#come on there's hundreds of books about it

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[vervainandspritz]

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warning: smut, angst, comfort

A/N: I'll get back to writing more chapters soon. For now, have this oneshot. Please Interact and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

“Oh god, Jackson!” Y/n gasped as soon as she saw him through the peephole in the door. Moving as quickly as possible, she swung the door open, pouncing forward to get a hold of him.

He stood there, his breathing shallow and rugged. White button up shirt ripped on his shoulder, revealing the bleeding wound. The material surrounding it was covered in crimson red. His hair sweaty, beads dripping down his face as he barely kept his blue, cloudy eyes open.

“Y/n” he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward as he grabbed onto her shoulders. She huffed as he put his weight on her, and with some struggle they managed to both get inside as she kicked the door shut.

Hundreds and thousands of thoughts ran through her head as she helped him to the living room where he mindlessly slumped on the couch.

“Wait here” she murmured, rushing to the bathroom for the first aid kit that was quite… advanced ever since she met him. Grabbing the necessities, Y/n quickly moved back to the living room, putting it all on the table with her shaky hands. He looked barely conscious and her heart was pounding like crazy as she took his shirt off to make sure that the visible injuries were the only ones on him.

He kept mumbling something every now and then but she didn't listen, instead she focused on stopping the bleeding from his shoulder and stitching him back up.

Breathing deeply, Y/n tried her best to get her hands more steady as she did her very best to ensure he'd be… better than whatever state she found him in.

Two hours and some tears later, Jackson was settled in her own bed, wearing only briefs and breathing heavily. She wiped her face while glancing at the clock only then realising how late it was. Jackson was completely out of it, and from the look of it, he would be for several more hours because of the medicine she gave him. The medicine he needed to ensure his wound wouldn't get infected.

Y/n was aware of his job, and it was one of the biggest factors of why she decided to never let their relationship move forward. Just sex, they said before. She couldn't afford getting her heart broken.

His lips said one thing, and his actions showed another, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she hugged his back lightly, her cheek pressing to his hot skin. Only for now, it was safe to do so. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a fuss about it. The closeness with lack of any sexual intentions. Intimacy. Comfort.

As expected, Jackson slept for a long time before eventually waking up, a little past 7 PM the next day.

She managed to clean up her bathroom and couch from his blood, getting her apartment to become squeaky clean because of the anxiety she was feeling. Y/n tried to be productive instead of impatiently waiting at him and biting her nails.

“Y/n” He said in a hoarse, husky voice before grimacing slightly because of the dryness and pain in his throat. Hearing him, she jumped a little, clearly startled as her book fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” Y/n said, with a hand on her chest as she eyed him quickly before getting up to get a glass of water for him, hearing the state of his throat. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly after handing him the glass. Her brows slightly furrowed at his unusually pale skin.

“As wonderful as I look” He replied with a scoff after drinking the water and setting the glass aside with a groan.

“You were really hurt this time.” She started quietly, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment as she kept looking at him. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours, Jackson. You—you need to tell me what happened.” She says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration grew. She knew how unhappy he was whenever she'd ask questions, and Y/n liked his presence too much to risk losing him over that. So she wouldn't ask, not usually, but this time was different. It was too big to pretend like it didn't happen.

His pale, blue eyes avoided looking directly into hers as he let out a deep breath. His frame was tense.

“Don't act stupid, you know damn well what I do for a living, sweetheart.” He replied. “It's not always all rainbows and flowers.” The sarcasm smoothly made its way down his tongue, as always, seemed like. Y/n got used to the fact Jackson was fluent in this particular thing.

Hearing his tone her body tensed in a combative manner. Squeezing her first, she pointed at him with the other, shaking hand.

“Don't you fucking dare talk to me this way after I spent my whole night stitching you up, preventing you from bleeding out, and barely closing my eyes to make sure you were bloody alive!” Her voice shook slightly every now and then as she tried to stand her ground against him. “It's YOUR work to do… all that, but is it my work to always stitch you up afterwards? Why the hell do you come here since I don't deserve even a brief explanation?” She demanded to know, looking intently at him as she wrapped her arms around herself for some, much needed at the moment, comfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly, raising his chin as he finally looked her in the eyes. His facial expression was impossible to read, as always.

But the one thing she was perfect at, was reading his eyes. Ever since day one, Jackson would always try to avoid eye contact in such situations. Even though his stare never failed before, and he was going through life thinking he mastered it.

Well, maybe he did. Y/n was the only one who saw more in his bright, storm and tempest filled eyes. So he'd purposely put a wall between the two of them. She knew him too well to believe in the theatrics he was so prone to use on people.

“Your apartment was the closest place I could think of at the moment. It's not that deep.” His voice was low and emotionless, husky from the lack of usage in the last twenty four hours but he managed to keep up the eye contact for just a few seconds before looking away.

Yet, it hurt her. Sighing deeply, she shook her head and made her way to the kitchen as Jackson slowly got up from her bed.

Looking around for his pants, he ran a hand through his hair with a groan. The one thing he could admit to himself was that seeing disappointment in her eyes wasn't… nice. It didn't feel good.

“So… when can I see you now?” He asked casually, trying to break the tension after a couple minutes, thinking that she just gave up asking him questions like always, after he'd shut her down.

The silence hung in the air for a longer moment, charged with unsaid words and buzzing emotions. Y/n was tired, visibly and mentally.

“Don't come here anymore, Jack. I can't do it.”

A quiet voice came from the kitchen, making his heart stop for a moment and his eyes to widen. Turning around he walked up to her, leaning on the counter.

“Come on, you're not mad at me, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not understanding the vulnerable expressions on her face, which she never hid. Y/n wasn't scared to be vulnerable with her feelings around him, which was always a source of conflicted emotions within himself.

With a resigned sigh, she put the knife and veggies down, looking up at him.

“No, it's… it's more than that. I just can't do what you're expecting of me.” She started, shaking her head a little. “Just—just fuck you, and then, then take care of you and never care enough to ask. I can't do that. It's—it's not me, I'm sorry.” The way her body language changed, the vulnerability and raw hurt in her voice made the annoyingly painful feeling gnaw at this one spot in his chest. He didn't know what to say for a moment before turning around and walking a couple steps through her living room. Anger and confusion grew in his head, as the only real emotions he knew so well. Hand tugging on his hair as he let out a humourless laugh.

“You don't mean it. We're just—just arguing again.” He said, trying to convince either her or himself, but the feeling of dread already settled between his ribs. His voice came out louder than intended, accusing even.

As the response didn't come, he turned around again facing her. Taking a couple fast steps he winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? We talked about it before, I— fucking can't tell you anything!” He said with sharp anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Jackson, I said I get it! I just can't do what you want me to!” She exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usually at his sudden outburst. She felt panicked with what was happening. With the idea of never seeing him again, and with what she was feeling at the moment. The feelings accompanying her were much more complex than she'd like them to be.

“Then why are you so fucking dramatic about it!” He continued pacing back and forth, not handling the situation very well, or picking up on the irony of his words.

Y/n raised her eyebrows with a scoff.

“Me? I'm just breaking it off, Jackson. You are the one yelling at me and running around my living room.” She pointed out, keeping the pain hidden away. For now.

He stopped in his tracks immediately as she called him out on the frantic behaviour.

“I wouldn't if you weren't like… this!” He spat out, his blue eyes filled with coldness and anger. The sudden motion as he swung his arm, caused the stitches to rip and blood started dripping down his arm. “Fuck!”

Y/n’s eyes widened immediately.

“Jack, calm down! Your arm!” She squealed, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her hand grasped his bigger one as she pulled him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was a fairly small room, with not much space after he'd fill it out with his wide frame, so without a second thought she slumped on his lap.

He sat here wordlessly, the combative facial expression still decorating his handsome face as she worked on the wound, cleansing it before getting to the stitching.

He didn't make a sound until the last stitch, when he suddenly let out a loud hiss at the particularly painful movement of the needle in his skin.

“Sorry” she said quietly out of habit. “You need to stop thrashing like a wild animal for the next few days.” Y/n added, concerned with his state.

Jackson scoffed, tensing as he looked in her eyes accusingly.

“Don't tell me what to do. You dumped me.” His voice was low and grumbly, still carrying some anger in it, but the way he put it made Y/n let out a giggle uncontrollably. His gaze softened slightly. He sounded like an offended child.

“As far as I know, we weren't together, Jackson.” Her voice was more playful than anything as she finished the stitching, putting the tools aside. Caressing the skin on his arm, Y/n sighed.

Jackson kept looking at her with a lump forming in his throat. After a minute he broke the silence.

“I don't know what you want me to say, but you won’t hear…” He started before clearing his throat, unsure of what words to use. Of how to explain.”—hear THAT from me, Y/n. I just can't.” He said quietly, his hands holding her hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on her soft skin. The silence settled in the air again, as she felt he wasn't finished just yet. Just needed some more time to recollect his words. “...but I don't want to not see you anymore.” He sounded weaker than ever, more… vulnerable. The trait she wanted to see in him so badly, making her heart soften in an instant.

Feeling the surge of hope rushing through her veins, she raised her hands to his face, tilting his head up so her eyes would meet his. Her eyes were– bright again, Jackson noticed subconsciously.

“You don't want to lose me.” She stated with confidence, knowing what he meant. Jackson neither denied nor confirmed, sighing deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it.” She demanded, caressing his skin and as soon as he looked again, searching his blue eyes for anything that would show her she was wrong. She didn't find anything.

He took a deep breath, his fingers digging into her skin harder.

“I don't want to lose you.” He repeated, sounding like the words almost drowned him, but he knew it was a turning point. Jack knew she was – patient and understanding. It would be enough. They stared at each other for a longer moment before she touched his cheek with a little chuckle.

Seeing her eyes so shiny and cheeks blushed, Jackson regretted he didn't say it sooner. It took a lot, but it was worth it. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What's so funny?” He scoffed playfully, looking at her lips with a deep breath.

Y/n leaned in, kissing him in a way that took his breath away for a mere moment making him forget who they were. Who he was. A way that she wouldn't dare to kiss him before.

“Stubborn man” she let out with a sigh after pulling away.

Only then did she get up, pulling him back to the bedroom deciding that she'd force him to rest if he wouldn't agree right away.

***

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/n wiped her face with a yawn before she noticed he was awake. The admirably blue eyes looked at her halfway open with a smirk, and for a second she got mad at him for never staying the whole night before. The view was wonderful.

“Hi” She said with a chuckle, making him raise his eyebrow in amusement.

“Hi,” He replied, pulling her closer. Her dishevelled state made her even more attractive than usual, in a completely different way. It was a way that Jackson never looked at other women before which was a little scary, but well. He was way too sleepy to think about it now. With his own eyes barely open and vulnerable as never before, he let out a chuckle. It felt so easy at the moment, like he wasn't a killer without any actual identity. Like he had a chance for a life with the beautiful woman by his side.

Stretching with a groan he shifted to the side, being fairly careful with his injured shoulder. Jackson's hand landed on Y/n’s bare hip as her shirt shifted up, revealing her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, glancing at him as she heard the throaty purr coming from his mouth.

“Jackson” She warned with a giggle, knowing his intentions too well. “You're–” She started, but before she'd manage to finish, he flipped her on her back, hanging over her like a thundercloud. “–injured.” Her voice was defeated with an undertone of humour at his mischievous doings.

“Still healthy enough.” He replied, leaning down and grazing his nose over her neck. After two years of seeing only her, he wasn't able to prevent associating her scent with something– familiar.

Home

Pressed so tightly against her, Jackson felt the familiar stirring in his lower stomach, making him sigh deeply. His warm breath wrapped itself around her skin, making her shiver with delight. He leaned down, biting onto her neck lightly as his hands began stripping her of the pajama pants she was wearing.

She let it happen, until she didn't. Her smaller hand getting a hold of his wrist.

“In my way.” She said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “My way or not at all. Your stitches will probably burst again if I agree to do it the usual way.” She said with a voice that allowed no opposition. That was a voice he rarely heard, but the feisty look in her eyes was clear. She wouldn't bend under his will because she cared about his health.

With a loud, dramatic sigh he slumped on the bed, giving up. Seeing it, Y/n chuckled, raising her brows. Pointing at the tent in his underwear, she asked.

“So you need help with that or not?” Her voice was full of amusement and clear lighthearted mockery. Jackson's eyes immediately shifted to her face.

“Don't push it before I change my mind” he grumbled with a hidden smirk, making her laugh out louder as she got up, pulling her underwear down all the way before she straddled his hips.

Her soft hand began travelling down his chest, tracing every inch of his skin, appreciating the masculine firmness to him. The sensation of his muscles against her delicate fingers.

The air in the room immediately shifted, and Jackson's expression changed. His brows slightly furrowed, as he watched her actions. He was clearly confused, never touched with such intention before in his life. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, almost expecting pain to come any second now.

Violence was all he knew. She understood it, but it nevertheless broke her heart a little bit.

Looking him in the eyes, she leaned forward, her lips following the path her fingers travelled. She left little kisses on each scar and imperfection she encountered.

Jackson wasn't sure what he felt. Whether he liked it or not, he was more confused than ever before. That's why when she reached the V on his lower stomach, still kissing, he rose up slightly.

“Don't” he said quietly. The atmosphere was so intimate and vulnerable, that for once in his life, he didn't feel up to being pleasured in such a way. He already let her do too much, Jackson thought.

Y/n looked up, meeting his bright eyes with her own. The tension and– fear on his face was visible for the first time since she ever met him.

Nodding lightly, she came back up, kissing him passionately as her hands worked on his underwear, pulling it down and stroking his hard length. Deep groans pushed past his lips with each move as his eyes fell shut. He looked more beautiful than ever, Y/n thought seeing him then.

Only the sensation of her warmth engulfing his manhood brought Jackson back, making him open his eyes and letting his jaw fall open.

“Fuck” he gasped, as she leaned back, supporting herself by holding onto his stomach, not forgetting about his injury.

His hands gripped onto her hips. Still sitting up, Jackson tried moving her on top of his hips to get her to move faster, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. Pushing him back, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss while she sensually moved. She was in no rush. Y/n enjoyed every sensation the connection between them was giving her. The slow pace was making him more sensitive to their surroundings than the usual frantic rhythm. The sound of her quiet sighs and whimpers filled his ears like the most beautiful melody. The way her face gave away the all-consuming bliss she experienced from how he felt inside her, but also from how… close they were. Jackson felt like he was slipping. The situation was getting out of control as his mind started spiralling into the vulnerability, which he desperately didn't want to happen.

Looking up, he noticed Y/n watching his face intently, her mouth slightly open as she moved to her own rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement before she leaned down, kissing all over his neck while her hands travelled around his collarbones, caressing his skin.

Wordlessly Jackson's bigger hand slowly grabbed hers, moving it up towards his throat, wrapping it suggestively with a certain look in his eyes. Y/n knew.

Of course she did.

With a quiet sigh, she shook her head lightly, moving upwards to his cheek, the gentle touch sending shockwaves down his spine as she watched him with care and gentleness he never experienced.

Covering her hand with his own, Jackson sat up lightly, moving her closer. He didn't fight it anymore.

“You're so beautiful” He breathed out, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her lips in a deep, sensual dance as she caressed his hair. They both seemed to get lost in the sensations, drowning in each other's presence without any will or need to seek saving.

As Y/n squeezed her eyes, her body tensing on top of his, Jackson knew she was coming. Leaning his forehead on her collarbone, he followed right after. For the first time in his life, he realised that the way she held him felt even better than the most amazing orgasm he ever experienced.

…and just like that, Jackson knew he’d stay the night, and countless more.

Because even if he couldn't name or say it, he knew the reason why he would keep coming back.

***

Taglist: @lau219 @xsweetcatastrophe

[yuri-is-online]

Been thinking back on the early books where Crowly would just not even play coy about holding Yuu's vulnerable status in TWST over their head to do things, he's only stopped in recent books because after Jamil's overblot, Yuu's stopped going to him for things/Yuu gets involved in stuff anyways but like, imagine Ortho or any of the boys with real Means hearing Crowly do the whole "Oh I'd hate to see you on the streets, Prefect" shit and just going "not if I have anything to say about it".

STYX probably has some sort of deal with other countries for Nationality if people born there like Idia ever need ID, so i could see the Shroud brothers just asking Mum and Dad to make their buddy a fake ID so they can get a job.

Or just Kalim or Vil using their wealth to simply pay for Yuu to get all the paperwork they need and then some if Crowly continues to be skeezy about it. (And its because its me and you, Ace debating whether or not to cheekily slip a marriage certificate in with all the paperwork, if only briefly).

Azul and the Tweels Girlbossing and Gaslighting that Yuu is actually from the Coral Sea and their paperworks just been lost in the exchange program, how dare customs lose something that important! All four of them deserve compensation for the damage!

But who needs all that when Malleus just bold face says that by Divine Right he declared Yuu a sovereign citizen of Briar Valley. Whose gonna fight him in this? Just.. the boys in general making sure Yuu is OK

Ortho offers to give you any secret you want off the internet for your birthday so I definitely see the S.T.Y.X. people coming in clutch for the paperwork. It makes the most sense to me because when I read Book 6 I felt like the implication was Grim was going to be kept there past when the OB boys were returned due to him being seen as a danger, so if Grim is a matter of interest to S.T.Y.X. then Yuu probably will be too eventually. Paperwork shmaperwork they'll have ids made up for Yuu lickty split.

Malleus is another good option, but there is that pesky senate to deal with... I wonder if we will ever get an explanation of how Sebek's dad immigrated there? Could Malleus claim that he's technically doubled the human population by making Yuu a citizen because Mr. Zigvolt is the only one there for now?

and just because it's between you, me, and hundreds of our closest aceyuu friends and family, maybe yuu jokes that if they just got married then they'd have some paperwork and ace makes a great big show of "taking one for the team" even though we both know he'd really like that actually. And so would you otherwise you wouldn't be joking about it.

[elumish]

I talk about what writers should do a lot, so now I'm going to take a break and talk about some reforms that I think agents should make.

A caveat: I am not an agent! Unlike when I talk about writing, I am just talking about this as an author who happens to be in the midst of querying. If I have an followers who are agents who think I'm getting something wrong, please let me know!

That said, here I go:

Trad publishing is, fundamentally, about getting past a whole bunch of layers of gatekeepers, and agents are the first gatekeepers. With some very limited exceptions, you can't be trad published without having an agent. From what I can tell, being an agent is a bit of a thankless job--it's based on commission, so an agent only gets money if they are selling their clients' books. (Remember: the money flows towards the writer. If someone claiming to be an agent is telling you that you need to pay them to represent you, run.)

Because of this structure, agents have a massive amount of power over unagented authors, particularly because unagented authors simply do not have another option if they want to trad publish. It is my opinion that that power dynamic is part of the reason why querying actually sucks so unbelievably much for authors.

Now, part of why querying sucks is that it's a numbers game, which means that most of us will lose. Every writer is competing against a gazillion other writers, some of whom are better or writing things that are seen as more sellable or happen to be eariler or whatever. You are going to get a bunch of rejections, and that's not the fault of agents.

But here's the other problem:

There are, from what I can tell, no true industry standards and somewhat limited professional expectations for agents when it comes to how to deal with querying. Again, this is what it looks like from the outside--agents, if I'm getting this wrong, please let me know.

For example, many agencies and many agents will have different rules about what you can submit to them and how, and in many cases those rules are in somewhat arbitrary places, which means that querying authors have to hunt for them, and it's easy to run afoul of them even when you're trying. It's common for some agencies to say that you can't query two agents from the same agency at the same time, but some say that you can't query two agents from them ever--a rejection from one is a rejection from all.

But most agents' Twitter bios/MSWL pages/personal pages/etc. don't say that--which means that authors need to hunt through every individual agency's webpage and then cross-reference against every agent that they have ever queried previously, which can be arduous when many people are querying dozens or hundreds of agents. It also means needing to keep track of things like when agents switch agencies.

There are also no standard expectations for agents to actually respond to queries in any sort of time span, or at all, which complicates the above issue even more. But it also is just (imho) kind of unprofessional to ghost people who are seeking a professional relationship with you, when you have explicitly asked them to reach out to you seeking that professional relationship.

And to make that worse, many agents don't say whether or not they respond to all queries, meaning that authors are often left wondering if a 6-month or longer wait is a "no" or an "I haven't gotten to this yet but will definitely respond to you."

There are more issues that I could cite, but my overall point in this is that authors have no recourse here. There's not authors' union, no way to go on strike until agents change what they're doing.

And some agents are really awesome about this! But enough are not, and authors don't really know what they're going to get when they query someone.

So all of this is to say that, if you are an agent, here are some fairly easy changes I would love for you to make to your own behavior to make querying a little bit less of a nightmarish hellscape for authors (and thank you so much if you already do some or all of these):

Respond to every query that you receive

Tell people your general response times and be communicative if that changes. It's okay if it regularly takes you six months! Just tell us it regularly takes you six months, so we're not left wondering if we've been ghosted at four months

Outline all submission guidelines on Query Manager or where you accept queries, including things like a) rules about whether a rejection from one is a rejection from all, b) length expectations for things like synopses (I've seen a range), and c) any other expectations you have (e.g., you require trigger warnings). Don't make people hunt through 2-4 websites to find what you want

Stop asking or at least strongly rethink how you ask about Own Voices or why an author feels like they are qualified to write about a marginalized identity--I understand the impulse, but nobody should be expected to disclose medical or other personal information like that in a professional setting

Also, just to say (other than please don't reject my query because of this post), agents: authors really do appreciate the work you all do. I want someone to work with to get published, because I am very well aware that I am not the expert in this situation.

And again, please tell me if I got anything wrong or misrepresented anything.

[luxmoogle]

I've just seen the post about being visceral horror fan and need to ask: what are your favourite horror titles? 💜 Do you have any recommendations? 💜

Beware, long post below..

This is honestly quite a hard question, and recommendations hinge on what kind of horror one would prefer, and in what medium..! Books, movies, manga, audio tales even! A lot of my personal horror tastes weigh on the side of psychological horror or ones with supernatural or mystic features, less of slashers and violence, though I do enjoy quite a few of such titles as well.. I'll try not to mention all of the most obvious stuff everyone's already seen.

When it comes to games, I always say that if Kingdom Hearts didn't exist my favorite game of all time would be Bloodborne. The gothic style, vague storytelling and existential horror really speak to me. The Project Zero (Fatal Frame in the US) -series is dear to my heart, specifically the third one. The Forbidden Siren -series was also quite a treat in it's time. Honorary meantion to ObsCure, a great game to play with multiple people at a time, but unfortunately I think it's one of the rarest games ever now, so finding a copy/playing it might be quite the challenge..

In literature, I'd recommend getting into classic horror short stories, especially from the eighteen-hundreds! The setting and time they were written in often give them an automatic edge for a spooky tone.. They're fun stuff to read on a moody afternoon, and don't require the bandwidth that a full book might, if you're not such an avid reader. Some suggestions:

The Vampyre, John William Polidori (1819) The Monkey's Paw, W. W. Jacobs (1902) The Room in the Tower, E. F. Benson (1912) Kerfol, Edith Wharton (1912) Afterward, Edith Wharton (1910) The Empty House, Algernon Blackwood (1906) Sir Edmund Orme, Henry James (1891) The Body-Snatcher, Robert Louis Stevenson (1881) The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1892)

With horror movies, I think anyone with an interest in horror already know all the typical classics and modern favorites, so I'd recommend something a tad more obscure.. The asian horror scene, especially in the late 90's and early 2000s was littered with great techno ghost punk flicks. Many of these are favorites from one of my best friends, who really has a taste for this type of movie, but I'll highlight the one's I'm also very into and would especially recommend.

Kaïro / Pulse (2001), Whispering corridors -series, Dark Water (2002), Saiko! The Large Family (2009), A Tale of Two Sisters (2009), Bunshinsaba, The Wailing, The Complex, One Missed Call (2003), Shutter (2004)

This one's probably a very tired answer but with manga I just have to say the obvious, which is Junji Ito. His body of work just really scratches the itch I have for a nice tight scary story and gives a vague uneasy vibe.. Both his storytelling and art is something I love.

One of the main features of horror is suspense, so I would recommend always going in blind, stop with trailers, synopsis etc. and really sit in a dim room on a calm day or evening and get into it! You can only be horrified if you let yourself be.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Virginia Woolf: On Words

Listen to the only surviving recording of Virginia Woolf’s voice.

A transcript of Woolf’s broadcast, ‘On Craftsmanship’, BBC, 29 April 1937.

Words, English words, are full of echoes, of memories, of associations.

They have been out and about, on people’s lips, in their houses, in the streets, in the fields, for so many centuries.

And that is one of the chief difficulties in writing them today — that they are stored with meanings, with memories, that they have contracted so many famous marriages in the past.

The splendid word ‘incarnadine’, for example — who can use it without remembering also ‘multitudinous seas’?

In the old days, of course, when English was a new language, writers could invent new words and use them.

Nowadays it is easy enough to invent new words — they spring to the lips whenever we see a new sight or feel a new sensation — but we cannot use them because the English language is old.

You cannot use a brand new word in an old language because of the very obvious yet always mysterious fact that a word is not a single and separate entity, but is part of other words.

Indeed it is not a word until it is part of a sentence.

Words belong to each other, although, of course, only a great poet knows that the word ‘incarnadine’ belongs to ‘multitudinous seas’.

To combine new words with old words is fatal to the constitution of the sentence. In order to use new words properly you would have to invent a whole new language; and that, though no doubt we shall come to it, is not at the moment our business.

Our business is to see what we can do with the old English language as it is.

How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth?

That is the question.

And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer.

Think what it would mean if you could teach, or if you could learn, the art of writing.

Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, or would create beauty.

But there is, it would appear, some obstacle in the way, some hindrance to the teaching of words.

For though at this moment at least a hundred professors are lecturing the literature of the past, at least a thousand critics are reviewing the literature of the present, and hundreds upon hundreds of young men and women are passing examinations in English literature with the utmost credit, still — do we write better, do we read better than we read and wrote four hundred years ago when we were unlectured, uncriticised, untaught?

Is our modern Georgian literature a patch on the Elizabethan?

Well, where are we to lay the blame?

Not on our professors; not on our reviewers; not on our writers; but on words.

It is words that are to blame. They are the wildest, freest, most irresponsible, most unteachable of all things.

Of course, you can catch them and sort them and place them in alphabetical order in dictionaries.

But words do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind.

If you want proof of this, consider how often in moments of emotion when we most need words we find none.

Yet there is the dictionary; there at our disposal are some half-a-million words all in alphabetical order.

But can we use them? No, because words do not live in dictionaries, they live in the mind.

Look once more at the dictionary.

There beyond a doubt lie plays more splendid than Antony and Cleopatra; poems more lovely than the Ode to a Nightingale; novels beside which Pride and Prejudice or David Copperfield are the crude bunglings of amateurs.

It is only a question of finding the right words and putting them in the right order.

But we cannot do it because they do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. And how do they live in the mind?

Variously and strangely, much as human beings live, by ranging hither and thither, falling in love, and mating together.

It is true that they are much less bound by ceremony and convention than we are.

Royal words mate with commoners. English words marry French words, German words, Indian words, Negro words, if they have a fancy.

Indeed, the less we enquire into the past of our dear Mother English the better it will be for that lady’s reputation. For she has gone a-roving, a-roving fair maid.

Thus to lay down any laws for such irreclaimable vagabonds is worse than useless. A few trifling rules of grammar and spelling are all the constraint we can put on [words].

All we can say about them, as we peer at them over the edge of that deep, dark and only fitfully illuminated cavern in which they live — the mind — all we can say about them is that [words] seem to like people to think before they use them, and to feel before they use them, but to think and to feel not about them, but about something different.

They are highly sensitive, easily made self-conscious.

They do not like to have their purity or their impurity discussed.

If you start a Society for Pure English, they will show their resentment by starting another for Impure English — hence the unnatural violence of much modern speech; it is a protest against the puritans.

They are highly democratic, too; they believe that one word is as good as another; uneducated words are as good as educated words, uncultivated words as cultivated words, there are no ranks or titles in their society.

Nor do they like being lifted out on the point of a pen and examined separately.

They hang together, in sentences, in paragraphs, sometimes for whole pages at a time.

They hate being useful; they hate making money; they hate being lectured about in public.

In short, they hate anything that stamps them with one meaning or confines them to one attitude, for it is their nature to change.

Perhaps that is their most striking peculiarity — their need of change.

It is because the truth [words] try to catch is many-sided, and they convey it by being themselves many-sided, flashing first this way, then that. Thus they mean one thing to one person, another thing to another person; they are unintelligible to one generation, plain as a pikestaff to the next. And it is because of this complexity that they survive.

Perhaps then one reason why we have no great poet, novelist or critic writing to-day is that we refuse words their liberty.

We pin them down to one meaning, their useful meaning, the meaning which makes us catch the train, the meaning which makes us pass the examination.

And when words are pinned down they fold their wings and die.

Finally, and most emphatically, words, like ourselves, in order to live at their ease, need privacy.

Undoubtedly they like us to think, and they like us to feel, before we use them; but they also like us to pause; to become unconscious.

Our unconsciousness is their privacy; our darkness is their light...

That pause was made, that veil of darkness was dropped, to tempt words to come together in one of those swift marriages which are perfect images and create everlasting beauty.

But no — nothing of that sort is going to happen to-night.

The little wretches are out of temper; disobliging; disobedient; dumb. What is it that they are muttering? ‘Time’s up! Silence!’'

Source Virginia Woolf: The Censorship of Books

[bl4z33467]

Ahem, so here, yes here, is my INSANE LORE for vulpes in my stupid little universe.

So the year is 2259. A young laddie is born in utah. He was found by a legionary scout and brought to the legion. For reasons i have not yet decided, ceaser decided this child, named Vulpes Inculta, would be raised as the protege to the legion, aka his replacement. For the moment this was decided, Vulpes was schooled and trained every day. Since the plan was to be the leader of the legion, there was a greater emphasis on learning from the books rather than fighting. He had classes on english and latin, learned hundreds of battle strategies, wars from all across history, diplomacy and of course, leading a faction. Vulpes LOVED this. He found it fascinating and empowering. On the other hand, when he was meant to train in the art of the fight, he was... less than enthusiastic. He was terrible with the sword, pitiful punching skills, his aim was terrible with guns and he nearly blew up himself with explosives many times. It was looking hopeless. Around age 8 they decided to focus more on the learning rather than training, for the kids sake. (If you lift up his shirt you'll find alot of scars from sword slashes) This constant sitting and reading, writing and studying did not do well to the kid's physical health. (Also for everyone's sake i think childhood obesity is bad but like its part of the lore). The legion noticed this and decided that they should try again. They decided that his intelligence must be nature, so another vulpes that was trained for fighting would be the ultimate threat and leader. Some legionaries had found an empty vault from eastern idaho that's experiment called for cloning the original dwellers for each generation rather than typical reproduction. They secretly took Vulpes's DNA and the cloning technology to grow a baby boy, ten years after vulpes was born. This was all done without vulpes' knowledge. When this baby was born, a large ceremony was held. Vulpes was given a knew name, Vulpes Altilis Inculta, and this baby was named Vulpes Novos Inculta. There was celebration with the new vulpes. It was all about Novos. Altilis knew what Novos ment. The New Vulpes. Literally. Altilis had sorta forgetten what his name meant, so he'd have to look that up later. Altilis at the time didn't mind too much. Having a younger brother seemed pretty cool. When he had off, he often would hang out with his little bro. Eventually, Novos was old enough to start training for battle. When he was 4, he began training endurance running, and by age six, he was full on sword fighting with the legion trainers. His aim, immaculate, his ability with the sword, like nothing they had seen before. Unfortunately, the legion had sort have forgotten to teach him. He spoke only basic latin, reading was strenuous, and his suaveness with speech was lacking. The legion, after two times, failed to see that many traits are nurture over nature. They have created an amazing athlete who's as dumb as a brick, and a war strategist genius who can't walk up the stairs without taking a break to catch his breath.

Novos though, was still beloved by the legion more than Altilis. They found his feats of might empowering. Ceaser saw this and used him to boost morale of the legion. The better Novos got, the more Altilis was pushed to the wayside.

On altilis's 18th birthday, he was extremely excited to celebrate his coming to adulthood. In previous years, His birthdays where large celebrations, drawing nearly every legionary to celebrate the protege growing up. This year though, no one really noticed. The day came and went. A few birthday wishes from some people he talked too, but otherwise, no one really cared. Furious, he returned to his study, enraged. "Its all because of HIM. NOVOS. The NEW desert fox. What does Atilis even mean??" He pulled one of his latin dictionaries down and began searching for this word until- he finds it. He reads the english translation in horror. "They named me.. fat??? Pampered?? How DARE THEY?!? Is that all i am to them?? Some spoiled brat?? Just because i cant fight well- or any athleticism well- doesn't mean thats all that defines me!!" He flips through, looking for other words that would fit him better "Lacertosus, vinnulus, primum, primigenius, melius, SOLUM!! These! These are the names i deserve! What should have been!" He pouts to himself. He was a failure in there eyes. All because of his stupid clone. Novos was better than him in every way he thought.

On the flip side, Novos found Altilis to be the coolest thing since nuclear fission. He basically idolized him. He could often be found peaking in on what his brother was doing, hoping to pick up on just a sliver of his knowledge. He knew he was stupid, but was too embarrassed to speak up about it. He would often be shooed away but that didn't deter him from coming back. He had this deep desire to obsess over maps as he did, but could never figure them out. He always followed the commands Altilis gave when it came to battle, as he thought, "If Altilis thinks its right, it must be." And he was nearly every time. He loved his brother. He wanted to be like him, but not to replace him. Altilis though, saw his desire to be like him as a way to replace him. This wore down altilis. He had enough. He was old news, obviously. No one wants the uglier, fatter, spoiled, unathletic, outdated vulpes. The legion would be better off without him. Not just the legion, but the world. He was going to do it.

Its the night before his 28th birthday. He hikes his way to one of the mountain around The Fort and sits down and waits. He wields a pair of binoculars. He waits in only his shirt and undershorts, his robe, hood, skirt, pip boy, boots and socks removed. He periodically takes his binoculars to see if anyone is looking for him. He decides if no one would come to him before his 28th birthday was over, he would finish the job. The day goes on, and ends. The moon begins to rise as the sky darkens. Altilis feels at peace, incredibly sad, but at peace. He takes one last look around and spots a single torch wandering, seemingly getting closer. He reaches for his pip boy, taking note there was still a few more hours left in the day. After about two hours, he hears footsteps behind him. He doesn't bother to look. The mysterious person sits down next to him.

"Ive been looking for you, Altilis."

...

"I missed you today. I was worried about you. I asked around everywhere for you and no one said they had seen you since yesterday. One person told me they saw you leaving the fort, so i came looking"

...

Novos pushes a book over to Altilis.

"I got you this, happy 28th, Altilis."

Altilis takes the book. He's unable to read what it is in the night.

"Its about Canids. I know you like foxes and coyotes and all those creatures from before the war"

Altilis's voice is noticeably strained. Horse form not drinking all day and not speaking, and pained from his depression

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did. I mean you wear your coyote every day"

"No, that today was my birthday"

"Well... yeah. You are my brother. "

"No one else remembered. No one else cares."

"Don't say that! im sure the rest of the legion cares."

"The don't care like they used to. Im nothing to them now. Ever since you came. They like you better than me."

Novos pauses for a bit. He sounds noticeably saddened, as if holding back tears.

"Is that why you're up here?"

"No one would have noticed I was gone. No one would have cared. I could just walk of the edge here and no one would notice."

Novos pauses again

"I wouldn't be able to go on if you were gone"

...

"You're everything to me, Altilis. You're the coolest brother i could ever ask for. I know you dont like me as much, but i seriously dont know what i would do without you. I wouldn't be half the man i am without you."

Theres a silence for a bit, eventually a soft cry is heard.

"Altilis?"

Altilis is choking up between sniffles as he speaks.

"I have been purposely a jerk for you for so long, why on earth do you like me so much?"

"Well..." novos ponders, "...you're smarter than ill ever be, thats for sure. You seem to have it all together. I see know though that you dont, but at least you can present yourself as put together. Me? Im always a mess."

"You were made to replace me, Novos. I'm not good enough for the legion. They want you, not me. No matter what I will do, you will always be better than me. You are what could have been me. Im just a walking, rejected garbage. Im worthless"

Novos strains in thought, not knowing what to do, as his intelligence is quite low. He does know one thing. He reaches over to his clone and embraces him in a hug.

"Never leave. Never. You are so special and talented. You dont need to be me and i dont need to be you."

Altilis lets his emotions get the best of him and just lets it all out. After a while, novos guides his brother down the mountain safely and back to the fort. The gained new respect to each, especially Altilis to Novos. They know frequently work together and Altilis whiling shares his interests work and other activities with his brother.

[thanatoseyes]

I'm pretty sure if I count the amount of times Faust writes out Mephistopheles it will equate how many times a lover says their partner's name.

[somerandomcockroach]

@keferon OKAY BUT LISTEN YEAH I would loved if it was just fun ehehehe and sassy flirting with the demon no one sees pfffht, literally summoned a demon just to flirt with, and I guess it could have been going for a long time, just little strips with their funny adventures and then plot can go to the fact that he wants to give him a body and Shockwave would agree or that they just stay the way they are and just hang out like this together (Alo I remember that you wanted to put Ratchet (I keep writing Ratched instead of Ratchet buuuh) and Drift in it as another demon and their summoner thing whghweghgwe but I like how you made two separate stories for them that happen at the same time, okay I am actually PRETTY MUCH invested in this story, I like a lot how it goes and gets tangled and how mixes up with idw ideas and other stuff a lot)

BUT NOW that you changed it that way, you made a few more things that reader might be interested a lot in, like that promise he made and you mentioning that he will regret it, how their relationship progressively develops, plus the fact that Blurr was a frivolous slob gifted with dark magic AND how the tables turn upside dow and he get consequences for what he did in the most unpredictable way for him and how he surely changes in his behaviour, getting more and more concerned about his promise and maybe truly loving someone for the first time in his life and wanting to change something. And then figuring out that that same demon actually was a person before, someone he knew, someone respectable, kind, shiny, absolut sun of a person, who died (I am still on my knees waiting to know how exactly he died...) miserably to the point that he absolutely can't stand his life as a demon and NOT EVEN being able to kill himself!!! And Blurr was a pupil in his school, he saw him, he gifted him an ability to make his magic work for him, gave the freedom to live among everyone to all who was poisoned with this dark magic. OH WAITA HGSDHAG the thing that beastformers can't walk among transformers and the fact that dark spellers also could not, and how these events happen at a close times, OKAY so dark spellers got their kind of freedom thanks to Senator Shockwave (OH MY GOD what if Orion can see Shockwave and will recognise him right away COUGH) BUT I am wondering if beastformers will get some kind of an official declaration or some kind of school to be educated in and I wonder if Deadlock/Drift (I think after leaving he will change his name from the last episode...) will volunteer to be a teacher t be something more, or he will just end up with Ratchet wandering around the world, or maybe there will be a whole damn revolution where all monoformers and beastformers leaded by Drift go against the system, and maybe these events happen at the same time as a Senator Shockwave fighting for the rights of gifted... Okay I'm getting carried a little bit ahsghag excuse me... OH I GOT carried away A LOT I wanted to get back to the point that Blurr, now figuring out the past of Shocwave, dealing with all the events, dealing with what he has done and find a way to free them, at the same time STILL having adventures and fun since I'm sure he can be a good mood lifter to moody Shockwave and even see him in a really good mood since he is... well, not just a demon made of hatred but the wonderful kind of person in his previous life... (okay being carried away but what if Orion might declare the freedom to beastformers (AJHGAJHSDJAH OH MY GOD I IMAGINED JAZZ AS A PANDA HAVING A ROMAN WITH PROWL AND PROWL NOT KNOWING ABOUT IT OKAY SORRY) after seeing what it lead to after Senator Shockwave. And maybe Ratchet will be able to get his sign back freely after revolution will be successful or he will be forever blind just to be free and safe with his husband OKAY LISTEN I think it is obvious that I really like the thing you do....

[zukkaoru]

the disparity in kudos between a skk fic and a fic for literally any other bsd characters/ship :/

[quietwingsinthesky]

I NEED YOUR OPINION ON SOMETHING REAL QUICK. Should fem Rory have long or short hair

thinks about this for a minute. she has long hair for all of s5 until she dies, and when she’s brought back, she’s also brought back as a man, picturebook perfect to be a roman soldier, and accordingly, her hair is shorter than it’s maybe ever been in her life. (amy also still recognizes her. of course she does.) anyway, she still chooses to stay in this body, alien as it is to her but no more than the plastic, really, and does so for 2000 years. her hair doesn’t grow. when people tell stories about the lone centurion, they’ll call her a man, they’ll say him, but it’s just Rory, protecting Amy, like she always has.

it’s after the big bang and the wedding and running away with the doctor (again) that rory starts to feel. uncomfortable. can’t put her finger on it, but then again, there’s always that looming dissonance of having lived two lives, one a plastic toy soldier and one a regular woman growing up. and. oh, you know what? her hair’s long again. and she’s looking at that, thinking about that, obsessing about that, because the whole of it—all two thousand years adjusting and bargaining and living in a body that wasn’t hers, suddenly being shoved back into the one she died in, like moving back into an old apartment full of cobwebs and dust and knowing where all the furniture used to go but wondering if you really want to drag it back into place—is too big to look at.

so a little bit into s6, she gets Amy to cut her hair. shorter than it’s ever been in one life, quite close to how it always was in another. amy’s very careful with the scissors. there’s a weight to losing her hair. maybe freeing later, but halfway through, she doesn’t freeze up because she’s a million miles and years from home and god, what if she goes back and her own family doesn’t recognize her- Like they couldn’t, like she doesn’t still have her own face and voice, but maybe she tried to approach them once, knowing it was a bad idea, and they looked at the lone centurion like a stranger.

amy calms her down again. all the long locks are cut, so it’s just about evening it out now. the gentle buzz of amy shaving up the back of her neck. the tiny rumble against her skin and the instinct to relax under amy’s hands as she trusts her to do this. and it is gonna end up a little messy and uneven. but i think rory likes it. or at least, that it’s familiar and it’s hers. and i think she keeps it like that the rest of her life. especially when they get sent back in time and there’s no way a pair of lesbians are gonna have it easy back a hundred years. but a husband and wife and their kid? well, that’s a different story, and rory is good at playing a role to keep amy safe.

does that answer your question?

[defeateddetectives]

was having natsume's book of friends vs. matoba's book of enemies* thoughts again while waiting for the subway earlier today as one does and thinking about their default standing at the start of not just the series but also their lives and then throughout

many others have written probably far more coherently about this being a story about different takes on legacy which never ever stops to fascinate me but the way that natsume starts his life born as grandchild of reiko who vanished into obscurity but was immensely powerful and able to make contracts with immensely powerful yokai (often after beating them through either simple friendly games or trickery but never cruelty) and grows up with no real sense of connectedness with family until much later and inherited this collection of contracts that he now takes it upon himself to release them from these contracts as a way to restore the balance :)

and matoba who is born into notoriety into the strongest clan of exorcists (who by definition eradicate yokai) growing up with an identity impossible to extricate from his family and inheriting threats and curses and immense power that the entire exorcist community counts on him to uphold even as they hate him for it on top of inheriting mistrust from human and yokai alike what with the inability to make a contract because of his name alone and inheriting a legacy of violence and cruelty and so has continued to perpetuate it because there seems to be no other viable alternative to maintain the status quo of remaining the head of the strongest exorcist clan which is supposed to be his one (1) job :)))

[*the matoba seiji pov series that lives in my head]

[mermaidsirennikita]

always a disappointment when you're reading a romance novel and they're getting down to it and the heroine is all "oh wait I'm sorry I'm on my period" and the hero's like "oh it's okay let's cuddle :)" instead of doing this

[heronchild-haven]

Them: A line can‘t break you.

The line: “Whatever else happens, don‘t hate me, James. Please. I don‘t think I could bear it.”

[nervetower]

doodles of an insane au idea i had

(more in tags)

[lostandbackagain]

annoying people love telling you it's your fault if a book is confusing and boring