#virtual ghost hunt

[doctorlavender]

Sunny Meadows Mental Institution | Phasmaphobia

[prismit]

finally finished getting all the starter evolution lines shiny WOOO

still need. to finish. the critically endangered hunts before pokemon bank eventually shuts down at some point. so many of them....

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim AU: (I'm fucking with the timeline)

Tim gathered evidence of Bruce being stuck in the time stream, sent it to the JL, and then fucked off to some remote place. He didn't help bring Bruce back and he never returned to Gotham.

He was done. Bruce, in this AU, was an absolute bastard to Tim (think 16th birthday but more). It was only after he got distance while chasing Bruce's ghost did he come to the realization that he didn't want to give up his newfound freedom and independence.

Sure, he was independent before, but it wasn't quite like this where he wasn't constrained by the Bats in some way. He was lonely, but he could make his own decisions without manipulation or consideration of the Bats.

Tim liked his new status quo and he'll be damned if anyone takes it from him.

So, he sent the JL the evidence and didn't look back. What they chose to do with it wasn't Tim's problem. He was right and he proved it.

[Side note: he's more successful at dodging Ra's recruiting tactics in this AU. Ra's tries, but Tim instead lures LoA agents to his side. After losing a good portion of his members, Ra's becomes more intrigued with what Tim plans to do. It's almost like Tim is an heir in training by utilizing LoA resources for his own goals. As long as Tim maintains a delicate balance of audacity and not pissing Ra's off, then Ra's leaves him alone.]

The JL, at first, ignored Tim's evidence. It wasn't until that whole zombie black lantern corpse thing, where they realized that the corpse wasn't actually Bruce or whatever, that they opened Tim's evidence.

They then realize that nobody has heard about Tim in a long fucking time. They don't even know where to find them.

Cue half the JL working to bring back Bruce while the other is trying to hunt down Tim (partly to apologize but mostly for Tim's abilities and information). This ends with them knocking on Tim's door in the middle of nowhere as he glares at them.

The JL assumes Tim has retired, but really he maintains an Oracle like presence around the world and travels on occasion to missions he needs to. Usually, he sends his agents out to do field work. He does regularly spar with them, though, to keep in shape.

Tim also assists WE virtually with Lucius until Bruce returns. He, on the side, revitalizes Drake Industries for when he inevitably has to step down from WE.

This morphs into him becoming a grumpy JL "civilian" consultant who JL members turn to when they need help with a problem or case deemed impossible (particularly when they don't or can't rely on Batman).

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 3

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- slow burn/case talk/yapping Spence

Part 2

In which you and Spencer help with a case virtually from his apartment after his hospital stay. 🧸 🖤

You had always thought time to work in mysterious ways. It could heal any wound yet allow it to fester. It could bring people together and rip them apart. Time was an enigma, especially to you. How much time did it take to recover from something like a near death experience?

How much time did it take to recover from trauma without allowing it to cripple?

“Y/N, my office,” Hotch calls out to you.

You’ve been on desk duty for a week, going crazy truthfully.

“Yes?” You ask when you see him.

“Reid is behind discharged today,” he informs you as you sit.

You don’t really know why you had to be called into his office for that information.

“The team is flying out to Atlanta. I’m going to need you and Reid working virtually. Are you able to see him home and work with him from there?” He asks.

“I don’t see why not, is this pertaining to the suspected serial down there?” All you knew was that people in the ghost hunting and supernatural communities were turning up dead.

“Yes, we will brief you via video chat while we’re on the plane,” Hotch nods.

You leave the office toying with a mix of emotions. You were eager to work on an active case, happy that Reid was being discharged, and nervous to see him.

Following that night you read to him, you recalled the quote in question that he had partially written.

One from Pride and Prejudice reading;

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

You had not mentioned it to him, nor had he said anything to you. When you showed up two days later with a copy of the book to read to him, he got agitated. He asked that you read something else or don’t at all.

It was strange, his behavior was strange. He had been happy to see you yet distant. Then you found that very same page with that portion of the quote crumbled up and thrown on the floor. Why?

You knew what that quote was about, it was about the moment Darcy realized he was developing feelings for Elizabeth despite not realizing it.

Your heart pounds as you think about it. Could he be feeling that way for you? Or you him? You feel your pulse in your throat as you recall the feeling times you stared to long at his waist or his hands. Perhaps listened too hard when he spoke because there was something soothing in his voice even when he was annoyed with you.

Why had that quote come to mind while you were reading to him that first night? And when and why did he trash it?

You were once again back to being irritated by him but not enough to hate him. You were more elated that he was better, that his voice was back, and that he was cleared to go home.

You had a feeling that he insisted on helping with this case. You were fine with that. You could do this, you would just push the strangeness of Jane Austen’s words and Reid away.

So you swallowed those feelings, cleared your throat and stepped into his hospital room for the last time.

“Time to go home,” you announce as you enter.

He was spinning himself around absentmindedly on the doctors chair when he came into view. He smiled, delighted most likely to be going home. He was dressed, freshly, and showered. Save for the incision scars on his throat, he looked like himself. You think the scars somehow make him more sexy but you swat the thought away as soon as it occurs.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” his voice is low and raspy.

You hadn’t heard him talk yet and it took you off guard. Not because he sounded hideous. Quite the opposite, actually. It came off as sultry, like he was half asleep. Shit.

“You’re welcome,” you grin.

You’re standing in the doorway still, aware that you’re not sure what to do with yourself. What was your problem? Damn, it’s just Reid. Annoying old Reid. The same brainiac Reid.

Yet sexier somehow, probably because he almost died taking a bullet in your stead.

You collect all of the discharge information and prescription for his liquid diet formula grossness and before you know it, he’s easing into your passenger seat.

“How long until you can eat proper solid food again?” You ask as you try to fill the calm silence in the car.

“They’re going to reevaluate me in two weeks,” he answers, his voice like sand paper.

“Sorry you probably should talk as little as possible,” you wince because it sounds painful.

“Talking strengthens the vocal cords,” he informs. “I came dangerously close to never being able to speak again. In fact about 73 percent of patients with this type of trauma lose the ability to talk completely.”

You smile to yourself. The way he needs to blurt information is so endearing.

Your phone pings with the BAU group chat:

“Wheels up in 30,” from Hotch.

“Okay we need to get the laptop set up at your place by the time they take off so we can sit in on the case briefing,” you punch the gas to ensure you get there on time.

Reid sits up a little in his seat.

“Are you scared of my driving?” You ask.

“No?” He lies. You narrow your eyes playfully but don’t respond.

You and Reid are patched in with Garcia and the rest of the team just in time. Reid seems slight uncomfortable in the wooden chair with the way he has to hold his neck so you help him with some pillows.

“Cara Lynch, Jane Wilbur, and Mason Riley all found murdered and dismembered in the old mill plant on the east side,” Hotch starts.

“Ten days later, James Marlon and Ryan Finch met the same fate in a separate infamously haunted place,” JJ says.

“Ghost hunting seems to link all of these victims,” Hotch says.

“Were they recording at the time of their deaths?” Reid asks in a gravely voice.

“Tripods recovered, no cameras or audio recording equipment. It seems the unsub took it,” Morgan answers.

“Manner of homicide?” You ask.

“Shot, with arrows in vital organs. Each victim shot twice,” Prentiss says as she flips through the photos.

Both you and Reid seem to wince at the mention of being shot. But neither of you acknowledge it to the other.

More details are shared about the limb removal possibly being a forensic countermeasure before the team starts spitballing profile points.

"The use of arrows by the unsub suggests a need for a sense of precision and control. Arrows are often associated with hunting, so the unsub may view their victims as prey. Additionally, the fact that the victims are ghost hunters could indicate a belief by the unsub that they are somehow deserving of this punishment. It's possible that the unsub sees themselves as some sort of vigilante, targeting those who they believe are meddling in the supernatural realm,” Spencer muses. His speech is slower but the team is patient with him, more in tune with what he has to say than usual.

“I would point of alternatively that the arrows symbolize a form of justice or retribution in the eyes of the unsub. The unsub may believe that the victims, in their pursuit of the supernatural, have disrupted the natural order or crossed a line that they deem unacceptable. By using arrows as a weapon, the unsub may be trying to send a message that their actions have consequences and that they are being punished for their perceived transgressions,” you add. Reid glances over at you but says nothing.

“Given the victomology I can believe that this unsub believes the ghost hunters have crossed some sort of line,” Rossi says. “Maybe he’s religious?” Prentiss asks.

“The-“ Spencer starts but you inadvertently cut him off. He’s unable to speak over you like he used to.

“Sorry,” you squeeze his arm but continue. Just as you start talking, his hand moves to your knee. “In Christianity, arrows can symbolize strength, protection, and divine intervention,” you say. You could continue but pause for Spencer to add his thoughts, your mind glitching at the contact of his hand on your knee. The jeans didn’t seem like enough of a barrier for how heated your skin became.

“The unsub may view their actions as a form of divine justice or punishment for those they believe are engaging in sinful or forbidden practices,” he finishes simply, and removes his hand.

He doesn’t seem upset by you speaking over him which is almost out of character. He wasn’t nearly as aggravated with you anymore. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned in this new attitude… or lack thereof.

The team signs off and you and Spencer are instructed to work on the geographical profile until further notice.

You find yourself absentmindedly inspecting his endless rows of books while he uses his protractor on the map. The geographical profile had been relatively easy to put together since there were only two locations.

The tension and silence stretches out between you, things unsaid. What was that?

You turn your attention back to him when he stands, placing photos on the white board.

“To go searching for ghosts only to become one, kind of ironic right?” You sigh and add to the board with him.

“Unfortunate, but the risk that urban explorers and paranormal investigators put themselves at in these locations is relatively high. It’s why I don’t personally see them as low risk victims,” he says.

“True but they aren’t a high risk, nothing indicating drug use, an inclination towards petty crimes, or sexual deviancy,” you reason.

“Trespassing is a petty crime,” he insists. You narrow your eyes on him as his long fingers press a magnet over a crime scene photo.

“And part of the job,” you retort.

“The same could be argued about shooting a bank teller during a robbery,” he turns to you with his eyes up. “Doesn’t make it any less a crime.”

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath fanning against your face.

“You-“ you begin, pointing your magnet at him.

“I what?” He taunts you, dares you to finish that sentence. The rasps in his voice goes straight to your head. He outwitted you, you both knew it. He plucks the magnet from your hand and slaps in onto the board.

“I’ve resigned myself not to compete with you anymore,” you smirk and step out of his vicinity which fogged your head.

“Hardly a competition,” he murmurs.

“What is with you?” You whirl on him. “It’s like you don’t know how to act all of the sudden. You want to be an asshole? Fine, I’m used to that. But don’t touch me and then turn on me. It’s confusing,” you explode.

He blinks, stunned by your fury. Then he smirks.

“I get under your skin don’t I?” It’s a cocky rhetorical question.

“Your mood swings do,” you bite out.

“I don’t think that’s it,” he drops into the chair and picks up a pen. “Did you know hatred and desire are two of the most powerful feelings we experience?”

You knew that, of course. Fine line between love and hate and all that.

“As such it’s easy for them to become intertwined,” he whirls the one around his fingers. He clocks you watching the movement, seeming to further prove the point.

“Are you speaking from personal experience? Or just yapping like you always do?” You take a step towards him. He raises his eyebrows.

“Yapping?” He laughs.

“Maybe you should stop talking, your voice is becoming hoarse,” you say indignantly. How dare he insinuate that you hated him and now want him. Neither were true. You think.

“What if I don’t? What if I decide to recite every word of the Lord of the Rings novels to you?” He lifts his chin, his voice teasing.

“You don’t have the gall,” you grumble in annoyance. Mr. Eidetic memory with his very own weapon. You lean place your palms on the back of his wooden chair, briefly glancing at the case file in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t…

"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…”

“Not another word or something awful might befall you and you may end up in the hospital again,” you flick his ear.

He lulls his head back and dramatically feigns choking to death. Before you know it both of you are laughing.

Somehow your hand ends up resting on his shoulder, causing the laughter to slow until you both were painfully aware of the physical contact.

You clear your throat and gesture at the file.

“What was, um what is her cause of death again?” You already knew but you needed to say something to distract from the sudden shift in energy. “Which organ was pierced…” you clarify.

He glanced back and upward at you, those eyes full of something you’d never seen from him. A sense of uncertainty, vulnerability, and need?

You’re unsure why, as though being controlled by a force outside of yourself but you trail your hand up his neck, gently massaging the back of his head. Goosebumps prickle his neck as he turns his attention back to the table. You don’t miss the white knuckled grip on the pen.

“All of them took an arrow to the heart, that’s a shared trait,” his voice is low, distracted.

“A signature?” You hum and run your fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. The strands are soft, moving between your fingers gently as you soothingly massage his head.

You hear him groan deep in his chest and he’s inadvertently leaning his head into your touch. You swallow hard, unsure about this sudden need to touch him. More than that, you wanted to hear other noises he could make.

“Second arrows hit various organs between the victims,” he leans forward from your grip to lay the photos out.

The absence of him causes you to frown, but you turn to the white board.

“He’s a skilled marksmen if he could hit them all in the heart in the darker locations where they died,” you state the obvious and write it on the board.

“Military training?” He asks.

“Not with bow and arrows, he may have had personal lessons. Ask Garcia to check with archery ranges inside of the geographical profile,” you say.

He shoots Garcia a text and places his phone down awaiting results.

You’re scribbling on the board when you hear him approach, he’s behind you, so devastatingly close that you can hear him breathing. His body heat warms your back, you falter but keep writing.

Now your body is tingling because he leans his mouth closer to your ear, fanning his breath across your neck.

“You spelled ‘toxophilite’ wrong,” he whispers. You flatten your hand over the word and smudge the blue ink.

“Maybe if you weren’t standing so close,” you hiss.

“Do you want me to move?” He reaches up and sweeps your hair back over your shoulder. You don’t respond, you stop breathing. Stop thinking.

You shudder when his lips find the soft spot of your neck, small kisses planted delicately until your own moan escapes you.

“That pesky line between hatred and desire,” he tutts and steps back.

You bite your tongue, after all you teased him first. The simple touch of his lips on your skin had your body heated up and your insides twisted with need.

You contemplated throwing the marker at his big head as he leaned over the table but refrained.

It was probably for the best because Hotch and Garcia rang in on FaceTime.

Whatever the hell was happening with you and Spence was going to take time. Luckily, the team had given you both the leeway needed to heal. Who knows what’ll happen in the mean time.

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

A Sting in the Way You Kiss Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written, raunchy smut, Dom/sub dynamic, p in v, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), prostate stimulation

Summary: You and Daryl take the next step in your relationship. And it’s a big step.

A/N: Lawd, this took forever! I’m not 100% happy with it but happy enough to call it complete. I think I like Sub!Daryl. I’m sleepy now so I’ll proofread and fix errors tomorrow.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Daryl Dixon made you feel powerful. 

Given his nature, you could never be sure if it was intentional. From day one at the quarry, he was rude, standoffish, and vulgar. You found him difficult to tolerate, but hey, you didn’t get to choose the people with which you had survived an apocalypse. It was a random twist of fate that had brought you all together. Better to just make the best of it. 

So, you did. You made it a priority to get to know everyone in your group, saving the Dixons for last. Merle, you quickly surmised as a lost cause. Women, to him, were meek and fruitless, destined to die without a big strong man to ensure they were protected, fed, and bred like cattle to repopulate the earth. 

You found Daryl to be a tad more reserved. He only offered his opinion—usually loudly and to include several swears—when the conversation revolved around an important topic that would directly affect him or his brother. He otherwise attempted very hard to keep to himself. So when you began to follow him around, he naturally bucked against the idea. Still, you saw potential there and persevered. 

You took an interest in the things he was doing, namely hunting and trapping. He was a skilled tracker and a marksman with his crossbow. You started small, asking how the weapon worked. He had been skeptical and scrutinized you for sincerity, all with a glower in the span of five minutes. It was only uphill from there. 

When Daryl began to teach you his trades, he made sure you learned by doing. His only praise for getting something right was usually a curt nod and a “that’ll do.” By giving you weapons, having you track a buck that would feed the group for days, spear a fish, and skin and clean your own kills, he had put power in your hands. He had single-handedly molded you into a force that could survive in the new world. 

When it came to walkers, Daryl somehow knew things that others didn’t. “S’gotta be the brain! Don’t ya’ll know nothin’?!” You knew. Thanks to him. You had spent a lot of time in the woods, the perfect place to learn how to take down the undead. It was virtually impossible for them to sneak up on you. Too many ways to make noise if you weren’t actively trying to be silent. Once again, a weapon had been placed in your hand and you were thrown to the wolves…erm…walkers. The difference between this and hunting, you noticed, was that Daryl was never too far away with his own weapon ready. He knew how to make you feel independent without wagering your safety. 

The months and tragedies continued to pass slowly, each profound in their own way. Surviving was top priority and to continue to do so as time marched on became more and more of a victory. You lost people and homes, each leaving a mark on your soul that would never be erased, chipping away at your humanity bit by bit. Surprisingly, it was Daryl who kept you grounded. 

By the time you arrived in Alexandria, things between you and the archer had evolved into something just short of a romantic relationship. You had been sharing space with him for months now, falling asleep warm in his arms every night. You would show him affection in front of your friends and, though he scowled and grumbled, he accepted it. Kisses alternated between slow and passionate and long and needy, each accompanied by intimate touches that never seemed to go far enough. 

Today, you had been helping him with the bike Aaron had gifted him to keep him busy. He had shown you back at the prison how to make repairs, along with the correct name and function of each part. He was sitting beside you while you both diagnosed what could be causing the thing to sputter and die randomly. Your eyes were drawn to his muscles when he would tighten a bolt, and more than once, you had caught his gaze roaming up the length of your bare legs until he reached the hem of your shorts and quickly looked away. 

It was becoming a problem. An absolute dilemma that was resulting in a pulsing, wet need between your thighs. You chose to ignore it and focus your energy on the task at hand. Daryl, however, decided that he needed the wrench that just happened to currently reside between your lower thighs. When he reached for it, you were unprepared and reacted instinctively. You smacked the back of his hand before you even realized you had moved. He pulled back the limb with surprising quickness, wide blue eyes zeroing in on the red welt that began to form just below his knuckles. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed his hand to inspect it yourself. He let you pull it closer even though it meant he had to lean forward awkwardly. Your fingers brushed over the irritated flesh and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to the mark you had left. A chance look from under your lashes showed he still wore the wide eyes, but the brilliant blue was merely a thin ring around his dilated pupils. 

‘Oh.’ Could it really be? You had honestly thought Daryl just wasn’t into sex since the world ended. He had never made a move, never given you any indication that he was waiting for you to make one. Sure, your make-out sessions would get pretty heated, but honestly, things were always too hectic or dangerous for anything more. Maybe, just maybe, now that your family was safe behind the walls here…

You knew Daryl had lovers in the past. It was a topic of conversation once during a night watch before the prison had fallen. Your head was on his shoulder as you recounted — in more detail than he had liked, if his growls and grunts had been anything to go by — your average-size list. When it had been his turn, he hadn’t been as forthcoming as you but you at least surmised that he knew his way around a pussy if ever the opportunity presented itself. 

On a whim, you flipped his hand and let your lips whisper over his wrist next, drawing up your legs to sit on your knees. He still didn’t stop you while you moved up his arm with hot, open-mouthed kisses and kitten licks. Eventually, you needed to skip over his clothed shoulder (for now) and his neck became your next target. He leaned back slightly when you threw a leg over both of his to straddle him, unleashing an onslaught of attention over his carotid pulse. His breath hitched, his palms hovering over your hips but seemingly not yet willing to touch you. You would use that to your advantage at some point. 

Salt, smoke, and earth were mingling on your tongue. “I like how you taste.” You whispered in his ear, smiling against his skin when you felt him shiver. You leaned back to bring your face in front of his, fingers grabbing his chin when he started to look away. “I think we need to go to your room.” He swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing. 

You stood straight up from where you were on his lap, leaving your feet on either side of his hips and the apex of your thighs directly in front of his face. Once again, he tried to look away. “Don’t.” You ordered before you thought better of it. To your surprise, he stopped short and turned back, even as he scowled from being bossed around. ‘Oh.’ The things he told you without saying a word. “Don’t keep me waiting, Dixon.” You stepped back and then over, swaying your hips more deliberately than usual as you exited the garage. 

You didn’t turn to see if he would follow. If you were reading him right, he would. 

And you were about to have the time of your life. 

Entering the home you, Daryl, and Carol shared, you passed the staircase that led up to your room and stepped into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. You probably had a good ten minutes before Daryl would stop pacing the front porch and actually come inside. 

Descending the stairs from the kitchen, you opened the basement door and flipped the light switch. Even though you had separate rooms, you spent more time in his room than your own. The things you used most were down there. You slept there. Nothing was really going to change if this happened, right?

Pursing your lips, you shook the thoughts away and placed the water on the nightstand, twisting the switch on the small bedside lamp. After you turned off the overhead light, satisfied with the subtle glow left behind, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pausing just before you were going to lift it over your head. No. You’d stay dressed for now. Your boots came off, along with your socks, and you sat on the edge of the mattress and waited. Sure enough, after a little less than ten minutes, you heard the slow, heavy footfalls descending the stairs. 

He must have needed another moment because there was a silent span of about fifteen seconds before the door slowly opened and Daryl entered, already gnawing on his thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You beamed, crossing your legs and leaning back. The bowman nodded minutely, looking so adorably uncomfortable that you came close to calling the whole thing off. You did need to ensure this is what he wanted. If it wasn’t, you could live without it. You had him and he would always be enough. 

When he closed the door and didn’t take another step, you rose to your feet and walked toward him, adding that extra sway to your hips. It was a pleasure in and of itself to watch him watching you. When you were close enough, you started by pushing the open vest off his shoulders, smiling when he dropped his hand from his mouth to let the garment fall from his arms to the floor. 

“Daryl.” You purred his name, and his eyes found yours instantly. “I need you to answer some things for me, and I need you to use words.” You worked at the buttons of his shirt agonizingly slow. “Can you do that for me?” He nodded. You shook your head and tutted. “Words, Dixon.”

“Yeah.” He answered immediately in a quiet tone. 

“Do you want me?” A button came free. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you know that I want you?” Another. 

“Yeah.”

“Will you let me be in control tonight?” Your fingers paused when he hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah.” He may have hesitated but his answer sounded certain. 

You smiled. “I’m going to give you a safe word. If at any time, you’re uncomfortable or you need or even just want me to stop, do you promise me you will say that word?” Another button opened. You had zero intention of going very far, but it would never hurt to establish rules when you wanted so badly to play with him. And he was letting you. You feared getting carried away in the heat of the moment, and his safety and comfort were the most important thing in the world to you. 

Daryl inhaled sharply and nodded, following quickly with a mumbled “yeah.”

“And if at any time, you can’t speak and want me to stop, will you double tap somewhere on my body to let me know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good boy.” You felt his sharp inhale beneath your fingers while you finished with the buttons, opening the shirt but not removing it. You could see a few of his scars like this. Not wanting him to grow self-conscious, you stepped into him, tracing one with a gentle fingertip only to follow with your lips. “You’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?” Daryl shook his head. “Daryl.” 

“No.” He whispered. 

“Well, you are.” You let your finger continue upward to stroke his jaw before abruptly turning away. “First thing’s first.” When you reached the bed, you turned back to him. “The safe word is chupacabra.” A flicker of annoyance was immediate in his eyes. “Say it.” Your tone remained no-nonsense.

“Safe word’s chupacabra.” He drawled, trying not to sneer. 

“And what do you do if you need to stop and you can’t speak?” 

“Tap on ya twice.” The archer replied almost immediately. 

You cocked a brow at him. “Good. I need you to understand that I will never be upset or disappointed if you need things to stop. Ever.”

“Alright.”

You smiled at him fondly. “Good. Now, come over here and undress me.” There was that hesitation again as his eyes raked over your body, pausing at every curve just long enough to let you know he was appreciating what he saw. Finally, he stepped toward you. Once he had reached you, he again paused. You let him. He had touched every part of you before through your clothes. This was the first time he would see you bare.

After a few moments, he reached for the bottom of your shirt while you raised your arms above your head. The garment was pulled from you and tossed aside. Your bra wasn’t anything special. Something you had grabbed on a run a few months back; white and at least one cup size too small. You decided to do this part for him, unfastening the clasp at your back and removing the thing yourself. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, his gaze lingering on the newly exposed skin. Men and boobs, a tale as old as time. 

“Shorts.” You stated simply, a smirk firmly plastered on your face when he snapped out his daze and met your eyes. There was a slight tremble to his hands as he reached for the button, his eyes narrowed. You watched him and he watched what he was doing. Button open, he dragged down the zipper, and his eyes flickered up to yours. You gave him a nod. 

His thick fingers dipped inside the waistband at both hips, but just as he started to pull, you interjected. “Panties, too.” You heard the shaky inhale as he adjusted his hold to grip your underwear as well, lowering to one knee as he pulled both garments down your legs. They were quickly shed and kicked to the side and your hand found the top of his head when he made to stand. “I think I like you there.”

Daryl tilted back his head to see you, taking the hint and lowering his other leg so he was fully kneeled. 

“Good boy.” You breathed, feeling a pulse between your legs. You had wanted to do a few other things with him before really jumping into the fun bits but your needy cunt simply would not be denied. The mattress dipped as you sat in front of him, spreading your legs in an obscene display just to gauge his reaction. The blush that crept across his cheeks should have been adorable but only served to stoke your arousal. “Come here, Daryl.” A few feet separated the two of you, so it was only natural for him to assume you wanted him to stand. 

That isn’t what you wanted at all. 

“I didn’t say get up.” 

The archer paused halfway. The look he sent you had you wondering if this was where he would end this game. He’d say ‘fuck this’ and do things his way, pounding into you until you were red and sore and screaming his name through your release. The thought was appealing. 

You arched a brow when he lowered back to his knees, a quiet curse on his lips. Would he do it? The minute he leaned forward to place one palm against the floor, you thought you might cum then and there. Daryl Dixon was crawling toward you because you told him to.  

He stopped just short of your spread knees, one of your legs coming up to rest on his shoulder. He looked over at it but quickly turned back to you. 

“Closer.” As soon as you could, you started digging your heel into his back, urging him onward until his warm breath was wafting over your core. You bit your lip, reminding yourself of the role you were playing. Your first instinct was to beg him to touch you. No, not tonight. He’d have his turn. The thought of Daryl taking charge sent another sharp pang of arousal straight to your center, your cunt clenching around nothing. The way his eyes left your face and focused on the wet mess between your legs confirmed that he had noticed. You had to reel this in if you wanted to continue. Clearing your throat, you placed your other leg across his other shoulder. “I can’t decide if I want to feel your mouth on me or those fingers inside of me.”

You tapped your chin, feigning deep thought. You had every intention of utilizing both of those delicious options. Dropping your hand, you rested back on your elbows. “Let’s see how good you are with your tongue first.” Daryl gave you a look that would have melted your panties clean off had you still been wearing them. Goddamn, he was handsome, even more so when he was showing some confidence. 

Before your mask had a chance to slip, you felt his fingers spread you open but dare not venture between your lips. Blue orbs stayed on you when he leaned in and pressed his tongue flat against you, dragging it from opening to clit before pulling back to repeat it. The second drag ended with the tip swirling around your bundle of nerves. Sparks of pleasure jolted from where he touched you. You could feel it coursing through your veins like lightning, burrowing deep in your lower belly. 

He paid special attention to your clit, taking his sweet time alternating between flicks and swirls of his tongue to gentle sucking to grazing his teeth over it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back and your fingers tangle in his hair. Then he moved down, lapping at your opening with the same attentiveness, the wet slurps and appreciative hums pulling the knot inside you tight. When he dipped his tongue inside, pumping in, out, in and then wiggling it against your inner walls, you were already close to orgasm, panting and pulling against his scalp helplessly. 

He was moving back toward your clit and you knew if he made contact, you would spiral. Not a satisfaction you were ready to relinquish to him. “Stop!” You ordered breathlessly. He almost didn’t, the brat. His breath hit hard against the sensitive nub but he didn’t touch it. “I want your fingers inside me.” You kept your head back, staring at the ceiling. “Nowhere else.” Your climax had receded but it wouldn’t take much to call it back. 

You never had a problem cumming from penetration only, but it took time and effort. It would give you a moment of reprieve to gather yourself and draw this out a little longer. 

Or would it? 

You were wet enough for his middle finger to easily slip inside, the feeling of your walls pulling him in further earning a drawn out moan from somewhere deep in your chest. You raised your head to look down the length of your body. Thank whatever deity that Daryl was watching his digit move in and out of you instead of meeting your eyes. He felt so fucking good. 

Your legs pulled toward you, leaving your ankles balancing on his shoulders and your thighs opening further. You couldn’t fucking help it. “Another.” You demanded and he immediately obliged, drawing his finger nearly all the way out so that his index finger could join the onslaught. “Mmm, so good,” You praised. Your hips began to roll in time with the slow thrusts of his hand, the hot coil that was low in your belly getting tighter and tighter. 

The sounds that filled the room were a testament to just how soaked you were, and they were only becoming more prominent. It was no longer about how long you could keep this up. Your body ached for release, your mind too clouded in a euphoric fog to care. 

“Make me cum.” You looked down again and his eyes met yours as he lowered his head, drawing your clit into his mouth. He sucked the swollen bundle and flicked it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers curling each time they pushed inside of you and tapped that sweet, soft spot that had your toes beginning to curl. 

“Yes, yes, right there. Don’t stop!” And he didn’t. He increased his efforts, humming around your clit. “I’m gonna cum!” You had no more than uttered the words when the coil inside you snapped and released wave after wave of intense pleasure; a wildfire of sensation burning through you while you cried out his name and pinned him against you with your thighs. Daryl didn’t let up, collecting all you offered as your cunt pulsed around his fingers. 

“Shit,” you murmured, your body going limp. Fingers carded through the archer’s hair while he pulled free from within you. He directed the digits toward his lips. “Let me.” The command came out breathless and shaky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Daryl appeared almost sad that he was losing that last taste of you, but he did as he was told and leaned forward to press his fingertips to your bottom lip. You sucked both digits into your mouth, your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Goddamn.” 

Your eyes peeled open to find the bowman watching you intently, those blue pools brimming with desire. You smirked and made a show out of opening your mouth and letting your tongue sweep across his skin, gathering every drop of your nectar. The man looked as if he was going to jump your bones. He was trembling from restraint, among other things, you were quite sure. With a hum, you pulled your mouth away. 

“Stand up.” The authoritative tone was back now that you were focused on a new goal. Daryl blinked, arousal replaced with irritation. His scowl deepened but once again, he obeyed. Rising up onto your elbows, you watched him stand, flexing his fingers at his sides. Using the ball of your foot, you pressed into his groin, against his obvious desire. The archer hissed through his teeth but he dared not move. 

“Take off your clothes, Daryl.”

A smile crept across your face at how quickly he began following that command. His shirt was shrugged off in seconds and you couldn’t even be sure when his boots and socks had been removed, but you pressed your foot into him again when he reached for his belt. He stopped with a grunt. 

“Slower.”

If looks could kill, you’d soon be a walker. His hair blew away from his eyes with each hard exhale through his nose. Once again, you wondered if this was where your fun would end. And once again, he surprised you and began to follow your instructions. Your foot fell away once he had worked the belt loose and popped open the button. Your eyes tracked the downfall of the zipper, only barely concealing your excitement. 

His pants fell first and the regret of not demanding he remove those and his boxer- briefs simultaneously was immediate. Though his underwear left very little to the imagination in his current state. You met his eyes for a moment and raised a brow to urge him onward. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, Dixon.” You teased. Moving up onto your knees at the edge of the mattress, you barely waited until the last garment was kicked aside before your hands were on him. You wanted this experience to be positive for him, and while you had so, so much planned for him tonight, taking a moment to just appreciate how stunning he was wouldn’t hurt. Your lips found the skin just above his clavicle, sucking gently. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” You whispered before dragging your tongue up the length of his neck to his jaw. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real. And you’re mine.” Your hand wrapped around his cock just as your mouth pressed against his, allowing you to swallow the delicious whimper he offered at the new contact. You kept your grip loose, pumping him at a tortuously slow pace. His mouth fell open and gave you the opportunity to delve inside with your tongue, tangling it with his when he responded to the advance. His breath between the intricate dances of your mouths had begun to pick up, an excellent moment for you to pull away completely. Your cunt clenched in response to the whine he emitted. “Be a good boy and sit down for me.”

Daryl moved a little more slowly now, almost cautiously, watching you when you crawled up to the top of the bed to grab both of your pillows. Your feet met the floor just as he sat down. You circled around to stand in front of him, lifting your foot and wedging it between his knees. “Open up, pretty boy.” The archer snorted quietly as he complied. The pillows fell between his feet with a quiet sound, and then your knees dropped onto them. You wiggled a bit to get comfortable and looked up to find him watching with his head tilted and a dark brow arched. “What? I’m shorter than you.” 

His mouth formed a silent “oh” and he nodded. The adorable moment almost had you forgetting your role, but you were able to rein in your adoration just before the giggle could bubble up. To bring things back into perspective for him, you raised your hand and whispered the tip of your finger along the vein winding up the underside of his cock. There was a choked off sound, his hands balling into fists on his thighs. You splayed open the fingers of the same hand across his chest and gave a gentle push. 

“Lie back.” 

There was a deep, steadying breath and then he did as you ordered. Your fingers laced through his on both hands and moved them to the mattress, out of your way but still within sight. 

“These stay here.” You commanded without a single centimeter of room for argument. You felt him shifting and just knew he was nodding. “Words, baby boy.” You chose that exact moment to wrap your soft palm around the base of his dick. 

“Yes.” He finally answered in a rush of breath. You weren’t certain if he was responding to your words or your touch but decided to forego clarification. He wasn’t going to last long, so you were ready to play with him through that first release. Then your needy cunt could finally get its fill of him. 

“So good for me.” You purred. You pushed yourself away from sitting on your heels, bringing you just where you wanted to be. You released him quickly, rewarded instantly with him rising onto his elbows to see what was happening. The urge to reprimand was forced down. This was your first time with him and his first time allowing this. If he felt better watching, you’d let him. 

For now. 

Palm open, you dragged your tongue from wrist to fingertip, your lustful gaze never leaving his face. The way he watched you sent a surge of wetness dripping from your core. God, you couldn’t wait to fuck him. First thing was first, though. Your hand met his cock again, warm and wet and stroking from base to tip, a twist, and back down. He couldn’t watch you after all. You nearly laughed when he collapsed back onto the mattress with a groan. 

Movement in your peripheral had you looking to find his hands returning to where you had placed them. He must have realized he had moved them when he sat up. As a reward, you pumped him a bit faster. When you saw his chest heaving but heard nothing more than the harsh breaths, you found yourself pouting before remembering the power you had. 

“You’re so quiet, baby. Don’t you wanna let me know that it feels good?” 

He didn’t respond at first, and you wondered briefly if pushing him would be the right thing when he was such a quiet person to begin with. He had taken a lot of shit from you already and this just might be the straw that broke the camel’s back. So, you just moved on with your delectable torture. 

Your pace slowed significantly. There was no time for him to investigate, though. Your lips were immediately wrapping around his tip, sucking lightly and lapping at the opening to gather the sweet little drops of pre-cum. Oh, were you rewarded for that move. 

His fists white-knuckled the sheets, a guttural moan working its way past his lips. It was the absolute sexiest sound you had ever heard in your life. You closed your own eyes in restraint, almost cumming on the spot. You had to keep moving. Sudden pauses might have him second guessing what he had just done and you most certainly did not want that. He needed to make that noise. Often. 

Swirling your tongue around the tip, you pulled him back into the warm cavern of your mouth. This time, your hand slid down the length of him, followed by your lips. He pressed against the back of your throat and had you cursing your gag reflex when you couldn’t hold him there long. It didn’t matter to him, apparently. The simple move had his back arching and his cock twitching against your tongue as you dragged your way back up. 

You bobbed your head several more times, delighted in the way he began to writhe and twist the sheets in his fists. You gave him no warning and pulled off with a wet ‘pop’. There was that whine again that had your nethers pulsing. 

“Look at me.” You ordered with an authoritative edge to your tone. Daryl lifted his head, still panting through parted lips. “I want to try something. I hope it will make you feel good. But I need you to know that if it doesn’t, you can stop me. Remember what I said. I won’t be upset. Okay?” 

He nodded but followed it with a breathless “okay.”

“Such a good boy.” You kissed the weeping tip of his cock, parting your lips to pull him back into your warm wetness. With your hand and mouth stroking him at a steady pace, you knew he was ready to fall apart within moments. His cock began to twitch every few heartbeats. His breathing was uneven and shallow. He was a complete mess and you couldn’t seem to get enough. 

You used your other hand to cup his balls, not remaining there long. They were a marker so you could find just the right spot. Starting at the base of his scrotum, you applied gentle but firm pressure, dragging the pads of your middle and index finger back and forth to massage his perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside. Every ‘ah, ah, ah’ he fed you in response to the new sensation was a sound straight to your pussy. He definitely liked what you were doing.  

Once again, however, your greedy little cunt couldn’t be ignored, begging to be stretched and filled. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard, your mouth squeezing him all the way up and off. Your tongue slithered out to break the string of saliva that stretched from your lips to the head of his dick. “Mmm, I think that’s enough of that, pretty boy.” 

“Y/N.” He whined, keeping his hands right where you had placed them. 

“You’ve been so good for me, baby. Move to the middle of the bed.” He complied in eager yet jerky movements, lust blown eyes on your every move as you followed him up. You stopped with your hot center hovering over his groin. “Don’t worry, I��m gonna take care of me and you.” You lowered, grinding against and soaking his cock with your slick. “I want you inside of me. Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” Daryl reached for you but thought better of it and put his hands back on the mattress. 

“Look at you. Wanting your hands on me so badly.” You moaned as the tip of him slid over your clit, providing the friction you so desperately craved. “But waiting for permission. Would you beg for it? To be inside me?” 

His lips pressed into a thin line. Had you found the limit to how far you could push him? You drove your hips down harder, shifting back and forth, and he pressed his head into the pillow with a hiss. 

“Beg me for it. Beg me because I want it just as badly as you do, but you have to be a good boy.” His heart thudded wildly beneath your palm as you caressed the muscular plane of his chest, his muscles twitching and contracting when you scraped your nails over his abdomen. “Beg and I’ll let you touch me.” You dipped toward him, letting your hard nipples touch his heated skin while your lips sucked at the hollow of his throat. “I want to feel you moving inside me, filling me up, Daryl. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Y-yeah.”

You sat up, going completely still. “Then beg.”

You watched as the defiance left his eyes, replaced by pure, unadulterated need. His fingers flexed in the disheveled sheets, his jaw clenching and ticking with how hard he ground his teeth. You smiled as desire beat out pride. 

“Fuck, please, Y/N. Wanna touch ya. Wanna—wanna fuck ya. Need ya bad!” His expression morphed into something akin to desperation. “Please!”

“You can touch me.” 

He didn’t wait, large hands grabbing your hips; spreading his fingers as he dragged calloused palms up your sides to cup your breasts. You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. 

“Wanna be inside ya.” He breathed, one hand traveling upward from the swell of your chest. For a moment, you thought he might wrap it around your throat. The thought of him choking you was delicious, sending a warm gush of arousal from your cunt to coat his groin. He groaned and pushed his hips up into you. 

“No.” You breathed. “Be good for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“M’good—let me fuck ya. Please, Y/N.”

You hummed, more than satisfied, bending forward to drag your tongue from his chin to his lips. He opened eagerly, his own dipping into your mouth to taste you with abandon. You reached between your bodies, keeping your mouths connected, and positioned him at your entrance.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Every syllable was spoken against his mouth, your cunt stretching around him inch by inch, drawing him into your fluttering, wet walls while you swallowed his desperate groans and panting breaths. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You made sure to move slowly, inch by agonizing inch, taking several heartbeats before you had taken all of him. 

“God, Y/N.”

“I know, baby.” You were so full, stretched nearly to the point of painful but longing to feel him moving within you. He wouldn’t last long, but you wouldn’t either. You lifted your hips, feeling the drag along your insides in such a way that you needed to bite back a cry. “Oh, god, Daryl.” 

His hands settled in a bruising grip on your waist but he didn’t try to move you. You had promised to take care of him and he was letting you. But you couldn’t take it anymore. You began to ride him in earnest, bouncing above him with your head thrown back. 

“Goddamn!” He keened through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut. 

“So—so good.” You felt the heat twisting low in your belly, pooling toward your clit while he throbbed within you. “Touch me, Daryl. I wanna cum with you.” His hands squeezed your hips before he brought one of them to where he was splitting you open, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingertips brushed his cock slipping inside you. He barely had the coherence to drag through your slick up to your clit, but the moment the rough pad of his finger pressed against you, you saw stars. 

“M’gonna,” he panted, “gonna cum.”

“Me too.” You leaned forward, shifting into a brutal grind against his pelvis. “Fuck, Daryl!” The logical part of your brain screamed for you to move off of him, that you couldn’t risk him cumming inside you but you were both too far gone. 

Your vision whited out just as you heard him shout your name, his finger pressing against your clit harder than you were sure he meant to, but it was just what you needed: that perfect amount of pain to send you toppling over the edge with him. You barely registered the warmth flooding into you with each pulse of his cock. Or the way his hips jerked up while his hand squeezed your hip so tightly that his fingertips turned white. 

When you could see, could breathe again, his arms were around you and holding you against him while he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Oh my god.” You whispered against his collarbone. You were both covered in sweat, trembling. He was still inside you, drained and softening, when his arms fell away to the mattress. You sat up with a great deal of difficulty, your thighs burning from exertion and your cunt deliciously sore. You’d be feeling this for at least a day or two, and the thought was exhilarating. 

You lifted your leg to move away, feeling the mixture of you and him begin to drip out of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Obviously, he didn’t either, his eyes tracking you until you curled into his side. Sated and tired, you smiled and reached up to brush the damp strands of hair off his forehead, watching his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. 

“I’m gonna get something to clean us up, okay? And then we’re gonna drink some water. Then you can go to sleep.” When he didn’t answer, you turned his head to face you with a gentle touch against his jaw. “Are you okay?” Daryl took a deep breath, almost as if he had forgotten to breathe before it. “Use your words, baby.” You kept your tone soft, no longer playing a role. It was just you and Daryl now.  

“Yeah, m’okay.” He gave you the smallest lopsided smile and you knew he was still floating in that space between reality and euphoria, absolutely fucked out. You couldn’t stifle your chuckle. 

“Alright, just stay awake for just a few more minutes.” You patted his chest and then climbed out of bed to fetch a damp cloth. Daryl struggled but he managed to stay awake. He was silent as you worked, wiping away the mess on both your bodies. The sheets would need washed but that was not a problem you’d solve tonight. “Okay, baby, just drink some water for me and we can go to sleep.” If he had any objections to the pet name being used outside of sex, he didn’t voice them.

It took him a moment and a bit of struggling but he managed to rise up onto one arm, letting you tilt the water bottle to his lips for a few long swallows. Then he collapsed back onto the mattress. You drained the bottle and placed it on the bedside table, climbing out of bed one last time to fetch your pillows. The archer was out by the time you returned only a few short seconds later. 

You grabbed the duvet and pulled it up over both your bodies before curling into his side, smiling when he unconsciously pulled you closer and pressed a sleepy kiss against your forehead. He was done for then, breathing deep and even, sound asleep. 

You watched him until your own eyes could no longer stay open, a muttered “goodnight, pretty boy” before you fell asleep to the thoughts of next time, when he’d be in charge. 

[currentfandomkick]

Back-ish.

Took a bit to finish this as Work Hell and exhaustion (and editing for format ReasonsTM)

Enjoy, and let me know if there’s anything in particular you want explored next, and i’ll see if i can add it to the list for the drabbles (the characters hijack everything so no guarantees)

Masterpost Here

Contrary to popular belief, Skulker is good at his job.

He knows how to craft a perfect trap, how to hunt virtually every type of ghost, and has succeeded every time with enough persistence. The halfa was proving an excellent challenge and reminder that hunting took time and planning.

The issue was he also knew his prey was being hunted by another, and this one’s motives were unknown. This ectopus made it clear that it intends to drown the whelp in either form, and that. That annoyed Skulker.

He followed the rules of hunting. Do not go after pregnant entities, or those capable of during their respective spawning season(s). Only hunt what is permitted. Always release your prey if they are endangered, but you may take something to commemorate the event.

Skulker’s choice was the halfa’s first pelt. He’d grow a new one in a year or so, and it would give the halfa time to acclimate to the zone rather than guarding the portal and the whole of Amity so viciously.

But this Ectopus ignored the rules of engaging with the halfa—only treat Phantom and Fenton as the same person when the “ghost hunting”parents were not around. No need to put the child at risk long term.

Halfas were extinct in the realms far longer than most were certain of, a few reigns before Pariah at least. And Skulker was well aware most of the ghosts and Neverborn he interacted with were born well into the Age of Anarchy as Ghost Writer and the record keepers were so fond of calling it.

And it was only after Pariah’s ‘sleep’ began that the liminal population declined on the Living’s side. Apparently species like Sampson’s took quite the hit, most no longer existing. Sampson was one of two Purpler Back Gorillas alive.

Understandably, the liminal gorilla was frustrated. Non-liminals failed to comprehend ghost speak, their culture was almost dead due lack of population and they were treated more like a lab rat than a person.

That was before encountering the first liminal—admittedly halfas pushed the limits of liminality—she’d found existed besides herself. The whelp’s understanding of the language was basic, but he hasn’t had his first shedding yet nor did he seem to interact with other liminals often either.

Skulker was not idiotic enough to ignore the Whelp’s need for his ghost parent’s protection. It was the issue of getting Sampson around Amity to protect the whelp from this “Taco” ectopus that was an issue.

He made sure to bring a fruit basket from the Realms, and included a shedding from a birdlike entity.

Sampson snarled until he left the offering.

“I have news about your son. He is ill,” Skulker began.

Sampson growled ill???Howexplain

“Likely the overhunting from Taco the Ectopus, as the whelp calls them, but there may be other causes. He’s rather old now to not have undergone his first shedding—don’t look at me like that we both know he is—and is experiencing soul form regression. there are those in the Realms who can help.”

Sampson beat her chest. yesHelphow?

“We need to bring him to Realm’s doctors. He may need to reside in his haunt, or require treatment of a number of things. I am not certain, but this Taco may require independent capture and containment. The doctors will know better,” Skulker admitted.

goNOW

“… yes we can go once we have the whelp—does his core have a particular sensation attached to it?”

ColdbigHugemoving

“I’ll let the doctors know when we arrive. Do you want to bring him in his small form, or one of his usual two?”

smallEasycarry

“He should be headed to the aquarium tonight, shall I set up the blob ghost perimeter?” It was the easiest way to monitor one’s prey and lire away competition… and confirm whether or not this “Taco” is targeting the whelp personally or as an ecto source.

He’s hoping the latter, but has a sinking feeling it will be the former. And he will have to hide the stupid finned brat in his prosthetic…

He should see if his girlfriend or her friends don’t mind helping him distract the intruder from the whelp.

Johnny and Kitty are rather fond of their ex. And Ember is insistent on setting up more playdates between her frightmate Youngblood and the whelp. Something about them being ‘same font different hat’ that he didn’t quite get. Oh well, if it didn’t involve animals, weapons, tactics or hunting he rarely gave it much thought in life, let alone his afterlife.

With Sampson’s (terrifying) blessing, Skulker got to work.

Masterpost Here

Tags: @skulld3mort-1fan @theizzyof3malec3 @brattysleepyreader @sebas-nights @elidaweirdotaku0520 @bianca-hooks123 @the-autistic-spider @laurcad123 @just-lurking-here-dont-mind-meh @atinygracie @stars-obsession-pit @wanderwithwings @aibhilin-atibeka

[mcflymemes]

THE DA VINCI CODE (2006) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you say you hate history. nobody hates history. they hate their own histories.

we are who we protect, i think. what we stand up for.

that's why we study history... so we'll stop killing each other.

can you keep secrets? can you know a thing and never say it again?

how many have been murdered over this question?

if it's so important to you to stop us, then you're just going to have to shoot us.

understanding our past determines actively our ability to understand the present.

tonight, this will be our quest.

how would you know that?

you seem... uncomfortable.

you have me confused with someone else.

why would i try to run? i didn't do anything.

will you excuse me a moment?

i was supposed to have drinks with him earlier this evening.

i waited for over an hour.

i'm afraid the police arrived more quickly than i anticipated.

you must follow me, please. for your own safety.

you knew they were coming?

if you step inside, please. time is of the essence.

you have not been honest with me.

you will leave this house!

your ruse is pathetic.

will you just tell us what the hell it's for?

i've jammed my shoulder, i've been shot at... i'm bleeding.

if we are to get away from here, we must find another way.

you can start with him.

do not react to this message.

you must follow my directions very closely. you are in grave danger.

i could run them over.

i can pretty much remember what i see.

sorry for all the mystery, [name].

i'm into something here that i cannot understand.

you should be ashamed.

if you would close your eyes...

well, that's a bit strange, isn't it?

how many wine glasses are there on the table?

there's virtually no empirical proof.

that is what they want you to believe.

that's a common misunderstanding.

you are saying all this is real?

you are an angel.

i am a ghost.

have you ever heard those words before?

why are you asking these things?

i am the messenger of god.

every breath you take is a sin.

you will be hunted by angels.

you believe in god? your god doesn't forgive murderers. he burns them.

do you mock me?

we are betrayed.

did they find it? this buried treasure?

i've never heard about any of this.

this is an old wives' tale.

now you're a psychologist too?

what will you do?

it's a rudimentary phallus.

the only thing that matters is what you believe.

i thought i was going to die.

sometimes i wonder if i wasn't alone down there.

maybe human is divine.

thank you... for bringing me here.

the mind sees what it chooses to see.

do i owe you money?

care to open up for an old colleague?

first, a test of honor.

shall i serve coffee or tea?

what would you do?

maybe there is no proof.

surely such a travesty has never occurred.

your heart is true.

they are used to keep secrets.

you used me.

we've been dragged into a world of people who think this stuff is real.

do you trust this man? i hope you can.

i don't follow.

stop now. tell me where it is.

i don't know what you are talking about.

is it a secret you will die for?

well, i must say, you two are anything but dull.

forgive the intrusion.

i'm not sure how much help i'm gonna be here this evening.

funny, i don't even like history.

i've never seen much good come from looking to the past.

are you a god-fearing man?

you're acting like you lost your mind.

[orcboxer]

A common experience I have with my relatives is getting grilled about why I'm not a believer and eventually I gotta bring up that I still sometimes try to set up little experiments to get God to communicate with me (virtually indistinguishable from what they do on them ghost hunting shows) (this is fun for me) and of course I never get a response, I don't even get read receipts, so y'know, if he does exist he's wicked shy, but my relatives hear this and they always quote Luke 4:12, which is actually Jesus quoting Deuteronomy 6:16, where the writer says God says "Don't test the Lord your God your lord your God the God your test" and I guess my relatives have taken that to mean "don't do experiments on God" which is really funny on account of It Don't Mean That. in Deuteronomy, if you look at the context around the verse, it's talking about not pissing God off by doing evil shit, and in Luke, Jesus is replying to the devil who had just told him to jump off a cliff, which presumably pissed him off a bit. it probably isn't referring to scientific tests given that the scientific method wasn't a thing when it was written. one could argue that experiments make God angry, but one could also argue that Aunt Sue's dye job doesn't look that bad so really who's to say

[copperbadge]

I work for a nonprofit that deals in terminal diseases, so I google a lot of obituaries, and obituaries are an insane part of the virtual world and the weird panopticon in which we’ve found ourselves. I’m not even counting the obits with autoplay midi files when you load the page, like some kind of morbid MySpace. 

Say I’m looking for the obituary of someone we know has passed, call him Joe Weston, that’s a relatively common name. If I google his name plus the disease we know he passed from, I’ll generally find any obituary that exists for him with relative speed. 

But if I just google his name and “obituary”, Google tends to show me obits in a virtual geographic plotting -- it starts with obits of people with that name who are closest to the location where Google thinks I am, and radiates outwards from there. So unless it’s a famous person, if Google senses via my IP address that I’m in Chicago, it starts with obits in Chicago, then gives me obituaries in the burbs, then Illinois and Wisconsin, then Michigan, and so forth. I almost never search just the name and “obituary”, so I only noticed this because my work’s VPN is located on the east coast and if I’m on the VPN it starts my treasure hunt in Connecticut. 

What I’m saying is that I, a researcher in death, am surrounded by ghosts, and Google knows where they are. 

[doctorlavender]

Grafton Farmhouse | Phasmaphobia

[one-flower-one-sword]

Sending virtual hugs! 🌸

I’m wondering about your thoughts on Xie Lian and how he views Hua Cheng and the Gambling Den.

He expressed to Hua Cheng his concerns about how dangerous it is, and let it go when he understood that he and Hua Cheng have differing views on the matter.

It makes me wonder how things would have unfolded if the man who gambled to have his competitors die or give his daughter’s life and marriage if he lost, had been able to complete his bet without interruption. Like how much is Hua Cheng involved in something like that?

Would that man simply have walked away with the luck he needed to get what he wanted? I can’t see Hua Cheng actively hunting down and killing those people.

But I can see him allowing the man the luck needed to make his desires come true - so not actively engaging but not interfering with the man’s terrible decisions - kind of like with how he dealt with He Xuan.

I’m not completely sold on that thought though…😅 your thoughts?

Thank you! 🌸

And thank you for your ask! I love talking about Ghost City :3

I've thought about similar things regarding the Gambler's Den, but ultimately, I think it's on purpose that we don't find out for sure and are left to wonder. Especially since, at this point in the story, both the reader and Xie Lian are still slowly uncovering who Hua Cheng is as a person.

When we look at this scene after everything is revealed, I think it's quite clear from the mockingly derisive way he talks to him that Hua Cheng did not like that guy, and I wonder if he would even have taken that second bet if Xie Lian and the others hadn't been there - he seems to have a pretty good understanding of Lang Qianqiu's character when be talks about him with Xie Lian later, so I can see him use that second bet as a lure to make Lang Qianqiu cause a commotion. Because then Hua Cheng gets to "discover" that Xie Lian and the others are there, which means he has a reason to invite Xie Lian to Paradise Manor, which is necessary to make that whole "have them rescue 'Ming Yi' so that He Xuan's cover isn't blown" plan work.

As an aside, though of course Hua Cheng is always happy when he gets to spend time with Xie Lian, I think he must have deeply hated deceiving him like this. It speaks to how much he values his arrangement with He Xuan and how vital the information He Xuan provides is to him - which is proven when right after this, the whole Fang Xin reveal happens. Without He Xuan monitoring what's happening in heaven and relaying the information to him, Hua Cheng wouldn't have known that Xie Lian got locked inside his palace and couldn't have come to rescue him.

Back to the topic at hand though. I think it's worth looking at the actual dialog when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng discuss the den because there's so much in there:

After some hesitation, Xie Lian spoke up again. "San Lang, it may be out of line for me, but I still have to say it. That Gambler's Den of yours is incredibly dangerous. Won't it blow up in your face one day?"

A place that allowed the betting of sons and daughters and people's lives, granting wishes for others' sudden deaths - it was dreadfully sinful. Never mind a little brawl; if one day the bets got out of hand, the Heavenly Realm wouldn't be able to stay on the sidelines.

Hua Cheng gave him a look.

"Your Highness, did you ask Lang Qianqiu why he had to jump into that mess?"

Xie Lian was slightly taken aback, not quite understanding the intent of the question.

Hua Cheng continued, "I bet he must have told you that if he didn't do it, no one else would."

He was amazingly on the mark, obviously having seen through Lang Qianqiu.

"That's indeed what he said." Xie Lian admitted.

"Then I'm the complete opposite," Hua Cheng said. "If I don't control a place like this, then someone else will. I'd rather that person be me."

Xie Lian knew when to back down, and he nodded. "I understand."

It seemed, although Hua Cheng was the sentimental sort, he also cared more about control and power than Xie Lian realized.

It's fascinating that it we look at what Xie Lian actually says and thinks here, what he mainly seems to be worried about is what would happen to Hua Cheng and his friendship with Hua Cheng should Jun Wu be given reason to actively start going against him. Which is also what Xie Lian worries about during this entire mission - what will happen if it turns out Hua Cheng is involved with a heavenly official's disappearance and heaven retaliates, what will happen if he's not involved and Xie Lian has destroyed their friendship by deceiving him. It doesn't matter to Xie Lian that Hua Cheng is a Ghost King and that they're technically on opposite sides - he's decided based on his own experiences and judgment that Hua Cheng is a good person and a good friend, and he's already at this point very protective of him. Especially since he's not unaware that the heavenly realm in general and Jun Wu in particular do not share his opinion on Hua Cheng, and the political implications thereof:

Jun Wu turned around. "Tell me, what kind of extraordinary character did you engage with when you descended this time?"

Xie Lian raised his hand. "My Lord, I swear I did nothing. Just, one day by chance, I encountered an interesting young man on the road, and we spent some time together. I didn't think much of it."

Ju Wu nodded. "Chance encounter, young man, Supreme Ghost King. Xianle, surely you are aware what the consequences would be if Ming Guang was to question you further and you confessed to this in front of the other officials? No one would believe you."

"Xianle knows," Xie Lian replied woefully. "So, I'm grateful for My Lord's timely intervention. My Lord, you're not actually going to interrogate me, are you? I wouldn't collude with the Ghost Realm. These are absurd concerns."

"Naturally, I know you would not intentionally collude with the Ghost Realm," Jun Wu said.

"I'm grateful for My Lord's trust," Xie Lian replied.

Xie Lian is definitely stretching the truth here with the "I didn't think much of it" part, given that by the end of his investigation in Banyue, he damn well knew that the "interesting young man" was Supreme Ghost King Hua Cheng, and then he kept spending time with him regardless. He's very careful about protecting their friendship by downplaying it and being vague, and further than that, he's very careful about protecting Hua Cheng. We've already seen this earlier when Pei Ming was interrogating him - Xie Lian even pretended not to know who that "red-clothed young man" was because he rightfully deduced that Pei Ming would try to use Hua Cheng as a scapegoat to get Xiao Pei off the hook. Then when Pei Ming does try to pin the whole thing on Hua Cheng, Xie Lian immediately speaks up in his defense:

"General Pei, let's keep things clear and separate. Let's not talk about whether the young man I traveled with was Hua Cheng or not. At the very least, even if he was indeed Hua Cheng, that has nothing to do with what General Pei Junior has done. A Supreme Ghost King might have the worst possible name on people's tongues, but not everything can be blamed on him."

I find it very telling that the reason Xie Lian is being so carefully vague is less so he himself won't get into trouble and more that he's very aware that if Hua Cheng gets wrongfully accused, no one will question it simply because of who and what Hua Cheng is. And it's that kind of injustice and prejudice that Xie Lian will always stand up against. At this point he still completely trusts Jun Wu, but when it comes to Hua Cheng, Xie Lian not only disagrees but actively disobeys, though he's careful about how much of that he shows in front of Jun Wu:

Jun Wu shook his head. "I should not comment on the friends you make, but I will say this: Be careful of Hua Cheng."

Hearing this, Xie Lian bowed his head slightly, keeping his eyes down and saying nothing. He should've responded with "Yes, My Lord," as he should have been able to say yes with ease by that point. Yet, for some reason, he really didn't want to say that particular "yes".

Hua Cheng likewise also understands his and Xie Lian's respective positions and is careful not to endanger Xie Lian. Like here, when he explains why he put up somewhat of an act of not knowing Xie Lian because there were other heavenly officials present:

"Since gege is here, why not come in? We haven't been apart for that long, so don't be a stranger to San Lang."

At his beckoning, Xie Lian let down the beaded curtain. "Earlier in the Gambler's Den, it was San Lang who pretended not to recognize me."

Hua Cheng approached and stopped at Xie Lian's side. "Lang Qianqiu was there too, so if I didn't put on an act, I'd be giving gege trouble."

Or here when he's content to be accused of having maliciously kidnapped Xie Lian if that means Xie Lian won't be suspected of resisting his arrest and made to look guilty:

Xie Lian finally understood. Shi Qingxuan could see that Hua Cheng had no ill intent, but on the surface, they had to pretend that Hua Cheng had only barged into the Heavens to collect his due. It would prevent gossip from those how might suggest that Xie Lian had maliciously and intentionally absconded. Hua Cheng understood Shi Qingxuan's intent and had played along. However, Xie Lian didn't want to go this route.

"All right, stop acting. He only came to the Heavens to save me. San Lang had good intentions, so why conceal them?"

Hua Cheng does this to protect Xie Lian, but Xie Lian likewise wants to protect him. This has ended up quite long-winded, but I wanted to look for more evidence of why I think that Xie Lian mainly brought up the Gambler's Den because he's worried that the bets could end up endangering Hua Cheng himself.

Hua Cheng sincerely thanks Xie Lian for his concern, but makes it clear that he doesn’t quite agree, and I think it's worth looking into why that is.

I've seen Hua Cheng be described as completely amoral by fans, but I don't think that's how the text actually portrays him. He certainly can be quite critical and cynical with his views on both humans and gods, but his reasoning for establishing and keeping the den isn't "I don't care what happens there" or "I want places like this to exist for my own gain". He is, at least from his perspective and based on his experiences, simply being grimly realistic about how if he forbids these kinds of bets, the people who want to conduct them will simply move underground and do their gambling in secret. So not only will these bets happen either way, someone else will eventually take control of such a place, and Hua Cheng doesn't trust that such a person wouldn't take advantage of it.

Hua Cheng isn't amoral, he just has his own perspective on morality and justice. He's also not passive and uncaring in the face of what he perceives as wrong and unjust, but he doesn't really talk about that openly unless prompted. Like here during the Black Water arc, when they discuss the scroll with (supposedly) the names of victims of the Reverend of Empty Words:

Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng. "San Lang, you said it's full of outrageous mistakes. How so?"

Hua Cheng scooted over to him, they were now sitting much closer than before. Hua Cheng pointed at a few names. "These are wrong."

Xie Lian looked at the names closely; all of them were known to be lawless, malevolently evil tyrants. "How do you know?"

"Because I killed them," Hua Cheng said.

Hua Cheng deeply hates people who abuse the power they wield, to the point that he personally acts against them. I think this ties in well with his reasoning about the Gambler's Den. I don't think there's anything in the text that suggests Xie Lian is upset to realize that Hua Cheng cares more about power and control than he'd thought, just surprised - until he comes to Ghost City, Xie Lian has mostly been around the very laid-back "San Lang", and this is the first time he's encountered Hua Cheng in his own territory, where he's a Ghost King ruling over the largest settlement within the ghost realm.

Also Xie Lian doesn't know this yet, but given everything we later learn about Hua Cheng's past, I think it's quite obvious that Hua Cheng's preoccupation with the power and control he wields, as well as his contempt for those who abuse theirs, is rooted deeply in the trauma he's gone through. Control in particular is a huge thing for him for several reasons, one of the main ones being that as a child, he was repeatedly punished for things outside his control, and he internalized that pattern to the point where he now punishes himself for things outside his control, as is shown repeatedly when he decides he's failed Xie Lian in some way. But I'm going to go into more detail about this in my Hua Cheng + trauma responses meta.

Lastly, I think it's important to keep in mind that the text makes clear that even when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng disagree, rather than a point of conflict it's actually proof of how strong and healthy their relationship is. I've sometimes seen fans (not you) portray their relationship as Xie Lian being irritated with Hua Cheng's attitude towards others, having him either be somewhat grudgingly resigned to it or actively trying to change Hua Cheng's behavior. But when we actually look at the text, we realize that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the opposite is the case - Xie Lian is incredibly protective of him and repeatedly gets defensive when others judge and blame Hua Cheng. I'm gonna examine that in more detail in my hualian meta though, so for now, I hope this turned out a satisfying answer!

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

A very Spidey Christmas - 42!Miles

Pairing: e42!Miles Morales x fem!Spider!Reader hehehe green and purple aesthetic (Hobie, 1610!Miles, and Margo are here too) (1610!Miles will be highlighted to avoid confusion)

Word count: 632

Warnings: Spider-Man kiss! Hobie and Miles walk in on reader and 42!Miles kissing, awkwardness, Hobie being a bit of a prick?, 42!Miles’ nickname is Milo :) (inspired by @kyngjaice ‘s Mylo! <3)

A/N: guys this is my first time writing for 42 miles 😭 i have no idea how to write for him i’m just bumbling along fr 😞

“¿Cómo diablos…?” (How the hell)

You froze at the familiar voice coming from below you, embarrassment flooding the corners of your brain that weren’t occupied with finding a way out of this mess.

“Hey, Miles,” You tried to greet him by clumsily twisting around to give him a little wave. “This is actually very therapeutic. Wanna join me?”

“Look, ma, you know I love you, but this seems like a next-level dumbass move. How did you manage to get stuck tangled in tinsel on the damn ceiling?” Miles stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he craned his neck up to study the way your limbs were tangled together in the itchy silver decoration.

“It’s not just tinsel. My webs are up here too,” You chuckled awkwardly, watching Miles’ eyebrows skeptically sail up toward his hairline. “And don’t worry. This is, uh… a clever ploy to lull you into a false sense of security and get you to… show affection and loving concern. Yeah, that’s what this is. Stop looking at me like that!”

Miles held his palms up in surrender, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I assume you don’t need my help, then? I’ll leave you to… whatever you’re doing. Have fun-”

“Nonono wait, please - my arms are starting to hurt,” You gave him a pout and he sighed, already reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Okay, hold still.”

You saw a flash of silver, heard a small ripping noise as the tinsel around your limbs loosened, and blinked in surprise when Miles reached out and caught the blade calmly, the tinsel falling down with it.

You half-dropped down, shooting a web and hanging upside down from the ceiling so your face hovered only inches away from his. Before he could move back, you grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him into a kiss. It barely took a few milliseconds for him to melt completely into it, you noticed with a grin.

The sound of clapping split the still, silent moment wide open. Miles pulled back, his reflexes for loud sounds from being the Prowler kicking in. You turned to glare at the intruders, softening your gaze once you saw who it was.

“Sorry, mate, did we interrupt somethin’?” Hobie, to his credit, was trying his best to squash the broad grin on his face but wasn’t making any progress. Miles - the other Miles - looked mortified, trying in vain to tug at Hobie’s arm to drag him somewhere else.

Miles mouthed I’m so sorry at you, giving up and hiding his face in his hands like he wanted to disappear into the ground. “Not so ‘eartless after all, eh Milo?”

Margo suddenly appeared with a small flash of neon purple light. “Hey, guys, have you seen Gwen? She said she’d come Christmas shopping with me but I can’t find-”

The virtual spider-girl paused to take in the scene in front of her. The moment she made eye contact with (your) Miles, some telepathic message seemed to have passed between them.

“Okay, Hobie, Miles, who’s up for some Gwen-hunting?” At Miles’ exasperated expression, Margo quickly caught herself. “Er, Christmas shopping. But we need to find Gwen first and… you know what I mean. Let’s get going, shall we?”

She shooed both of them past your Miles, practically pushing them out of the room. “Simp.” She whispered to Miles as she passed him, giving him a smug little wave. “You owe me now!”

Miles glowered in her direction, subconsciously fiddling with the end of one of his braids. “Assholes,” He mumbled grumpily under his breath, though the traces of a smile hovered over his lips.

“He says while smiling,” You teased, detaching yourself from the ceiling and dropping onto your feet.

“Should’ve just left you up there.”

@vhstown @l0starl @tatumis-a @deritosmi @therealloopylupin2099 @hobiebrownismygod

[senkusimper]

katsuki bakugou headcanons but they're randomly generated

bakugou believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover.

it was supposed to be a chill sleepover at bakugou’s house, but as always, he had other plans. y/n, kirishima, denki, and sero sat around the living room, watching as bakugou set up his ghost-hunting gear with an intense look of determination.

"alright, idiots," bakugou said, lighting candles and setting up a ouija board. "tonight, we’re summoning a ghost for real. no screwing around."

"do we have to do this every time?" y/n asked, half-amused, half-exasperated.

"yes, we do," bakugou replied, glaring. "ghosts are real, and i’m gonna prove it."

kirishima chuckled. "come on, man, you don’t really believe in this stuff, do you?"

bakugou's eyes narrowed. "shut up, shitty hair. now, everyone, hands on the planchette."

reluctantly, they all placed their hands on the board. the room was silent except for the flickering of candles and the sound of their breathing.

"spirits, we summon you," bakugou intoned seriously. "give us a sign."

nothing happened. they waited. bakugou looked around, eyes darting suspiciously at every shadow. suddenly, denki yelped.

"something touched my leg!"

"quit messing around, dunce face," bakugou growled, though he looked a bit paler.

"uh, bakugou," y/n said, pointing to a corner of the room. "what’s that?"

everyone turned to look, and there, in the dim light, was a shadowy figure. bakugou’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, bumping into the couch.

the figure moved closer, revealing itself to be...a coat rack with bakugou's hero costume draped over it. the room burst into laughter.

bakugou bullies kids on roblox.

it was a quiet afternoon, and y/n found themselves lounging on the couch at bakugou's place, scrolling through their phone. bakugou was unusually engrossed in his laptop, muttering to himself and occasionally smirking.

"what are you up to?" y/n asked, peeking over his shoulder.

bakugou glanced at them with a mischievous grin. "i’m teaching these kids a lesson."

y/n squinted at the screen. "is that... roblox?"

bakugou nodded, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "yeah, these little brats think they can mess with me in a game. i’m showing them who’s boss."

y/n couldn't help but laugh. "you’re bullying kids on roblox?"

"it's not bullying," bakugou retorted, eyes still glued to the screen. "it's called establishing dominance."

just then, a kid’s avatar on the screen typed, "no fair! you're cheating!"

bakugou smirked. "get good, loser," he typed back, before launching another attack on the poor kid's virtual base.

bakugou sucks at saying tongue twisters.

it was a lazy afternoon, and y/n, kirishima, and bakugou were hanging out in bakugou’s room. kirishima had come up with a new challenge to keep things interesting: tongue twisters.

"alright, bakugou," kirishima said with a grin, holding up a card. "let’s see how good you are at these. say this one: 'she sells seashells by the seashore.'"

bakugou rolled his eyes. "easy. 'she sells seashells by the she-saw—'" he stumbled, glaring at kirishima and y/n, who were already snickering.

"oh, come on, man, you can do better than that," y/n teased. "try another one."

bakugou huffed and snatched the card from kirishima. "fine. 'peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.' 'peter piper picked a peck of pickled pepp—'" he fumbled again, his frustration growing.

y/n burst out laughing. "you’re really bad at this, bakugou."

bakugou's face turned red. "shut up! i can do it! just give me another one."

kirishima handed him a new card. "how about 'how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?'"

bakugou took a deep breath. "how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wo—" he stopped, growling in frustration. "damn it!"

y/n and kirishima were laughing uncontrollably now. "it's okay, bakugou," y/n said between giggles. "not everyone can be good at everything."

bakugou glared at them, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "whatever, you idiots. i'll get it eventually."

"we believe in you," kirishima said, clapping him on the back.

bakugou is very willing to eat inedible things.

it was a quiet evening, and y/n found themselves hanging out at bakugou’s house. they were in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry for something to snack on. bakugou sat at the table, scrolling through his phone.

"there’s nothing good in here," y/n complained, holding up a dusty jar of something unidentifiable. "what even is this?"

bakugou glanced up and smirked. "no idea. probably something old as hell. lemme see that."

y/n handed it over, watching in amusement as bakugou inspected the jar. without a moment’s hesitation, he twisted off the lid and scooped out a bit with his finger, popping it into his mouth.

"bakugou, what are you doing?!" y/n exclaimed, horrified.

bakugou chewed thoughtfully before grimacing and spitting it into the sink. "ugh, definitely not food."

y/n stared at him, wide-eyed. "why would you eat that? it’s obviously ancient and inedible!"

bakugou shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you gotta be willing to try new things. can’t be a coward all your life."

y/n laughed, shaking their head. "you’re crazy, you know that?"

here is the link to the random hc generator, have fun with it!

[toomanytookas]

Pedro Scouts Badge Roundup

My boring fact for the Summer Camp Sharing Circle was that I really like drinking water (and I've finally made it over the 10 badge threshold), so I feel like it's a good time to actually post how I've been collecting my @pedroscouts badges, which is on a virtual version of my ever-trusty water bottle!

We're visiting the beach because it was one of my favourite field trips when I would go to camp as a kid. 🌊

How have I earned my badges? Some of the reasons have a bit of a spoiler to them, so I'm hiding them under a cut (and have noted where the spoiler is so you can look away if desired)!

Current badges: 32

Badge of Highest Merit

😭🥹💕JDF is peeking in on my badge post because he’s very proud he got me this badge! I’m delighted to have earned it doodling him for Cabin 1: The Pedge Patrol!

Character Badges

Dieter - I'm finally caught up on replying to comments on The Gift, so I'm celebrating that by claiming the badge. Not only is it a Dieter fic, but it borrows the lovely world of @schnarfer's Dieter series, If Wishes Came True 🛁

Frankie - Sometimes you gotta explore the origins of a character and @chronically-ghosted's most recent Frankie definitely devastatingly does the trick 👻

Joel - I am obsessed with @janaispunk's ongoing series, safe and sound ✨

Max Phillips - brandyllyn's Frat Lestat series

Jack Daniels - something-tofightfor's On Deck

Din Djarin - djarins-cyare's Never Look Down

Genre & Trope Badges

Fluff & Smut - This badge is dedicated to my reblogs of @burntheedges's Maintenance Request. 🧡

Slow burn - My claim of this badge is for my comments on @secretelephanttattoo's Afterword. 💜

Only one bed - SPOILER ALERT - I was tickled to realise @freelancearsonist's Heart of the Cards meant that I earned this badge without expressly planning to! 💙

Songfic - katareyoudrilling's Javi G + Mahler

Hurt/Comfort - schnarfer's Nicest Things - Almost

Friends to Lovers - luxurychristmaspudding's On Call

Summer Camp Badges

Art is My Passion - art for Al's Go Your Own Way

Rainbow Tie Dye - luxurychristmaspudding's Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

Zipline - Adira's Eddie the Vampire Fluffbruary Ficlet

Saddle Up - schnarfer's The Cowboy & The Thief

Summer Camp Activities Sharing Circle | Teamwork | Scavenger Hunt + We Go Hard | Survival Kit |

Extras

Asknado! - I still have a few replies to respond back to, but I did successfully ask 10 questions.

FriendSHIP - I sent a bracelet to Cece and received the lovely one adorning my water bottle from @maggiemayhemnj 💚

Took the Pledge

Tumblr Life Badges Googled a term | Blocked a porn bot | Played a tag game | Sent a DM |Shared fanart | Got Silly in the Tags | Awakened a Kink

[tartrat]

Agent D (but said in the way the perry the platypus theme song ends)

I hated the hands and fabric, thankfully when i added the final shadows you can’t see how bad they truly are, I also forgot her black hair streaks, which probably wouldn’t have helped with the fact that they reds started to look like orange at some point. It was like the virtual boy came back for revenge. I also thought of putting blue transparent screens over her like the bridge from gimme more, but i decided against it because i just wanted this over with so i wouldn’t have to look at red again. I gave her Sunglasses because it just felt right for some reason, like most secret agents wear them.

Agent D is cool but she strikes me as the type of person to ghost you when she doesn’t want to help anyone who isn’t a part of her missions. Gimme more is a hard extreme, at first when the preview released it looked easy but then when you actually do it, it’s a nightmare. But its a great extreme (unlike say my name) and i want to learn it at some point

If they want to bring her back they could do If U Seek Amy, even though it would be very very unlikely given what the title spells out (then again Sweet Little Unforgettable Thing is the expanded title). It could be her going about in a bunch of different disguises whilst the enemy spies hunt her down.

I’m also planning to do more coaches in this sort of upper chest and higher portrait, doing different poses. I’ve made thumbnail sketches for ten of them. It’s just really for quick exercises. Stuck on either doing Scotty or Ari next.

Anyways I’m excited for the event tomorrow. I sort of had it in my head that it would be an early access event because 2025 releases on the 15th of October and its normally about a month and a half before release that the start showing the previews for the rest of the song list.

Dooby Dooby Doo Bah

Dooby Dooby Doo Bah

Agent D!