#and then i realized how much Secret Knowledge i have that make typing and stuff way easier

[dravidious]

Typing Tips That I Stumbled Upon Randomly:

The Ctrl key lets you jump between words really quickly. If you hold Ctrl and press the left or right arrow keys, instead of moving your cursor 1 character you'll move it a whole word; if you want to edit that word that's 3 words back, you can just hold Ctrl and left-left-left, and you're there.

Even more useful in my opinion, if you hold Ctrl and press Backspace you'll delete the entire word you're on. That's just really nifty because a lot of the time when you're deleting you want to delete the whole word, so this is much faster.

Also, idk how well-known this is but holding Shift and moving your cursor will make you highlight any characters you move over. That's useful on its own, but combining that with Ctrl lets you quickly highlight whole words or sentences, so you can easily copy+paste them. You can also hold Shift to edit any selections you made with your mouse or something.

Also it took me too long to realize that the Home and End keys are actually really nice sometimes. Home takes you to the start of the line you're on, and End takes you to the end. Hold Shift while doing that and you can highlight the whole line. Very nice for programming. Also holding Ctrl and pressing Home or End takes you to the top or bottom of the page, but I barely use that.

A similarly useful key that I also overlooked is the Delete key. It's like the Backspace key, but it deletes the character in front of your cursor instead of behind it. Just like with Backspace Ctrl+Delete lets you delete a whole word in front of your cursor.

Also Ctrl+A lets you highlight the whole page.

Also even when you're not typing and instead just browsing a web page or something, you still technically have a cursor; if you click a piece of text, then hold Shift and press the arrow keys, you'll start highlighting text.

Practice Exercise: Click on the t in this word, then hold Shift and press left and right on the arrow keys! Now try holding Ctrl+Shift while you press the arrow keys! Hold Shift and press Home or End! Hold Shift and use your mouse to left-click on different spots in the paragraph and see how your selection changes!

[macsimagines]

kazutora, hakkai, and izana or anyone you like are going to visit their darlings apartment for the first time! uninvited and without her knowledge but still exciting! but when they get in there its like empty as hell. one room apartment and not counting the kitchen that came with it her only piece of furniture is her bed...maybe has a couple magazines laying around, and a phone thats just plugged into the wall sitting on the floor. this is beyond minimalist bruh what is going on? does she actually live here? where are her clothes??? under the bed maybe. babygirl you alright?

cant relate ive got so much weird shit in my living space but let me give this a shot.

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, BROKE-ASS DARLING, BREAKING AND ENTERING

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

Ok so this loser was so excited to break in and learn so much about his soulmate only to be crushed at the barren emptiness. He was so sad for you.

He wants you to have everything your heart desires and he feels like you don't have what you rightfully deserve.

Gifts, gifts, and more gifts are flooded your way. He's giving you clothes, handbags, posters and plushies. Anything you showed slight interest in he's getting you some kind of merch.

You try and tell him that you really don't need all this stuff, but he doesn't accept that. "You deserve it. C'mon, just this once?" except once turns into twice and a hundred times more.

That's not even the brunt of it, he's got his own special room he's decking out and making just for you when he decides its time for you to come home with him.

Yandere!Hakkai Shiba

So he isn't the breaking and entering type, but after failing to initiate a conversation with you, for like the tenth time in a row, he decides it's time to try a different approach.

His sister and Taka-Chan both told him to try and take an interest in your likes, that way when he tries to talk to you he'll have something to talk about, except he doesn't know what you like and he resorts to this.

So shocked and defeated when he finds nothing. Not one photo, not one hobby, not even books. Just magazines and he honestly doesn't really understand what the interest in those are either.

But he's smart and finally has an idea. He invites you shopping- and by that I of course mean his sister invites you shopping and he tags along like an overgrown guard dog.

Sure Hakkai may not speak the whole time or even make eye contact with you once but he does swipe his own card every time you go to the register to pay for something.

Even though the fool doesn't even respond when you tell him thank you, you don't miss the way he blushes when you try to speak to him.

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

He wasn't planning on breaking in either. But he was bored and he wanted to see if there were things you were hiding from him. Like maybe secret friends that meant he wasn't the center of your world, or maybe plans to move away and leave him.

It was more about his own insecurities than anything so when he breaks in and sees nothing in your apartment at first he's worried that his fears are right and you really are going to leave without a trace.

But then he looks more carefully, and realizes "Damn, bitch. You live like this?" Is more bemused than anything, but after while starts to feel a little bad.

"I need clothes. Do you need clothes?" He's going to try shopping with you. But then you hit him with that "Naw, my socks only have a few holes in them."

Drags your ass to the mall. "Pick out some damn furniture, Y/N. I know you ain't got shit." "How do you-" "I said pick out some furniture, Y/N."

[frozenartscapes]

Spy x Family: Code White spoilers below! (I can’t wait anymore - I gotta talk about Yor’s fight)

So that battle she had within a flaming airship against what was basically the Winter Soldier if the Hydra scientists who took Bucky were somehow more evil and twisted (seriously that guy was messed up)…

It’s been pretty much since the cruise arc that we got to see a really good showcase of Yor’s skills and oh man was I excited for this! Tbh this whole movie had a lot of good Yor moments but this was truly Thorn Princess’ time to shine. We got the usual showcase of skills that may or may not be superpowers (seriously how fast was she moving to consistently outrun a mini gun like that?). But what got me was how it ended.

See, Yor’s go-to method of fighting (or pretty much doing anything) is to brute force her way to victory. Even more mundane stuff often ends with her using her Definitely-Not-superpowers, even if it’s accidental. We see it even in the climax of the cruise arc against Sword Guy, where in the end she proved herself to be stronger than him.

But she can’t do that here. Type F is stronger than her. His body is literally just a bunch of guns strapped to a huge ammunition reserve. The guy took an axe to the chest from the same woman who pulverized a carnival game with only a fraction of the force she used against him, and all that did was tear a small hole in his chest.

That’s not to say she doesn’t try, and she puts up a good fight. What I like about these fights is that they prove Yor isn’t just some airhead who happens to be good at killing people. In the heat of the moment she can analyze a fight and determine different strategies as the battle changes. When stabbing him doesn’t work, she tries to use his own weapons against him. She may not approach things the same way Twilight does, but there’s a reason Thorn Princess is as infamous as she is, and she wouldn’t have gotten that way if she wasn’t also clever in battle. Brute force might be her method but she often uses it in creative ways (like seriously: using that guy’s own mini gun to cut a hole in the platform he’s on by grabbing him and forcing him around in a circle? Genius.)

But the best was when she realized that brute force wasn’t going to work. That her only option here was to think smart and not tough (though it was pretty tough too). Like, the setup was fantastic: it looks like it will mirror the cruise battle, and she’ll somehow take this guy out with one measly blade because it’s Yor: girl can make anything work as a weapon. The then it’s revealed that she can, but this time it wasn’t with a blade. It was lipstick. The same freaking lipstick that Loid had given her earlier, too! Just… the cleverness! The boldness! The symbolism! The fact that she not only outwitted this terrifying super soldier but she did it with something soft and feminine. It proves that Yor knows her stuff, that while she still may not be smart in other ways, she’s not stupid. And she can be brutally hardcore when she needs to be

(“Lipstick is mostly oil” = hardcore. Incredible. Total Girlboss)

(Also as a side note, and mini crack theory of mine: that general knew who she was. Maybe not right away, and I can’t remember if he ever actually saw her in the surveillance footage or was just going by what his soldiers said, but the second he heard “there’s a woman on the roof” he thought about Thorn Princess. Someone of his rank likely would have knowledge of potential threats/assets like Garden and maybe has even hired them in the past. Maybe not Thorn Princess specifically but Garden as an organization. The moment he heard that there was a woman on his airship who not only was giving no shits about the cold and high winds but also was dodging machine gun fire he sent his top secret experimental super soldier after her. He knew what he was doing.)

[fantasiacafecat]

I noticed I didn't post any LGBTQ+ stuff or any Skyrim modded Follower content in more than a week. So why not make both right now?

Lgbtq+ headcanons with the Dovahkrew

These are Sexuality and romantic orientations not gender orientation headcanons. Sorry. These are also MY headcanons so if they don't match up with your headcanons it's not personal so please don't get mad at me. I am curious to see your headcanons as well though.

Inigo- Heteroflexible. He is most definitely interested in women and I always head canon that after the events of Skyrim he does settle down with the woman of his dreams who just happens to own a sweet roll shop. But I also feel like he would definitely point out a man's beauty. He seems like a very comfortable in his Sexuality kind of guy.

Lucien- Questioning Asexual Biromantic. He seems more interested in knowledge and learning other things than a relationship. And if someone did ask about his orientations then I feel like he wouldn't be able to answer that because he doesn't really try to experiment with romance of any kind.

Kaidan- Bisexual with maybe a fem preference (including feminine or men). I also see him as Pansexual because honestly I don't think he really cares about what gender his lover is.

Auri- Sapphic or Lesbian. I mean her creator basically made it Canon that she Prefers women.

Rumarin- Panflux 100%. Gender doesn't get in the way when it comes to any type of attraction to one another.

Vilja- I really only know her from a video of Inigo dialogue they have together. If I had to make a guess I would say she's straight or Pan, but I'm leading more into Straight.

Sofia- Bi with a big male preference.

Hoth- I really wish there were more videos and content on his commentary in Skyrim because I don't have him, but I'm interested him so much that I'd love to know more about his character. I feel like he doesn't use labels and gender isn't that much of an issue when it comes to love.

Taliesin- Pansexual. I mean come on its THE Talisman.

Gore (aka bby girl)- Questioning Omnisexual. It just feels right to me

Caryalind- I can't remember if rabbit said his sexuality was Demiromantic Asexual. I know he is Ace (or at least on the Ace spectrum) but I can't remember is they anything about being demi. I think he's Demiromantic.

Lucifer- Polysexual but I feel like he does have a male preference though I could be very very wrong. It's so funny because I play with him a lot on Skyrim but barely know anything about him. He holds grudges, he's very secretive (good on him because i would be too if i was in his situation), and he loves argonians. He seems to look up to Xelzaz and Inigo (and in some sense he does seem to be very enthusiastic when first meeting Nebarra until he realizes he doesnt like his personality) a lot which is what fueled my belief that he's maybe Achillean (Sapphic but for masculine terms instead of feminine).

Nebarra- I 100% believe that he refuses to use any labels. I think he might lean toward women a bit more, but that would only be because of how altmer are only raised to make the perfect child, so opposite sex relationships are probably the most common in the Summerset Isles. His fixation with Niranye and past relationship with Camia shows that. He doesn't seem Asexual because he doesn't hide the fact that he does enjoy the idea of doing the naughty naughty. His commentary on Dibella, Dibella Sybil quest, in the Night to Remember he says how he hopes we got to experience the Dibellan arts, and how he jokes about being Lucifer's father just prove that.

Xelzaz- Don't get mad at me, but I think he's straight. He says when hes ready he's like to marry a female argonian, and the only other time he's fallen I love was with another girl. I don't think he's asexual, but I think he definitely isn't very interested in it though we wouldn't really know because he seems very adamant on wanting to keep that part of his life private (as he should I love a king that doesn't feel like he has to tell us his sexual life).

Remiel- Asexual Panromantic. It was already proved Canon that she's Asexual. I had the conversation with her where she tells is she doesn't feel sexual feelings towards someone as she does with romantic feelings (also good on her. Not every relationship needs to have sexual desire in them). She's fallen in love with boys before and didn't seem too mad about being arranged to another man so I don't want to label her as Sapphic. And she does fall in love with you regardless of gender and I haven't seen anything that says she has a preference from the creator so I believe she's panromantic.

Secunda- I really don't know her that much yet as I'm still playing with her. First impressions is telling me panflux though I could be wrong though.

Extra!

Serana- Without the SDA. She always gave me Asexual Biromantic vibes.

Teldryn Sero- Haven't started A serious Teldryn mod yet so I don't know too too much about his personal preferences, but he seems like the type who doesn't really use labels. Though I'm positive he is Bisexual.

Karina- Panromantic Demisexual. It was confirmed by the one who made her @jewelthejaguar742

Arstul- Asexual Omniromantic with a male preference. Talked with @joonjii about it and it's confirmed. However, they also said he could be panromantic with a male preference too but they said my opinion was valid and technically right.

I might post sexuality headcanons for all my dragonborn and follower ocs

[mooncello]

some kai headcanon...

This is the light, fun version. I have some darker stuff, too, maybe I’ll share those at some point.

Kai is generous with compliments. The other ninja quite literally don’t know how to respond to them all.

Kai likes boba tea. Lloyd got him hooked on it.

When he’s out with friends or running errands, Kai brings back little things he thinks Cole will like. (Lavaaaaa. 😍)

Kai is a secret book nerd and listens to audiobooks. This is easier on his brain, and he loves to read about history and science and Edwardian lit. (The dude stans Jane Austen.) I also like to think that Kai has an obsession with Regency AU and wants to wear all the Bridgerton clothes and sneak kisses in corridors during dance parties. He’s extremely embarrassed by this and has never shared it with anybody.

Kai is an early morning runner.

Kai has the grossest feet. They’re torn up and blistered from running. It’s disgusting.

Kai occasionally sings in the shower. Off-key. But very committed.

Kai is freakishly observant. He tracks details without really thinking about it or realizing he does it. He’s the sort of person who immediately notices your haircut or that your neighbor repainted their door a slightly darker shade of blue.

Terrible at remembering names. But remembers details about a person. Will often come up with his own nicknames or codenames for people based off these details.

Kai paints his nails so much because 1) flair but also 2) he chews down to skin otherwise.

He loves spicy food. Like…there’s a special shelf for all of Kai’s hot sauces because nobody else can handle the level of spice. Cole comes close, as does Nya. Lloyd enjoys 3 out of 5 on the spice scale. Jay is -1. Like…black pepper makes him sneeze. (It’s adorable.)

Kai is meticulous about laundry.

Kai feels kinda manic a lot of the time, so he doesn’t drink all that much coffee. He prefers tea, and he and Zane share a drawer filled with a dozen different types of tea. He also drinks a lot of water. This guy hydrates like it’s an Olympic sport.

Totally loves jewelry. Wears lots of rings. Earrings. The occasional necklace (always more than one and layered).

Kai is a libra. With aries rising. Unsure about moon. What say you?

He cannot keep a houseplant alive. And damnit he’s tried. He’s tried so hard. (Lloyd is the biggest plant parent of the group and holds an astonishing amount of plant knowledge.)

Kai isn’t really into sports. But he’s been known to watch a football (ahem, soccer for you americans) game from time to time, if it happens to be on.

Kai is a huge texter. Instigates most group chats. (Followed by Jay.) Kai’s textspeech can sometimes be unintelligible. Zane often has to translate, and even then sometimes Zane is stumped.

Matte clay pomade for that hair of his. No gel. No mousse. Maaaybe sometimes a beachy seasalt spray if he’s feeling a little frisky.

His favorite season is winter—it’s the only season he’s not uncomfortably warm all the time.

Kai would totally adopt a cat before a dog. Kai is basically a cat.

okay stopping there!

[ckret2]

Is there any billford-type stuff in the AU, either past or possible? If there is (and even if there isn't) I'm curious about Ford's thoughts on the situation! Is he scared, angry? Does he really believe Bill is as powerless as he says he is? Is he uncomfortable with, or even worse, would he feel some weird jealousy about Bill paying so much attention to everyone else? Agent Powers in particular.

This anon was an absolute considerate sweetheart and sent me two versions of this question—one that mentions Billford, and one that doesn't in case I'm uncomfortable with answering that. As it happens I've got a really long answer, so I'm using this version of the question to talk about billford-specific stuff and the other ask to answer the other half of the question!

Lately I've been seeing a ship dynamic that's described as "they were never married but they're sure as hell divorced." That's how I see Bill & Ford's dynamic.

Ford spent a couple of years with a slow burning background obsession with Bill as some capricious here-and-gone-again muse who never stuck around as long as Ford wanted; and then spent several months intensely obsessed with this mystical guide and teacher who suddenly was showing up a lot more and tantalizing him with the secrets of the universe. But Bill was always some distant, unobtainable figure, more an ideal than a person. Ford got manic pixie dream girled by a manic pixie nightmare demon.

Back when Ford thought Bill was his friend, I don't think Ford's feelings toward him were romantic/sexual—but I think that at the peak of Ford's feelings, when he'd been isolated from all his other emotional support and hadn't yet realized what Bill was doing, his feelings were sufficiently intense that they COULD have been anything Bill wanted to make them. If Bill had decided to unironically declare himself a god, Ford would have built a temple. (He was halfway there already.) If Bill had called for a revolution, Ford would have asked who they were assassinating first. If Bill had informed Ford he was offering him the honor of being Bill's mortal lover, then Ford woulda gone down like Icarus for Apollo.

Now, with thirty years of ABSOLUTE HELL in between, Ford recognizes how mentally vulnerable he'd been to this abstract space angel muse's gifts and flattery. Even though he didn't fall in love, on some level he knows he could have. He's subconsciously aware of that soft spot, all spoiled and rot-mushy after thirty years of enmity, and he can feel that soft spot getting prodded every time Bill speaks. The mere fact that he could have fallen is something Ford hates himself for. And the knowledge of that weakness is one of the many things motivating him to keep Bill at an emotional arm's length in this AU, to ensure Nothing Happens.

(Spoilers: Something Happens.)

After Ford found out the truth about Bill, he got dragged into the nightmare realm, had ONE confrontation with Bill, and then didn't see or talk to him again for thirty years... but Ford dedicated every single second of those thirty years to finding a way to kill Bill. Obsession in absentia.

So almost half of Ford's life has been spent on worship of Bill—assuming you count Captain Ahab's hatred of Moby Dick as "worship." All that—from a smattering of staggered-out dreams, and a scant few confrontations under three minutes. After thirty years, Bill's become more symbol than person to Ford: an evil Eye of Providence that can be blamed for everything wrong in the universe. 

But once this AU starts and human Bill's stuck in the Shack, it takes less than a week before Ford's spent more time around Bill than he did over the last 32+ years combined. What a shock to the system. The alleged shadowy figure behind every conspiracy theory in history—and Ford figures out where he is in the house by listening for thuds and yelps whenever he stumbles into furniture. All-seeing eye peering out of every wallet and into every dream—and when he naps on the back porch, he lets Ford's grandniece & her friends sit on his back and around him while they gossip. Omnicidal maniac-god—and he begs his captors to let him go to a monster truck show he saw in the newspaper.

Ford's seeing Bill as a person and he hates it. He doesn't know if Bill is a master at fake-acting like a normal person with normal little personality quirks and interests—or if this is some new side to Bill that only exists because he's now human—or if Ford's just never actually met Bill before now.

Before he learned Bill is evil, Ford saw him as a capricious bizarre trickster and font of untold otherworldly wisdom—and he liked that person/thing a lot. Now, meeting Bill as a human, Ford's seeing him as a flighty weirdo goofball who casually happens to know a whole lot about everything. Which is a bunch of synonyms for what Ford used to see Bill as before. And unfortunately he still likes that a lot.

It's just too bad those traits are on the cruel, manipulative destroyer that ruined what should have been the best years of Ford's life and almost killed him, his family, and his universe.

Skipping over the less shippy half of the question to answer in the less shippy ask, and addressing just the jealousy question:

I do intend for things to eventually get real gay, but how soon, how gay, and in what order related to other plot events, I'm not sure yet. Like, at the start of the fic Ford just flat out hates Bill—none of this "hate with secret attraction underneath" business, he just hates him. If that hasn't changed by the time Bill goes and seduces a government agent for information, Ford sure ain't gonna be jealous. If anything he's gonna pity Agent Powers and be relieved for his sake when Powers leaves without Bill doing anything worse than stealing a few government secrets.

Even as Ford's feelings on Bill start to change, and as their relationship progresses from "two cats who hiss at each other on sight" to whatever nebulous probably-romantic place I'm gonna settle on it finishing.... I have a hard time imagining Ford as the getting-jealous type? Particularly given that the target is Bill, here. Most of the "attention" Ford sees Bill giving other townspeople is either lowkey manipulative or strictly sexual; and for Bill, sex is impersonal weird meat games rather than a genuine emotional connection. But then the fact that Bill doesn't think like a human doesn't necessarily mean Ford wouldn't be subjected to involuntary irrational human emotions so, *makes a weighing hands gesture?*

I read an article once on how people react to cheating that basically boiled down to "some people see sexual infidelity as not as big a deal but would be devastated by their partner falling in love with someone else, whereas other people see emotional infidelity as not a big deal as long as their partner remains sexually loyal"—and even though "cheating" isn't part of the equation here, I think that where jealousy is concerned, Ford cares more about whether someone he's interested in is emotionally intimate rather than physically intimate with other people. And Bill... by all appearances, he doesn't do emotional intimacy. No worries there.

Anyway, outside of the immediate household, Bill spreads little bits of attention to a lot of different people—but Ford is one of the few people he gives a lot of attention to. "Attention" isn't a euphemism and the attention isn't a good thing. When he stops letting Ford know how much he plans to kill him, it's only to switch back to trying the "win over the nerd with flattery" technique, which No Longer Works On Ford and is Very Insulting. 

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 11.1

“More than you’d think.  But it’s like… secrets in a small town type stuff.  Blood in the streets, a struggling defense against invaders.  Killings, gunmen, cannibalism, underage drinking…” “What shows are you watching?” “…But the cannibal types are on the side of the good guys, I think.  When they aren’t too hungry.” “Is this from a game?” “There’s not much game about it.  It’s deathly serious.  But it’s the kind of serious where you have to joke about it and play it off as non-serious to your mom, while she’s all confused, you know?” “I’m definitely confused.  I do like your imagination though.  I wish I could keep up with it.”

Verona really does just tell her parents what's going on, secure in the knowledge that they won't follow up about it. I mean sure, I don't blame Verona's mom for not realizing everything Verona said has happened, but I think saying "There's something dangerous and serious in a way where I have to joke like it's a game to you." should raise some questions

Verona said, deciding it was best not to push things too far, fun as it was. As important as it was to leave a trail of breadcrumbs in case something bad happened.

oh. Well that's grim, but probably a good idea. Though if the girls die suddenly and violently, I think having had a trail of clues indicating that this was an ongoing problem parents didn't notice might make it worse.

“Mom.  Did you pay him?  Or threaten him?  It matters if I’m eventually going back there.  I want to know what’s going on.”

incredibly depressing to be able to put an exact financial value on how much your presence is worth to your father

“No.  No, not bad.  I hope not, anyway.  It seemed easy and streamlined, me leaving you with your dad while I got set up, and then with how bitter you were, and distance?  It felt easier to not force things.”

Verona also often takes an easy route in daily life, but not about things that matter to her. Which means either she's unlike her mother in that, or it implies some bad things about how important Verona is to her mother.

“High school daughters,” Lucy countered.

congratulations!

“Feels shitty.  It’s like, I’ve got this impulse to, I dunno, do stuff.  Like, picking up a broom and sweeping and doing laundry and helping out and-”

I get this when I visit people, and that's under normal circumstance

She drew the symbols necessary and then arranged the papers around the room.  She pressed two against the big window at one side of Lucy’s room. It would obscure any vision of spying eyes and confuse any listening ears. “We good?” Lucy asked. She gave Lucy a nod.

huh, was the disagreement a smokescreen? IIRC they've don that before

She set the pieces of her mask aside, sorted out books, put pens and markers into her left pants pocket, ground up glamour from the flower Guilherme had given her in her right pants pocket with three folded up bits of paper with feathers sticking up out of them, ready to quickly deploy transformations.  Back right pants pocket held a stack of spell cards.

petition to get Verona some cargo pants

Avery wore running shorts and an athletic tee with a pocket, which seemed like an oxymoron when it came to the shirt’s purpose.

does anyone ever use breast pockets on shirts?

Shadows deepened, then the light shone through, as if a cloud had passed over the moon and then let it shine brighter immediately after.  What looked like dense trees and a patch of nature at the corner of this area was opened up like an optical illusion had revealed itself, showing the narrow one-lane street that extended into the trees, and the tall, not-especially-taken-care-of house tucked into the trees.  The skeleton of a for-sale sign was set into the lawn, the top portion with the realtor’s face worn by weather, the lower half that hung from the horizontal part of the post had fallen off and was mostly covered in weeds and tall grass. “City magic is so badass,” Avery said.

Agreed

Possible Demesne for Verona?

“They’re definitely more active, and more sloppy,” Lucy said.  “Edith especially.  But it doesn’t feel scared.”

and getting the cube back wasn't brought up in Edith and Maricica's conversation

Lucy shook her head.  “Which takes us back full circle to the big fat question of why they aren’t freaking out.  And I have this sick little feeling in my stomach that makes no sense, but… what if we have it wrong?”

goddammit. My theories!

“But none of them know for absolute sure who did it, I don’t think,” Lucy replied.  “And this sick feeling in my gut is… what if it’s our soldier friend?  What if we have it wrong and he would get both coup and claim?” “Hasn’t he said he doesn’t want it?” Verona asked.  “But he’ll take it anyway?” “Could be he doesn’t want it but he needs it?” Lucy asked.  “What if our soldier friend isn’t a friend but a major culprit, we screwed up when interviewing him or jumped to conclusions, and the furs are… I dunno.  Secondary?”

huh. I don't think so. I hope not! I don't John was involved with making the Choir out of Yalda, he seemed surprised to find out about that. I suppose he could have been recruited later? But that seems shaky. Maybe becoming the Carmine Judge would let him help Yalda, but I don't see how.

“E was making clothes, right?” Avery asked.

I missed that, can you check the measurements?

“This isn’t going to be one of those situations where we get to gather the information and do a big badass whodunnit moment, huh?” Verona asked.

:(

“When I went to check in with the Judges, I asked if they could give us any kind of protection,” Avery said.  “They kind of said no.  Uhh, as I remember it, the protection we get for taking care of Kennet is what we get, karmically speaking.  We make our own karma.” “I’m finding myself struggling to realize what the point of them is,” Lucy said.

lol. But also yes. Maybe their role is more as arbiters than as criminal judges? Settling property disputes, overseeing contracts, offering a neutral enforcing party for negotiations

“I think they handle the stuff that’s really broken,” Verona said.  “There wasn’t anything super relevant in the books, but there were figures that seemed judge-like who would set quests and point the right people in the right ways to handle anything that was really bad.  In other places you get Lords and committees deciding what needs handling.  The Others who are threatening the seal of Solomon, monsters too big for any one person to defeat, breaches between worlds, stuff.”

or that! Scary to think this doesn't rise to their attention

“That’s the exact kind of moment you should be super cool and confident.  Unflappable, badass Avery,” Verona told her, grinning.

I would like to think that being very flappable and earnest can also work.

“Three times we were wronged,” Verona mused aloud, “That deserves righting.  We can ask for the judges to hand us the ability to right the wrong.  If they can control how karma happens, then let that karma be protection during and immediately after the arrest.  Access to any power that might be held back from us as we try to put it into effect. We need answers from her so we’re not asking for her to be forsworn.”

So like I was saying, arbiters of fairness not of criminal cases

“She was hurting, she was alone, she tried to reach out, and I was busy feeling sorry for myself.  Hurt, Booker gone, having to leave out information for my mom, mostly staying in my room, trying to think of a good way through this whole situation, you know?”

Oof yeah, and Avery gets hurt more by feeling left out, while Lucy reacts strongly to feeling like she has to manage things for other people

“Yeah,” Lucy said, one side of her mouth pulling back hard, disappointed, upset.  “I was scared.” That disappointment and upset gave way to something else, fleeting, deeper, vulnerable.  Lucy looked away a moment later.

and she almost died! And didn't have anyone on hand to talk about it with, and I'm guessing she didn't want to admit to Avery how scared she was

“Really, really close.  And then I was scared too, of what if being in close contact with a ghoul infected me.  Close calls with death, right?”

gods that sounds terrifying.

“I wanted to ask someone for clarification on that but didn’t know who to trust, and didn’t really trust anyone, for a little bit there, and I didn’t even want to go outside.”

And to extend Lucy's fox symbolism, this reminds me of the thing that some wild animals do when injured/sick, of holing up alone and just waiting to see if they die. (Note: I do not know if this applies specifically to foxes). This is mostly not a useful behavior for humans, but man if the urge to just cut down on contact and be terrified and emotional in private isn't relatable (thinking back to Lucy not wanting her mother to see her cry)

“Talk to me?  Send me a frigging mail?  You say you didn’t know who to reach out and talk to?  Me!  Me me me me or Avery or your mom or me!  I can frigging take it, Luce!”

yeah!

“We are cosmically frigging bound together, you jerk!"

I like this line. More frustrated expressions of endless affection please

Worst of both worlds when I can tell something’s wrong and you won’t let me help!

yeah :(

“Avery needs something like this too,” Lucy said.  “The big intense hug.  It’s harder to figure out.”

I'm not sure if the pre-hug scuffling would work on Avery or not

“Okay.  Why don’t we call Avery’s parents and see about her coming over?  Be ready for them to say it’s too late.”

sleepover!

Verona pointed toward the window.  Avery turned, looking, and Verona lunged, rising up out of the bed, and hauled her down, backwards, onto the bed.  Avery lay there, barely on the edge of the bed, Verona holding her from behind, feet still on the ground.  After about ten seconds she tried to get her feet up onto the bed, failed twice, and succeeded on the third try.  They shuffled over so Avery wasn’t constantly on the verge of falling off the bed.

:)

[winderlylandchime]

Thought I would just pop in one last time to answer some questions: 1) when it comes to drag race, yes and no. He watched a few of them but he just watches Trixie and Katya’s stuff. But his faves and the only ones he knows if you ask me, are Trixie (which is why i think he mentioned it since his knowledge is limited), Katya, Jinkx and Kim Chi. 2) he does not know that Gale is straight and i would be lying if i said that, I was not tempted to ask if he has any thoughts tho ngl 3) he knows I’ve seen it and yet he refuses to use his brain cells.

And i will now leave you with some of my favorite texts i got from him in the last hour: -‘they don’t have any puddings here. I rip my stitches and they can’t even give me a pudding to feel better?’ -‘so do you think they get together? Like actually get together? Like what do you think?’ -‘yo! I was thinking and Ted had that guy that was kinda cute but even more high than me, Mike had Doctor Dipshit and now if he isn’t a dumbass he’ll get to keep Benny boy, Brian has Justin…what about my boy Em? Does he get to be happy? Or do i have to murder someone?’ -‘Justin’ -‘dONT EVEN THINK ABOUT EATING MY SNACKS! I was saving them for tomorrow’s episodes!’ -‘soooo whatcha doin? Because I am thinking about what do these new rules now mean for them’ (this was immediately followed with a text saying) ‘oh god fuck, i had a horrible thought what if Bri breaks the rules? Damn it, now i cant stop thinking about that. But he wouldn’t do that to us’ -‘so the blonde nurse is nice to me, do you think she likes me’ (i reply with no, shes doing her job) ‘i know that, im not dumb! But would it kill you to lie to me just once to make me feel better? I mean she listened to me when i told her about the show’ -‘…you do realize you owe me soooooo many favors, right? I literally ripped my stitches and am back in the hospital because of you. You owe me SOOOOO much.’

So needless to say he is okay and living his best (drugged up) life. And btw there are so many more texts and voice memos that make zero sense but i just had to send some of my top favorites bc it would be rude to not share whatever that is with the class.

Oh man, anon, I worry for your brother when Ethan enters the picture. You had better keep him from ripping more stitches. I love how concerned he is with Emmett's love life (and tbh a sore point of the end of the series is... well all of it, but also that Emmett doesn't have anyone). I love that he knows that Ted and Blake are also OTP.

Okay, of those drag queens, Trixie is the most like Godiva. In my mind. Where these types of scientific explorations are conducted.

I love how he thinks he's doing you a favor by watching QAF (I mean, he is but...not in the way he thinks).

Tell him you'll visit him every night in secret while he's in the hospital. Creep outside his door.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

hi I would like to make yet another request if that is okay.

hear me out actress! reader and richard madden is in a private relationship. now on the golden globes 2019, they didn't go together since they wanted to keep their relationship low-key. then once richard was announced as the winner the reader couldn't contain her excitement for richard. so she went and hug him. richard also unexpectedly thank her on his acceptance speech for supporting him (and the camera shot where her face turned from 😍 to 😳 since she was so surprised!)

😫🥺 I'm sorry if I'm asking for much with the long detail. couldn't wait this idea of mine that has been inside my head for a long time to be turned into a fic that I can read. thank you so much for opening your request and have a nice day!

a/n: ooooooo lemme tell ya! i'm a sucker for any celeb!reader secret romance type fic so i'm always excited to write this kind of stuff!!

pairing: richard madden x actress!reader

warnings: secret relationships, lots of fluff

words: 2,159

"This feels a bit silly, Y/N." Richard chuckled as two separate cars showed up to your shared Los Angeles home, the two of you dressed to the nines for The Golden Globes. You smiled and stepped closer to him, the train of your gown sweeping the stone beneath you as walked. Your hands slid up his chest, the luxurious fabric of his tuxedo feeling smooth against your fingertips as you reached to adjust his bow-tie. He gave you a content and lazy grin as you looked up at him, your hands migrating to the back of his neck. "We should just ride together, love."

"I don't want to even risk the chance of ruining your night by making it all about dating rumors." You insisted, pulling him down lightly until his lips were pressed softly against yours. When you both parted, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment, sighing in defeat before kissing the spot his head was just resting against.

"Fine, but ye' know people are going to find out one day." He argued with a smug smile, his hands holding onto your satin-covered hips. With a pat to his chest, you walked backwards and turned towards your car, shooting him a smile as you allowed your assistant to help you inside the backseat. "Ye' can't hide me forever, my love!"

"No one is hiding anybody, my dear!" You shouted back at him as you sat in the back seat, the window rolled down. With a chuckle, he walked over to your door, resting his elbows on the open window. He looked so good dressed up like this, and his inability to leave you alone for more than a minute told you that he thought the same of you.

Richard gave you that sweet closed-mouth grin that made your heart skip inside your chest, making it hard to deny the pretty boy of his wish to ride with you, but you knew what would happen if he did. You knew the way rumors or romance drama could overshadow someone's entire career if they let it, and you did not want that to be the case for either of you. You were determined to slowly, bit by bit, make your relationship common knowledge to the world, but until then, it was important to you not to make a scene--especially tonight.

"Can I at least have a parting kiss, my love?" He batted his eyes at you dramatically, his tone snarky as he realized he wasn't going to charm you into letting him have it his way. With a giggle you nodded, leaning over to the door. Richard held your face in his hands as he kissed you deeply, much different than the one you shared moments before. You felt like your head was spinning as he pulled away and gave you a cocky grin. Shaking your head at him, you grinned down at your lap, face flushed pink as you avoided the stare of your lover. "I'll find ye' at the ceremony, dove."

"I love you, Richard." You looked back up as he started to walk to his own car, but your words caused him to stop dead in his tracks. Neither of you had said it before, although you both knew how serious you felt for each other. It just never felt like the right time to properly say it until now, and being the first one to do so made your stomach flip. Richard turned around and tilted his head at you, his mouth flipped into a heart-felt frown. He jogged back to you and swept you up into another heated kiss, this time only stopping because your assistant had returned. Richard pulled away, his thumb blotting your lips to ensure your lipstick hadn't smudged too much.

"Oh, I love you, Y/N." He swore in a tender and quiet voice, his eyes peering deeply into yours.

"Richard, we have to go now!" His assistant called as she guided his parents into the backseat of his car. Richard gave you another longing smile and walked away, hand pressing to his lips to blow you a kiss as he climbed into his SUV. You sucked in a breath and released it slowly as you rolled your window up, a content grin on your face as you thought about how lucky you were to find a love so authentic in an industry full of inauthenticity.

"You're going to marry that boy." Your assistant joked as your car followed his, a flush still on your cheeks as you laughed at his statement, knowing just how right you hoped he was.

Your car had lost Richards in the busy LA traffic, so you weren't sure if he had already walked the carpet or not, but either way you knew you still had an appearance to make as a presenter. A bodyguard opened up your door as you pulled into the carpet, helping you out of the backseat while your makeup artist touched up any spots that had worn off on the drive. With one last touch-up on your hair, you began the anxiety-inducing walk, cameras flashing and crowds of photographers and press shouting at you to look in different directions. You tried your best to tune them out as you posed, your heart and mind already occupied with thoughts of your lover.

With one glance over at the celebrities that had come just before you, you caught glimpse of Richard at the end of the carpet, taking his last few pictures. As is he could sense your gaze, he turned and locked eyes with you, the distance between you making it hard to distinguish if he was actually looking at you or just in this direction. You contained the urge to wave at him and turned back to the cameras, your acting hitting its peak as you pretended not to be swept away in thought.

After leaving the carpet, you realized that this was the only non-televised time you had to wish your boyfriend luck without millions of people trying to read your lips. Your poor assistant tried to keep up with your quick pace as you searched through the press area, hoping Richard was already done with his interviews for the night. But before you could find him, he found you.

"I've missed ye'." He whispered in your ear as he gave you an all-too polite hug, his awareness of the cameras stronger than your own at the moment. "I have to go do interviews, but I wanted to see ye' and tell ye' good luck before I lose ye' for the next few hours."

"Oh, baby." You gave him a frown before chuckling. "I'm supposed to be wishing you good luck."

"Luck to us both, love." He winked at you before being pulled away by his publicist. Thankfully, your team had the same idea, pulling you into an interview right beside Richards.

"Y/N, how are you doing tonight? Do you enjoy the madness of the awards season?" A journalist from E! asked in a bubbly tone, reminding you of your least favorite part of your job--the press.

"Oh, I hate it so much. So much." You joked in your dry sense of humor that either caused people to love or to hate you. "No, it's fun. I'm a very chaotic individual so I thrive off of a chaotic environment."

"Well, this is just the place for you, then! What are you wearing tonight?" The woman gestured at your long, black, satin gown and bright jewelry you were wearing. You looked down at yourself and ran your hand over the smooth fabric as you answered.

"I'm in all Georgio Armani tonight. I just wanted something very classic and understated, but the jewelry adds a bit of something." You shrugged before feeling a familiar hand on your upper back, Richard cologne unmissable. You turned with a surprised smile as Richard interrupted your interview, acting as though this was his first time meeting you.

"Richard Madden, everybody!" The interviewer looked delighted to have a two-for-one interview, while you simply wondered what Richard was doing.

"I just wanted to say 'hi'." He smiled at you and gave you another polite hug before waving the interviewer goodbye, walking off towards the ceremony.

"That must be every girls dream, Richard Madden coming up to introduce himself! Are you guys friends or was that the first time you met?"

"No, we've met before, but he definitely caught me by surprise." You chuckled your nerves away and finished up with the interview so you could go inside and swat your boyfriend for making you blush in front of everyone.

Luckily, your table inside the ceremony was next to Richards, and you made a beeline for him before the cameras began rolling. With a tap on his shoulder, you interrupted a conversation between him and Idris Elba, making him look over his shoulder at you. He beamed with joy as he hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek.

"Do you enjoy making me blush on camera?" You asked, a hand on your hip. He tossed his head back and laughed at your dramatics, the dimples around his mouth deepening as he chuckled. "No more surprises!"

"No promises, dove." He pressed his finger to your nose as they started playing music, signaling the cameras were now rolling.

The ceremony droned on and on, actors and actresses gracing the stage, collecting awards for their brilliant performances, but all you could think about was the man sat five feet from you. Your chairs were directly across from each other, and you'd been making longing glances his way since you sat down. The closest you came to making full heart eyes at him was while you were presenting, Richard being the loudest person to cheer as you stepped on the stage, and laughing the hardest at your not-so-funny prewritten jokes. Thankfully, you were a professional and contained yourself...until...

"And the winner for Actor in a TV Series, Drama, is..." You and Richard shot a hopeful look at each other, both of your fingers crossed under the table. "Richard Madden for Bodyguard!"

The whole room faded away as you stood up and clapped loudly for him, surprising yourself as you found yourself jumping into his arms for a hug. Richard surprised you back with planting a passionate kiss on your lips, leaving you flushed red as he pulled away and walked onto the stage. Your hands were shaking as you sat back down, your smile so wide it hurt.

"Thank ye' so much to the HFPA, I didn't see this coming at all. Ehm, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the amazing crew and cast who made Bodyguard. They worked really hard over the course of five months to make this show, and really, ye' guys made it--" He nervously stumbled through his speech, one hand holding a piece of paper that his speech was no doubt scribbled on, the other holding his award. "Most importantly, my friends and family, and mum and dad who flew all the way from Scotland--wouldn't be here without ye'. And lastly, I need to thank the person who was there through the entire filming of this show, who loved me even when I may have allowed the character to swallow me a bit, Y/N. I love ye', dove. This is as much yers as it is mine. Thank ye' very much."

Your jaw dropped right as the camera panned to you in the audience, tears in your eyes as you listened to the man of your dreams profess his love for you in front of the entire world. You quickly covered your face and giggled at your obvious fluster, the camera soon moving away from your face so that you could properly have your moment. Instead of waiting for him to return, you carefully snuck off backstage to congratulate him. Richard stood talking excitedly with a few actors as you reached him, his eyes lighting up as he spotted you. He left his group to jog to you, sweeping you off your feet and into a tight hug.

"Oh, I can't believe it!" He swayed you back and forth as he held you, your face buried in his neck until he set you down. Your hands cupped his handsome face, wiping the tears that had spilled from his eyes.

"I guess everybody knows now, so I can do this." You pulled him in for a passionate kiss, the backstage camera finding the two of you and filming your tender display. Even though you both still didn't care for the attention, neither of you could bring yourselves to care in this moment. "I'm so proud of you, Rich."

"God, I love ye'." He squeezed you close again before letting you go, his hand holding yours. "Come on, love. Let's find my mum and dad and get out of here to properly celebrate."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OMG REQUESTS ARE OPEN???? EOJOAIJOI How headcanons for Riddle, Idia and Malleus with an S/O who's a massive gossip? Like they have dirt on everyone-

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Riddle may have a soft spot for you, but he doesn’t approve of all the gossiping that you get up to. He regularly chides you for it, and even when he isn’t doing that, he makes it clear how he feels from how his mouth pinches and how his eyebrows furrow.

Hearing gossip sours his mood pretty quickly. To Riddle, gossip is no more than unproven rumors until he sees some real evidence for himself. “One should conduct themselves with a healthy amount of skepticism,” he’ll often tell you. “I was once in your shoes, blindly believing everything that I was told... But now I know better, and I do not wish to see you going down the same path that I did.”

Even if the information that you hold is true, it won’t stop Riddle from chastising you. In fact, it only makes him chastise you more. No one should hold that much information over others’ heads, according to him. (And what’s worse, that type of behavior only reminds him of those irritating Leech brothers!)

Riddle takes it upon himself to keep you in line and out of trouble. If he feels that you’re running your mouth too much or that you might offend someone with your words, he’ll tactfully cut in or subtly shush you. Riddle might even excuse you from the conversation altogether, pulling you away with him.

When you’re alone in someplace quiet, he’ll turn to you with a sigh. “I’ve warned you about this countless times, haven’t I? You must watch what you say to others. Truthful or not, words can very much be considered real weapons—and it would do you good to realize the weight of them.”

Idia really, really wishes that you’d just keep your head low and not say anything inflammatory, whether in public or online. All the blabbing you do makes him anxious that you might attracted unwanted attention to yourself—or to him.

If Idia had to describe your gossiping, he’d call it both a boon and a bane by MMORPG or tabletop gaming terms. On one hand, you’ve got a trove of intell, but on the other hand, you’ve also got no idea whether any of it is useful or truthful!

Not to brag or anything which Idia totally is, but he could easily hack into anyone’s socials to fish up the correct information—b-but he won’t, because he’s not looking to fan the flames or make new enemies! “A-And besides... Who’d even want to see what the normies are up to, anyway? I-I bet it’s boring stuff... I-I’d much rather it just be us two hanging out...”

It’s more common for Idia to be begging you to keep your words under lock and key than to spill them. He thinks that there are a lot of things that are better left unsaid, secrets that someone might want to take with them to the grave... so those, at the very least, should be respected.

... Unless, of course, someone slights you or him. Then all bets are off. Idia will happily join you in shit talking whoever has gotten on your collective last nerves, letting all of his gamer rage and salt flow like water. (LMFAO wat clowns do they rlly think theyre slick doing smth dumb picking on ppl that???) It doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, the feeling is cathartic.

At first, Malleus quietly listens to your ramblings out of a combination of politeness and curiosity. He actually finds amusement from what you share—because whether it is true or false, they are still interesting tidbits to consider.

However, Malleus is not so naive as to ignore the consequences of this gossip being shared with others. As a noble, he’s well aware of the effects that words can carry, and it’s really no different for the common folk, either.

He does what he can to caution you against excessive chatter, instead advocating that you be more selective with your words. “What is it that the children of man say...? Ah, yes. ‘Knowledge is power’. In this case, you hold the power in your court—and you must be careful with how you choose to utilize them. Entire kingdoms have been felled for far less.”

Malleus has been the subject of much gossip at NRC, so he knows firsthand just how hurtful it can be. He wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemies, and he doesn’t want you to become the “bad guy” by being the one to dish out dirt on others. Even if it is done in the name of revenge, Malleus doesn’t think it’s worth dirtying your name for.

“Public perception is an irksome thing. Were you to wield the words that you have, you would surely instill great fear in your peers. In doing so, you would acquire great power... but also a great loneliness.” His smile is wry. “As much as I would love to hoard you for myself, the fact of the matter is that such a singular existence would be a miserable one. You should live free from the burdens that your knowledge offers you.”

[i-rationality]

Hello! for the longest time I've thought that I'm just "not good" at math, and that I'm just a creative type or something, but for the past few years I've been trying to brute-force my way through math drills and stuff to improve because I want to go into a STEM field. I've found that it doesn't work. I have, however, gained a kind of Stockholm syndrome for math, and I find myself wanting to know *more*. I feel like I'm missing out on something way beyond myself but idk where to even find that. So here i am. Asking a blog on tumblr for the secret math knowledge. If you have any resources that i could read about math that isn't just "here's how to do this" i would really appreciate it!!!

First of all, complete props to you for giving something that doesn't initially appeal to you, in this case, maths, a chance. Mathematics can be frustrating and even annoying, being an oftentimes nit-picky field. You can quickly realize that these are also the traits that grant the satisfaction and euphoria of mathematics. So don't forget to be proud of yourself for not disregarding mathematics as a whole and actually giving it a go.

Second of all, creativity is very necessary for maths. It is a shame that the educational system doesn't do maths justice (A Mathematician's Lament by Paul Lockhart is exactly about this). Mathematics is presented as something mechanical, force-feeding formulas and having students repeat them to find adequate results. That is not a fair portrayal of mathematics.

Different people will have different conceptions of what the learning of mathematics is or should be - I mean, for god's sake, mathematics hasn't even been defined properly and one expects people to know what to do with it. I can only tell you what I conceptualize mathematics, and its learning, to be. For me, mathematics is the boring work of examining multiple results and cases of the same formulas, it is the finding of patterns and attempting generalizations, it's the excited scribbles of formulas and the necessity of looking at a particular scenario from multiple perspectives. Most likely, the generalizations won't come easily, a minus sign will be forgotten making the following calculations obsolete, an approach to a problem will prove fruitless, and laborious work will be done only to find out there was a specific theorem that would have shortened the whole process. Patience is required for maths, and hopefully, you can now see that creativity is too, there is no shortcut to knowing where to look or what technique to utilize. As is the case with most worthwhile pursuits, and as you know from experience, mathematics is endlessly frustrating, but that also means it is endlessly fun.

Now, I do not have any secret math knowledge (or do I), what I can do is present you with some things that fascinate me and have led me to love mathematics as much as I do, outside of the conventional mathematics curriculum. 

Maths really comes down to practice, practice, practice... as many other things. I heavily encourage you to start playing around with mathematics a little bit. Olympiad mathematics kind of do that, (I, very conveniently, have a lot of posts about that.) as do many other math competitions. Maybe try out some exercises from your national olympiad and, with no judgment, because this is just to have fun, play around a bit. Disregarding the conventional maths you know, test out your logic, laugh at mistakes and losses of time, and feel that happy rush when a conjecture you reach, or part of it, is correct.

In terms of the resources, I opted for a mix of funny math history moments and some actual mathematics, in no particular order. Prepare for confusion. ↓

0. How Mathematics is enjoyable

No better way to start than with the reasons mathematicians decided to dedicate a good portion of their lives to the subject, or why some people just enjoy mathematics. This is something that greatly interests me, I always love to see people’s passion for their interests, hence this post, where you’ll find many people’s reasons for enjoying mathematics. 

Andrew Wiles answers “What does it feel like to do maths?” - (video) - Andrew Wiles is a mathematician who proved the theorem which had been taunting mathematicians for centuries, famously known for being the subject of the third point of this same post, explains peoples’ distaste for maths and his own experience with the subject.

YouTube Stories: Learning Mathematics with Wootube by Eddie Woo - (video) - Eddie Woo is a wonderful mathematics educator as well, who videotapes his lessons (available on Youtube). This serves as an introduction to him and his channel.

Mathematics is the sense you never knew you had by Eddie Woo - (video) - In his TEDx Talk, Eddie starts by explaining his distaste for maths in his school years, mentioning his low scores and lack of interest, and how, despite this, he ended up as a maths teacher.

Reddit asks: “Why do you love maths?” - Another compilation of people’s explanations for their mathematical interest. Wholesome content ahead.

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1. Intro to a new perspective on mathematics

Taming, claiming and reframing the beast that is mathematics  by Vinay Kathotia - Small article related to the portrayal of mathematics by most and by mathematicians themselves.

On proof and progress in mathematics by William P. Thurston - Mentioned in the previous article, 17-page 

Anyone Can Be a Math Person Once They Know the Best Learning Techniques by Po-Shen Loh - (video)

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√2 . The Pythagorean Cult

I’m sure you’re aware of Pythagoras and his fetish for right triangles, but do you know about his weird cult? That’s right, Pythagoras was the founder of Pythagoreanism, a cult based on the teachings and beliefs held by him and his followers, the Pythagoreans. - very original naming ik.

Here’s and article about them. A really popular myth related them is the throwing of Hippasus into the sea as a punishment for “believing” (i guess) in irrational numbers.

The unreasonable man by Vinay Kathotia, further explores the irrationality of the square root of 2, allegedly identified by Hippasus, providing some proofs of it. 

Proof: √2 is irrational by Khan Academy (video) - Because Khan Academy rarely misses.

The Madness of Pythagoras by Kayla Mahoney - Did you know Pythagoras refused to eat fava beams,  because he claimed they contained the souls of the dead? Now you do, and there’s no going back >:).

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2. The base tools of mathematics

Introduction to Mathematical Thinking by Alexandru Buium - Pretty self-explanatory title, simplistic and general apprach to mathematics starting with the essential, logic.

The Five-fold Path to Mathematical Wisdom by Vinay Kathotia - Article about five different approaches to mathematical problems/representations.

How to think like a Mathematician by Kevin Houston - Really useful book, starts with certain study skills and develops to the logic involved in mathematical thinking, explains theorems, definitions and proofs! Highly reccomend.

How to Think Like a Mathematician by Eugenia Cheng - (video)

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3.  "I have a truly marvelous demonstration of this proposition that this margin is too narrow to contain."

Yup, this is about Fermat’s Last Theorem, which took 350 years to be proven.

I’m guessing you’ve come across some jokes about it, how could one not. Essentially, in the 1630′s, our man Pierre de Fermat jotted down the conjecture (fight me, no proof no theorem) that states that no three positive integers a, b, and c satisfy the equation a^n + b^n = c^n for any integer value of n greater than 2, along with the sentence "I have a truly marvelous demonstration of this proposition that this margin is too narrow to contain.". The paper which contained this was only found after his death, and, as far as we know, he never got around to actually writing the proof. Because of this, we call this statement Fermat’s Last Theorem.

Andrew Wiles was who ended up proving Fermat’s Last Theorem, in 1993, after six years of working secretly on the problem. (Imagine your dirty little secret being working on revolutionizing an entire field of study, what a guy honestly.)

Fermat's Last Theorem - The Theorem and Its Proof: An Exploration of Issues and Ideas [1993] - Documentary about the theorem and its proof, as told by Andrew Wiles himself.

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4. Functions

Honestly functions are just a very needed side of mathematics that can be applied to pretty much everything. You’ll find them in your average mathematics curriculum and in your everyday life, if you know where to look.

Introduction to functions 

Introduction to Mathematical Reasoning - Numbers, Sets and Functions by  Peter J. Eccles

Functions in the Real World - Education World

- This is definitely a more theoretical part of the list, I am sure you’ve encountered functions before and the resources you have musn’t be terrible. Look into these if you find the necessity, but again the “math secret” really is practice. They can be interesting reads though.

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5. Möbius strips and Klein bottles

The wondrous world of ✨one-sided objects✨.  Learn about these cool looking objects and the field they originated, topology.

The Mathematical Madness of Möbius Strips and Other One-Sided Objects by  David Gunderman and Richard Gunderman 

Intro to Topology by Alex Küronya - Decently advanced maths, I don’t know what level of maths you’re learning, but honestly only read this if you have a pretty thorough backgroung in maths and you’re enrolled/very interested in the field.

Möbius Strip - Cool graphics, cooler maths.

Klein Bottles on Numberphile - Because Numberphile never misses.

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6. The Chicken McNugget Theorem

Yes, you did read that right, No, this is by far not the only theorem with a weirdly funny name*. This theorem derives from a 1800′s math problem.

Explanation of the theorem by Xavier Lien

Chicken McNugget Theorem - Art of Problem Solving

Another explanation, if needed by Mike Beneschan

*Proof: Reddit asks: “ What's the funniest theorem name you know? ” - Literally a gold mine, read this. 

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7. Godël’s incompleteness

One of the essential works of Modern Logic. His theorems destroyed the search for a mathematical theory of everything, at the mere age of 25.

Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems -  Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

The paradox at the heart of mathematics: Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem by Marcus du Sautoy @ Ted-Ed (video)

How Gödel’s Proof Works - Quanta Magazine

Gödel: His Tragic Life Story by Aimee Lamoureux - (TW: Sensitive themes)

-

8. Mathematics is an art, actually

I’ve seen many people stray away from the sciences because they’re “creatives” or “arts people”. Hopefully you’ve gotten at least a glimpse of the creativity needed in mathematics - if you didn’t, that is totally on me and I’m sorry. 

I don’t doubt that you may be a “creative type”. We actually need creatives, more than anything, in this field. I thought the perspective of mathematics as an art mignt be a good ending note.

Why Math is an Art, Not a Science by Peter Flom

Why the history of maths is also the history of art by  Alex Bellos - He also wrote the book  “Alex’s Adventures in Numberland”, which I own and have read. It’s a pretty sweet book, it has my stamp of approval if you’re interested.

Math and Movies (Animation at Pixar) - Numberphile - On the mathematics behind the art of animation.

Art and Math: Aesthetics of Calculations by Rute Ferreira (DailyArt Magazine)

-

Besides this I’m also leaving a list of youtubers/authors that are worth looking into. :) 

∞. General resources:

Math-related Youtube:

Numberphile - Have different concepts explained to you in a seemingly personal and almost always funny manner.

3Blue1Brown - Maths explanations paired with excellent visual representation of the concepts.

Reducible - As they put it “Reducing problems to their simplest form.”. Also paired with really good animations.

Websites:

Art of Problem Solving

Blogs/Articles:

Cantor’s Paradise - I’ve linked a few articles published there throghout this post. Essentially, different authors publish math articles in this online space, varied and generally well-written about topics.

Alex Bellos for The Guardian - Puzzles and mathematical articles.

Mathblr Blogs - Check the notes of this post to find a lot of them.

Games:

Nerdle - Math Wordle

(...) - Please reccomend more resources below, I’m not the most well-versed on these subjects.

-------

Hopefully, you now find maths a little sweeter, funnier, or comprehensible. As with most things, people lead math discovery, and there’s absolutely no reason you’d be unable to be part of that group. 

Mathematical problem-solving is something really frustrating but also immensely fun and rewarding. Please look into it, be it olympiads or general problems you find online, don’t take yourself too seriously and have fun with maths! Mathematics doesn’t judge, people do. I wish you well on your math journey! Hopefully, you’ll love it.

P.S: Feel free to add to this post with any math stuff you think is interesting. The more, the merrier!

[jedinerd27]

Going to The Ren Fair with Moon boys in “The Moon and the Stars”

A/N: So my friends and I have a tradition that we go to our local Ren faire once or twice over the summer. We cosplay from stuff we love, OR some dress in full Ren Faire Garb there is no inbetween. That one scene in episode 3 with the guys on horses inspired this as well. So yeah, that’s what inspired this!

Steven Grant:

I feel like he would be the type or go to the renaissance faire, not in full garb. He might buy a drinking horn, but he goes wild over the map stand. Buying you a map of Odysseus's journey, himself one of Egypt during the peak of it’s reign, and to share a map, one of the area Alexander conquered. Placing them in the apartment in frames, right next to Gus’s 2 tank. 

Could also try to get you some books. The ren faire I typically go to has like 3 book shops. If he finds some poetry, oh boy are you going to be treated like a princess that night. You get him a tea pot! AND MORE TEA!

 I see Reader as going(Cuz I do) in full cosplay. Like not even british renaissance clothing, just showing up full on jedi robes or mando armor… maybe as Shera. 

If Reader does go in full on ren garb, with the bodice or a corset, Steven cannot stop staring at your chest(This is kinda the first reason I realized I wasn’t exactly straight, renaissance faire boobies)

OH!! Maypole  with Steven… or at the very least he is very successful as ballroom dancing near the outside court area. Or a jig, Either way, I just think he would be a great dance partner, not stepping on toes or anything. Like at all. I'm serious.

If he wears garb: maybe he plays a wizard in DND, or Caleb Widogast from Critical role? Artificer? SOmething that isn’t really Melee strength, but realizes on the mind with knowledge

OH SHIT COUPLE COSTUME IDEA!! EVIE AND RICK O'CONNELL!!! Yes, that’s what you two would do! Loves taking photos with you, and maybe a little PDA because you look amazing. (You drag him behind a stall for a full make out sesh)

Also ren fairies tend to have vegan options, so he’s happy. Also will want to go to all the petting zoo area with goats.

Marc Spector:

Smirks if you come out dressed in a corset or a bodice. As much as a dork you are for this, he only goes to make you happy. 

IF AND IF somehow you get him in faire garb, he’ll sneakily take pictures of the two of you. Maybe a really nice one of you looking up through some tree, and the sun hitting you just right, a smile ghosting your lips. 

(You and Layla are on good terms, so you send her pics of when he’s being dorky or an idiot.  You both have a secret black mail file on him messing up.)

Also would lead to the alleyways between shops or something a quiet area, and kisses. Maybe when sitting in the courtyard listening to live music, he places you on his lap, and if there’s a side split in your dress... Will draw patterns on your thighs. 

Might buy a ring for you there… he won’t let you know though. You get him a some spices, cuz I think Marc Loves to cook and is quite good at it, always trying new things. 

Garb Idea: Pirate like, but not really. Like he's got the sword, he's got the billowing shirt, pants But maybe an overshirt or vest, has bracers. Got the boots. NO HAT (you buy him a hat there and he’s pouty)

Also if little kids come up to him, lost from their parents, he guides them to the lost parent area.

Jake Lockley: 

(Fight me, that’s jake in the scene)

Goes for drinking. Would get Absinthe…you are the designated driver, not your cabbie. He knows his limits though. 

LOVES LOVES LOVES if you are wearing a bodice or corset. If you are taking a break and sitting onto eh ground, back to a tree, Jake just lays on your chest for a good while. You play with his hair and enjoy the breeze that comes through as the sun shines through the trees.

WIll  win you prizes through knife throwing and archery… might somehow get you on a horse and ride you around. No one knows how he got it free.

Honestly I think he would buy you a sword, or a knife… no he would buy you an elven sword. Then get a matching one. Couple swords

You get him a wooden catapult. He now sets it up so when you get home, it sets off a trip wire, you get hit with stale marshmallows.(You regret the choice)

Garb Idea: Why am I think barbarian like outfit? Nothing but pants and some boots, goes shirtless, has an ax. Maybe gets some animals furs (Maybe askes you to wear bikini armor)

OR

Be that guy and wears a stark trek uniform(and says he’s from star wars on purpose to piss off people)

The  Parents... I mean Gods: 

In all of these Khonshu is being grumpy cuz a majority of the ren faires i’ve been to: it has more greco roman stuff because both the British and Italian renaissance took inspiration from those times. I have only seen one egyptian mythology reference and it was a stone animal shope named after Bast, so Khonshu would not be happy because he Did not like being a stone statue, and the fact that his sister is in the name of the shop....

Might ask you all to get some craft with a moon on it. Bug Mark to get a knife... jake gets it instead. 

Enjoys the sword fights, or watching the actors from the faire act out fights in the street of it.

Athena just admires the Craftsmanship of what the Faire sells. Might encourage you to get some new yarn, or fabric. Loves Maps Steven gets you, the Sword from Jake... might have given Marc advice on the ring. 

Likes seeing the Jousting. Clapping each time a tournament has been won. 

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[haruhey]

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired​ @phoenixblack89​

comment to be on my taglist!

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

[arcanadreams]

Water Fights with the OM Bros

it’s 90 degrees outside at my place and you know what that means!!! water fight headcanons because I refuse to go outside in the heat in real life asdhgskjdgks

once again i’m only doing the brothers bc i do not trust myself with the dateables just yet lmao

Lucifer:

Literally only agrees to join because you’re so excited about it.

“...If it makes you happy, MC,” are his exact words. Simp.

You did agree to make the game have no points though, to keep things from getting competitive. Both at the advice of Lucifer and because you knew he would not join if there was any chance he could lose. (Also because Satan is a menace but we’ll get to that later.)

When all the brothers are gathered he suggests everyone pairs up into teams. 

“You’re only saying that so you can cozy with M-” Asmo tries to say before being sprayed in the face with water.

“My hair!” “Oh, look at that. I suppose the game has started,” Lucifer hides his water gun behind his legs, but he can’t hide the shit eating grin on his face.

He takes your hand with a “Come along, MC,” and leads you away as everyone splits up.

You two make a surprisingly good team for this sort of thing! He knows the gardens well and also knows where each of his brothers is likely to go. You are quite skilled water water guns and balloons. He’s basically the brains and you’re the brawn. 

He snatches a few kisses now and then when you look back at him excitedly after smacking one of his brothers with a balloon. You’re just so cute!

When everyone is all tuckered out and goes off to shower and whatever, Lucifer hangs back with you to thank you for organizing everything. With a kiss to the back of your hand, he says, “I’ll admit, I was...skeptical, at first. But, as usual, you brought my brothers together in a way I haven’t seen in a long while. Thank you, MC.” 

Mammon:

“I’m MC’s first man, so I get to team with them!” “You’re also literally my boyfriend, but okay hun.” Cue Mammon blushing beet red at the nickname and muttering at you not to call him that in front of his brothers. (He doesn’t mean it; he loves that they know you’re his and vice versa.)

Strategically, the two of you are the absolute worst. But that’s because you’re both just there to have fun!

And have fun you do! You actually get in quite a few fun chases with Levi! He’s probably the most into the water fight out of everyone, the three of you are just running around the gardens pelting each other with balloons. It’s super cute.

Mammon is absolutely the type to yell “I’ll avenge you, MC!” every single time you get sprayed. 

Eventually, you and Mammon follow Levi’s advice and start hiding in places to catch some of the other brothers by surprise. Which would be fine if Mammon didn’t blush super hard and start grumbling because of how close together you were when kneeling behind the garden wall.

You roll your eyes and surge forward to kiss him. He’s so shocked he has no idea what to do with his hands at first. But, after a second of pause, his water gun falls to the ground with a clatter and he wraps his arms around you.

“Get a room,” Is all the two of you hear before Belphie dumps a whole ass bucket of water on your heads. Mammon growls and jumps up to get the youngest before Beel can scoop him up, but you grab his hand and stop him. 

You’re laughing super hard, and the sun is shining on your hair. You almost look like you have a halo...Mammon gives up the chase before it even starts because his MC is simply ethereal. 

“Mammon!” You smile brilliantly at him when you finally stop laughing. “I kissed you to keep you quiet! And then you managed to make even more noise!” 

He just hugs you then so you can’t see his blushing face. Stupid lovely human making fun of him. (He likes it, though.)

Leviathan:

This boy is literally the MOST excited when you tell him your idea. He was in on it from the very start.

He actually helped you get all the supplies! He opens his Akuzon account right away and starts showing you what water guns would be best and picking out huge packs of balloons made specifically for being water grenades. (Definitely had looked all this stuff up before in case he found a LARPing buddy.)

You ask him how much Grimm all this stuff will cost and he tells you not to worry. “I’ll cover it!” “But, Levi-” He interrupts you with big blush on his face. 

“L-Listen MC. You’re m-my Henry! And I know this will be fun, s-so...I’ll cover it.” You leap forward and give him a hug, triggering a surprised but equally happy screech.

Honestly he is so excited you proposed an idea like that of your own volition. Like...it just makes him feel like all the games and stuff he finds fun truly don’t bother you. You haven’t been lying; you genuinely are interested in the same things as him. It makes him feel so warm.

When everyone is still arriving, you grab one of your water guns and do that cool spinny thing. You know the thing. The cowboy gun spin. You’re like, “Hey Levi! Check this out!” 

BAM. Boy is OUT. So red his face is steaming. That’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his entire damn life. What the fuck, MC. He is basically frozen on the spot out of sheer overwhelmed-ness as how hot that was. You have to drag him away when the water fight starts. Totally worth staying up all night figuring out how to do the spin trick with a water gun.

Once the action gets going, you two are unstoppable. No one escapes the fight unscathed thanks to y’all. All those late night Call of Duty sessions trained you for this!!

Your favorite tactic is definitely camping, though. You and Levi would pick a spot and hide there, waiting for one of his brothers to come by, and then...ATTACK!

If it actually were a competition, you two would’ve won by a landslide. But honestly, Levi didn’t really keep track. He was having too much fun watching you. You were so mesmerizing when you were in the zone and so gorgeous when laughing as you gave him victory high fives after a successful ambush. 

You let him take a picture of you posing all tough with your water gun and he makes it his DDD background immediately. And his lockscreen so you can protect his DDD from intruders.

Satan:

THIS ASSHOLE. THIS MAN IS THE REASON YOU MADE SURE THERE WAS NO COMPETITION.

If there was any sense of competition, Satan would’ve gone absolutely out of his mind to beat Lucifer. He would make sure to destroy that man’s dignity as thoroughly as possible.

So, for the sake of both him and the eldest brother, no points. No contest. He grumbles about it, but, much like said eldest brother, he still joins because he sees how happy the idea of a family water fight makes you.

 Satan treats is almost as seriously as Levi does. EVEN THOUGH YOU MADE SURE IT WASN’T A COMPETITION, HE DAMN SURE STILL ACTS LIKE IT IS. UGH.

Literally pulls a map of the House of Lamentation’s gardens out of his back pocket??? And puts it on the side of the fountain?? And starts planning maneuvers on it with you??? He pulls a pen out of his SWIM TRUNK POCKETS to use to point with and emphasize his points. You just blink at him. This is your mans. Good lord.

Considering his expert knowledge of the layout of the entire surrounding area of HoL from that map, he actually knows of some secret passages the other brothers don’t even consider. He takes you to them so you can use them to spy on what Lucifer’s the other brothers’ strategies are.

It’s only once you’re creeping around the tunnels that he realizes something: none of his brothers know where you are. They can’t bother you...time to make out.

Grabs your attention with a quiet, “MC” and gives you a smooch. Soon enough he is backing you up against the wall. A water balloon you have tied to your belt pops against the rough brick, interrupting the two of you.

Satan disregards it and move to kiss you again, but you let out a gasp. He’s worried for you for a moment: did you scrape yourself? But when you turn to look at him, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he loves to see. 

“My water broke!” You whisper-exclaim dramatically, covering your mouth in fake shock. Satan has to nuzzle his face in your neck to avoid laughing and filling the tunnel with the echo that would alert his brothers. The two of you basically just canoodle in the passages until the water fight is over LMAO

Asmodeus:

Pretty much just to show off how good he looks in a bathing suit to you and anyone else who happens to be lucky enough to witness his glory.

He’s not the best at water fights and ends up using you as a human shield sometimes adjgfkjshf

“Asmo! Stop hiding behind me!” “I am not letting Lucifer mess up my hair twice in one day, darling!”

He comments quite often on how hot you look. Both in your bathing suit and also when in the zone looking for victims to douse in watery fury. You look like an action hero, MC! Have you ever thought about becoming the next Bond? Asmo could definitely pull some hypnotic strings.~

Every time you successfully pull him out of the way of an oncoming water balloon or block a blast of water from hitting, he totally melts. He presses his back to your chest, swooning against you and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, MC, my hero! My dashing knight in shining armor!” You scoff, but think it’s super cute. You even play into it sometimes and pick him up bridal style.

“The king is looking for you, my prince,” you say once as you lift him, and he actually blushes. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, blushes at a silly pet name. He was not expecting you to get so into the role!!! He loves it, though.

For the rest of the water fight the two of you are basically roleplaying a royal and his knight bodyguard. It is stupidly fun and the both of you have an absolute blast.

“Oh, MC, my darling knight! I have amazing news!” Asmo says after the fight ends. You’re drying his hair off with a towel. “Yes, my liege?” 

“In exchange for your wonderful and dutiful protection, you have been given permission by the crown to court me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiles and you throw your head back in a laugh. You lean down and give him a nice, long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “That is absolutely splendid, your highness.”

Beelzebub:

He loves the idea because it’ll get his whole family together and he knows it. He has to carry Belphie out there but that’s normal.

He helped you and Levi plan!! Excited boy. You filled him in when he joined you and Levi for a game night. He totally volunteered to go get some extra supplies from some nearby stores for y’all. So cute.

Once everyone is actually fighting, this boy WILL NOT STOP BEING A HUMAN (demon?) SHIELD FOR YOU. LIKE NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TELL HIM IT’S FINE, YOU’RE FINE, HE WILL NOT STOP.

“Babycakes, it’s okay. It’s water. It can’t hurt me.” “But I love you. I want you safe.” O H. O K A Y.

Someone call a doctor Beel just shot MC through the heart!!! He’s so genuine you just bright red and kiss his cheek because he deserve it.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then, huh?” He gives you a big Beel smile and nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Y’all get sprayed with water A LOT because your hungry boy is very big and hard to hide. Er, I should say HE gets sprayed a lot because he is a fantastic meat shield and you’re practically dry by the time the fight is over. He, on the other hand, is soaked to the bone.

He still insists on drying you off with a towel, though. The two of you dry each other off back in the twins’ room while Belphie dozes nearby in his bed.

You’re in the middle of drying his shoulders when he just starts talking. “That was really fun, MC. I’m really grateful for you. Ever since you’ve been here, things are always more fun. And you bring all my brother together. Thank you.” 

You damn near burst into tears!!! Ahhhh!!! You sniffle and jump into his nap, wrapping your arms around him. “But MC, I’m still wet.” “I don’t care!! I’m giving you snuggles!!”

Belphegor:

Literally does not give a single fuck about a water fight until he realizes it lets him throw shit at Lucifer with absolutely zero consequences. Then he is all in.

Beel doesn’t even have to carry him around during the fight! Once he is outside and realizes all the shenanigans he can pull, he is perfectly content to grab you by the hand and be the one dragging you around, for once!

You two will probably team up with Satan and Beel at various points. Beel because he’s Beel, and Satan because he and Belphie absolutely set water balloon filled booby traps for Lucifer.

That’s his preferred strategy: set up a trap and wait in the bushes, watching for the target to approach.

He’s definitely the type to yell “Every man for himself!” if someone catches you guys hiding. Unlike his twin, he lets you get totally soaked while he runs away laughing. Dickweed.

You guys have a lot of fun, though!! Seeing Belphie excited is always a treat for you. And, though he doesn’t say anything about it, Belphie also thinks it’s a treat whenever you scheme with him. You don’t join in on his mischief often, so he always cherishes the times you do.

Eventually, after soaking Lucifer thoroughly, Belphie eventually gets a bit tired. You, however, want to keep the fun going. So, just as he begins to dose off in your hiding spot...you spray him. Right in the face. 

He opens his eyes and sees you raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, giggling to yourself. He growls playfully and grabs his own water gun, quickly giving chase as you bolt. 

Being a demon, he’s much quicker than you. But he lets you think you can escape for a few minutes before catching up to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

As you squirm and laugh in his embrace, he feels thankful he joined in on the fight, even if he was hesitant at first. After all, it led to this moment, where he can turn you around in his arms and give you a nice kiss as you melt against his chest.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hi there. Can I request a poly relationship with Albedo, Xiao and Scaramouche ? A mix of fluff n a pinch of smut is this possible ?

First of all, what the fuck gave you this wacky idea? I thought at first, wow, this is so random, how did they think this. But then upon making the banner- IT'S ALL MY HUSBANDS IN ONE FICNWOFHLSNDLKSBSOANA

I'll do my best but oh gawd, I'm just so baffled right now HAHAHHA- brain juice GONE

Three Shorties Convention

Poly Relationship with Scaramouche, Albedo and Xiao... (event masterlist)

HOW?!

Three individuals from three different nations somehow collated to love a single human, that of which is you. With how wide your range is for such individuals, we can greatly assume that you are an adventurer travelling the world.

You first met Scaramouche who was undercover, on the way to Mondstadt/Liyue through boat. As he was in the down low, he made sure to act friendly to avoid suspicion. When he heard you were on the same path, he thought of using you as an alibi.

The next person you came across was Xiao when you were passing by the Inn. You heard of the Adepti residing in the area and wanted to ask for blessings as your journey would be much more confusing and dangerous. You lit up incense and a small prayer before leaving.

The last person you met was Albedo. Mond was your last destination before you laid low again until your next long expedition, and you were looking for Alice who you met long ago during your expeditions. You last heard about Mond from her and wanted to talk to her about your adventures but ended up empty.

What made them stay/intrigued? For Scaramouche, he saw you messing with the meteors and your theories, your disarrayed thoughts and ideas somehow made sense when he looks past the lines. And you ended up being the reason he found the large piece of meteor in that... island thingy.

For Xiao, it was the incense I mentioned earlier. It was something you got as a souvenir from a commission in Inazuma, and the scent it gave off brought him to Teyvat Nirvana, the voices silent and his body soothed. His curiousity got the best of him as he tracked your path.

And finally, you first piqued Albedo's interest when you mentioned your affiliation with Alice, and when he listened to your stories (you forced him to listen since Alice was not there) it remindee him greatly of his master.

All of them were attached so badly that on your way to the wilderness one day, the three of them ended up confronting you in some kind of JJBA way with you in the middle. Their Visions and weapons were raised in worry until you identified how you knew them all.

And when they found out of each other's interests towards you, they grew more wary but turned to you: who was busy picking up a mint flower to truly understand what's going on.

"I like all of you!" Somehow all three of them were smart enough to realize that you hold at least a drop of endearment for each of them.

It was supposed to be a silent competition, that then ended up to an ambiguous relationship through coexistence. The problem here is: all four of you barely understood the grounds of a proper relationship, and delved deeper into this polyamory without a second thought.

Equal Thirds

Oh geezus, this is the most confusing setup you've been through. Having to juggle between three continents, three men, three different occasions. They were so petty to the point that your schedule must be split EQUALLY or else the other two would ambush the place you would be in.

Albedo is the busiest and lax when it comes to your "relationship schedule." As a person of Alchemy, he takes days buried deep into his research and he is more than thankful for the existence of a schedule, as he struggles with the maintenance of human relations a concrete time and day for when he is needed balances this. Albedo requests your presence during the period after his major experiments where he wishes to unwind and empty his brain of the equations and machinations. His type of love deals with comfort and distraction.

Xiao has the most free time in your relationship in terms of work, but he is also the one tied down strictly to his code of conduct. His time with you comes from your visits to Liyue and he will always be by your side whether you're in the outskirts or within the mortal realm. His type of love, ironically, is filled with longing touches and whispers of adoration for your strength and light that silences the voices in his head.

Scaramouche is the neediest boy in this bunch, the most mortal of them and the farthest from your reach. Your relationship is a secret to everyone especially the Fatui, but he makes sure that every agent in Liyue and Mond does not lay a hand on you or else he's breaking that same limb. Your time with him comes when HE comes over no matter where you are or what you do. His 'love' is filled with materialism and feisty aura, revelling in strenght and power dynamics.

When you're in charge of the schedule is the rare times that all three of you are together, because you plan your expeditions well in par with their seemingly conflicting schedules. Soon enough you four would be a whole team of travellers going around Teyvat to indulge whatever curiousities you lay upon.

"Circus Festival in Fontaine? Sign me and my three boys the fuck up. No complains, I know you're free."

Camping and travelling with them is sooo convenient too because they're all incredibly strong in constitution and battle. You only need to hang back and watch as they bring you a fireworks of elements, which are thankfully not very harmful against each other.

You're NEVER hurt or even TOUCHED when they're with you, they always have keen eyes for danger and always stick close to you to make sure you are safe. But on a RARE occasion that you DO get hurt, they have a formation: Albedo is tasked in retrieving you, Scaramouche is the backup in clearing a safe area for possible first aid, and Xiao lets all hell break loose once you three are gone.

They help out as much as they can whenever you all go out to camp but ultimately it ends up being some kind of adventuring class for the three of them since you're the master in this field.

Cute stuff: You never keep watch because they always want to cuddle, so one would be up and the other two would be cuddling you on both sides, and the rounds would switch between them while you have your beauty nap.

Albedo is pretty chill with the other two, but Scaramouche and Xiao seem to have a tension between them due to his Harbinger status. Xiao is wary and protective of Albedo because of the knowledge of his background coming from Morax. And all three of you deal with Scara's chattiness.

Your Pet Names for them! Scaramouche: Darling; Xiao: Sweetie; Albedo: Beloved. If you go beyond that, they start to see favoritism so you picked them carefully.

Their Pet Names for you! Scaramouche: My Dear; Xiao: Beloved; Albedo: Sunshine.

Soon enough, their soft rivalries turned into friendly coexistence and they would start to at least see each other in a better light besides acquaintances. While nothing physical or lovey-dovey would happen between them as they only ever see you in that way, they develop respect and slight trust. Competition long gone as it dissolves into compassion in protecting you and giving you the loving you deserve.

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @kookieyachi @struggljng @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22

Softcore under the cut! No looking, my children

In this relationship, individual and multiple participating intercourse is normal, and they happen when all parties involved are ever comfortable. With the fact that you'll change continents in mind soon after, the boys have their little rituals with you.

The most prominent of all would be Scaramouche's signature hickey on your neck. He sucks it hard enough to make it stay for WEEKS, so that when the other boys move to kiss you on your neck, they see the apparent mark and groan to themselves in defeat. It was your sensitive and ticklish spot, and he makes sure he owns it.

For Albedo, he almost always (probably in a kink way) do it with you on a surface that's NOT the bed. Table, chair, sofa, his lap, it seems that the bed is a sacred place for rest. And he usually ends up doing it when he is about to finish his work, hence the convenience of such furnitures. You were conditioned to the point that if you even just innocently lean on a furniture, your mind and body immediately snaps back to those moments, making you back off with a flushed face.

Xiao is the most innocent and yeet friskiest of them all. He loves to litter you with kisses all over your body, no bites and no scratches, just innocent flutters of his lips that makes you tingle. But such moments of lovemaking... seem to always happen on the Inn's balcony. Most of the time it's when the door leading there is closed for the night, but you were sure there were occasions that someone at least knew or saw what was happening, but you two were too drowned in pleasure to notice.

Whenever all four of you were to participate, safe words are always emphasized. Because you're suffocating right after between their bodies with all holes filled to the brim with them. Usually the formation goes as: Albedo behind you, Xiao in front and Scaramouche in your mouth. They may switch up when you still have the stamina but that's their default order, and yes, you orgasm multiple times and are overstimulated a lot. To the point that you're getting used to it.

It's a golden rule to always shower before and after your session, and they would be very caring and gentle during aftercare. With this arrangement, you always have a large bed rented or in your arsenal for a huge cuddle session at night.