#coming back to add a thought to this—I get what you’re saying. And transmascs do experience unique forms of discrimination

[321sluggie]

Hey, considering the majority of people use “transandrophobia” to mean either 1) any transphobia specifically against transmascs or 2) the intersection of transphobia and misogyny that affects transmascs, I would really reconsider your thoughts on it in light of your sexism/pedophilia post

Ok

[sister-lucifer]

Eager Hands On Soft Flesh

Ticci Toby x Chubby!Transmasc!Reader 

My half of a trade with @pompeiisystem !

Genre: Smut

Summary: After you let slip that you’ve got your fair share of insecurities about your body, Toby simply can’t pass up the opportunity to appreciate every bit of you. 

Content/Warnings: Body worship, Reader’s body is focused on but I specifically chose NOT to use the word “fat,” Reader is insecure about their weight but Toby is there for reassurance, fucking against the kitchen counter, unprotected penis in trans masc vagina sex, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), messy pussy eating, cumming inside, praise, use of “cunt,” “pussy,” and similar variations to describe Reader’s genitalia, Toby has a dick piercing but it’s only briefly mentioned 

“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”

The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. His tongue clicks involuntary, neck jerking in all directions as he tries to process what he’s just heard. 

“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 

“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should—“ 

“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 

“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was just thinking—“ 

“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 

You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles as his fingers tense and twitch despite his best efforts to hold onto you, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”

You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 

You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 

You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.

You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.

“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 

“Toby, what are you—“ 

“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”

Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 

“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 

“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 

He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 

“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 

The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 

You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 

You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.

“…Of course, Toby.”

He takes only a split second to process the words before suddenly he’s roughly suckling and nipping at the flesh of your neck. You yelp in surprise, but not discomfort. You bite your lip as you grip his hair, trying to keep him against you. 

His hands freely wander your body, moving up and down your sides before slipping beneath your sweater. You suck in a breath when he gives an affectionate squeeze to your love handles, fingers greedily grabbing at the warmth beneath your skin. He groans as he feels you, entire body shuddering at the sensation of you beneath his hands. 

He moves so quickly, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear at any moment, like some invisible clock is counting down and the moment is reaches zero you’ll fade away. He grabs at you and sucks at your neck like he’s feeding on you, like your body heat is the only thing sustaining him. He needs you, and you can feel it in every touch. 

He pushes your sweater up to your chest before hands slide down towards the waistband of your jeans. Twitching fingertips fiddle with the button and then the fly, yanking down the zipper with such speed you were worried it would break. He pulls the jeans down around your ankles, not bothering to pull them off before moving on to your underwear.

He looks up at you, fingers tapping anxiously at the waistband. He licks his dry lips, mouthing a silent ‘Can I?’

“Yes, yes, please,” You reply without hesitation, nodding quickly. You gasp softly when he tugs your underwear down to your knees, exposing your now soaked pussy to the cool air and making you shudder. He can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from his lips at the sight. 

“S-So fucking beautiful…” He mutters through crooked teeth as he lowers himself slowly. Normally he would be eager to drop to his knees and service you, but just this once he’s taking his time. He’s methodical as he leaves a warm trail of kisses down your belly, letting his lips linger for a long few seconds before he moves down just a bit more. You watch with bated breath as he makes his way down until there’s no further to go. 

“…You know I-I love this-sss-s pretty tummy, don’t you?” He mumbles against your skin, looking up into your eyes. Your heart skips a bit when you nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Say it.”

“…I…I know, Toby.”

One corner of his mouth briefly quirks up into a smirk before an involuntary jerk of his neck and scrunching of his nose pulls it back down again..

He pauses then, eyes widening slightly with something you can only describe as admiration as his eyes trail down to your sweet cunt, wetting his lips on instinct.

You don’t have a second to wonder what he’s doing before suddenly his warm mouth engulfs your cunt. In a split second it seems all semblance of patience has left his body. You cry out, throwing your head back as your back arches. You instinctively push your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.

“T-Toby—!” 

Your fingers find his untamed thatch of brown hair in an instant, gripping tightly just how he likes. He moans as you call out his name, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. He’s an excitable, messy eater, lapping at your cunt with need and not bothering to try and hide the wet squelching sounds his mouth makes as his tongue slides in an out of you, lips curling around the mound of your pussy and the tip of his crooked nose bumping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck…mmh…” He groans under his breath, not once losing contact or pulling away, “Y-You have no idea how m-much— m-mumble, mumble— much I-I love this boycunt…t-tastes sooo, s-so— so sweet…could just…just— j-just eat it for hours…”

He’s slurring his words already, speech messy and scattered at the words carelessly flow between his lips and down his chin like water over the edge of a cliff. His mouth is already soaking, drool leaking from his mouth and gash combined with your slick arousal. 

You squeal when you feel his two of his fingers prod at your entrance, anxiously pushing through and wasting no time reaching as deep as they can. Your entire body tenses and your back arches involuntarily against the counter as his digits twitch inside of you, slipping in and out at an excited pace. 

“C-Careful, Toby,” You stammer. He gives only a quick nod in reply before pushing in a third finger, the tip of his tongue now flicking at your clit. A thick mixture of his own spit and the juices leaking from your cunt is dripping down his chin and running down his neck. 

The hand not nestled in his hair is bracing you against the counter, gripping the marble hard as you struggle to keep yourself steady. You’re resisting the urge to just collapse with each shockwave Toby’s tongue and fingers send through your throbbing pussy. His free hand is grabbing at your sides and hips, half trying to keep you up and half groping you for his own pleasure. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, stretching you as much as he can as he readies you to take his cock.

When he finally pulls away you’re struggling to breathe, chest heaving with heavy gasps as you recover. He stands back up to his full height, towering over you and not even bothering to wipe his mouth before he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You could care less about the feeling of your own viscous arousal against your lips; there’s no room for disgust in your lust-filled brain. 

Toby’s panting as well when he pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.

“You s-sss-see how sweet you t-taste?”

You mimic his gesture, tongue darting out to lick over your own lips. You shyly nod, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. 

“C’mon, b-bend over f’me,” He says, giving your side an encouraging pat.

You happily comply, laying yourself over the counter and arching your back a bit. You shiver at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling, then his fly coming down, and then that wonderful sigh of relief he lets out when he pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. Not even a second later his tip is pressing against your cunt. 

He leans over you, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“You ready?” He whispers, and you nod without thinking. 

He immediately pushes inside of you, groaning into your ear as you tense, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as his cock stretches you. The bulbous head manages to bully its way into your cunt, and you can feel the veins on his shaft as they brush against your walls. The crooked Prince Albert piercing adoring his tip scrapes against your cervix and pulls a drawn out moan from your glistening lips. 

Toby curses to himself as he bottoms out, finally pushing in as far as he can go. You can feel his cock twitching with need inside of you as it acclimates to your tight hole. He’s clinging to you like his life depends on it, fingers pressing into the ample flesh of your soft tummy and sides. 

A choked noise claws its way out of your throat as he slowly pulls back, your cunt squelching and dripping as his cock recedes to the head, pausing for a moment before pushing back in. You cry out with a broken call of his name, your plump body pushed hard into the counter that’s currently keeping you from collapsing into a heap on the floor beneath your lover. 

Toby’s lanky body practically engulfs yours as he ruts into you over and over again, slowly but surely getting faster with each thrust as he faces less and less resistance from your pussy, the slick canal gradually being molded to the shape of his cock. He’s huffing and moaning in your ear, not at all shy or ashamed to be vocal for you. 

“Nngh…I-I don’t think I’ll—Fuck! Shit!—I’ll ever— e-ev-vvv-ver get used to t-this perfect fff-fuckin’ boycunt…Goddamn…!” 

He’s grabbing all over your body, hands moving feverishly between your chest and stomach and hips as he squeezes every inch of hot skin he can find. 

“Sooo fucking h-handsome,” He sighs in your ear, “I’m s-so fucking lucky that I-I get to— t-to love you like this-sss-s…”

He can hardly get the words out between his desperate mewls, needy sounds that he couldn’t keep at bay if he tried. He’s drooling again, unable to focus on muscle control as his base instincts take over, screaming at him to just forget everything else and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. 

You reach up to gently push his cheek against your own, pressing a kiss to his jaw and making him whine. He turns his head to kiss you once more, tongue pushing past your lips and allowing you to taste the last remnants of your soggy cunt on his tongue. 

His cock reaches every bit of your insides, pushing in so far you swear you can feel it in your stomach. With each thrust he only speeds up more and more, rambling on and on about how amazing you feel and how badly he needs this perfect boypussy.

“So beautiful,” He chokes out, eyes starting to roll back in his head, “S-So fucking beautiful…all thick and p-perfect…fuck, a-ah—!”

He’s starting to lose his pace, and fast. One of his hands slowly slides down your stomach, his middle finger pawing at your clit. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and your knees nearly buckle beneath you, prompting Toby to tighten his grip on you just in case you can’t stand yourself up anymore. He rubs your clit in soft circles, just the way you’d taught him all that time ago. Just the way you like. 

“Nngh—! T-Toby,” You stammer, barely able to get the words out, “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…!” 

“I-I know,” He replies in a rush, “I-I wanna—want it! want it!—w-wanna feel you cum around me…p-please, please…?”

God, how can you deny him when he begs like that?

You start to push back against him in time with his thrusts, assisting him in sheathing himself inside of you and savoring the wonderful fullness. Your legs are shaking obviously now, and you have to fight to keep yourself up even with Toby’s help. He’s not too steady himself. 

He’s started to rub your clit a bit harder, no longer able to focus on keeping his pace steady with his fingers nor his thrusts. The constant shifts in pressure and speed are only pushing you to your release faster. 

He’s whining endlessly in your ear, slurring his words as he drones on and on about how handsome you are, how much he loves you, how grateful he is that he’s the only one who gets to fuck this precious little cunt. 

He’s barely keeping time now, any sense of rhythm forgotten as he desperately ruts into you over and over again. He’s almost at his limit, not far behind you. 

“Toby,” You gasp, “Please, I-I’m gonna—!”

“Do it,” He growls, “D-Do it, please, lemme f-fff-feel that pussy tighten around m-me…”

Just his words, the clear desperation and need in his voice, is enough to push you over the edge. You manage one last cry of his name before you cum around his twitching cock, cunt squeezing and convulsing as you struggle to cope with the wave of pleasure washing over you with more force than you were ready for. 

Toby curses under his breath and sputters out what you think is a warning, but you can barely hear him with the way your head is spinning. That’s what makes it all the more jarring when suddenly he’s releasing inside of you, the fullness of his cock replaces with the thick warmth of his seed spilling into you deeper than you ever thought possible. He groans as his thrusting lazily slows to a stop, leaving you both sweaty and panting. 

He releases his death grip on you, but keeps his arms around your middle. He nuzzles against your cheek with a sigh. He shifts slightly, and you cringe a bit when you feel some of his cum dripping out of you. 

“You’re s-so beautiful baby,” He mumbles against your skin, clearly just as fucked out as you are, “So fucking…p-perfect…my h-ha-handsome boy…”

You give him a tired smile, pressing a little kiss to his warm cheeks. 

“I know, Toby. I know.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[buttdumplin]

There is one detail you haven't discussed yet in preparation for your hysterectomy yet.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, comfort word count: 767

“We need to talk,” you say, ambushing them as they dig into their dinner.

Immediately, they all look up. Johnny freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, face pale and you’re willing to bet he’s stopped breathing too. Simon goes completely still, eyes wide with fear, his body stiff and bracing for whatever is about to come. Kyle looks down at his hands, thumb tapping each of his fingers, and you know he’s trying to backtrack to look for any mistakes they could have made, or any sign of you being unhappy. John’s mouth is tight, his eyes hard and clearly ready with an argument against what he’s worried you’re about to say. It’s when they all look at your hand, searching for the ring on your finger, the one with the four bands that represent each of them, that you realize what you said.

“No! No, god no. No. I just want to talk to yall about the recovery after the surgery,” you explain and they all visibly relax, though only Johnny is able to go back to his food.

Kyle is the first to speak, his voice wavering a little, “With all the prep we’ve been doing, I’m sure we’ve got everything covered, love.” It’s true, most of the last two weeks had been spent getting the house in order and buying all the things you thought you might need. It was a whole lot of moving around and fixing and replacing things.

“We’ve been keeping up really well with the laundry,” Johnny adds. He’s right. There’s only half a basket of dirty laundry currently waiting. The boys were doing a great job at keeping that pile small. “No, I mean we haven’t talked about sex.”

Their plates are for the most part abandoned, their eyes on you as they try to sort through their confusion. Quick exchanged glances between them provide no answers. 

“I’ll be out of commission, but that doesn’t mean yall have to hold back,” you tell them.

Brows burrow further and Simon is plain frowning. 

“You guys have each other, and those relationships are yours,” you clarify. Their relationships between each other are their own, and you’ll always stand by that.

“And you’re still a part of that,” Simon’s voice is almost angry, but you know him well enough to know that it’s concern that you hear. 

“Yes, but I don’t want you to feel like yall have to hold out because of me.” 

You look down at your hands, twisting the ring around your finger and picking a little too hard at the skin of your knuckle. You’d been nervous to bring it up, only gathering the courage once they were all sat together. It was one thing for you to not be able to have sex because of the recovery, and it was another to make them also deal with it. You don’t want to be that kind of burden. You don’t want to somehow outlive your usefulness.

John reaches out to cover your hand with his, stilling your movements, “It’s not a sacrifice. We’re not giving anything up by not having sex while you recover.”

Johnny’s voice is soft as he speaks, having pieced things together, “Sex is not a need. Hell, we’ve gone even longer than that because of work.” He chuckles lightly, trying to ease the tension around you.

“I could use my mouth and hands at least, even if I don’t get anything out of it. I could help,” your voice is small even to your own ears. 

“Sweet boy,” Kyle grabs you by the chin to turn to look at him, his big brown eyes warm with reassurance, “Anytime we’re together, it’s for the intimacy, for the affection and reciprocation. We can still have that in other ways as you heal.”

“And we’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves if absolutely need be,” Simon adds, the rest of the boys nodding along. Then much more quietly, you might have missed it if you were not so attuned to them, “You are much more to us than a means for sex, you know that.”

You can’t help the way you tear up, their words almost overwhelming. Kyle wipes away a few of the tears that do manage to escape. Chairs scrape loudly against the floor as the boys come around to crowd you, easing between each other to swallow you up in a group hug. The heat radiating from them cocoons you until they can feel your breathing even out. 

“Yall know they’re going to shave me for the procedure though, right?” 

[dailydegurechaff]

I wanted to know how do you interpret Tanya's gender. After reading chapter 58 of the manga i got the impression that she is definitely trans coded, but maybe thats just me

Very good question.

To be honest, when I think too hard about Tanya’s gender (and sexuality, for that matter) it gives me brain worms. Fun brain worms, but brain worms nonetheless. I can’t explain it. Everything she’s got going on is complicated as shit there’s way too much to think about.

Like, she was a man, but now she's a girl. But at some points she says she still sees herself as a man internally so is this MtFtM? How does that work. And if she accepts she's a woman now, is that just MtF or do we add more letters. More importantly: Was Being X being Transphobic or being the Greatest Trans Ally of All Time with the free divinely issued sex change.

Ok ok, jokes aside. Confession: I actually do not keep up with the manga, so I had to go find the chapter and read it first. Having read it now though, I see what you mean.

The conversation she has with the Salaryman/herself in that chapter really does read as essentially saying “I’ve accepted who I am now.” It’s a far cry from a much earlier part of the manga I remember where she has a breakdown about being a man/people seeing her as a girl.

A friend of mine was actually showing me stuff from more recent chapters of the manga (don’t know which chapter tragically, but I know it’s not currently translated to English) and from what I gathered of it, Being X was showing Tanya a dream of being back in her past life and in response she basically demanded to go back to being Tanya immediately. It is definitely not just you, I 100% see the trans-coding you’re talking about.

As for my personal interpretation of her gender, I touched very briefly on it once before, but I honestly think she wouldn’t want to label herself as anything. At first, this is out of hesitance and not wanting to acknowledge that anything might be ““wrong”” or ““different”” about her. Later on it turns into character growth, more along the lines of, “I don’t need the label to define me, I just am what I am/like what I like. I don’t care about it any more than that.” Yes this is 100% projection on my part. No, I won’t apologize for it lmao.

Of course, that's entirely my own headcanon. I definitely am not saying it’s the only way to interpret her, it’s just my personal thoughts. Especially since my opinion is subject to change on a dime depending on what I’m reading/working on myself. The Tanya gender is, in fact, transient, shifting like water.

Like. A transfem Tanya fic that focuses on her adapting to life in her new world and coming to discover she doesn’t actually hate her new body? I’d totally read that. I’ve seen a few fics that include that as a part of the narrative and those scenes of acceptance were among my favorite parts.

I get the feeling this is the route that the manga is going as well. It’s a bit of a shame that we don't have those aforementioned scenes in the light novel (or at least, I don't remember them), but I don’t think that Carlo Zen really intended that to be the focus/narrative in the first place. And honestly, I also think that’s a good thing because it allows for so much more room for interpretation and headcanon around Tanya’s character.

Anyway, the other direction is also compelling to me. A transmasc Tanya fic where, after feeling uncomfortable and hating how feminine he looks for years and years, he finally goes ‘Fuck this, I’m gonna go back to being a man’? I would read the fuck out of that too.

Could also be paired with him finally choosing to defect, where they think about it like, ‘Well there’s nothing to hold me back now, right? I don’t have to maintain appearances anymore. Also, since I’m defecting this would be a great way to hide myself. They’d all be looking for the wrong person. Two birds with one stone, how efficient.’ …Now we’re getting to fic ideas I won’t ever get to so it’s time to move on I think.

Semi-related to the Trans Tanya Concept, this actually brings me to a bit of a lore/headcanon/idea/question I want to present to the public for opinions. In Norden, during the inciting battle of the war, Tanya uses magic to “dope up” so she could enhance her strength and reaction time and kill pain. I took this to mean she used a formula to synthesize the narcotics/adrenaline hormone/whatever else directly into herself, right?

Can you see where I’m going with this? As long as you know which hormones to make, how they’re made up, and what quantities you need… Well, don’t you think magic HRT is completely possible? Of course, as I'm not sure it makes sense for Salaryman to have known the detailed specifics about it from the modern world, it would require a lot of in-universe research/science advancement for someone to actually do that, but theoretically...

The magic system in this universe has so much potential to be explored, I’m fascinated by what you can theoretically do with it. Although, this is long and off-topic already I think this should be the end, lol.

I think I talked too much? I’m sorry, you were probably not expecting such an answer. I told you, Tanya gives me brain worms (mental illness).

I guess the TL;DR is this: that kid definitely ain’t cishet.

[frenziedslashers]

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

[nevermindirah]

Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes​ is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

[thiskingdomwillendure]

Body & Soul

A/N: Uhhh, hi!! I've been writing since I was little, but I've never done something quite like this before, nor have I ever posted anything like this online.

Anyway! This is an Orochimaru x transmasc-nonbinary!Reader fic for @crybaby-writings, based on their post here . I hope this is okay, and I'm sorry it took me so long to post it!! Please note that Orochimaru is non-binary, so they/them pronouns are used. ****TW: descriptions of gender dysphoria, self-mutilation (maybe?), chest binding, binding too much, panic attack, allusions to human experimentation.... I think that's it, but please let me know if I need to add more!****** ~ Body & Soul, 1290 words You had been standing in front of the mirror for nearly an hour already. A deep frown was etched across your face as you stared at your body, more than displeased by what you saw.

Nothing matched. Everything was wrong. A wave of heat crashed over you. No, no, no, no, no. Your breathing came in gasps. Wrong, everything was wrong, you were wrong, your life was wrong. I can’t breathe. No, no, no, no, no, no – I can’t breathe – Your vision was tunneling; the black at the edges was creeping closer and closer to the center – you were dizzy, and hot and cold at the same time – you wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go, and you were rooted to the spot anyway. With a choked sob, you crashed to your knees on the floor. I am going to pass out. Or die. Your breathing was faster and much harder than necessary. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and wrapped the towel tighter around yourself. Your pulse was increasing rapidly – you were choking now –

Something cool moved under your hands. Your e/c eyes snapped open and you were face to face with a white snake, whose tongue was flicking over the tears that stained your face.

“Hi,” you croaked.

The snake blinked.

You cleared your throat. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

The snake reared and looked at you as if to say, you’re kidding, right?

You sighed and stroked the snake, who had draped themselves over your abdomen. “Did they send you?”

The snake hissed and nudged your chin with its head.

“Figures. They always know.” Your small smile was fond as you thought of your spouse. “Where are they?”

The snake merely stared at you.

“Lab. Right. Where else would they be?” You got up off the floor and patted the snake’s head as its lower body slid off you. “Thanks again.”

The snake blinked and slithered away.

You got dressed, opting to wear one of your spouse’s shirts (it nearly reached your knees, but you didn’t much care at this point) and an old, holey pair of pants. Comfort was what you were seeking, and you’d be damned if anyone bothered you about it.

As you walked through the long corridors of the hideout, you wondered what your spouse was working on now. They hadn’t spent much time with you over the past few weeks; you knew that they were training the Uchiha boy, but you hadn’t expected that the training would take up all of their time. The Uchiha had arrived about a year ago. His attitude made you want to slap the taste out of his mouth. However, you refrained from getting involved. You knew full well why your spouse had marked the boy, and you weren’t about to get in their way – especially since the Uchiha would ensure that you would have them with you for years to come.

You walked into the lab silently. Kabuto was looking into a microscope. Your spouse was leaning over a faceless corpse with their back to you. Neither of them looked up, but you knew that your spouse sensed your presence when their shoulders seemed to relax.

“Hello, dear.” Their voice soothed your nerves.

“Hi….” You came up behind them and rested your cheek on their back.

Their shoulders stiffened momentarily – they were working, after all – but they relaxed again a few seconds later. “What is troubling you?”

“Just….” You weren’t sure what to say. My dysphoria is so bad that I want to cut the fat bags off my chest myself. I can’t stand my hips and want to cut those off, too. While I’m at it, I’d also like to go ahead and hack off the roundness of my jaw to make it more masculine. You closed your eyes and gripped their shirt tightly.

“Kabuto, get out.” Orochimaru’s tone left no room for argument.

“Yes, Orochimaru-sama.” You heard Kabuto’s footsteps, heard the door open and close, and then there was silence.

Orochimaru backed away from the slab, prompting you to let go and move away. They disposed of their gloves, washed their hands, and then finally turned to face you.

You smiled a little. “Hi.”

“Come here.”

You walked over and immediately wrapped your arms around them, settling your head against their chest. You could hear their heartbeat, and it stopped the anxiety that was building again in its tracks.

Their arms came around you. “What is troubling you, my dear?”

“The usual,” you muttered. “It’s just… really bad today. For some reason. I don’t know why. I saw my reflection when I got out of the shower and I just….” Your voice stopped working.

Orochimaru gently tilted your head up. Your eyes met, gold against y/e/c, and they placed a cool hand against your cheek. “Growing it out?” they asked softly, referring to the y/h/c hair that was lining your jaws and upper lip.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s about the only thing that helps right now.”

Their thumb stroked your cheek. “Ribs aching?”

“Yes.” Your tone was bitter. “I’ll have to stop binding completely soon, I think.” You closed your eyes. “That’s going to be awful.”

Orochimaru was quiet. Their other hand came up and was lightly tracing your ribs. When you flinched, they settled their hand on your hip and brushed their lips across your forehead. “I… am sorry that I haven’t spent much time with you lately.”

“It’s all right, I know you’re busy.” You frowned and looked up at them. They weren’t the type to offer apologies. “Orochi—”

“I have been working on something for you.” They were watching your expression carefully. “Your dysphoria has been getting worse and worse. I cannot stand by and watch you suffer any longer.”

You blinked. “Okay…?”

“When you married me, y/n….” They had a faraway look in their eyes. “I—”

“—Orochi, you don’t have to say—”

“Hush,” they said, placing a finger to your lips.

You fell silent.

“I cannot… will not… sit and watch as my spouse is destroyed by a body that does not match their soul.” Their left hand took yours, their thumb brushing over the simple band on your fourth finger. “It is my job to care for you.”

“You do,” you blurted but they arched an eyebrow and you immediately closed your mouth again.

“You are not hearing me,” Orochimaru said quietly. “I can help you. I have been working day and night in order to do so.”

You stared at them for a moment and then your gaze cut to the faceless body on the table. Not only was their no face…but there were no features at all. No hair, no marks – nothing. The body was essentially a blank canvass….

Your mind raced and put two and two together very quickly.

“That’s my body,” you whispered.

“Yes.” Orochimaru’s hand tightened around yours. “It is yours, should you want it.”

You had so many questions, but you trusted your spouse – mind, body, and soul, you trusted them and loved them – and so you looked up at them, stood on your toes, and kissed them soundly. When you parted for air, Orochimaru’s forehead was leaning against yours, his hands at your waist.

“Would you like to proceed?”

“Yes, please,” you whispered.

The corners of their mouth tilted up into a small smile.

“I love you,” you told them.

“Oh, my dear. If only you knew.” They kissed your forehead and then slid out of your arms and went to the door.

“I think I do know,” you said as you watched them.

They flashed you a toothy grin over their shoulder and then wrenched the door open. “Kabuto!” they snapped. “Get the equipment… it’s time.” ~ I 100% believe that Orochimaru would only show their soft side with their significant other (and even then, it would take a lot of time and patience to get to that point).

A/N: So uhhh... yeah. That's that. Uh, if you want more let me know? I guess I'll take requests? Idk wtf I'm doing honestly please be kind haha

[writteninsunshine]

Very Good Bad Thing - Michael/Firkle Smith - NSFW

Title: Very Good Bad Thing

Author: Keith

Fandom: South Park

Setting: Unspecified

Pairing: Michael/Firkle Smith

Characters: Michael, Firkle Smith

Genre: Romance/Erotica

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 480

Type Of Work: One-Shot; Short Smutfic Challenge #1

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Transmasc Character, Firkle is Transmasc, Age Gaps, Oral Sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, A/B/O Dynamics, AU - Omegaverse, Alpha!Michael, Omega!Firkle

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: For so long, Michael hadn't even thought about it. He was glad that Firkle had never felt the same.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

Alright, so, I’ve decided I want to do some little 500 words or less erotic challenges, see if I can’t write some things that are short but nice. I hope that these turn out well, and if you’re disappointed with the length, you can always request that I add to it! I’d love to add to fics someone requested I add to!

I hope you all enjoy it!

South Park Fic Masterlist

Very Good Bad Thing

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Honestly, Michael couldn’t have had a better partner, not one that knew him better than this one. Firkle was all he could have hoped for in a lover, someone who listened, cared, and could keep up with his sexual appetite. As much as he had other lovers, and he was fairly good at that, he would always come back for Firkle, to Firkle, would do anything for Firkle.

And Firkle was just the same.

That pretty mouth turned into a full smirk, both sides of his mouth turning up in a rare smile after a moment and he leaned forward to lick the head of Michael’s cock. Oh, that was his absolute favorite sight, for sure, Firkle smirking and grinning at him as he sunk down his dick.

“That little smirk you do before you go down on me?” Michael purred, eyelids fluttering, “Mmm~ I love it.” 

The younger goth wiggled his hips a little, waving his ass in the air, before finally dropping all the way down to rest his lips in the neat nest of curls at the base of Michael’s prick. He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to hear that hitch in the Alpha’s breath, the little whine he gave in the back of his throat when he bottomed out in Firkle’s throat. 

Michael may have liked when Firkle smirked before going down on him, but Firkle loved whenever those wordless pleas left his lover; It always made this so much better, even if he adored giving head in the first place.

When Firkle finally pulled off of him, slurping softly at the head and licking along the crown, curious eyes glanced up at him, large blue pools with blown pupils only making Michael’s hips twitch.

“I love the look you give me when you go down, too… You’re beautiful. An atrocious Adonis.” Firkle whispered, his breath fanning out along the other’s cock. Michael shivered, pushing a hand through Firkle’s hair and tugging it lightly, pushing his head down and earning a soft, tender smile. He loved that look whenever Firkle let him see it.

“You’re such a beautiful, dangerous thing. I love having you on my cock anytime you want.” That was the closest he could get to saying ‘I love you,’ and they both seemed to know that. Firkle even accepted it, unlike Pete.

“I’m always happy to be on you, whether it’s my mouth or elsewhere. I adore being around you all the time.” Firkle admitted, licking at the head again as Michael hummed. Even if Michael didn’t know he was there, he loved to be there with him.

“And I, you… Now, why don’t you finish what you started?” Michael chuckled. Firkle’s grin made his heart flutter, his stomach pulling tight shortly after as Firkle stroked what wasn’t in his mouth, keeping his lips tight around the head. Michael could die happily, now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Alright, yeah, it’s short, but I wanted to write something somewhat smutty and small, just some little dirty vignette. I’ve been having a lot of fun writing big projects but something smaller is always easier to get out sooner. I hope you all enjoyed it!

Prompt: “That little smirk you do before you go down on me? Mm.”

[maglors-anion-gap]

Fic Writing Asks

Thanks to @samarqqand for the tag! Sorry for the late-ish reply!

how many works do you have on AO3?

I have 8 fics on AO3, with one WIP that I have been neglecting for Ages (so sorry to the anon who requested it, and to user findrahil for helping me beta in, like, march...), and three Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang fics coming very soon!

what’s your total AO3 word count?

Currently 36,972

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Mostly Tolkien. One sad MCU fic (it's not finished, please ignore it, I started it in a brighter era where I wasn't exhausted by the MCU movie industrial complex)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"Why Breaks Thou the Wand" - Gimli/Legolas (qpl) Tam Lin!AU

The MCU fic that I will not be linking to

"Your Mouth is Poison (Your Mouth is Wine)" - Celebrimbor/Sauron, the events leading up to the sacking of Eregion, also known as "how to bottom in the most manipulative and vindictive manner possible"

"There are Roses That Come Without Seeking" - Curufin/Finrod, midwinter masquerade celebration turned hook-up

"Turning Shadows Into Shapes" - Feanor&Fingolfin, brotherly loveloathing and the aftermath of Finwe's death

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Every single one. I don't get a Ton of comments so it's pretty easy for me to do and I talk non-stop so.... it's a natural instinct. I love to see what people have to say abut my work, and I love to let them know I appreciate their commentary

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Angstiest ending is hands down "Where the Spirit Meets the Bones" because it ends with Maedhros yeeting himself toward his doom... In general a very angsty fic because it's all about failed obligations, self hatred, and being a flawed person.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written a crossover, I haven't really found universes that I desperately wanted to smash together. The closest I'll ever get is AU works.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes but not on anything posted on my AO3. The commenter left me something mildly obnoxious, but when I checked out their profile they were a huge bigot. Bidoof's law for general assholery.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Yes. More often than not. Excuse #1: the pandemic is keeping me from being my slutty self and I am projecting. Excuse #2: self-introspection. It's no coincidence that my smut fic is most often either something I find kinky, or an exploration of my identity or something I want to communicate in my life. "Halos Made of Summer, Ribbons Made of Spring" was me exploring my attraction to women (when I still thought I was a woman). A lot of my other stuff was me coming to terms with being transmasc (though I haven't included trans themes in my fics yet - that's gonna change tho).

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! I don't think my stuff gets enough traction for that (rare-pair hell, my beloved). I also don't think I'd notice if themes were lifted from my work. I treat fandom like a soup pot. It would be rude to take the stock wholesale and say it was your own. That said, it's likely that at some point two or more of us are going to come up with similar flavor pairings. If you're inspired by my work, it's good grace to say so. But swapping ideas is pretty par for the course.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But you guys are always welcome to do so! I've been meaning to translate my stuff into Spanish, it's good practice for me and I know that fandom can be pretty English heavy.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I would like to at some point, I think the closest I've gotten is like, trsb exchanges.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Probably Fingon/Maedhros because of my penchant for self-flagellation and bad decision making. It's an old standby pairing for me, and I like its Romance, in the classical sense. Celebrimbor/Sauron is a close second because I like working through how I feel about deception and betrayal and really unhealthy love.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Um... I don't want to say the WIP that's currently languishing in my drafts. I have Got to finish it because I went out of my way to get people's opinions on it. Um, probably this thing I started for Gimli/Legolas, I don't think it was imaginative enough, I have a hard time being imaginative and it feels derivative. I need to significantly re-tool it.

what are your writing strengths?

Setting up a central theme, and characterization. I like implicit meanings.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue is hard, pacing is hard (it's really hard for me to read, so I always want to pare my stuff down when I should expand on it). Executive function is non-existent so the writing process itself is just. odious (/humorous).

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Ah, like adverbs and epithets, it serves a purpose (to indicate something specific). I think about a) can readers understand this b) is this respectful and does it fit the situation or characterization c) does it add something special d) do I have a good enough grasp of this language. For MCU fic I won't be linking I taught myself some very basic russian to include some russian dialogue because I wanted english readers to be temporarily out of the loop like one of the characters (like, in dramatic irony the readers know something the characters don't - I wanted a situation where the readers didn't know either). Don't go looking for that fic, my russian is embarrassing to me and others.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

The lord of the flies :( I was 13

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably "Halos Made of Summer, Ribbons Made of Spring" for managing to write something long and detailed :)

I’m tagging @galadhremmin @arofili @undercat-overdog @findrahil @dialux (some of you may have already done this, sorry) - this is the moment where I forget every single one of my followers and mutuals... I'm so sorry, if you're reading this please consider yourself tagged and back-tag me with your replies

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Ok so this might be long and unnecessary but I need to see if anyone has advice for me. I'm ftm I have been for about a year now. I am also at this point 5 months pregnant. Before I told my husband (super awesome supportive dude) we had been trying for a baby and I want to have a family with him. It's just dealing with the dysphoria that comes with it. I can no longer bind my chest and I had been on t before we found out and I made the choice to stop for my baby. Any advice on coping?

Lee says:

One thing that you may find helpful is packing, if you aren’t already doing so. We have a Packers and STPs post that can help you get started with looking into getting one. Packing can help make you feel a bit more masculine even when you’re not able to bind. Another thing is remembering that you will be able to continue your transition in the future- it’s been put on hold, but it hasn’t been stopped. If there are any trans support groups near you, or LGBT organizations, you may want to consider attending meetings so you don’t get isolated from the community. If you wear men’s clothing, you can start to just wear bigger sizes and see if you can pass as a chubby/fat man.

Since this is likely to be an emotion-fraught time, you might want to consider seeing a therapist to help make sure your mental health stays stable. You could try googling “LGBT friendly therapist [your town/region]” or “affordable therapy [your town/region].” You could also bring it up the next time you see your doctor if that’s soon or you’re able to get an appointment to see them, as they can sometimes refer you to other professionals.

If you can get a list of the therapists your insurance will cover, you can try emailing them or calling them and asking if they’re trans-friendly, or just make a first appointment with one of them and ask then. If they don’t respond positively try a different therapist. You don’t always find The One on the first try; sometimes you have to see a few of them until you find someone you’re comfortable with. Our Getting a therapist and being in therapy post has more info on that.

Things about pregnant trans guys and by pregnant trans guys:

Portland transgender man pregnant with son

@sid-n-squish​

Jewish transgender man gives birth and embraces life as a single ‘abba’

This Transgender Dad and His Husband Are Expecting a Baby

How I Became a Breastfeeding Dad – And Learned I’m Providing More Than Food

Breastfeeding as a trans dad: ‘A baby doesn’t know what your pronouns are’

Transmasculine individuals’ experiences with lactation, chestfeeding, and gender identity: a qualitative study

Trans Men Need the Competent Fertility Care I Never Got

A Pregnant Transgender Man’s Story

FTM Transition- Finding Out I Was Pregnant

@kaydenxcoleman

Labor of Love (book by same name)

Transgender Couples: Changing the Face of Family

Transgender man gives birth to baby boy

This Man Postponed His Gender Transition To Have A Baby

4 Off-Putting Messages We Send to Trans Men Considering Pregnancy

36 weeks pregnant FTM! Hello again youtube

https://www.facebook.com/groups/TransReproductiveSupport/ (A facebook group run by a trans guy who had gone through pregnancy)

http://www.transbirth.com/get-listed.html

Dysphoria:

How to pass as male

Guide to being read as male

Passing tips

Getting short hair

If you can’t start T

How to take your measurements

Men’s clothes sizes (US)

Transmasc tip to lower your voice

Video on lowering your voice

Hudson’s FTM Guide

Our Dysphoria Tips Masterpost

Grounding

Relaxation and mindfulness

Self-care

Distress tolerance

Emotion

Stress:

Tips for Coping with Stress During Pregnancy

Managing stress

Stress management

Problem/goal framework

How to relieve stress

Stress guide

Stress (NHS)

Self-help for stress

The 4 A’s

Dealing with the stress of being in the closet

Handling conflict and stress in a healthy way

Stress management tips

Time management tips

Recognizing stress

Anxiety:

Anxiety Masterpost

Introduction to anxiety

How to calm yourself during an anxiety attack

Coping statements for anxiety

Cognitive restructuring for anxiety

Anxiety guide

Worry self-help

Worry tree

Worry zones

Mastering your worries

How to handle worries

Facing fears

Decatastrophizing: The “What If” Technique (Worksheet)

Theory A/Theory B

Anxiety and intrusive thoughts

Challenging anxious thoughts

Depression:

Facing Depression During Pregnancy

Depression In Pregnancy

Dealing with depression

How to cope with depression

How to deal with depression

Motivation

Depression self-help

6 ways to reduce depression

Reality vs expectations

How to develop willpower

Clinical depression

Back from the bluez

Small steps

How to tell if you might have depression

Recovery

Kii says:

About binding- a full tank binder would put pressure on your stomach, so that probably wouldn’t work. A half tank binder may be safe, but the chest is generally more tender during pregnancy, and quickly changing in size, so you would likely have to buy many different sizes of binders to keep up with that, and it would likely be more uncomfortable. Lots of pregnant people wear sports bras, though, so you can look into that! I’ve found several people say that they couldn’t wear compression/high impact sports bras, though, because they were too uncomfortable.

Followers, anything to add?

illuminemo said: Hi! I’ve been pregnant and as for binding druring pregnancy: It depends on if you’re breastfeeding! If you’re planning to breast/chest feed at all, even with supplementing the answer is no, absolutely not, not even a little bit because it can damage the milk ducts from compression. However if you’re not planning to do that the answer is, to your comfort! I’m breastfeeding currently and stopped wearing my binder the second I found out I was pregnant but I remember even if I hadn’t there was no possible way I could have been able to I was so sore, as long as you are comfortable and no planning on breast/chest feeding it’s alright! Also only half tanks!

[sister-lucifer]

Eager Hands On Soft Flesh: A Preview

ticci toby x chubby!transmasc!reader

a fic for @pompeiisystem

content/warnings: insecure chubby reader, reassurance from toby, no real nsfw yet just a loving slightly horny toby who wants you to feel as handsome as he knows you are

“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”

The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. 

“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 

“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should, I dunno—“ 

“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table,  wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 

“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was only thinking—“ 

“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 

You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”

You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 

You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 

You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.

You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.

“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 

“Toby, what are you—“ 

“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”

Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 

“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 

“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 

He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 

“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 

The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 

You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 

You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.

“…Of course, Toby.”