own, hands roaming freely across his back, pulling him closer with every passing moment. River hums to himself when your smooth lips part upon the brush of his tongue against you— feeling just right. You feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, fueling that consuming lust that just keeps on burning brighter and hotter in your lower tummy. 

You guide his strong hands, urging him to explore every inch of your being, to revel in the depths of your desire as you surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating bliss of the moment. You need him. The feeling of his sends shivers down your spine, you realize that this—this connection, this unspoken bond—is what you've been searching for all along. In River's arms, you find solace. In his kiss, you find passion. And in that little bit of love between you, you find home.

Like you, River’s mind has started to go hazy, his body filled with heat as he pulls you in tighter, desperate to feel everything at once. 

The embrace of your lips turns heated, desperate, his teeth brushing against your bottom lip. Shit, he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you like this— he feels like the luckiest fucker in the world. The heat rising in his body is nothing short of intense, it feels so right. 

But he needs more. 

River pulls away to break the kiss, his gaze slides across your body, admiring you silently, taking note of every little curve, burning through you, silently admitting how lucky he is. Oh, how he never realized desire could be so engulfing until this moment, with you staring right up into his eyes with a vulnerability he cannot ignore. It makes him feel fuckin’ stupid— like he could live in this moment forever. 

His movements are slow and deliberate. It's enough to send your heart pumping, your chest heaving, your breath coming in short gasps. When you meet his steely gaze, it feels like his mechanical eye is bearing into your soul. 

River moves a palm up to cup your cheek lovingly, before nodding his head in the direction of his bed— a silent command. You immediately know what he’s attempting to communicate. You know what comes next. 

And you’re just dying to see it through. 

A little rush of pure excitement overtakes you as you rush to the bed, while River turns around for a brief moment. Without a second thought, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re immediately beginning to fumble with the straps of your gear, allowing it to fall all to the ground. Every movement of yours feels like a wave of electric pulsing through your body, a rush of adrenaline that leaves you panting— leaving your mind blurry with need. 

While he’s got his back turned, you rip off your sweats, letting them fall to the ground. Immediately after, you’re ripping off the thin tank you’re wearing, slipping your bra right off with it, fully exposing your bare chest to the coolness of the night air. A little excited shiver runs down your spine, your nipples perking up and stiffening as a result of the temperature drop. 

And before you know it, you’re almost naked— wearing nothing but a soaked, think pair of panties, wanting him, needing to have him—not Johnny, but River, just River…

You catch the soft mechanical glow of his eye in the mirror on the closet door. For a brief moment, your breath catches in your throat. 

The glow in the reflection dims as he stares. Your heart beats so fast you feel dizzy from the rush. You know he’s watching you just as you’re watching him. And without saying a word, you both know what you want— he finally turns around. 

Fuck—you, the most dangerous mercenary in the whole fuckin’ city, is laying before this dumbass detective, wearing nothing but your panties. And oh, you’re so helplessly wet over some cop to the point where you can already feel the moisture soaking through them. You can’t control yourself, you can’t control the way your fingers keep on trailing lower, beginning to push away the dampened strip of fabric in between your legs. 

A breath breaks from your mouth as you toss your panties aside. It’s sudden, a bit of a surprise even. But you’re done wasting time. The air feels cold on your exposed cunt, but fuck, you don’t care—besides, the heat he’s making you feel is enough to keep ya’ warm. 

Gently, your lips tremble with each passing moment... your body is fuckin’ craving him more and more with every moment that passes with him staring directly at your messy pussy. You can’t take it. You allow yourself to be completely vulnerable, your arms trailing behind you as he draws near. Your eyes flutter as you anticipate him being near, letting him take you completely... letting him take you in.

River’s eyes are locked onto your body— he’s in shock. Fuck. Jesus Christ, every second you’re up looking at him with pathetic, needy eyes makes his cock tremble in his pants. Both of River’s eyes, amber and mechanical pierce through you, just craving you in ways he's never craved fuckin’ anyone. And oh, you love the euphoric burning feeling that rises in your tummy when you feel him stare. A little blush settles across your face, you feel some wetness slide down from your aching cunt. You arch your back a little as River approaches you. 

Fuck. You can’t wait. You reach out, pulling your fingers tight around his hips as you pull him down to the bed with you. You can't wait another second to be with him and you pull him down with you on the bed. Before he can even process what’s happening, you’re beginning to lift his tanktop, and by Christ, you’re not disappointed when you finally reveal what’s underneath. 

You’re not religious, but in the darkness of his bedroom, you’ve found something holy. Immediately, your eyes trail down, taking note of every little freckle and scar that litters his tan skin. Fuck— he’s perfect. You press your lips against his chest, trailing little wet kisses down his body... each kiss burning into both of you, each kiss driving you both that much closer to desperation. You’re unaware of the self-restraint he's exercising to keep himself from pushing you onto the bed and just fucking you right then and there. River’s working every ounce of self-control he has as you trail your lips down his chest, letting each kiss linger just enough to tease him. 

In the dark room, you worship him with your touch, with a love that’s so undoubtedly wrong. 

Your eyes drift up to his, and it’s over for you both. Gently, you slide your hands slooowly down River’s torso, making him squirm as your hand trails lower and lower, fingers beginning to move to slowly undo his pants. And fuck, It takes him every little bit of lasting resistance and strength he has to let you touch without intervening. 

But shit— you aren’t gonna let River off that easy, no fucking way. You’re gonna fuckin’ savor this—every second of it all. Your lips trail down his clothed thigh with a subtle grin, wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down inch by inch. He wants you to pull them off immediately but you're going slow, savoring every little cute expression he’s pulling, savoring the way he bites into his lip, hard. 

 River’s getting more and more frustrated by the second but damn you're just enjoying the thrill of it all, watching your most favorite detective bend to your whims like an obedient, well-trained dog. You're teasing him and savoring each and every second of it, every little moment of him letting out pathetic heavy sighs, every moment of his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. 

But you’re growing impatient. 

You begin to tug at his waistband, attempting to pull his jeans down his thighs with a not-so-secret smug-ass grin. You’ve got him wrapped around your fuckin’ finger, you feel confident—you’re gonna fuck the badge outta him— you’re gonna ride him till the goddamn sun rises. 

But when his cock springs free from the confines of his pants, your ego is absolutely fucking wiped. He’s fucking huge. 

Prominent veins run up the side of the thick shaft throbbing with pure anticipation. Your eyes trail up to the leaky, swollen tip where little beads of precum threaten to spill. Pure perfection. Everything about your actions up until now has been so confident and so sure, so controlled and so certain you could handle anything. But now that he's here— that he's out, free, and soooo clearly ready for you — you feel an intense wave of doubt. 

You're the best, most badass fuckin’ merc in all of Night City—and yet here you are, with his dick in front of your face and you're speechless. River’s enjoying how you're staring at him, your eyes fixated on his shaft. Secretly, he loves the brief sense of control this is giving him, even with you on top. Fuck, it does good for his ego. 

By Christ— he finds your reaction to his size nothing short of fucking adorable. River gives a sharp inhale through his teeth and his lips curve into a mischievous smile, his ego swelling with the realization that he's a lot more than you expected...and he loves it. He knows all the right words to say, all the right tones to take, and he knows exactly how to play with you, right down to the way you're staring at him. 

Nonetheless, you set your thoughts aside as you mount the detective’s strong bronze thighs, his eyes locking onto yours.

You briefly question your safety as you tenderly wrap your fingers around the base of his thick shaft, feeling him jolt beneath you. 

But it's okay. You've got this. You can do this. You take a deep breath and try to ignore the size, your hands still stroking him gently, your touch sending shivers of anticipation up and down his body…

His hand wraps around your thigh in silent reassurance, a giant grasp that feels like it was molded entirely for you to fit perfectly into it; and the other falls to your hip, slowly tracing a path across your bare skin. The little gesture sends you fucking wild. River needs you to be comfortable. 

You press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance, a little shiver runs through you when River stifles a groan underneath. 

This all feels so right, this all feels so real, and River wants you to know that. He wants to take all of your fears and worries away, to show you that he's got you, and he's here for you. And when you take your first tentative slide onto him, the tip entering you, River’s jaw hangs agape, a little squeak leaving your lips as the thick head enters you. 

You both recognize the need to be silent, and so for now the only sounds in the room are the soft moans and subtle whimpers coming from River's mouth as he's pressed against you...as you're pressed against him, two bodies entwined, one in the other. Nothing else exists at this very moment but this feeling... the intense, overwhelming feeling of his heavy cock throbbing inside of your tight walls. And oh, does the thought of making this dumbass detective whimper and struggle beneath you motivate you all the more. 

When you finally sink down, filling yourself to the brim, a cute little gasp! is forced from your parted saliva-coated lips. River’s stretching you out so so nicely— it’s a sweet type of burn. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip hard, biting back a pathetic moan as your eyes scrunch shut.

 A low growl escapes River’s lips as you suddenly take him whole in one go. 

Your wet walls constrict and clench around him, your achy, needy clit pressing against his groin. Oh fuck, it’s hard for him not to start moving his hips, to just start thrusting into your pathetic mess of a pussy without mercy. But no, he’s waiting for you, waiting for you to guide the speed. This is your night, it’s River’s chance to show how much he fuckin’ adores you. 

He's big— and you know you need to take it slow at first. But fuck, you’re not gonna stop, not now, not ever, not when he’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes upon— it’s sending little waves of euphoric bliss throughout your entire body.  

River watches you take another deep breath before you begin to raise your hips again, pumping yourself full despite the stretch. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You continue this rhythm slowly, taking your own sweet time to thoroughly feel each inch of his sweet cock rubbing against your soaked walls. 

In, out. In, out. You continue this rhythm. 

You work through that burn— you work through the pain of the stretch. Take your own sweet time, inhaling, exhaling, breathing in between each movement, each wave of pleasure that ripples through your body with each bounce. Soon, you no longer feel the pain that comes with each slide down; you’ve melded to the shape of his cock. 

Shit, he underestimated you. 

River’s breathing heavily now, huffing and biting into his lip—as he takes his time, taking care of you. And the moment he finds your rhythm, he won't be letting up even for a second, he’s gonna make you suffer just the damn same. 

But when you begin to speed up your pace, suddenly slamming your hips down into him, you’ve got him locked. 

Then and there, River swears he’s in fucking heaven.

You’re so tight— so fucking soft… so fucking heavenly, that he can’t do anything except look up at you and purely just admire as you struggle to take him—as he himself struggles to keep up with the pace of your hips. 

River’s pussywhipped already, turning his head to the side to hide the adorable little faces he’s pulling. 

But fuck, you’re not gonna let that happen. 

“Look at me,” you whisper into the silence of the night. You force his jaw upwards, wrapping your hands around his throat. “Only me, Riv.”

River’s caught off guard by your sudden display of dominance; but oh, how he loves it regardless. ‘Looks like his little mercenary finally gained the courage to take control,’ he thinks to himself. 

You catch a little mischievous glimmer in his mechanical eye, shining into the darkness. He’s enjoying this, you can tell. 

You stare into his gaze for just a brief moment; almost mesmerized, before suddenly pulling his face to yours and kissing him fiercely, your tongue slipping into his mouth. 

River’s strong grip on your thigh releases as his body begins to tremble underneath you; it all just feels too fucking good. It’s all too too much, the intensity of your hips rocking back and forth, the way you’re squeezing him and bouncing on his dick like it’s nothing compared to before. 

He knows you’re a merc, knows you’re a tough girl. You’re V— you don’t take shit from anyone, you take the reigns no matter what; he shoulda’ expected this from you. But oh, how he loves being bested by his lil’ merc. 

River’s eyes roll back as he holds you tightly to him, his hands moving up to your lower back and supporting you, he’s lost all self-control, and can’t stop what's about to happen as his breath grows heavier, lips parting. You’re fucking wet, clenching so so tight around him—he can’t help the groan that juuusst barely escapes his lips…

But luckily for you, you cover his mouth just in time, your body still moving with such intensity.  You're taking total control here, not letting him make a sound. You cover his mouth before he has the chance to protest, silencing him in an almost aggressive, dominating way, your breath hot against his lips.

At this moment, the detective is yours. Every muscle in his body belongs to you and every beat of his heart is for you. River is yours, he needs you, and when you cover his mouth, you can feel the rush going through his throat as it contracts with an effort to muffle any sound he might unintentionally let slip as your hips refuse to relent. 

The feeling of control that you've been so desperately seeking is finally yours, all yours, your hands are on the wheel— and you’re the one sending this poor fucker into a tailspin of pleasure and lust. River feels so much better than you possibly could’ve imagined, and shit, you’ve finally accomplished your goal to fuck him senseless, leaving him a complete and utter mess in your control — a mess that feels so good, as you keep pumping against him, feeling him inside you.

Every movement you make is met with his equally intense counter-response, his cock beginning to throb. Fuck. He’s close. 

But River’s not going to let you get ahead of him— nuh-fucking-uh. He’s had enough of your teasing; he can’t take it anymore— he’s not about to let himself cum before you, not when there’s so much fun still left to be had. He’ll drive himself to the edge— and he’ll take you with him. 

Strong hands take hold of your hips, hammering his hips into your sweet, messy cunt at the pace he desires. Just like that, all the control in your hands, all that dominance, and power beforehand, is gone in an instant. 

He wants to let you ride him, he really does. Wants to let you take control— but fuck, it’s not enough. He needs more, not just to ride, but to have you in his arms, and in return, you let him take control and show you exactly how he feels for you. 

And so you give up your control, giving up your dominance, allowing River to manhandle you into position, guiding you to the edge of the bed. Your breath catches in your chest as River trails his lips down to your collarbone and slowly reaches down to latch onto your nipple. You dig your teeth into your lip as he suckles at it tenderly, keeping your reaction a secret as you try to keep it together. Inside of you, you feel your tummy flutter with adrenaline as your heart rate picks up.

He knows you’re enjoying this, but oh, he’s got other plans for you. 

With strong yet gentle hands, he’s hoisting you up into his arms. His amber eye meets yours, and he’s gazing at you like you’re the most precious thing in the whole world. He lifts you, and you let yourself go limp in his hold— you know you’re safe, after all. 

You bury your head into his neck, pressing tight against him as you cling like your life depends on it. Everything feels so good when you’re in River’s arms when he loosens his grip to trail a path of wet kisses down the center of your chest. The way he feels so warm and safe makes you feel like the whole world isn’t crumbling down on you— instead, it feels like you can finally rest. 

Honestly, it’s just entirely him that makes you feel this way. He’s a stark contrast to any of your past lovers; a genuine shining light in a world so filled to the brim with darkness, a genuine positive change compared to the ways apparent in all of your exes.

Shit, you know Johnny’s gonna hate you even more for this, but you know you love this— you love River. 

Before you can think about it for any longer than you already have, he’s cutting your thoughts short to pull you to your feet, pinning you against the cool glass of his bedroom window. 

Fuck, you’re adorable to him. River just can’t help but slide his palms up against your soft skin, all the way up to cup at your titties, cupping them softly in each hand.

You let out a sharp gasp as he slips in, a deep inhale following quickly after— his hips pressing into your ass. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck as you cling to the cool glass of the window. You want him close, you want to feel him all against you. Your thoughts fill with nothing but him, and his cock begins to roll into you again, forcing a pathetic little squeak out of you. 

But there’s a sudden thought that pops into your head— shit, what if someone sees this, sees you, pressed against the window, getting your insides rearranged like there’s no tomorrow? Fuck.  

Shit, you feel more vulnerable than ever with River pressing himself into you, hands locked around your waist, his breath hot and heavy in your ear as he drives himself deeper into your sopping cunt. Him, the detective, fucking the brains outta’ a dangerous lil’ merc like you. Shit, it’s so thrilling that the thoughts in your head disappear entirely, and you're completely overcome with the sensation of his thick member moving in and out of you.

God damn. Your breath becomes shallow and your chest is rising and falling with every hard press of his hips into your ass. You're literally pressed against the glass with your face to the window, your eyes beginning to close. 

Even though your brain screams for common sense, your body craves otherwise. 

Oh god, you love this. Fuck your common sense. Fuck whatever Johnny has to say about it— you’ll deal with him later. 

You feel like you're falling into a trance, drowning in pleasure. Every thrust fills you with more and more heat and waves of pleasure, overwhelming your body and leaving you feeling like you're drifting away into nothingness.

Your vision blurs and the sounds slowly fade into the background. River is everything, your entire world, and right now the only thing you can concentrate on is his body and how good he makes you feel— he’s stretching out your cunt fucking delightfully. It feels like you're drowning in pleasure and you love it, absolutely love this feeling of complete submission to him. Normally, you’d fucking never let somebody, anybody, do this to you. 

But River Ward is the exception. 

You love the feeling of his breath on your neck, the soft, warm comfort it gives you, like a blanket wrapping itself against you. Your body relaxes as he gently moves his hands along your ribs, his gentle touch sending a shiver of excitement down your body. Then you hear his voice, a whisper that makes your toes curl with the touch. 

River’s attention is set on suppressing his little groans of pleasure by lowering his head to your shoulder, biting down gently. Shit, you’re almost too much to handle, he notes your breathlessness and sense of being soo overwhelmed- he can tell you’re ready for anything and everything from this moment on. Your walls constrict tightly around him, arousal fluids spilling from your hole with each mean thrust. 

Your breath is heavy and unfocused. River’s touch is perfectly balanced between soft and rough, squeezing your waist as his other hand digs into your breast, hips still deliciously rolling into you, still deliciously fucking you. 

You can't even remember the last time you've felt this.. good. 

Despite the burn of the stretch of his cock, you steady your legs back, rocking your ass back against him to match the pace of his thrusts. 

River’s eyes shoot open when he feels your tight cunt starting to move up and down his length again, this time without his influence. Both his intimidating gaze and his large hands immediately fall to the fat of your ass as a groan rips out from his throat. 

He’s just enjoying the show as his pretty needy little merc attempts to get herself off. It’s cute— pathetic, the way you take him whole, the way you’re desperate for more.  

You feel the cool press of his metal hand against the back of your neck, using you as leverage to pump his hot cock in and out.  

Your lips curl against the force of your teeth, the heat of your breath fogging against the glass, legs beginning to violently shake under the weight of his thrusts. 

Both hands move to grab your plush thighs with a tight grip, your breathless sighs and tight cunt squeezing around him let him know just how much you really need him. 

You wanna moan. You wanna whine out his name, you wanna beg for more— but you can't. Not this time. So, you bite into your lip hard, your open palms set on the glass of the window briefly curling into fists. Instead of submitting to yourself, you focus on the brightness of neon lights and towering buildings right before your eyes, you focus on the way his hands dig into the soft flesh of your hips, driving deep inside. 

But it’s all too much for you. 

"Fuck, V, you're good…” His voice is hot as it trails down your neck and along your jawline. Gentle hands begin to trail down your thighs, fingers tracing along your skin. Oh, it’s heavenly. 

River’s eyes open when he doesn’t hear you respond past weak, breathy little sighs. A teasing remark sits on his tongue, his lips curling into a smirk, but his throat goes parched the moment his eyes trail all the way down to where his large, swollen cock disappeared in and out of you, just stretching you oh-so-well. 

You look utterly and completely debauched in the reflection of the glass, eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the window, your mouth slightly agape, lips reddened and bruised from rough kisses. River finds the way your chest heaves and the way you let out broken whines oh-so-adorable, as his eyes trail down to the plethora of lovebites and hickies left strewn across your chest. At this point, you’re far too fucked-out to think. 

Before you can even process what’s going on, River’s slipping himself out of you, making you let out a soft, yet audible little defeated whine. “Hey, hey…” Big arms lock around your waist, pulling you gently down onto the soft mattress below.  “Stay with me, V…” 

His voice is hot and hoarse right now— but fuck, you’d be damned if you didn’t find him to be so fuckin’ sweet— so fuckin’ adorable in the way he talks dirty to you— so damn possessive, yet so soft and tender at the same time. The sweet burn of lust ignites deeper within your stomach as you refuse to lose sight of his gaze. You nod your head; you follow his orders obediently. The feeling of being vulnerable like this for him feels so... right, so natural. 

When your glassy eyes flicker up to meet his stare, his heart flutters a little in his chest. You look so so desperate, it’s beautiful. 

River swears he’s truly gone feral. It’s all too much— your cute little face, your quiet whimpers, wet pathetic pussy so in need of being fucking destroyed… god. He can’t handle it anymore. 

He drops to his knees on the bed— it feels natural, it feels right. Your breath halts a little in your chest, your pulse quickening when the detective begins to lower his head in between your thighs. 

The world around you spins as your cunt squeezes around nothing. His rough fingertips grace over your clit, and you can’t hold back the little moan that escapes your lips. But he’s focused on something different— his cybernetic eyes are locked onto your cunt— your folds are soaked, your arousal coating your inner thighs in little tendrils.

“Wan’it?” 

You nod again. Like an obedient dog. 

River grins, mechanical eye gleaming in the darkness mischievously as his metal hand helps his cock press against your entrance. Something about his gravelly words made your cunt clench around nothing, making you drip onto his sheets below. His tip brushes against your sensitive sloppy folds, before he nudges your clit with his cockhead, drawing out the cutest little gasp from your lips. River chuckles at your reaction— fuck, you’re goddamn adorable. He uses his free ganic hand to caress your cheek, looking down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

The feeling of his palm pressed against you is soothing, comforting even. You nuzzle into his touch instinctively. 

It’s all a sweet, tender moment before River begins folding your legs up to your shoulders. You don’t have a second to think back on it before his thighs spread wider beneath you, the girth of his large cock sliding in deep, pressing thickly against your fluttering walls. 

Fuck. You almost lose yourself, then— lips falling agape, nails biting into the curvature of his bicep as his hips press flush with your own. You want to moan. You wanna cry out— so so fucking bad. 

But you know you can’t. 

Shit, River swears he could bust on the spot from the way you pathetically look at him, pupils blown and watery, eyes halfway shut. “Awh,” he whispers near silently before he braces himself and pulling your hips up to his waist, leaving your back arched gorgeously. You feel completely full again. 

His hips are finally still, giving you both a moment to recuperate. This time around, your cunt clenches down extra tight, your body seeming extra sensitive. He can read your reactions like a book— and he’s enjoying every little cute reaction he’s pulling out of you. 

River hums to himself, before straightening back again. He pulls out all the way— till just his aching tip is left throbbing inside of you. 

And all you can do is watch when he rocks back in and out again and again as if testing how deep he’s claimed his pretty little killer.  

But with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, you’re more focused on how he’s moving, the way his body moves back and forth inside you, claiming you. Your instincts kick in as this strong man overpowers you and takes control of you most dangerously, but you accept it all. Just the feeling of his hands on your hips, his touch all over you as you look at him...fuck, you feel complete. You’re a dangerous merc in her prime, and yet here you are, fucked absolutely dumb by River Ward. Fuck, old man’s got some goddamn stamina, it’s impressive. 

But secretly, he’s not sure if he can take it anymore— the pace of his hips falter for a second. Fuckkkkk. He grasps onto the meat of your thighs, his hips beginning to falter, slow down; his thighs beginning to tremble.

The overstimulation that comes with dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy might just be the catalyst for him. He uses his remaining strength to hold himself deep inside of his lil’ merc, relishing the way you dig your nails into the curve of his bicep as he fucks into you steadfastly. 

Now, it's you who's not sure if you can take it anymore. You can feel his hips slowing down, his grip on you faltering as he struggles to pull himself together. Your nails dig into his arms, digging deeper each time you feel that familiar feeling building up within you. Your thighs start trembling as your entire body is quaking underneath his...it's about to be all over for you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control yourself like he had when you were trying to lure him deeper into you, but the build-up of pressure inside of you is too much to contain...it's beginning to spill over as the tension between you two builds up even higher. Your eyes continue to flutter with each slide in, and you’re panting at the burning euphoric release beginning to bubble in your chest. It’s all too much for you— far too much. 

River’s dick knocks against your plushy walls over and over again, making your breaths ragged and short, making you spew out little high-pitched hoarse sighs as he claims you as his own after waiting for sooo long. 

Every thrust inside of you has you trembling, panting, trembling again—your body can't take this anymore, the build-up is beginning to turn into a burst within you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as this burning euphoric release inside of you is simply too much....too much for you to handle. Your entire body feels like it's boiling over, the pressure inside of you reaching an all-time high. 

The pressure building up in your tummy is too much to handle. You’ve resisted your orgasm, you’ve fought it, but suddenly the need for release becomes too difficult to hold back. Your body jolts up and you press your chest against him as you release, panting and whimpering as the pressure inside you is finally releasing. Finally, you cum, coating River’s cock in a ring of opaque white liquid. 

The feeling of relief spreads through your entire body as you release, feeling your body tense and shudder with your inner pleasure flowing out of you as you moan out his name and you feel his grip tightening the harder that you bite into his arm, holding back from saying anymore even though you know you can’t keep it in anymore. Your lips quiver with anticipation as you feel the build-up of pleasure rise inside of you, and it’s so hard not to just explode but you hold back as he thrusts faster inside you.

His hands are shaky under the weight of your trembling thighs, underneath the weight of your explosive climax. His thrusts slow down to a halt, both his mechanical and ganic hands gripping your waist tight. 

Deliberately, he slides himself all the way out, making you feel every inch of his cock down to the last vein, before slamming himself back inside one last time. 

No longer can he stand the feeling of holding back— he needs to cum. 

Every pump of his hips is accompanied by a short shudder and an exhale of your name as he’s losing himself to you, to the grip and clutch of your nails digging deeper into his arms. You know he’s close. And oh, is every little sign of his oncoming orgasm so so heavenly— the way his cock noticeably throbs within your constricting, gummy, tight walls—  the way he’s allowing the occasional whimper to slip from his parted lips.

Your entire body’s trembling and quaking as he pulls away from you, both in the act of withdrawal and the satisfaction of fulfilling what he’s sought after for so long now. You’re breathless from his touch, quivering in your body, your eyes unable to focus on anything but the sight of him biting his lip…he's so so close to cumming— it’s all so damn delicious. 

His mechanical hand presses into your thigh, the heat of his grip burning deep against your skin as he strokes his length, his breath shallow as he looks down at you, his eyes focused. River’s metal hand grips meanly into your thigh as his ganic’ one strokes his length, biting down hard into his lip to suppress himself.  

Instead of gazing back into his eyes, you’re gazing down at his glistening dick as he finally cums— the liquid is thick, warm, and milky, all splattering onto your lower stomach. 

The feel of his release all over you leaves you gasping as reality sets in. Once the heat disappears and the sensation finally dies down, you’re left with a whole new wave of emotions that you haven’t ever experienced before. Your body is still shaking from the release, and his breath is heavy as he looks down at you. You two are a mess. 

River lays down there next to you, panting heavily as he stares over at you. His breathing is quick and heavy, and he's completely out of breath from the entire night, but he's smiling slightly, a look in his eyes that seems almost...relieved and content. You can’t help but to just admire how fuckin’ adorable he is before he reaches over to brush your hair aside, wiping the sweat from your forehead. 

River’s soft with you— in your line of work, there’s no room for this much tenderness. You melt underneath his touch, a satisfied little sigh escaping you as your eyes flutter shut. You’re finally feeling comfortable enough to relax with him, to let your guard down and allow yourself to be a little soft with him. You feel at ease with him— finally at peace with not having to constantly be on high alert. You can relax.

But River’s all too aware of the mess he’s left you with. Gently, he lowers himself to you, softly murmuring in your ear. 

 “Just one sec, V… gotta get you cleaned up.”

As he stands, you're left helpless and vulnerable. The warmth of his touch is gone, replaced by a chill that leaves you feeling a little empty. Rivers' footsteps echo in the silent space between you as you lie there, alone in your thoughts.

The intimacy between the two of you may have faded, but the lingering after-effects remain. Your body is still trembling from the release, and your mind is clouded with the remnants of ecstasy. You’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. A mess. 

As River's footsteps echo through the room, you feel helpless and weak. Your body has been taken by him, and you’re left behind. To be cleaned up. You're his.

When he returns, he has a soft, warm towel in one hand, and one of his tanktops in the other. He places the tank top down on the bed right next to you. River's hand reaches out and starts to gently wipe down your body with the cloth, working to clean up the mess left behind. His touch is gentle, tender, and caring. You appreciate his efforts to clean up the mess he's left you with.

You feel like a mess, his mess. His hands are gentle and meticulous as he cleans you up, his touch different from the rough grip you felt during the night. His soft touch is comforting, reassuring, and so at odds with the intensity of the night. Yet, at the same time, it shows the other side of the intense man you know so well. The delicate one, hidden from the world.

He’s not squeezing or gripping tightly— just gently wiping you down, making sure not to squeeze too hard as he does his best to get you clean. His touch is tender he begins wiping you down, making sure to avoid the more sensitive areas like your inner thighs, and before making his way up with the soft cloth. 

You feel yourself close to slipping away into a deep sleep, only for his warm voice to pull you back into the present.

“Hey…V,” River murmurs softly. “Got a shirt for you…” He’s grinning as he holds up a crumpled-up tank top he had set aside earlier— a small grin forming around your lips as you see the words “FUCK THE POLICE” printed across the front.

”Figured you’d like it…” he chuckles faintly, holding it up for you to take.

Despite your exhaustion, a little giggle leaves your lips at the sight of the printing on the front. Fuck, he’s adorable. River’s smile is contagious, filling you with a type of fondness you haven’t experienced in a long goddamn time. You graciously accept the shirt, sliding it over your head, a soft sigh escaping you as it settles over your frame. The fabric is soft, and it keeps you covered from the coolness of the night air. It’s a little big on you, but you like it that way— it’s comfy, and you’re beyond grateful for the little gesture. 

River slides into bed next to you, remaining silent as he watches settle. His eyes wander up and down your body, appreciating the way the fabric of his shirt hangs loosely around your frame. He likes the look, and it’s cute. It’s not something he’s used to, but the sight of you like this— it’s endearing to him.

You can feel the exhaustion creeping in, settling into your bones after the long day's events. As he watches you settle in, you can sense his silent appreciation and affection, his gaze tracing the lines of your body with a softness you haven't often encountered.

"Thanks for tonight," River murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of weariness as a yawn interrupts his words. He briefly presses a little kiss to your forehead, before rolling over. "Goodnight, V."

His words linger in the air, carrying a sense of appreciation and tenderness that touches your heart. With a soft smile, you reply, "Goodnight, River…" before snuggling closer to him, seeking his warmth as the chill of the night settles in around you.

The two of you lay there, entangled in the silence of your first night together. All you can hear is the sound of his breath against your throat, the silent rustle of his sheets, and the faint thrum of his heart. You feel so safe, so warm, so loved in his arms. River radiates a sense of peace within you, one that you hadn't felt on your own. And with him comes a feeling of protection, a feeling of belonging.

[bbybaku]

some more nsfw college bf shigaraki head cannons

sorry i haven’t been posting college is hard and i’ve been having tons of kinky back breaking sex

when y’all fuck in missionary he actually wears his glasses so he can see your face

he likes watching it contort in pleasure while he rails you

he likes blowies when both of y’all are sitting on the ground

he’ll pull you off his cock by your neck and kiss you

shig will have you swallow half of his cum then spit the rest into his mouth

loves makeout seshes after oral

when he gives or you give

all your previous lovers were stingy with eating you out. not shig.

he drinks your juices like it’s water from the tap and he’s been in the desert for 1000 years

he will eat you out right before you have to leave for work then watch you struggle to walk out the door because of how bad your legs shake

sending you audios of him moaning while you’re out with friends

sex on the squishmallows

cumming all over his stomach then calling you over to lick it up.

going to dinner with friends and trading underwear in the family bathroom right before

breeding kink

like reeeeaaaallly bad breading kink

youre on the pill butttttt 

yall have def thought about kids 

y’all think really hard about you being pregnant and everyone knowing what a whore you would have to be to be pregnant with his kids

sigh after college 

orrrr

no after college 😔

he’s like the ceo of holding your face like your chin and jaw

sometimes he’ll just do it mid convo

or if y’all are watching tv together he’ll hold your head so you can’t look away from the tv

he love when his fingers are in your mouth

he loves playing with your hair

he loves when you play w his hair

and scratch his back with your long nails

he like juice and sometimes he will take a swig then spit it into your mouth

only with juice

pays for everything

blue pubes

like will leave the pubes places

every now and then y’all will be on the phone in public just with an airpods

and he’ll say inappropriate things to you while you’re in class

“i know you’re thinking about my cock sliding in and out of you right now”

“when you come home i hope your hungry because i’m going to tie your hands behind your back and fuck your face”

“hey slut. i fucking miss you you fucking slut. god you’re such a slut and you drive me crazy”

you think it’s hot when he punches the wall

he’s weirdly good at photoshop and will photoshop you naked in weird places like the beach

quickies in public bathrooms

embarrassingly loud sex

role playing just consists of him spanking you

literally every senario

pro wants to try his had at shibari but is too lazy

[serpentface]

Is Cynozepal on the same supercontinent as Wardi or on one of the other continents? I'm remembering a post from a bit ago about lunar missionaries showing up Godsmouth(?) - can't find the post but it and the map you posted recently are making me think about the distances involved in the different stories.

Yes it is (though technically they are not connected by land, a geologically recent land connection between the eastern chunk and the rest of the landmass has been lost to rising sea levels) Here's both of them on the map (map has been adjusted slightly and given a tentative equator)

I cannot emphasize enough that these places are very very very very far apart and are BARELY in contact. The two regions have some connection via a series of sea trade routes, but there is very little flow of goods (the only Cynozepali goods that make it to Wardin on any regular basis is kvanneg, which is a luxury textile produced with the soft undercoat of a native camala breed) and even less flow of people (there is no Cynozepali diaspora in Wardin whatsoever). These two region's common knowledge of each other is based in secondhand accounts at best, if not pure fantasy. A single group of Lunar Missionaries making it all the way to Wardin is a massive outlier situation (it's already rare enough for Any Cynozepali traders to make the entire journey (rather than just their goods), much less missionaries from an apocalyptic religious sect).

Also should be noted that Cynozepal is a MASSIVE region and politically organized unlike anything irl due to most of its people being capable of flight. Actual Crown Cynozepali culture is organized around scattered city hubs (mostly in hilly/mountainous areas, rivers, and the coastlines) and their surrounding grasslands/pasture (which supports mass animal agriculture upon which the obligate carnivore population relies). There are vast spaces in between on the steppes that are sovereign territories of a litany of nomadic pastoralists (mostly delkhin) and scavenger-nomads (mostly non-Crown caelin). The particularly fragmented area in the northeast is the Cynozepali Highlands, with Crown culture there being limited to areas surrounding river valleys that can support mass grazing.

[bucksboobs]

There was a post going around a few months back saying something to the effects of: Yeah, sure, “Buck ring cutter scene” this and “Buck’s exhibitionist streak” that, and—of course— there’s the “daddy” of it all, but this man has spent SEVEN seasons looking for “meaningful” relationships. I don’t think this man is having as much kinky sex as fans think. First because queer people aren’t sex machines. Second because he wants to hold Tommy’s hand and look deeply into his eyes and breathe the same air and kiss. They’re absolutely having vanilla missionary sex.

And I remember thinking, “Yes, but—crucially—frotting. I don’t think they’re having as much anal as fans assume, mostly ‘cause logistics & prep as opposed to desire or enjoyment.” For (fan) fiction about queer men, there is not enough rimming or frotting, so thank you (and anyone else who has written either or both) for your service 🫡. Doing god’s work.

I think Buck contains the multitudes required to want a healthy, meaningful relationship and also be a lil freak in bed. Bobby and Athena do it all the time after all.

But yeah those too have crazy schedules I don’t think they often have time to do more than trade head and/or frot most nights, which is why in my ‘first time’ fic for them is frotting and fingering. I think it’s very important that all forms of non-heteronormative sex be given equal respect, and that penetrative sex isn’t seen as the be all end all of a relationship

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 100: Happy Ending

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—gentle sex, missionary, just very basic stuff really, and I don't think there's really anything else! ❧ Word Count: 7.8k

❧ In This Chapter: A year after the events at the Commonwealth, things are falling into place, and Alexandria is back on its feet. Daryl returns home from diplomatic duties at the Commonwealth, but he has an idea to run past you, and it involves a new journey.

❧ A/N: We made it. This is the last chapter of the series. It's been a wild ride. For the last chapter, I had to throw in a little smut, as a treat (and also @normanplusdaryl would've murdered me if I didn't have them have sex again before the end <3). I also wanted to tie a few loose ends, like the character I introduced in 11A (Billy—who was initially intended to be a love interest for Lydia, but then Elijah and Lydia got together and I wanted to follow that from the canon because they were so cute) and Robin's bunny. I will probably make a separate post talking about what this series means to me and how happy I am that I've completed it and that so many people have enjoyed it. For now, though, I'll just say thank you. <3 Hope this final chapter is adequate.

You felt a tiny tug on your corduroy skirt. It startled you for a moment, but then you remembered Westley’s little habit.

One year old and he was already crawling all over the library, touching everything he could get his little hands on. As you looked up from your cataloging, you met the boy’s impossibly round, silvery blue eyes. “Westley Owen Dixon, what on earth are you doing?”

He smiled up at you, in his hand a glob of dirt. His face, too, was smudged with the stuff. You quickly lifted him in your arms, removing the dirt on his cheek with your sleeve. “Where did you get this, huh?”

The child was fond of dirt. He hated being cooped up, you were quickly realizing. Being outdoors was his favorite pastime, but he was much too young to play outside on his own, like Robin. 

“Billy?” 

“Yeah?” The young man looked up from his book. He knew the routine well now, but you had to make sure to let him know. After all, it was what you always did. A year of library training under your tutelage had worked wonders. You were glad he’d decided to join Alexandria, after he’d helped you and Lydia what seemed like yesterday. 

“I’m going to take him out for some fresh air,” you said, as you usually did. “Watch the desk for me? Make sure no one steals any books?” You eyed Mr. Gibson playfully. The old man had a habit of forgetting to check out the books he borrowed, though he always brought them back. 

“Sure.”

Outside, you were greeted by a gaggle of children running past, including Gracie and Robin. When Robin turned on her heel, running back to you, you laughed in confusion at her sudden approach, but she was reaching her hand out, and you knew what that meant.

“Tag! You’re it!” she giggled, looking up at you and the baby with a wide grin. 

You scoffed, looking back at the other children as they giggled. “I most certainly am not!” you said, leaning down to ever so slightly hit Robin’s shoulder. “You’re it!”

It caught the child off guard, who didn’t think you’d be quick enough to tag her. “Hey!”

As you scurried off, Westley let out a series of burps and giggles in your arms. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You stopped in your tracks to see Aaron, calling out to you from the garden. Nearby, some of the other children were swinging wooden swords, while a horse-drawn carriage wheeled through town, carrying the latest harvest for trade. In the busy Alexandria square, people moved to and fro, some hard at work, others just chatting. It didn’t really matter, though. All the work would get done. 

“Hey, there, boss man,” you said. He scoffed, always rejecting that nickname. He wasn’t the boss, really. No one was. Still, he was a leader of Alexandria, like Gabriel, like Daryl, and, you supposed, like you. In your own little ways, you ran this place, too. 

“Told you to stop calling me that.”

“Since when do I listen to you?”

“That’s a good point…” Aaron’s attention quite quickly turned to his nephew, the baby in your arms. His baby voice was always vastly entertaining. “Well, hello there, wiggles.” On account of Westley’s… bouncy nature, Aaron had bestowed upon him that nickname not too long ago. There was no telling where such a little child could get all that energy from, but he had it in spades. Aaron took the child in his arms, lifting him up and down as he held Wes by his underarms. “Whoa!” he said, watching the child laugh and coo at the movement. 

“Be careful with him!” you said. “Don’t break him.”

You watched in amusement at Aaron’s silly faces, how he stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes for the baby’s enjoyment. “Aw, he likes me.”

“Yes, you’re his favorite uncle.”

“I better be.”

Outside the walls, you heard the faint hum of a motor. Not just any motor, of course. There were very few motors left in the world, besides Daryl’s.

“My dad’s here!” you heard Robin exclaim to the other children. 

The girl ran between you and Aaron, and you watched as she sprinted towards the gate. The motor had stopped a little while after she’d gone out of sight, but you did hear his voice very faintly, speaking to Robin in that soft voice of his. 

As soon as he saw you, he waved with one hand, the other resting upon Robin’s shoulder as they came forward. Beside him was Carol, and behind him was Lydia and Elijah, with Judith and RJ following along. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was home again, and everyone was safe, for now.

He took Wes in his arms, bestowing a kiss upon his head. Soon after, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. Over his shoulder, you watched as Robin greeted Judith, the two girls rocking each other back and forth in their hug. They hadn’t seen each other in a while now. Daryl made monthly trips to the Commonwealth and Hilltop, helping to supervise his trades, but the children rarely came along. One day, you knew Robin would beg to come along, too. And then Wes, and then you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

“How are ya?” he asked. As he bounced Wes, you concentrated on fixing his windswept hair. 

His thumb drew absentminded circles over your lower back, just at the junction of your skirt and your tucked-in blouse. You missed your clothes getting wrinkled by his touch, as much as you tried to look as neat as possible. When he was gone, there was an unmistakable absence of his very particular touch. It was sloppy, but tender. Somehow, he simultaneously put no effort into his movements, and all the effort in the world.

When your fingers finished meticulously sorting out his hair, you let out a refreshed sigh, breathing in the crisp April afternoon. You could practically taste the newly harvested strawberries, finally in season after a long winter. A year ago today, this field you stood in now was barren, dry. Now, it was so green, and even better than it had been before. Lush tangles of vines and leafy greens were lovingly planted in rows upon rows of wooden planters. Alexandria had never been so alive, literally and figuratively. 

“I’m fine,” you said happily. As usual, your eyes began to wander his body, examining the new holes in his clothes you would have to patch up. At least he was clean. He must’ve caught a shower at the Commonwealth, where he’d picked up Carol and the kids. She was a leader there now, helping Ezekiel and Mercer run the place. “How was the event?”

The memorial day, the anniversary of the end of the Commonwealth as it once was. No longer a police state run by greedy politicians, it was still the biggest settlement you knew of, but not the best. That was, and always would be, Alexandria, as far as you were concerned. 

“All right,” he said with a shrug. The movement made Wes giggle as he found fascination with the piece of Daryl’s chestnut colored hair that he held between his little fingers. “What’cha doin’, scout?” he asked, bouncing Westley until he giggled some more. “Already one year old…”

You leaned close to get the child’s attention. “Look, Daddy’s back,” you cooed, pinching his rosy little cheeks. They felt like dough in your fingers, so soft and warm. “Can you say ‘hello, Daddy?’” He’d only turned a year old last week, but you were eager to hear him eventually speak his first words. If you could gently coax them out of him, you would. “Say, ‘hi, Dad!’ Or just say, ‘Dada?’”

He only stared blankly at you, blinking his wide eyes as a droplet of drool began to slide down his chin. “Da,” he mumbled.

Close enough. 

When the sun had set and the day’s activities had come to an end, you found refuge in your living room, watching Robin sit cross-legged on the living room floor, holding a white puff of fur in her arms. Daryl sat beside her, holding Wes, who stared in infatuation at the creature. 

“Say ‘Daisy,’” Robin instructed him, holding the rabbit closer. “C’mon, Wes! Say ‘bunny,’ pleeease. This is a bunny. This is Daisy, my bunny.”

The only person who wanted Westley to speak more than you was Robin, who was so eager to have a little brother to talk to. He only blinked, wriggling slightly in Daryl’s arms. He reached out, patting Daisy between her long ears. 

“Gentle,” said Daryl, who guided Westley’s little hand. “Nice and gentle… Look at ‘er little nose, Wes. Ain’t that funny how it wiggles?”

Dog, whose nose was resting upon your thigh as you sat petting him on the couch (so he wouldn’t get jealous, as Daryl said), lifted his head up with alert ears. He still didn’t trust the rabbit entirely, but he was learning, just as Westley was, to be gentle. 

“No, Dog,” you said in a low tone. “You just stay right here.” The dog whined as he looked up at you, his tail wagging so much it made a noise against the couch cushion. “Oh, really?” you replied. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re not going anywhere near that bunny until―

“Mommy,” interjected Robin, “can’t we let Dog come close to Daisy? He won’t hurt ‘er.”

After all, it had been several months since the rabbit joined the family. There just wasn’t any end to Robin’s pleas after the baby rabbit had been born. Ezekiel wasn’t helping matters, either. He insisted upon Robin taking the only pure white rabbit in the litter. Still, you had terrifying visions of Dog tearing apart the poor defenseless creature right in front of Robin and Wes, scarring them for life. Dog did have a bad habit of bringing home small, fluffy creatures, though they were always mangled and bloody when he left them on your doorstep. Daryl had only cooked two of them, and that was a miracle in itself. He would’ve cooked up all of them if you had let him. 

You looked between Daryl and the dog, whose big brown eyes seemed to glimmer with the light from the fireplace. He whined again. “Oh, all right,” you said. “But don’t let go of her.”

You loosened your grip on the dog, letting him cautiously leap off the couch. His ears perked up, he slowly sniffed towards Robin and the rabbit. 

“Come ‘ere, boy,” instructed Robin. “Come see Daisy.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment when the dog got so close that he pressed his nose against the bunny’s, just for a moment. At the same time, Wes reached out his hand to pat Dog. 

“Daw…” the boy cooed. 

Your eyes lit up, so did Daryl’s. “What did you say, sweetie?” you asked.

Daryl gently bounced the boy, as if trying to shake the word out of him. 

“D—dog.”

“Dog?!” you exclaimed, excitedly climbing off the couch to crawl over to Daryl and the baby. “Oh, Daryl, his first word!”

Robin grimaced as she pet Daisy, who was also the object of Dog’s attention as he sniffed her small puff of a tail. “I wanted him to say bunny.”

“Maybe he’ll learn that next, sweet pea. Can you say it again, Wes? What is this?” You pointed demonstratively towards Dog. “This is a…”

Daryl smiled widely, amused by the boy’s confusion. “Hey, buddy. Good job, why don’t ya say somethin’ else…” He pointed towards you, his eyes gazing over you affectionately. “Who’s that, huh? That’s Mama. Say ‘mama.’”

“Blah bluh.” The baby’s nonsensical sounds erupted from his mouth with a small bubble of spit. 

You all broke out into uproarious laughter. “Aw, that’s close enough,” you said, your voice faltering a little. It could’ve been worse. When Robin said her first word, “Dada,” you were overwhelmed with happy tears. This time, you were a little more composed. 

“Look, Mommy!” exclaimed Robin. “Dog likes Daisy, see.”

You averted your attention from the baby to see Dog’s nose gently nudging the rabbit’s body. He seemed to recognize that the creature was a friend, not food. You’d seen the dog’s reactions to rabbits and squirrels and the like before, but he’d never seemed so calm and collected. Perhaps he was smart enough to know that Robin loved her bunny, and that any friend of Robin’s was a friend of Dog’s.

“What a good dog,” you said, patting his back. “Everyone’s reaching a milestone today, huh?”

Not long after that, Aaron came knocking on the front door. He was on his usual Friday evening business—picking up Robin to spend the night. Tonight was special, as Judith and RJ were visiting, too. It was more like a slumber party at Gracie’s house, with Aaron dutifully volunteering to take care of all the children that night. 

The best part for you, of course, was getting to be alone with Daryl. 

The man didn’t let go of Westley until the child was falling asleep in his arms. He’d been gone only three days, but when a child grows so fast, it feels as though just one day is a whole year. As he put the infant to bed upstairs, you tended to the fire, dropping in another log with a flurry of bright orange and red sparks. You quickly used the poker to maneuver the logs. Two hands held tight to your hips as you bent over, squeezing your waist.

“Baby asleep?” you asked.

He turned you around shortly after you stood up to replace the poker. Upon his face was a lopsided smile, the kind that was infectious. Your own grin carved itself into your cheeks, lifting them high until your eyes began to squint. 

When his arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you close against his chest, he craned his head to find your neck, where his lips latched onto your exposed skin. Eyes closed, you nuzzled into his neck, too, where you caught faint notes of pine and soil, and a hint of cigarette smoke.

“Daryl,” you sighed, your hands finding themselves feverishly clawing at his strong, broad shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

His mouth zig zagged up your neck, dotting kisses along your jaw, then finally settling happily on your lips, where they seemed to fit so perfectly. “Me too, angel… Wes is sleepin’ like a rock. Dog’s all tuckered out by his crib.”

“Precious,” you spoke against his lips. “I can’t wait for him to learn how to walk. Remember Robin? She was following you all around the house.”

“Knowin’ Wes, he’ll be chasin’ me. Little terror’s already got so much damn energy with the crawling.” With a laugh, you imagined the idea as you lowered yourself to the ground, tugging Daryl down with you. “Perfectly good couch right there, woman.”

“I want to enjoy the fire,” you said, leaning your back against his chest. He knew the position well, spreading his legs as he leaned against the side of the armchair. You shimmied yourself until you were slotted between his legs, while his hands settled upon your stomach to pull you in even tighter. “Mm, perfect.”

He seemed infatuated with your neck tonight. Perhaps it was your new homemade perfume, scented with apple blossom and honey. Indeed, he seemed to be practically devouring you with his lips. 

“You smell good,” he mumbled between kisses. “Good enough to eat.”

With a teasing grimace, you turned your neck to face him. Though his words and the languid movements of his hands as they pawed at your silky nightgown were tempting, you were more determined to hear about his travels for the time being.

“Any news from the Commonwealth?”

“Jus’ the usual. Carol’s got some plan to talk to Aaron ‘bout gettin’ the railroads workin’ again. They already got a lot of people ready to work on it, just gotta make a plan, and Eugene is comin’ up with ideas for fuel… I dunno, he told me all ‘bout it but it went right through my head.”

“How’s Rosie?” Eugene’s daughter was born just a few months ago. You were still hoping to meet her soon. 

“She’s fine. Looks nothin’ like Eugene, maybe that’s a good thing.”

You shook your head at his joke. “Well, not everyone can be as handsome as you, my love. And the books, did you pick up the books?”

Daryl had a new job added to his long list of responsibilities. In fact, you considered him to be his own position at your library: the official interlibrary loan delivery man. 

“I did,” he said with a nod. “Got ‘em in my bag, ready for ya to… do whatever you do with ‘em. And I dropped off the books they asked for. How you gonna keep track of all these books comin’ and goin’? Ain’t it difficult? Don’t want you stressin’ yourself out with this… interlibrary thing.”

If Daryl had it his way, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger or do anything at all, but you wanted to run the library. After all, he built that library for you. It meant the entire world. 

“It’s not stressful, honey. It’s important. Making sure everyone has access to the information they need, or the stories they want to read to keep their minds off things, that’s all important. When Maggie gets the time to start thinking about a library at Hilltop, we’re going to start an interlibrary loan program there, too. Lydia told me she’d like to run that library… It’s going to be wonderful.”

No matter how many times you told him your dreams, your plans, your hopes for the future, he would always look at you like you’d just shown him the biggest, brightest star in the sky. That’s why he built that library, why he did everything he did to keep Alexandria and the other communities together. Though he thought his actions were small, what he did, he did so you could be happy. There wasn’t anything you could want that he wouldn’t give to you. Just to hear that swell in your voice, and to see that flash of radiance in your eyes. 

When you spoke of your dreams, you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him. 

“Jus’ as long as you’re happy. Ya know, I’m real proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Oh? What for?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

His forehead leaned against yours, his hand cupping your jaw with the utmost tenderness. “Yeah. You’re doin’ everything you wanted to do, bein’ everything you wanted to be. And ya make this place feel like home. Alexandria ain’t nothin’ without you.”

“Stop,” you laughed. “I’m just a librarian.”

“Nah,” he said. “You’re much more than that to me. I mean, you are a librarian. That ain’t all you are. You’re changin’ the world, in your own ways.”

“Well, I… couldn’t have done anything without you, Daryl. You gave me everything I wanted, and more. You made me feel like I was strong.”

“You are strong,” he corrected. To punctuate his statement, he placed a firm kiss upon your lips. “My strong, beautiful woman.”

A sudden burst of laughter erupted from you as he used his body to pin you to the floor. With your body now underneath him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. 

“You’re such a charmer,” you said, lips brushing against his ear. His tongue spread warm saliva over the expanse of your neck. Between slow, drawn-out licks, his lips pursed to kiss you, his hand wrapped up in your hair. Your lips desperately searched for his in the dimly lit room, with only the warm glow of the fire to guide you. Raising your hand to palm at his face, you clasped his chin to pull him down until your lips met. 

It was an unspoken chain of events now—words weren’t necessary. Tonight, you’d make love together, with no chance of Robin hearing or walking in on you, and little Wes was just a baby, all snuggled up in his crib upstairs. Dog wouldn’t know what the two of you were doing, he was just a dog. Still, Daryl always shooed the canine away if he happened to try to climb into bed during your more intimate moments. 

But tonight, he didn’t seem to care about privacy from the dog, as he clawed at your nightgown, trying to pull it off on the living room floor. 

“Daryl, we could go to the bedroom if you want. Wes won’t wake up.”

“No, right here. Want you right here.” You didn’t mind. 

As he sat upright, he stripped himself of his black button-up shirt, the buttons on which were already stretching beyond their ability on account of his broad, stocky build. Your nightgown peeled off easily over your head before you tossed it somewhere behind you, into the warm darkness of the increasingly balmy room. 

With a frustrated grunt, he stood to begin undoing his belt. Beneath your now naked body, you felt the high pile of the plush rug underneath you. It wasn’t as soft as your bed, but it was enough. Still, an equally as naked Daryl crossed over to the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows. 

“Here.” He leaned down to tuck the pillow underneath your head. You bit your lip as you watched him maneuver himself until he was atop you again, breathing deep, heavy breaths. “You comfortable?”

“I love you,” you answered, in a complete haze. “Come here.”

Your lips clasped together again, this time kissing with open mouths and lustful tongues. As his body began to move against yours, you both felt the heat of the nearby fire begin to just barely sting your skin. It was a good sting, though. It reminded you that you were alive, after all this time. You were still alive, together. 

“I love you,” he repeated. The phrase was bookended by more kisses, each more sloppy and impatient than the last as the heat and arousal rose up in him. “I love you... I’d die for you.”

Between your bodies, his erection twitched against you, tucked somewhere between your thighs. It all felt so warm. 

“You don’t have to,” you said, heaving and panting as your body rocked up against his. “I’d much rather you live for me.”

You could feel him smile against your cheek, his hand planted firmly beside you as he lifted his body enough to see yours. His other hand traveled south to feel you, to insert his fingers inside you. 

“Oh…” His knees dug into the carpet as he steadied himself, focusing on pleasuring you. His thumb tickled your most sensitive spot mercilessly, causing you to squirm and writhe underneath him, just the way he liked. “Daryl…”

When you said his name, a fire of some otherworldly kind ignited within him. It was wild and demanding and took complete control over him. He could no longer keep himself away from you, so he buried himself inside, letting out a drawn out sigh as your arms reached up to envelope him. 

“Oh, yes, Daryl… Please.” Your begging only emboldened him. 

He bestowed another kiss, then dragged his lips down over your neck, finally grazing over your aching breast. His warm, sweet breath soothed your nipple, where your teething baby was slowly but surely being weaned from breast milk. 

“They still hurt, angel?” he panted, almost whimpering. You felt so good around him, he could hardly stand it. Your body was made for him, having been filled by him after all these years, but every experience was slightly different, with new pleasures for him to reap from you, and to give you. 

“They’re… a little tender.”

Without sucking, he licked the slightly swollen flesh, tracing gentle circles with his tongue. He eyed you, but your head was thrown back, with only a breathy sigh to signal your approval. The softness of his tongue was so soothing, combined with the steady rhythm of his body as he pumped himself inside you. While one hand kneaded the tender flesh of your other breast, his other hand stroked your clit, matching the slow, loving movements of his hips.

“I’ll make ‘em feel better,” he said, moving his lips to the other breast. 

His open mouth drenched your sensitive nipple in his saliva, then his tongue swirled it around in slow, languid circles. Only Daryl could make love to you with such sweetness and gentleness, but with such great desperation and need. It took all his willpower not to suddenly increase his pace, but he knew that what you needed now was his sweet, slow love. Besides, in this room, in this moment, you had all the time in the world. Everything else outside of the junction of your bodies didn’t matter, for the time being. 

Your back arched, you jolted upwards as a sudden shock of pleasure ran through you. Daryl’s touches were getting you more and more aroused, closer to orgasm. Meanwhile, he buried himself deeper inside of you, twitching with each involuntary movement of your body. The wetness that pooled where your bodies met was dripping down your bottom, surely being absorbed by the carpet. You made a mental note to wash it tomorrow. 

With only yours and his soft pants, grunts, and sighs mingling with the crackling of the fire, the house was quiet, peaceful. The sound of skin on skin became more prominent as Daryl’s speed increased inevitably—your passageway was so slick now, he slid in and out of you with ease. 

Though his head was now buried between your breasts, you reached down to lift him up until his arms stretched out to hold him up, hovering over you. In your throes of passion, your ultimate peak of pleasure incoming, you needed to look at him, to see his face as he watched you fall apart. 

“You’re beautiful,” he huffed. And you were. Your skin was drenched in sweat, probably from the immense heat of your bodies and the nearby fire. Beads of sweat and saliva that speckled your breasts were glimmering with the sparkle from the light. Your arms were flailed above your head, though not for long, as you reached up to pull his hair back, giving you a better look at his face. He was sweating, too, panting with agape lips that were made puffy from your kissing. He always had deep-set eyes, but they looked so dark now, filled with lust and the utmost desire for you to feel the pleasure you so deserved. 

As you squirmed underneath him, you managed to smile at his compliment. No one had ever made you feel as beautiful as him, and he really made you believe it. “I feel beautiful,” you panted. “I’m so close…”

He straightened his back a bit, digging into you from a slightly more extreme angle. It caused you to let out a gasp of surprise at the change in feeling, the new stimulation his tip was creating as it hit into you. “Oh, oh!” 

With such an incredible feeling came the need to cry out, so you covered your own mouth with your hand, trying not to wake the sleeping baby upstairs. Though your hand muffled your moans, the sensation was so strong that your other hand dug into the skin of his shoulder, making him grunt in return.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, though. He’d let you use his body in whatever way you needed to. In fact, he liked it much more than he should’ve. When you were rough with him, even though it was unintentional, it awakened a wildness in him that he often thought he’d grown out of, but it was always within him, you just had a way of bringing it back out.

The newfound confidence he gained made him move faster now, yet still with the gentleness he started out with. He breathed out a huff, then a few words. “You like this?” he panted. “You like what I’m doin’ to ya?”

“You know I do,” you mumbled against your palm. 

“I feel ya about to come,” he said. “Feel ya squeezin’ me.”

Another jolt of pleasure, another tightness throughout your core. His movements didn’t give you a chance to recover—you arched your back and gasped as the string inside you broke. Your legs spread further apart by instinct as your hips writhed and gyrated with every pulse. 

Even in the dim light, he swore he could see your entrance twitching and tightening around him where his body met yours. He certainly could feel it, that enticing pressure that commanded him to stay in you, begging him to let himself go. 

Well, the last time he did that, you ended up with a surprise bundle of joy. 

With your body still squirming and moaning underneath him, he pulled himself out, tugging with his hand as he watched you enjoy the last moments of your bliss.

You opened your legs up even more, reaching your hand down to stroke your slit, just to give him something to look at. It was quite amusing to watch him, too, how his hair hung loose over his face as he hung his head down to watch your movements. He finally reached his peak, his other hand catching his spend.

With that, his energy left him. He allowed himself to fall back down onto you, then roll himself over with you in his arms, until you were snuggled against his side. 

It didn’t last long, though, because you were cold, so you fetched the quilt draped over the edge of the couch, along with another throw pillow for Daryl. He’d insisted he didn’t need one, and that you should have both, of course. You ignored him.

The fire was low now, almost embers, but it was still bright enough to bring light to your faces. You traced the curves of his features for a while, tickling his nose any chance you got. It occupied you as you thought of new worries.

“You’re going to the Hilltop tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, then Commonwealth, then back home. Like I usually do.”

You knew the routine well—the trade route always involved several stops at the three settlements, and the whole circuit took about a week to complete, but one week out of the month without him was still the one thing you wished to change in your life. Granted, you were quite spoiled if the only problem in your life was not getting your husband to yourself twenty-four seven. Maybe you were just clingy, but Daryl always liked that about you, and, anyway, he was clingy, too. Possibly even more than you.

“Hm…” You tightened your arm around his waist, nuzzling your head further against his chest, as if to never let him leave. “Well, say hi to Maggie and Hershel for me. Oh, and Robin has another little letter for him she wants you to deliver. It’s on her desk, I’ll get it in the morning before you leave.” The two children had become pen pals ever since Maggie returned to Hilltop. You found their new friendship to be quite sweet, knowing that Glenn would’ve loved to see all the children getting along. 

“Guess I’m a glorified mailman now, huh?” he said with a huff, which you knew to be his form of laughter. “Well, uh…”

His voice trailed off and his small smirk faded as he began to think. He didn’t look worried or upset, but nervous, almost. It was strange, he’d hardly ever looked nervous around you anymore.

“What is it?” 

“Nothin’, just… There’s somethin’ I been thinkin’ ‘bout for a while. Been meanin’ to ask ya.”

There was a strange quality to his voice, almost like he was… excited? Nervous, and excited. It made you shake your head in slight bewilderment. He seemed so youthful, with the subtle, flickering glow of the nearby embers accentuating the angles of his high cheekbones. 

“Go ahead.” Whatever was making Daryl so excited, it was bound to make you excited, too. 

“Well, I was thinkin’… Maybe tomorrow you could come with me on the rest of the trip.”

That wasn’t all he was thinking, but it was the first step. Luckily, the first step went over well. You immediately beamed at the thought. In fact, you’d wanted to ask, but you feared that Daryl might grow irritated at your desire to be with him when he was doing his “job.” The fact that he asked you was a relief. 

“Oh, that’s a great idea! I’d love to go, honey. I really want to see Maggie, and I’d love to meet Rosie. I’m sure Ezekiel would like to hear about Daisy. Aaron could take care of the kids, and I know Gabriel would help, too.”

“But, uh, that ain’t all I was thinkin’.”

“Oh?”

He cleared his throat. “Ya know… Ya know how, a while back, I said I’d take you on a vacation?”

The thought amused you as it came back to mind. Indeed, it was almost exactly a year ago, down in the sewers underneath Alexandria. It was a dark time, but in the midst of that darkness were moments like that. 

“Yes, I remember. You said something about… riding off into the sunset on your motorcycle,” you laughed. “Well, that’s how I interpreted it, anyway. Why?”

He shrugged, though he knew why he was asking. “Guess I was jus’ wonderin’ if maybe we could do that soon, that’s all. Maybe when we get back from the trade, we can just… be gone for a little while. Few weeks. I dunno.”

As your fingers absentmindedly traced shapes through the wiry hairs sprouting from his chest, you thought of the logistics of such a plan. You knew that Aaron wouldn’t mind taking care of the kids, and Gabriel did owe you a few favors after you’d taken care of Coco. Lydia and Elijah lived in Alexandria, too, and would surely keep an eye out for the children that Lydia came to know as her family. Some of the other neighbors would be fine with helping out, too. They all loved Robin, and many of them had offered to babysit Wes whenever you needed it. Dog was already eating off everyone’s porch, and Robin was now an expert at caring for her rabbit. 

“Where will we go?” you finally asked. 

“Jus’... anywhere.”

And so, the next morning, you were off. 

At the Hilltop, Maggie expressed interest in your “vacation.” She said it would be a good opportunity to find new people, and to find leads for new resources for the communities. Of course, before you’d leave, you’d stop again back at home to say goodbye. 

It wasn’t an easy goodbye, not in the slightest. You held onto Wes for some time that morning, while Daryl went through extra care to go over the “security protocols” with Robin. You weren’t entirely sure what that included, but it had something to do with operating the complicated lock on your front door. 

Outside the gates, Aaron met you to see you off, with Lydia holding baby Westley. Beside his bike, Daryl held Robin’s cheeks in his fingerless-gloved hands, kneeling down to the girl’s height. He squinted his eyes as he examined her face, clenched somewhere between forced strength and the strength she was born with. There seemed to be a glimmer in her eye, where a tear threatened to fall. 

“We won’t be gone long,” he said, brushing the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Few weeks, month at the most.”

“But it’ll feel a lot longer,” she said weakly. Still, she allowed her lips to curl into a half-smile. “Can you bring me back a new Barbie? A veterinarian one?”

Ever since you began telling her about Hershel, Maggie’s father and her friend’s namesake, she dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, taking care of all the animals in Alexandria. It was a dream that you hoped would come true for her. 

“Yeah, I’ll look for it… And I promise we’ll be back ‘fore your birthday.” She beamed at that. She was turning eight in a month. Time was going so fast. 

He took her in for a hug, and with his chin resting upon her shoulder, he quietly said, “Keep an eye on your brother, all right? And take care of Dog. Make sure he don’t eat that bunny.”

She laughed before placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Okay, Daddy. I promise.”

“And be good for your uncle. Listen to him…” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t really have to waste those words on such a well-behaved child. Now, Westley was another story, but alas, he couldn’t quite understand anything Daryl would say to him. “I dunno why I’m tellin’ ya, birdie. You’ll be just fine.”

As he rose to his feet, you came towards them, Wes on your hip as he chewed on his teething ring. His little feet wiggled in his tiny cowboy boots (the ones Daryl brought home because they reminded him of a certain police officer he used to know) as you handed him to his father, who held the restless child up in the air as he made a wide-eyed face to entertain him. “Hey, scout, now you’re the one I’m worried ‘bout.” 

You felt Robin’s arms wrap around your waist, and her cheek leaning against your upper arm. As you looked down, you freed your arm to squeeze her close. Your hand settled in her hair, brushing back the silky, pale brown waves. “Will you be all right, sweet pea?”

“Yeah, just…” She looked up with glassy eyes and slightly quivering lips. “I’ll be worried, s’all. There’s climbers out there.”

That was the newest threat. A new… adaptation. Some walkers were climbing, even picking up objects. Not many, but enough to warrant new protocols. That was part of what you were interested in exploring. Maybe someone, somewhere, knew something about these new walkers. Or at least, maybe you’d get some leads. It couldn’t hurt to look.

“Mm, well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but… I’m pretty good out there.” You pulled your ice axe from its loop on your belt, flashing the thin silver blade. “And nothing’s going to stop me and Daddy from coming back home to you and your brother, you know.”

“I know.” You took her in for a full hug, squeezing her so tight she squealed a little. “I’ll miss your hugs.”

“Me too…” You sighed as you pulled away to look at her. She looked so much like Daryl, as she always did, but for the first time, you noticed a quality in her face that resembled… you. It was a brief resemblance that seemed to only show itself in certain angles and lights, but it really showed now. Maybe she was growing up, not anywhere near a young woman yet, but you could see it in her. It was coming, and it brought a tear to your eye. You didn’t want to miss a second of it, but this would be good for you, for Robin, for everyone. 

“I think this might be the longest I’ll have ever been away from you, chipmunk. Your daddy’s been away for months before, but…” 

Robin’s kiss distracted you from your imminent tears. “It’s okay, Mommy. We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

You felt Daryl’s warm presence beside you, and you heard Wes’s babbling. The little boy just looked so happy, smiling wide with the few tiny baby teeth he’d been growing. As you brushed back his wispy brown hairs, Daryl pressed a kiss to his cheek before handing him back to Lydia. 

“You sure you’re okay with taking care of him?” you asked. “You can always ask Gabe and Aaron for help, too. They’ve babysat him before.”

The young woman extended her metal arm for a hug. You sighed against her shoulder, knowing you were going to miss her, too. “We’ll all take care of them both,” she said. “It takes a village, right?”

“Thank you… It means a lot to me.”

Aaron was the last one you had to say goodbye to. It took a lot of willpower to end that hug, but wherever you were going, you had a long way to go. 

“Be careful out there,” he said. “And don’t worry about everything here. Just… just be careful, okay?”

There was no mistaking that look in his eye, and that slight frown on his face that aged him a few years. You much preferred his smile, but you knew he was a lot like you, and that it was hard to smile when there was so much to worry about. “I will. I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He nodded with a strained smile. “I know.” With a sigh, he pulled you in for another hug. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he had a bad feeling. 

“Aaron,” you said, “stop worrying. I told you I’ll be careful. You know, I lived out on the road for a while, unlike some people.”

His smile seemed natural now, more warm and relaxed. “You’re my baby sister,” he said. “I’m always going to worry about you. Dad used to say I had to watch out for you, make sure the other kids didn’t pick on you.” 

And yet they still did, but he tried his best. 

“And you always did watch out for me. Now I can watch out for myself.”

“I know, (Y/N). Still, be careful.”

When you pulled yourself away, Daryl stepped in to hug Aaron. It was a far cry from the first day the two met, you thought. You rather clearly recalled Daryl’s first words to Aaron being, “No one gives a shit.” If you’d been asked to imagine the two men sharing a hug back then, you weren’t sure you could do it. 

“Take care of my sister,” he said, quietly enough so that you couldn’t hear as you strapped your bag to Daryl’s bike. Light packing wasn’t your strong suit, but somehow you managed to fit everything you needed into one knapsack. 

Daryl chewed his bottom lip as he nodded. Aaron had spoken in a stern voice, but underlying that was a clear understanding between brothers, not just friends. “I will.”

As he climbed onto the bike, he turned the key into the ignition, bringing the engine to life. When you settled behind him, grasping at his shoulders to steady yourself, you were alerted to Westley’s cries, no doubt spurred on by the loud engine, though you were a little gutted inside, thinking maybe, just maybe, he knew you were leaving. 

“Bye!” you called out over the roar of the bike. Robin, Lydia, and Aaron matched your wave, and soon Westley’s cries calmed down. Maybe it was the sound of your voice. 

Daryl flashed a smile towards them, then turned his head to speak over his shoulder to you. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, you wrapped your arms tight around his waist, but not before adjusting his poncho slightly. “Ready.”

It was a beautiful April day, with fluffy clouds rolling slowly in the pale blue sky. Beyond the nearby hills, you could just see the sliver of the moon begin to dip below the horizon. Darkness was far away now, and for a moment, you thought back to the beginning of a different journey, one that started in darkness, but ended in the light. 

Well, it didn’t end. Nothing ever really ends. 

With a kick of the stand, the wheels were rolling, and Daryl stepped hard on the gas, jolting you to grip onto him tighter. Your chin dug into his shoulder, just the way he liked. That way, he knew you were really holding on, and that you were there with him. It was what he needed. In his heart, he knew one thing—he’d never be able to leave home again without you. 

The road went on straight for a while, and every chance you got, you looked back to see those three figures getting smaller and smaller, but Robin’s little arm was still waving. You let go of Daryl for a moment to wave back, even though you were sure she couldn’t see you.

I love you all. 

Soon the road bent, turning into a grove of trees that finally separated you from your home, the place you fought for, and the people that made it worth fighting for. 

But then, there was still Daryl, and that was more than enough to remind you of every beautiful thing you had in this world. In fact, it all started with him. It started that day the bolt from his crossbow tunneled through a walker’s skull, the walker that very well would’ve killed you if it weren’t for him. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d have never known love at all. That was what you believed to be true. There was no love like his before him, but whatever love you did have, it wasn’t his. His was what you’d been waiting for all your life, what you were put on Earth to feel. 

Today wasn’t unlike that day you met him, you supposed. It was a time when everything was changing, and as one world was ending, another was beginning. Though this time, you didn’t feel anything was ending, only that today was the start of some great journey. You couldn’t explain it, you just felt it. 

However the world would change next, you found yourself repeating that old mantra: Don’t ever be afraid.

You were so lost in your thoughts for a while that you didn’t even notice the great speed at which you were going. As you pinched his side, signaling for him to slow, you shouted above the sound of the engine, “Slow down!”

He shook his head as he let out a laugh. “Thought you’d never notice.” His foot eased up on the gas pedal, and now you could more clearly watch the trees go by, one by one. 

You weaved through a small group of walkers stumbling on the road, but their mindless groans were easy to ignore. In fact, you didn’t really notice them at all. Nothing could spoil this moment, this beautiful world that you’d come to know and love, despite everything that threatened to take it away from you. 

No, nothing could take this away from you. Nothing could take away this bright light of love that seemed to move at the speed of sound down the old dirt road. It was unstoppable, and wherever the two of you went, you’d take it with you, and never let it go. 

Now, you just had to figure out where you were going, but something told you that the light of love would guide the way. 

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

[nesiacha]

Letter of Madame Chalabre to Robespierre

I found something interesting on the excellent site amis-robespierre.org. It was mentioned in posts I saw on Tumblr about Madame Chalabre, a great admirer of Robespierre, who was supposedly arrested after his execution. According to Vandeplas, Bernard on the same site, some accused her of being an informant for Robespierre. Joke aside, I wonder if Stanisława Przybyszewska might be the reincarnation of Madame Chalabre.

But when you read the letter she sent to Robespierre, it’s much more than admiration; it shows a political spirit. When I see this, I think once again that some French revolutionaries, including Robespierre, missed the boat by refusing to make women equal to men.

Here is Robespierre’s speech from January 2, 1792:   "... War is good for military officers, for the ambitious, for speculators who trade in such events; it is good for the court, it is good for the executive power whose authority, popularity, and influence it increases; it is good for the coalition of nobles, intriguers, and moderates who govern France..." He continues: "... The most extravagant idea that can be born in the head of a politician is to believe that it suffices for a people to invade a foreign people to make them adopt its laws and constitution. No one loves armed missionaries..." "... Our victories by our generals would be more disastrous than our defeats..."

Here is Madame Chalabre’s response, which shows a good reasoning spirit: "No, I cannot find words to express to the admirable Robespierre the surprise and emotion caused by reading his interesting and useful speech in the latest Revolution of Paris. The patriots were right to include it, because this journal is widely read and goes everywhere. We cannot hurry enough to warn true Frenchmen against the execrable trap of war. But alas! I fear it is a foregone conclusion in the National Assembly, for the deputy Ramond (de Carbonnières) announces to us a long and beautiful report from the diplomatic committee whose conclusions will undoubtedly be for war. Just heavens! What betrayals! Unfortunate homeland. False guides still divert you from the right path with new ruses finer than those of the moderates. They do not have such a marked character of falsehood and are therefore more dangerous. Patriots are said to be misguided if they do not want war. Ah! Let us continue to be thus misguided to stifle it and save the homeland. Another speech at the Jacobins Monday played by the cruel war partisans who persist like ravens on their prey. If so, let us despair of the homeland’s salvation. Victorious even with the enemy’s power is to be defeated. That is the solution to the whole question but as you say, they always want to be beside the point. How with even a little judgment can one fall into such a trap? It seems incredible to me; instead of following nature, they prefer to reason against it. Shame, shame on eloquence in this case. Weak humans who boast of your enlightenment, the instinct of animals is far superior to your fine minds, for it never deceives them.

{} I cannot resist the feeling of gratitude inspired by the virtuous conduct and wise writings of the faithful Robespierre, despite his own advice to us not to give in too much to these transports. His touching modesty will produce the opposite effect judging by myself but it will not be dangerous for freedom, the noblest emulation will be the fruit. Greetings, friendship, Chalabre."

Thus, beyond admiration, Madame Chalabre shows great lucidity on the issue of war. I would love to know more about this character.

This makes me all the more furious about the films of the French Revolution that portray women as passive, too gentle, and groupies according to macho standards (yes, I have my eye on Heffron's films, the horrible movie "The Passion of Camille and Lucile Desmoulins," and even very good films like "La Terreur et la Vertu" by Stellio Lorenzi).

PS: I looked for Tumblr posts about this letter specifically and an analysis but did not find one. If it is already there, I sincerely apologize to the author. The goal is not to plagiarize.

[paperandsong]

Protestant Horror Aesthetic

Sleepy Hollow directed by Tim Burton, 1999

Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.

I’ve seen a few posts presenting the case that Catholicism is inherently more compatible with the Gothic than Protestantism. That the imagery found inside a Catholic church invokes feelings of Gothic horror in ways that Protestant places of worship do not. 

And I do not disagree. But there are horror stories that are predicated on a Protestant aesthetic. Stories in which the horror is specifically Calvinist in nature. Stories in which, rather than statues of Christ crying rubies and the stigmata and sexual repression, you have empty crosses in snow white sanctuaries and self abnegation and also sexual repression. So much sexual repression. 

The Witch directed by Robert Eggers, 2015

Wouldst thou like the taste of butter . . . wouldst thou like to live deliciously?

The horror of The Witch is the Puritanism itself. This most rigid version of Calvinism is presented as so bleak, so cruel, so hopeless that it becomes perfectly logical that a good girl would trade her soul for the mere offer of deliciousness. 

The Night of the Hunter directed by Charles Laughton, 1955

What religion do you profess, preacher? The religion the Almighty and me worked out betwixt us.

In The Night of the Hunter, a serial murderer and con man takes on the mantle of itinerant preacher to worm his way into the household of an unfortunate widow. In one of the most chilling scenes, the preacher scolds his new wife for expecting sex on their wedding night. The film subverts the threat of rape with chaste shame and humiliation. The preacher uses Biblical language to manipulate, scold, and confuse. The preacher’s own repressed sexuality is as frightening as if he were a rapist. 

Carrie directed by Brian de Palma, 1976

Carrie doesn’t make this list. While her mother’s rantings are perfect pitch Baptist preacher, there is also a lot of Catholic imagery happening. Margaret’s death is staged to recall the martrydom of St. Sebastian. I’m not sure what kind of Christian she’s supposed to be. The horror is definitely religious and fundamentalist, but it’s some kind of mix between Catholic and First Southern Hills Gothic Missionary Non-Denominational. Or something. 

Feel free to add to this list. I would especially like to see some non-U.S. films or novels that utilize a Protestant Horror Aesthetic. With all the wars and murder that happened during the Reformation, there must be some. 

[illiana-mystery]

Every Time Fred was a Religious Figure

[77ngiez-archive]

i don't know shit about the mormon religion but tbh ur posts about it have me thinking about looking into it since ive been on and off looking for a religion that fits me. do you have recommendations on where to start?

anon this made me so happy and excited u have no idea. i will answer the ask under the cut cos its gonna get. long

alright! so! quick (2 paragraph lol sorry) crash course! the mormon church is more formally known as The Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints. this is noted bcs i think its important to know that the church Is a branch of christianity!

the main difference between the church and other branches of christianity is that we believe that we have the restored gospel! to elaborate, we believe that during the years christ was gone, his church and doctrine began falling apart - misinterpretation, mistranslation, etc, all playing a role. the power of both the aaronic priesthood and the melchezidic priesthood was lost. sure, we also have the book of mormon (+ the doctrine&covenants and the pearl of great price), but the reason we have those in the first place is because the priesthood was restored to us.

the subtitle of the book of mormon is "another testemant of jesus christ". basically, you know all those times that jerusalem got destroyed in the old testemant? well, one of those times, this guy lehi takes his family and his pals and goes to the american continent! and then the book of mormon chronicles what happened to him and his many descendants, ending when they all... destroyed each other in war. the doctrine&covenants and the pearl of great price are both stuff from the prophets and apostles in the early days of the church! also, joseph smith (the "founder" of the church) did a retranslation of some parts of the bible. pretty neat!

now that thats out of the way, ur question - where to learn more! if there's a mormon church anywhere in your area (which is pretty likely, esp if u live in the usa) then you can reach out to that church and/or any missionaries on the area! u can attend church at a mormon church without being a member, and plenty of ppl do! ppl r very welcoming there! the missionaries can always teach u more! also, if u download the lds gospel library app (or use the library), u have access to all the lds materials! this is the bible, book of mormon, etc, but other stuff too. for example, theres the 3-volume book "saints" which is all about church history! its very detailed but not hard to listen to or read at all, and it focuses on individuals to help paint the story of how the church formed and was built (i love saints if u cant tell)

i love being mormon and wouldnt trade it for anything. however i feel like warning u that at the moment, the church has a bit of a toxic culture regarding queer stuff, and it can be rlly hard to deal with esp as a queer person who genuinely believes in all the true concepts that the church upholds. but! its absolutely not impossible! #queerstake right here on tumblr is a shining example <3

anyway im only one mormon teenager on the internet, so id suggest checking out the gosepl library, talking to missionaries, and even attending a session on sunday to see what its like if u feel like it. also go ahead and look thru the #queerstake and #tumblrstake tags, bcs theres a lot of both rlly good insight and rlly good community there! feel free to reach out to other posters in that tag for more info if this wasn't sufficient ^^ and good luck, anon!!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Rikki Schlott

Published: Feb 11, 2023

“They were in Manhattan, living in the freest country you can imagine, and they’re saying they’re oppressed? It doesn’t even compute,” Yeonmi Park told The Post of students at her alma mater, Columbia University. “I was sold for $200 as a sex slave in the 21st century under the same sky. And they say they’re oppressed because people can’t follow their pronouns they invent every day?”

The 29-year-old defected from North Korea as a young teen, only to be human-trafficked in China. In 2014, she became one of just 200 North Koreans to live in the United States — and, as of last year, is an American citizen.

Now, three years after she graduated from Columbia with a degree in human rights, Park is raising alarm bells about America’s cancel culture and woke ideology.

In her book “While Time Remains,” out February 14, Park writes how she made it all the way to the United States only to find some of the same encroachments on freedom that she thought she left behind in North Korea — from identity politics and victim mentality to elite hypocrisy.

“I escaped hell on earth and walked across the desert in search of freedom, and found it,” she writes. “I don’t want anything bad ever to happen to my new home … I want us — need us — to keep the darkness at bay.”

She implores readers: “I need your help to save our country, while time remains.”

Park first made headlines back in 2015 with her book “In Order to Live: A North Korean Girl’s Journey to Freedom” and for her bold claims that the woke environment she endured as a student at Columbia reminded her of North Korea.

In an interview this week with The Post, Park recalled what it was like to be a North Korean defector who escaped tyranny and oppression only to meet college students intent on claiming victim status and earning oppression points. She dubbed her alma mater a “pure indoctrination camp” and said many of her classmates at New York City’s most elite school were “brainwashed like North Korean students are.

“I never understood that not having a problem can be a problem,” Park said. “They need to make injustice out of thin air or a problem out of nowhere, because they haven’t experienced anything like what other people are facing in the world.”

She was born in Hyesan, North Korea, the second child of a civil servant, and grew up under the rule of then-Supreme Leader Kim Jong-il under the bleakest of conditions.

In the first five years of her life, an estimated 3.5 million North Koreans died of starvation. Park recalls hunting for cockroaches on the way to school to quell her hunger — even as the Kim’s regime banned the words “famine” and “hunger.”

“Darkness in Hyesan is total,” Park writes. ”It’s not just the absence of light, power, and food. It is the absence of dignity, sanctuary, and hope. Darkness in Hyesan is … watching your parents and neighbors hauled away by police for the crime of collecting insects and plants for their children to eat.”

After her father was arrested and sentenced to hard labor for the crime of trading dried fish, sugar, and metals, the Park family’s life in North Korea deteriorated even further. Finally, they planned their way out.

“I didn’t escape in search of freedom, or liberty, or safety. I escaped in search of a bowl of rice,” she writes.

Park’s sister fled North Korea first. Park, then 13, and her mother followed, crossing the freezing Yalu River into China. But rather than finding her sister, the pair fell into the hands of human traffickers who sold Park into sexual slavery. 

After years of forced slave labor, a still-teenage Park was finally able to break free and travel across the Gobi Desert to Mongolia with the help of Christian missionaries. From there, she went to South Korea where she found refuge and was granted citizenship.

Seven years after they were first separated, Park also reunited with her older sister. But they found out that their father had died shortly after he managed to escape to China.

Losing him, Park said, made her “step into a different life: one dedicated to human rights, and improving the lives of people suffering under tyranny. A life of meaning. A life that would make my father proud.”

When Park was a young girl, her mother told her the most dangerous thing in her body was her tongue and warned her that, if she said the wrong thing or insulted the regime, her family could be imprisoned or even executed.

“That’s the end of cancel culture,” Park told the Post. “Of course, we’re not putting people in front of a firing squad in America now, but their livelihoods, their dignity, their reputations, and their humanity are under attack. When we tell people not to talk, we’re censoring their thinking as well. And when you can’t think, you’re a slave — a brainwashed puppet.”

Since her time at Columbia, the New York City-based author and activist has started a YouTube channel, “Voice of North Korea,” where she shares information about life under the regime. She also joined the board of the non-profit Human Rights Foundation, where she works with dissidents from around the world and, most recently, helped with efforts to drop anti-regime leaflets in North Korea.’

Recently divorced, Park is also now a mother to a five-year-old son. She wants him to have the same freedoms she found in America — but is afraid they’re under attack by pernicious woke ideology, and especially identity politics.

In North Korea, Park said, the government divides citizens into 51 classes based on whether their blood is “tainted” because their  ancestors were “oppressive” landowners.

“That’s how the regime divided people. What an individual does doesn’t matter. It’s all about your ancestors and the collective,” she explained.

Now, when she sees Americans indulging in race essentialism and identity politics, she said, it feels eerily familiar.

“They say white people are privileged and guilty and oppressors,” Park said. “This is the tactic the North Korean regime used to divide people. In America it’s the same idea of collective guilt. This is the ideology that drove North Korea to be what it is today — and we’re putting it into young American minds.”

Park told the Post she hopes her second book serves as inspiration for Americans to fight back against false promises of “equity” while they still can.

“I really don’t think that we have that much time left,” she warned. “Already all our mainstream institutions have the same ideology that North Korea has: socialism, collectivism and equity. We are literally going through a cultural revolution in America. When we realize it, it might be too late.”

==

When someone who escaped North Korea gives you a warning, you pay attention.

[ausetkmt]

received an email yesterday concerning an article I wrote some time ago. The person asked me so many interesting and thought-provoking questions in that email. In this follow-up post, I will try to answer some of those questions to the best of my knowledge.

What role did the church play in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade? What exactly does the Bible say about slavery? Is Christianity a “slave religion”? Why so many black people love the church and the Bible?

According to Jomo Kenyatta, the founding father and first president of Kenya, “When the missionaries arrived, the Africans had the land and the missionaries had the Bible. They taught us how to pray with our eyes closed. When we opened them, they had the land and we had the Bible”.

That was the beginning of the European colonization of Africa. As I said in my other post, the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade was introduced by the coming of the Europeans. The Europeans came with the Bible the same way the Arab raiders and traders from the Middle East and North Africa introduced Islam and the Quran through the Trans-Saharan Slave Trade. So yes, the church did play a major role in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. In fact, the church was the backbone of the slave trade.

In other words, most of the slave traders and slave ship captains were very “good” Christians. For example, Sir John Hawkins, the first slave ship captain to bring African slaves to the Americas, was a religious gentleman who insisted that his crew “serve God daily” and “love another”. His ship, ironically called “the good ship Jesus,” left the shores of his native England for Africa in October 1562.

The church, especially the Roman Catholic and the Anglican Churches, had plantations with slaves working on them. For example, the United Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (USPG) – the world's oldest Anglican mission agency, owned several acres of slave plantations. It has been documented that the 800 acre Codrington slave plantation in Barbados was owned and operated by the United Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (USPG) during the 18th and 19th centuries.

One may ask, why would the church condone such barbaric acts as slavery? Well, the answer lies in the Bible the same way the answer for extremist Islamic terrorism in the world today lies in the Quran. Yes, slavery isn't just "normal" in the Bible. It is perfectly OK (or can be interpreted so) according to the scriptures. There are several chapters and verses supporting slavery in both the old and new testaments of the Bible.

Exodus 21 of the old testament of the Bible for example, gives clear instructions on how to treat a slave. Both Deuteronomy 20:10-14 and Leviticus 25:44-46 also give clear instructions on who should be slaves, how and where to buy slaves, etc.

Some Christians argue those chapters and verses are in the old testament and therefore don’t count but that is heresy. Also, there are several chapters and verses supporting slavery even in the New testament of the Bible. For example, the book of Ephesians 6:5 of the New Testament clearly states “Slaves, Obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ”. Not just that, 1 Timothy 6:1 of the New Testament also clearly states “Christians who are slaves should give their masters full respect so that the name of God and his teaching will not be shamed”. I can go on and on.

Slavery existed during the time of Jesus and continued after Jesus. Slavery got abolished nearly 2000 years after the death of Jesus. Jesus had every chance to speak against slavery. The question is, did he do it? And if Jesus did speak against slavery then why did his followers twist his words? If Jesus did speak against slavery then why does the New Testament of the Bible support slavery? And if the Bible got twisted along the way then does it make much sense for us to put our trust in it?

Now back to the question, "Is Christianity a slave religion?" Well, I am not that great with the Bible so I will leave that to the experts to answer.

Reverend Richard Furman, President of the South Carolina Baptist convention 1823 said, “The right of holding slaves is clearly established in the holy scriptures, both by precepts and by example”.

In a letter to the Emancipator in 1839, the Reverend Thomas Witherspoon of the Presbyterian church of Alabama in the USA wrote, “I draw my warrant from the scriptures of the old and new testaments to hold the slave in bondage”.

"The extracts from Holy Writ unequivocally assert the right of property in slaves"--Rev. E.D. Simms, professor, Randolph-Macon College.  I can go on and on.

So as we can see, the church and the early Christians saw nothing wrong with slavery and fully engaged themselves. Most churches and cathedrals owned several acres of slave plantations and owned several slaves. Even when slavery was abolished, most churches had to be compensated for setting their slaves free.

Yes, one of the ironies of the 1833 Slavery Abolition Act was that, it was slave owners, not the slaves, who were compensated at the emancipation of slaves. The Anglican Church received 8,823 pound sterling in compensation for its loss of over 400 slaves. The Bishop of Exeter, along with three of his colleagues received some 13,000 pounds in compensation for over 660 slaves. All these have been documented and I can go on and on.

Why so many black people love the church and the Bible? Well, that is a question I cannot answer all alone.

[randomnumbers751650]

I posted an analysis of the 1.4 update of Honkai Star Rail, but I deleted because I felt I was unfair to Topaz, by calling her “Gordon Gekko as a waifu” – in some aspects she’s actually more annoying. But now that I finished, I want to share a few thoughts on the 1.4 story, that’s essentially the story of an economic mission and how Topaz is “if neoliberal why hot”.

There will be a lot of politcses, because it’s essentially the story of Space IMF going to an underdeveloped country, it would only be more political if it was written by Kojima himself, so placing under “Read more”.

I couldn’t help but to find it hilarious how the writers at miHoyo decided to write an entire story involving an economic mission. It should be noted that the IPC is more than a corporation; it seems to hold the monopoly of interstellar trade. I don’t remember seeing other corporations doing that, but I have the feeling that, while you can argue that scale of operations and the costs makes it a natural monopoly, the writers decided to go for the IPC monopoly to simplify the story.

Having this in mind, it should be noted that when a corporation grows too large, it stops being just a corporation. Due to the power accumulated by the expansion of its finance needing to be defended at all costs, it starts gaining other traits, including becoming essentially a government. In HSR, the IPC in 1.4 takes the role of supranational organizations, such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank. Both organizations were founded in the aftermath of WW2 to help reconstruct Europe. The World Bank, however, changed its role to promote development in the Global South (anachronic use of the term, because this term wasn’t used in the 1940s) to not compete with the IMF’s role in reconstruction.

The people who first joined these organizations were actually dedicate and passionate about these causes. Studying the history and the biographies of the people there, one thing that critics have to understand it’s not just about the money, neither it’s just about the power. These people really really believed that submission to whatever they said was the right way to take out a country out of poverty was the best thing possible. Topaz’s attitude isn’t an anomaly or something to make her waifuable, but it’s common in the biographies of these economists – they thought they could bring their mathematical models, their expertise and their willpower to make every country they went to a better one. The stuff reached a point that some said it’d better to give them “xenos rights”, the right to do every change whatever it takes, ignoring the natives’ opinions and rights, all this in order to implement the necessary changes for the greater good.

Needless to say, whenever they went, failure followed them. Many times they didn’t understand local politics and customs; the models were so good on paper, but useless in reality; there was no guarantee local leaders would follow blindly their plans. There are cases that the World Bank just used the same strategy report for development, sometimes forgetting to change the name of the country, so leaving them with the plan for a previous country.

The result was countries in debt and they require to acquire debt to pay previous debts, compromise with austerity reforms that worked absolutely nothing, but let the conservative parties of all participant countries happy because it entrenched their power. When Himeko mentioned the 63% success rate, you know HSR is a work of fiction, because there’s really no statistic for that real life, but ask anyone who studies this and you’ll know it’s low, to say the least.

In fact, interests were all that mattered, and their economic missionaries were very useful in that because they were true believers, like Topaz. Again, you have no idea of how many people in the history of economic thought sincerely believed that the free market would solve everything, that would receive with enthusiasm Topaz’s plan of belobogians becoming indentured servants to the IPC.

The game goes to great lengths to show that Topaz is a good girl at heart, that loves animals and cute things (because it’s a gacha in the end of the day), but it’s clear she’s so indoctrinated in the IPC ideology that efficiency is the best thing ever, no matter the costs; thus, she’s willing to claim “xenos rights” and pass through the people she’s trying to help for a misguided idea of what’s better for them (also Bronya showed to be one of the best characters of the game, with how she managed to disarm Topaz’s arguments with compassion; and Topaz accepts that). That’s why I felt it was unfair to call her waifu Gordon Gekko because he’s absolutely not a good person. But, at the same time, her condition of true believer is annoying to me (that’s why she goes to my F-tier).

In real life, economic missions don’t have a high rate of success and, even when they might succeed, it might not be for the reasons they believe to be (the hiding hand principle). There’s also the fact that entities like the IMF did try to call out and apply sanctions on Western European and the US for violating parts of its chart or not paying loans, but they didn’t succeed because how are they going to do that against their bosses? So, they have to compensate on underdeveloped countries, to show the system “works”; this not counting the times they become departments of the American government.

In the history of economic development, the most successful strategy is simple: lend and forget. That was the point of the Marshall Plan, that helped to restore the Western European economies and to avoid the debt problems that led to WW2; that was the point of the American investment in Japan, in order to support the war effort in the Korean War; that’s how South Korea became developed, because it supported the US in the Vietnam War (by sending troops and having the chaebols procure assets for the American military); even the Soviet Union did that, with Cuba – in fact, all these development projects were an offshoot of the Cold War, through economic means. It also caused deindustrialization in the US, look at Detroit. If you lived in Latin America, Africa or South Asia (not including the Middle East here, because they received the dollars from the West’s unquenchable thirst for oil, creating today’s localized cold war between the Gulf’s petrostates), you’d have to deal with lower quality loans (that was the source of many financial crises in Latin America) or none at all, while dealing with the offshoots of the Cold War in more…traditional ways, wars, terrorism, coups et al.

It's also relevant to mention that it’s a game developed by the Chinese, because China has always rejected shock therapy proposed by organizations like the IMF after the economic opening and adopted a strategy to develop a national industry (essentially copying the Japanese strategy after WW2). They offer a different perspective on issues of development in fiction (like, in Arknights, the Kazimierz stories aren’t about Horse Poland, but about Shenzen and other similarly developed cities in China).

So Topaz’s letter to Bronya feels like an attempt to make her sympathetic (because, again, we’re in a gacha). In-universe, we have only her words and Himeko’s information to say that it worked (and omitting the rate of success was another indication that she was an economic missionary with no idea of what Belobog really needed). But, from her words, we hear that her planet exported products to other ones and overexerted itself. And remember: which organization has the monopoly of interstellar travel and was probably in charge of said polluting factories or had a very close relationship with them?

[moonlight1234]

rpg and scenario idea

i never really posted in tumblr, so be nice, but this is two of my ideas that i am mixing into one and i will explain them both here in a long post, one of them is a directional guard system for a combat system and the other is capitalists that grow in divine(?) power as they get money

i will start with the scenario and its stuff because its more interesting, basically i wanted capitalists that are morally neutral but do evil and grow in power magically as they get more money, the way i did that is to make so labor or work can be given to a divine entity to give them power, usually by willingly trading or offering it to them, it has to be willingly(big asterisk), gods are human creation and can only live as long as people keep offering things to them, with no way to get power on their own and sustain their immortality they will waste away and disappear with no one to remember them. so there is 2 'factions' of gods, the bureaucrats that are slow and work with the mortals to exist while having extremely complex burocracy that stops them for interfering too much into mortal world, and the capitalists that work between the lines of divine laws and mortal trading to accumulate power quicker and exponentially instead of only working with offerings like most gods do.

this is the fundamental idea, and to be placed in a industrial revolution time period so its very clear the changes that capitalism does to feudal places and, well, you can kill them, just for them to be replaced with someone else to keep the cycle of exploration.

the divine laws:

no god can trespass one another domain, unless invited or if they share the domain

no god can steal another's god symbol of power

gods need permission of the mortals to infere in mortal problems

gods can only fight demigods or mortals if they are challenged or hit first

very inspired by Percy Jackson because gods are fun in Percy Jackson. other things are like, you can talk more easily with minor gods using drugs, gods tend do develop the personality and ideals of their followers and represent ideas and institutions, gods can give powers to mortals.

quick lightning round of stuff, inspired by pointy hat, avatar, the summoner, league of legends and monster hunter. this is more things i want instead of things i actually did.

ghosts like pointy hat

solar punk communists druids

flexible lich's rules

learn magic thru enviroment

ghost weasels

divine born, both actual demigods and what pointy hat did with aasimar

vastayas

curses as needs and wants

familiars as the summoner, its really cool, later i will go into detail

rules for prophecies to have things like Percy Jackson, they are cool

mega fauna, like monster hunter

and then i separated magic system into some stuff

soul, life, death and heal

time, gravity and entropy

prophecies and divination

enchantment and illusion

transport, transformation, manipulation and creation

then i separated into more useful classes

noble pokemon master: heal, enchantment, divination and transport

bending like avatar: manipulation and transformation

druid solarpunk: life, death, entropy, illusion, creation and transformation

bards: soul, heal, prophecies, enchantment, illusion and creation

missionaries('clerics'): all of them, depending on the god they serve

that's it for lore, more or less, i need to polish a lot of it and i would like feed back and to explain what its badly written :).

rules i will do on another post here because this is long, have a nice day

i will post the rest of the system and scenario in this blog

[reasoningdaily]

“The Ordinance of Baptism at Brownstown Jamaica"

George Baxter, after Joseph Bartholomew Kidd. “The Ordinance of Baptism as administered by the missionaries connected with the Baptist Missionary Society to 135 persons near Brown’s Town, in Jamaica, in 1843,” colored wood engraving. Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

The Jesuit priest Abraham J. Emerick, who served as a missionary in Jamaica (1895–1905), indicated that “Mialists” wore white robes during their ceremonies, and he linked this feature to the white robes donned by Revivalists and Bedwardites during the early twentieth century. White was and remains the most prominent color symbolizing the world of invisible powers (deities,spirits, ancestors, etc.) in West and Central Africa.

Witnessing or undergoing the baptism ritual likely would have reinforced the numinosity of the color white and the involvement of invisible entities beyond the Christian Trinity in a transformative initiatory experience for African converts, whether of Igbo, Asante, or Kongo heritage. These three groups and their neighbors composed the largest percentage of Africans to enter Jamaica during the entire transatlantic slave trade. In particular, the Kongo kingdom, which had come under Catholic influence beginning in the late fifteenth century, gave Jamaica’s Myal tradition its name and purpose.

BaKongo groups interpreted bodies of water as a boundary between the visible and invisible worlds. Moreover, the Simbi, a class of guardian spirits associated with waterfalls, springs, rock formations, and other phenomena in nature, might have edged their way into the theological imagination of some candidates as they waded and were washed in the water.

In Kongo, those initiated into the societies of ritual and healing experts were capable of contacting invisible forces that could remedy social and personal afflictions. Myal societies in effect were reconstituted ritual societies of Kongo persuasion mirroring the healing activities of Lemba, Nkimba, Kimpasi, and Ndembo custodians in Central Africa.

The baptismal death and resurrection purification rite performed through candidates’ immersion into and rising from the water had a counterpart in Jamaica’s African spiritual traditions. The Myal death and resurrection rituals in which novitiates would appear lifeless until ceremonial experts resurrected them into a new life of knowledge and ritual leadership within the society are perhaps the most tangible examples we have on record today. If Myal members wore flowing white robes before the Baptist tradition came to Jamaica, extant pre emancipation descriptions of the society do not make any mention of it.

The Christian rite of baptism, in which candidates — adorned in ankle-length white robes — encountered the numinous in the natural environment, would have cemented the connections that Africans seeking to belong to two over-lapping worlds (the Baptist and the Myal) were bound to draw between them.

In the Victorian universe of Christian denominations, the Baptist tradition bended most pliably toward African modes of religious apprehension. Initiation into this legitimate society offered converts access to knowledge, power, enhanced training, and status — all social goods that allowed them the best chances to prosper in post emancipation Jamaica. For Baptist converts with comparable commitments to Myal denominations, the same social goods obtained within the private cosmos they constructed among themselves, a world they understood as theologically and spiritually conversant with some of the central symbols and rituals of the Baptist faith.

From the Book - Victorian Jamaica: