#;; not today not tomorrow ( v: alexandria )

[celtic-crossbow]

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.

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. 

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #sub daryl dixon #sub daryl #dom reader #dom fem reader #Spotify

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 2 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, mentions of past SA, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: I'm terrible at these, it's just more fluffy smutty stuff like chapter 1. No beta. 3.6k words.

They lay in the fading light, drowsy, him on his stomach, her on her side. Kristina had tucked an arm under her head and was tracing lazy circles and swirls on his back with her other hand. His breathing was slow and relaxed. She watched his back rise and fall with each breath. Sometimes the shiny scars caught the light. She was brave and occasionally traced one, outlined it, caressed it. But mostly she stayed away from them. She wanted him to feel her adoration not feel like a freak show for someone to stare at. She understood that feeling too well.

Their friendship had graduated quickly as a lot of things seemed to do in this new world. There wasn’t time to get to know people the way one used to. There had been a couple of nights of safety and beer with him. One night of utter drunkenness with some others in Alexandria. Mostly there had been stolen moments of respite between runs and work details and fear. She had told him a lot of things about her past and intuited a lot about his.

Daryl stirred and turned his head to face her. She smiled down at him. She felt so relaxed with him. Possibly she had never lain naked without even a sheet with anyone in her life. She was honestly amazed at how comfortable they both were.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked somewhat sleepily.

“Lots,” she replied. “Too much to say right now. Also thinkin’ about how perfect your ass is.” She drug her fingertips down to the hollow of his lower back but not quite to his ass. She watched a shiver run through him. Well it is perfect, she thought.

“Sure,” he replied. She could almost hear him roll his eyes. He brushed his knuckles over one of her nipples. He shifted to lay on his side and kissed her nipple, her breast, her shoulder, gently he kissed her lips. He let his lips linger and breathed her in. Then he rolled and stretched like a giant cat, arching his back and groaning. They weren’t young anymore and they would hurt tomorrow. The muscles they had used today were different than the ones they used when killing walkers. When he laid back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, she rested a hand on his stomach just below his chest. He was so tough, so taught. After all this time she was still soft in places, smooth, round. He apparently had no body fat, just exquisite muscle.

She liked touching him. She couldn’t get enough of him. But it nearly broke her heart to really see that his chest was as covered with scars as his back. New ones over older, faded ones. Dark, deep scars alongside barely visible ones. He was a tough motherfucker for sure. Not all of these were from something horrible and scary but how many were? She had so many questions. Which were made since the world ended? Which from before? How many from The Sanctuary? All horribly invasive questions that she would never ask, only wait for him to drop crumbs of information.

“What’s this from?” he asked and she jumped a little. Almost as if he had read her mind he touched one of her scars. It tickled when he did. It wasn’t large but it was noticeable. It sat low on her belly just to the right of center. It had a smaller, less obvious sister on the left.

“Oh,” she rolled half onto her back but didn’t pull away from his caressing fingertips. “Before everything, I had a partial hysterectomy.” She laughed a little. “I didn’t want kids and I had a condition that couldn’t be cured so they took out most of my lady bits. They left one ovary and my cervix. Because of my age I guess, pretty young.”

His eyes were wide but not judgmental. A little concerned perhaps so she explained.

“Endometriosis. A big word that means a lot of pain and bullshit but isn’t usually life threatening. Fortunately for us I made this decision ages ago and that’s why I didn’t freak when you didn’t wear a condom,” she smirked and winked at him.

“So ya can’t ever…?” he trailed off.

“Nope, no baby making equipment in there,” she grinned. She stroked his arm from wrist to shoulder, still trying to touch every inch of his skin. “It was definitely a perk after the world went to shit, no periods either.”

His hand rested on her lower belly, almost spanning the width of her. He felt like a giant sometimes even though she wasn’t particularly short and he wasn’t abnormally tall. She liked the illusion. She sighed, enjoying the weight of his hand, the ease of being with him. She felt his fingers tracing her scar again, finding the other of the pair, following the jagged lines of her stretch marks. Walkers were a great weight loss plan, she hadn’t always had this small body. And she had never let anyone touch those much less felt like she could almost enjoy it, especially with his rough hands. But it did still make her twinge with that familiar insecurity, just a little, and she felt herself accidentally recoil. Without missing a beat Daryl grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him, kissing her roughly. He held her for a moment, her laying on him, his hands on her ass, her head on his chest.

Her mind raced with all the things she wanted to do, say, ask, and then her stomach growled. She held her breath hoping it had been her imagination until he started laughing. It was contagious. He laid her on the bed, still laughing a bit while she giggled and covered her face with her hands.

“Hungry, huh?” he goaded.

She nodded and answered with a muffled uhuh behind her hands, more giggles. He stood up, grabbed some presumably filthy jeans from the floor, and yanked them on. She couldn’t help watching him, jeans sitting low on his hips, as he walked to the kitchenette.

He came back to the bed and plopped down. He brought what was beginning to be the norm for every meal: part of a loaf of homemade bread, some fruit, some meat jerky that was mostly just salt and probably venison. He sat, legs crossed, barefoot, hair a mess, no shirt, and looked as happy as a little kid with a new toy. He might not smell like he was still in the woods but he ate his food like he still was. This thought made her giggle and he looked up at her with a side-eye that sent her into snorts of laughter. She yanked the sheet over her lap as she sat up to eat before he inhaled everything.

“Chew often, Dixon?” she teased while trying not to inhale a bite of bread.

“I’ll teach ya to laugh at me,” he growled as he crammed the last of his bread in his mouth. She squealed and he pinned her down. Food crushed between them, flew off the bed. He continued chewing loudly and comically while kissing her sides, her stomach, her neck, and chest. His unshaven face tickled her even more. She raked her hands through his hair and laughed harder than she had in years. Her stomach and sides ached with laughter. He finally swallowed the last of his bread and took a deep breath, flopping onto his back with dramatic flair and a huge exhale.

Still struggling to catch her breath Kristina laid her head on his chest. They both stared at the ceiling, small giggles bubbling out of her occasionally. She felt around above her head until she found his arm and she hugged it across her breasts. He maneuvered the sheet down from her chest so there was nothing between their skin and cupped one breast.

Dog had padded into the room to investigate the commotion. He looked at Daryl with accusation.

“Ah shit,” Daryl groaned as he stood up. “Imma take ‘em out.” Before he stepped off the mattress he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She heard them when they came back in: some yipping and a lots of whosagoodboy. Daryl kicked off his boots before sitting on the bed.

“You got one of those nasty rolled cigarettes handy?” she asked.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he went into the living room and came back with a small leather pouch. Like so many guys she had known in high school and college were able to do with weed he balanced the components on his lap. Pinch, roll, lick, voila. He handed her the nearly-perfect cigarette and started working on his own. She scooted up so she was leaning with her back against the wall. Still naked, still relishing being comfortable naked. He lit his cigarette and held the flame out to hers then clicked the lighter shut. He was fastidious in a lot of his actions but not his housekeeping, he dropped the pouch on the floor and sat on the bed facing her. Cigarette clamped in the corner of his mouth he reached down and snagged an empty bottle off the floor for their ashtray.

She adored the way he sat cross legged and grinned at the thought that he hadn’t put his underwear on, grinned that she could take his jeans off and have him again if she wanted. She tapped her ashes into the bottle and picked some tobacco off her lips.

“Damn this shit is rank, Dixon,” she exhaled a cloud of the stale smoke. “But thank you for sharing.”

He grunted toward her, ashed, and took another long drag on his smoke. “It is but it’s all we got. Nobody’s tryin’ to grow anything ya can’t eat.” They smoked mostly in silence.

Kristina put her cigarette out. She stood up to go pee, wobbling a bit on her weak legs. She wasn’t going to take the sheet with her but wasn’t quite ready to walk naked in front of him. She looked down and spotted one of his button down shirts in the floor. She leaned over, holding the wall for balance. He was finishing his cigarette and watching her. She dropped the sheet, slipped the shirt on, and started to button it.

“Where ya goin’?” he mumbled.

“Gotta pee,” she flashed an almost embarrassed smile at him.

“Unh-uh,” he wasn’t smiling. “Take that off.” He tipped his head toward her, indicating the shirt. She groaned in her head, it couldn’t have been that easy. She slowly shrugged the shirt off her shoulders. She hadn’t had time to button it so when she shrugged it started to fall, catching only on her breasts and now-hard nipples. She tugged at the hem and it fell away completely. She was too aware of her breasts while she was standing, how different they looked from when she was laying down. Ugh she thought again because literally every body part she had she now wanted to hide. Wanted him to stop looking at her. He didn’t stop.

“Better,” he said. He jerked his head toward the bathroom and took a long drag on his cigarette. His sign that she was free to go but to do so she had to be naked. She wanted to die. Shrivel up and disappear. But she set her jaw and carefully stepped off the mattress. She was conscious of every imperfection and movement, feeling things she realized she hadn’t felt since before. She wasn’t angry with him exactly, not thrilled but not angry. She felt cracks in her armor. But she put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the bathroom, in reality only a dozen steps or so but in her excruciating thoughts it felt like miles.

He never took his eyes off her after he put out his cigarette. He shifted, adjusted for the increasing erection he was getting, his pants becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t close the door all the way and he listened to everything. Something about her allowing him to hear this excited him. He tugged at his jeans and tried to be still when she came back into the bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of her. She walked toward him carrying the lantern from the bathroom. He hadn’t even noticed that it was almost dark now. It cast an unusual shadow, lighting her from the side where the lantern hung from her hand. Her full hips, the slight slope of her belly meeting the curve above her naked pussy, he couldn’t look at anything but her.

She sat the lantern next to the bed. Before she could get back on the mattress his hands caught her hips and centered her in front of him. He was sitting so low that his eyes were almost level with her pussy and she blushed, hard. Her hands flenched to cover herself and he stopped them. Even in the dim light he could see her blush move down her face and neck and flood her chest. He looked up at her leaning in closer and closer. She was mortified but incredibly grateful that she had kept up shaving at every opportunity. She was pretty sure the end of the world had ushered in the revival of the huge bush but she couldn’t stand it. Somehow shaving her pussy completely felt like armor, powerful, and all signs pointed to Daryl Dixon liking it.

“Damn,” he sighed as he closed the distance and kissed her just above her clit. Kristina felt her head swim, thought she might pass out, and he had her wrists. She couldn’t hold onto him for balance but she also realized he would never let her fall. Her vision blurred but she forced herself to focus on his searching eyes. He was looking up at her. Disheveled hair, scruffy beard, heavy-lidded eyes, and he was kissing. Just kissing but she was shaking all over. And then it wasn’t just kissing.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, exhaling a hum against her. His tongue was slow and gentle. He had never done this before. The porn his brother used to watch didn’t make it feel like this. That stuff made everything look… gross. But none of this was, would be. This felt completely natural. She tasted wonderful, salty and a little bitter but he thought part of that was from their sex earlier, that if he did this first it would be nothing but salt and sweet and whatever this other amazing taste/smell was. He wanted to go slowly, not just for her but because this really did seem natural. He could feel her tremble while he held her. That he wasn’t entirely sure was natural but he was still learning to pay attention to her queues.

He paused and listened, looking up at her. Her breathing was shallow and not at all like how it had been before. This was more like gasping. He stood up and cupped her face in his hands.

“What did I do?” he asked softly, gently.

She shook her head in hands. “Nothing, not you. I need to sit for a moment.”

She sat down on the mattress and had the silliest thought Well fuck, that escalated quickly. She knew what to do but not how to communicate with him in this moment. Especially in a way that wouldn’t wound him, push him away, or make him doubt his instincts, his perfect instincts.

He didn’t reach to comfort her or hold her or touch her at all. He wasn’t afraid or anxious. He was confused and his brow knitted together expressing that but otherwise he was a rock, solid, reliable, there. So she took a deep breath and struggled to find things on her list: 5 green things or something similar. She did reach out for his hand while she scanned the room, sure she looked like a wild animal but not able to care. He held her hand or, more accurately, let his hand be squeezed. He used his other hand to pull the sheet over her. He thought she would want that. She finally mumbled the last brown thing of 5 because goddamn if Daryl didn’t have the most monochromatic life ever with only brown, grey, or black to choose from. This made her smile. She was coming back to herself, grounding. He noticed the smile and moved a little closer to her.

“Hey,” he whispered, searching her face for some clue as to what he needed to do. “Hey. Ya okay?”

“Um, yeah, I will be, I just need…” she mumbled. “Water maybe?” So of course he got her some. She gulped it and breathed and leaned back against the wall.

“Hi,” she opened her eyes and looked at him. “So I can explain that or we can pretend it didn’t happen and talk about it later but I have to tell you either way: not your fault.” She reached for his hand again. He took hers and gently, soothing, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“Ya can tell me anythin,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxed. “Imma good listener,” he teased her and they both smiled.

“Well, if you were anyone else, Daryl,” she said, “I probably wouldn’t but you are truly the coolest cat, no judgment, and ya have this fundamental understanding that life hands out shit nonstop.” She smiled to soften her words but he looked down at their hands anyway. God now she wanted him closer, pressed against her, wanted that small, safe feeling.

“Do me a kindness, Dixon?” she asked. “Come over here?” He nodded, let her hand go, and sat beside her, back against the wall. She was working up the words, the ways to speak around things, to communicate pretty awful shit without saying it. Plus she didn’t want to talk about it all night or have it tarnish everything they had done before. It was helping that he was next to her, gave her some stability as she stumbled forward with this pseudo-confession.

“So ya know how I told you I had seen shit too, like before, and we talked about some of it, or mostly I talked and you grunted?” she began, throwing him a smile to emphasize the teasing. He wasn’t having it and reached out and took her hand in both of his and just rested them in his lap.

“Well when I was young, younger than I want to say, but it’s important so I have to,” she watched Daryl’s jaw clench. “When I was four years old a man did things… I’m not comfortable talking about. You know what PTSD is?” She continued when he shrugged, yeah/kinda/maybe. “Well it’s a bunch of words that mean ‘something bad happened that fucked you up for a long damn time.’ Most people know it ‘cause soldiers get it from combat. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Means that a trauma was bad enough, wrong enough, that our brains can’t deal with it. Shit, I figure now everyone has it and it’s just the human condition but before it was a diagnosis. Anyway, short version, some people who have this get flashbacks, like the thing is happening again right then and there. Like those Vietnam Vets in movies who hear a helicopter and dive under a table. That shit’s not made up. That is fact. And it fucking sucks.” Her voice broke on the last two words and what she feared would happen, did. She started to cry silently.

God fucking dammit I didn’t want to do this, she yelled in her head. But perfect Dixon only waited and rubbed her hand. She sniffled and gulped some air. She wanted to get this done.

“One of the things he did to me I can see and hear and feel when the flashback comes and unfortunately it’s what you started to do. So I kinda go into survival mode, well my brain does, and I don’t get a choice.” She looked at him, tried to read something in his face this time and was startled to see his eyes were wet. He wasn’t going to cry but she knew then that he had them. She had suspected, as any good psychologist would, that he had PTSD from childhood trauma of some sort but she wasn’t positive his manifested with flashbacks. Now she was. Her protective instincts kicked in and she reached toward him, every intention to ease his pain but he intercepted her. He pressed her back against his chest and she curled her legs up next to his, not quite in his lap. He put both his arms around her and she let her head drop back onto his chest. She closed her eyes.

“So that was not anything you did. And hey, check this out,” she turned a little awkwardly to make sure he was listening. Satisfied she put her head back. “I want you to do it. I mean I really, really do. I want Daryl’s mouth and only his mouth on my cunt.” She felt his hips shift a little when she said the last word. “I just need to work up to it or have some notice. It’s perfectly normal and even wonderful that you want to do that. I just can’t do it without some mental preparation. Maybe you know things like that in your life, ya kind hafta get your mind right first? So yeah, too heavy for you?”

He took a deep breath and cautiously said “Heavy, sure, but I got ya.” He sighed and tightened his arms around her.

“So does that mean you still wanna go down on me? Try again soon?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, the gravelly words vibrating through his chest into her. “Hell yeah I do. Ya make me wanna do a lot.”

“Good, that’s the best answer a woman could hope for.”

Chapter 3

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #cw sa mention #tw sa mention #cw ptsd #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x ofc #twd fanfiction #demisexual daryl

[swan-of-sunrise]

"Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress: World Tour 2016 (A Spellbinding One-shot)" Sneak Peek

Hi guys! Here's a little sneak peek of a one-shot I'm working on set in the Spellbinding universe, centering around Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress' epic month-long trip around the world. Their visiting 12 libraries in 12 different countries, with exciting adventures, surprising appearances and plenty of romance along the way! Today's sneak peek is of a fun little interaction between the Cosmic Sorceress and our favorite Steven-With-A-V in Egypt, so I hope you all enjoy! (And I'm wishing you a lot of luck on your exam tomorrow @mostclevermiss 💜)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bibliotheca Alexandrina Alexandria, Egypt

"Now that's quite the view, innit?"

(Y/N)'s head snapped up from her cell phone but the scathing retort she'd prepared to level at the presumed catcaller died on her lips when she looked over at the man standing nearby; he was around her age, with a light olive-toned complexion framed by a wild head of dark curls and a muscular build almost hidden beneath the tee-shirt and oversized thin jacket he wore, and his deep brown eyes were examining the intricate carvings etched into the Bibliotheca Alexandrina's gray Aswan granite exterior. The awestruck expression on the man's face as he stood and took in the impressive architecture before him made (Y/N) smile and prompted her to approach him. "Makes you wish that the original Library of Alexandria was still around, doesn't it? There’s no telling how massive it would be today if the Romans hadn't burned it down."

The man emphatically nodded. "One of the world's biggest tragedies, that was; obviously not the worst of the lot, of course, but just thinkin' about all that knowledge and history and how it was just erased from the world in the blink of an eye by Julius bloody Caesar...well, I can’t help but think that all those senators might’ve been onto somethin' when they did the poor bugger in." She burst into laughter at his unexpected words and even he started to grin. "Yeah, I can’t say that I'm fond of those Romans. The Egyptians, though, they were bloody geniuses; they invented the world's first organized irrigation system, pioneered the use of canals and irrigation channels to water farm fields far away from the Nile River, built the pyramids by developing and using complex mathema-" He stopped talking and a sheepish smile spread across his face. "Sorry, I've just been prattling on here and I never properly introduced myself. My name's Steven, Steven Grant."

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." She shook Steven's outstretched hand. "So, what brings you to the Bibliotheca Alexandrina?"

"The antiquities museum, actually. I'm a museum tour guide back home in London and this museum's been on my bucket list for quite a while." Steven glanced down at her engagement ring before looking back up at her. "Vacationing with your husband? Alexandria's a great travel destination, innit?"

"My fiancée, actually, we're taking a month-long trip to visit a dozen of the largest and most beautiful libraries in the world. I'm a former trainee librarian, you see, and we first met at the library where I worked..."

Steven beamed. "That’s so sweet, like one of those Hugh Grant romantic comedies! Which other libraries have you two decided to visit?"

Before (Y/N) could answer, Loki walked up to them with two tickets in his hands and a curious gleam in his emerald-green eyes. "The next planetarium show starts in about a half an hour, darling, so that leaves us plenty of time to explore." He turned to Steven with a polite smile. "And I see you've made a new friend. I'm Loki, (Y/N)'s fiancée."

"Steven Grant." They shook hands but the British man's dark brown eyes narrowed in concentration. "Sorry, bruv, but have we met somewhere before? You look awfully familiar-"

"Loki of Asgard..." A disembodied voice called out, its deep timbre reverberating in the air around the three of them and causing a chill to go down (Y/N)'s spine. "It's been many years since we last spoke."

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Ooooh, seems like Khonshu might have some history with our favorite God of Mischief! Thank you all so much for reading, I hope that you enjoyed the sneak peek and will give the rest a read when it's uploaded!

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie99 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @a-laufeyson @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @mostclevermiss

#spellbinding #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #steven grant #marc spector #mr knight #moon knight #marvel cinematic universe

[spilledblood]

( @betterfather​ said: "you look like you iust saw a ghost." //😬 / spooky starters )

      A ghost would’ve made his throat less dry, would’ve been less of a shock. Easier to rationalize a ghost  — to call it a hallucination and move on ( maybe a stumble first, then to proceed forward ). But, there was nothing that could’ve prepared him for Shane’s appearance. He’d had to come to terms with what had happened at the farm, even if he avoided analyzing it too deeply. It was hard to reconcile the memories with the end.

      Hell, he thought he’d died that night, wore the blood on his hands because he hadn’t had any other choice.

      And now, he’s there. With them. The group’s in a fragile state, shaken by the Saviors. Rick himself feels like his jaw might break with the way he’s clenched it, like he’ll boil alive with the anger he’s suppressed to survive. 

     The rest of Alexandria becomes a distant hum, Saviors picking through their things, while Rick stares at Shane. A ghost was close enough.  ❝ Considerin’ how I last saw you? ❞  He remembers how to speak again, powering through the shock.    ❝ You could be. ❞   A dozen questions come to mind, but he reminds himself who he’s come with. The enemy that, for all intents and purposes, he is.

#betterfather #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; asks ( don't talk. think ) #;; not today not tomorrow ( v: alexandria )

[spilledblood-a]

      The quiet is almost eerie as dusk settles over Alexandria. It’s still surreal at times, seeing the gentle glow of light through windows, sounds that replicate a sleepy suburb more than the end of the world. No creaking barns, no branches snapping with staggering footsteps of the dead -- no immediate danger. He’d emphasize the word immediate.

      There are moments, he’s afraid it’s a dream. Lena’s arrival in Alexandria adds to it. He’s been in near disbelief that she’s found them there. That she’s here. It isn’t that Rick believed her to be dead ( he couldn’t have swallowed that reality without seeing it for himself ), but hope was easily crushed more often than not.

      ❝ This place ain’t as safe as it seems, ❞ he mentions, standing out with her, hands resting at his hips as he looks out over the quiet street before his eyes divert back to his daughter.  ❝ We’ll make it that way -- but it’s not real. ❞

( @lostgrimesgirl​ liked for a starter! )

#lostgrimesgirl #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow ) #maybe early on in alexandria??

[smcc212]

Reunited

Warnings- fluff, smut- p in v, unprotected

Word count- 644

A/N- I was borded in school today so I wrote this. Also, this isn’t spell checked. Hope you enjoy! Xoxo

Let me know if you wanna be tagged or removed! Xoxo

Negan stared at his open cell door. Gabriel was too busy thing about Rosita to remember to lock the cell. As Negan thought about leaving Alexandria and not looking back he heard a familiar voice, a voice he hadn’t heard since before he came across the sanctuary.

“Why is there a jail?” Her soft voice filled his ears. If she didn’t know there was a prison she must be new here.

“That’s for that Negan guy I told you about,” A man’s voice grumbled.

“Well, thanks for the tour but I think I’m just going to look around by myself for bit,” She mumbled.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything, and stay away from Negan,” The Man replied. Negan looked at the floor, he thought he was going to get to see the only girl he’s ever really cared about after Lucille. He heard footsteps approaching but he didn’t look up. It would probably Michonne or someone like her.

“Hey, stranger. Long time no see,” (Y/N) mumbled to Negan. She thought he was dead. It broke her when she thought Negan died, she’d just fallen for him but she never tried anything since he’d just lost his. Negan’s eyes meet yours. Shock and happiness dancing together within his deep hazel eyes.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” He breathed out, unable to fully realise she was alive and in front of him.

“In Alexandria? Judith found me and brought me here. Then I found out you were here and I had to come and see. Negan, I thought you dead,” She mumbled as tears began to sting the brims of her eyes. Negan stood up and walked over to her opening his cell door. He wrapped his strong around around her, pulling her into his warm embrace. “H-how are you-“

“Gabriel accidentally forgot to lock my cell door,” Negan interjected, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Do you want to sit?” He asked motioning to the bed.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) whispered, her voice barely audible. Negan sat down next the her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I thought you were dead, baby girl. I never would’ve left if I thought you were still alive,” He explained, gently rubbing her back. “But we’re here now-“ He said, carefully pushing her back a little bit. “-And now I can finally tell you how much you mean to me.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I... love you, (Y/N). I never thought I could love someone after Lucille, but when I thought you were gonna I realised just how much you mean to me.” (Y/N) starting to cry, her emotions overwhelming her.

“I love you too, Negan,” She confessed before his lips crashed against hers. He pushed her back against the bed, his lips kissed her neck as he undid her jeans. She loosened off his pants pushing them down along with his boxers. Negan ripped down her jeans and panties them lined himself up with her opening. He pushed his fat cock into her tight walls. Moans and groans fell from both their mouths as Negan drove himself forward. His swollen tip rubbed against her G-spot as his hand reached around and rubbed at her clit. Moans filled the room before the coil in her stomach snapped, send a wave of pleasure rushing through her. She screamed in ecstasy, but Negan covered her mouth.

“Can’t have the whole of Alexandria hearing you,” He joked in-between breaths. His thrusts sped up until his thick seed spilled into you, painting your walls white. He collapsed beside you and you huddled into his chest. “You’re going to have to leave early tomorrow and make sure no one sees you,” Negan mumbled, planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“I know,” She murmured sleepily.

Neither of them knew Daryl had seen the whole thing.

Taglist:

@jamiekingofmen @khloekiddo @negansseventhwife @gamingaquarius @negan-morningstar @chloejanedecker1

#negan #daddy negan #negan fanfiction #twd negan #negan the walking dead #negan x reader #the walking dead negan #negan smut #fluffy negan #twd negan fluff #twd negan smut #negan negan smut negan imagine twd season9b neganxreader neganxyou #negan fic #negan fanfic #negan imagine #negan drabble

[biointernet]

Masonic Hourglass

If thou takest time into thy affairs, it will allay and arrange all things. ― APOLLODORUS, attributed, Day's Collacon The past is a ghost, the future a dream and all we ever have is now. ― Bill Cosby Masonic Hourglass - a symbol of the third Degree of Freemasonry peculiar to the American Rite. - Source: MasonicDictionary.com

Masonic Hourglass Masonry is a unique institution that has been a major part of community life in America for over 250 years. Masonry, or more properly Freemasonry, is America's largest and oldest fraternity and one that continues to be an important part of many men's personal lives and growth. Many years ago in England it was described as "a system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols." It is a course of moral instruction using both allegories and symbols to teach its lessons. The legends and myths of the old stonecutters and Masons, many of them involved in building the great cathedrals of Europe, have been woven into an interesting and effective way to portray moral truths. In Masonry, the old tools and ways of the Craftsmen are used to help dramatically portray those moral truths. Two examples are the 24-inch gauge and the common gavel. Just as the ruler is used to measure distance, the modern Mason uses it as a reminder to manage one of his most precious resources, time. And, as the gavel is used to shape stones, so it is also the symbol of the necessity for all of us to work to perfect ourselves. One modern definition is: "Freemasonry is an organized society of men, symbolically applying the principles of Operative Masonry and architecture to the science and art of character building." In other words, Masonry uses ageless methods and lessons to make each of us a better person.

The Hourglass, Hourglass History

Hourglass – measurement device Masonic Hourglass An hourglass (or sandglass, sand timer, or sand clock) is a device used to measure the intervals of time.

An emblem connected with the Third Degree, according to the Webb lectures, to remind us by the quick passage of its sands of the transitory nature of human life. As a Masonic symbol it is of comparatively modern date, but the use of the hourglass as an emblem of the passage of time is older than our oldest known rituals. Thus, in a speech before Parliament, in 1627, it is said: "We may dan dandle and play with the hour-glass that is in our power, but the hour will not stay for us; and an opportunity once lost cannot be regained." We are told in Notes and Queries (First Series, v, page 223) that in the early part of the eighteenth century it was a custom to inter an hour-glass with the dead, as an emblem of the sand of life being run out. There is in Sir John Soane's Museum, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, a manuscript account book, of 1614- 41, once owned by Nicholas Stone, Mason to King James I and Charles I, which on the title page has the following written note: In time take time while time doth last, For time is no time wheel time is past.  A few sad and studious lines written in his Bible by Sir Falter Raleigh are found in Cayley's biography of him (volume in, chapter ix): E'en such is time! which takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and an we have And pays us naught but age and dust, Which, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. And from which grave, and earth, and dust The Lord will raise me up, I trust. Longfellow, in his "Sand of the Desert in an Hour glass," has written thus: A handful of red sand from the hot clime Of Arab deserts brought Within the glass comes the spy of Time, The minister of Thought. An hour-glass is in the possession of the Lodge at Alexandria, Virginia, of which our Brother George Washington was Master. That old treasure, a measure of the flying moments, well exhibits the changing methods brought about in time. - Source: Mackey's Encyclopedia of Freemasonry

Masonic Hourglass HOUR GLASS AND SCYTHE In nearly all Masonic rituals in the United States, these two emblems of the third degree are explained in practically the form given by Thomas Smith Webb: “The Hour-Glass is an emblem of human life; behold! how swiftly the sands run, and how rapidly our lives are drawing to a close. We cannot, without astonishment, behold the little particles which are contained in this machine, how they pass away almost imperceptibly, and yet to our surprise, in the short space of an hour, they are all exhausted. Thus wastes man! today, he puts forth the tender leaves of hope; tomorrow, blossoms and bears his blushing honors which upon him; the next day comes a frost, which nips the shoot, and when he thinks his greatness is still aspiring, he falls, like autumn leaves, to enrich our mother earth. “The Scythe is an emblem of time, which cuts the brittle thread of life and launches us into eternity. Behold, what havoc the scythe of time makes amongst the human race; if by chance we should escape the numerous evils incident to childhood and youth, and with that health and vigor arrive to the years of manhood, yet withall we must soon be cut down by the all-devouring scythe of time, and be gathered into the land where our fathers are gone before us. Both these emblems seems to be inventions of the ingenious and resourceful American who left do tremendous an imprint upon our ceremonies. MacKensie, the English Masonic encyclopedist, says of the hour glass: “Used in the third degree by Webb - but not essential nor authorized in any way. Masonic Hourglass Of the scythe, he says: “Since the time of Webb, the scythe has been adopted in the American system of Freemasonry, as an emblem of the power of time in destroying the institutions of mankind. In England it is no regarded as of any typical meaning.” Woodford, in Kenning’s Encyclopedia, says: “Hour Glass - Said by some to be a Masonic symbol, Oliver inter alios, as an emblem of human life; but in our opinion, not strictly speaking so. Woodford does not mention the scythe. Mackey, (Clegg revised edition)b credits the hour glass to Webb and states: “As a Masonic symbol it is of comparatively modern date.” The familiar illustrations of these emblems, shown on many if not most Lodge charts, and in that collection of monstrosities which commercial companies have sold to confiding Lodges on lantern slides to illustrate the lectures, are based on the Doolittle pictures in the “True Masonic Chart” of Jeremy Cross. Here the scythe appears in the drawing of the marble monument, held under the arm of the very chubby Father Time, who is provided with a most substantial p[air of wings. It also appears as a separate illustration for the “scythe of time.” In the same quaint work the hour glass is illustrated with a pair of open wings. If young in Freemasonry, both scythe and hour glass are very old. Old Testament days knew the sickle; ancient Egypt had reaping knives. Just when the knife or sickle was curved into the familiar two-handed tool with the crooked handle is less important than that it was earl associated with a symbolic meaning, as an instrument for the reaping of humanity, the cutting off of life. Revelation 14-14 to 20 inclusive, is illustrative: “And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap; for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe. And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth; and the earth was reaped. And another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he also having a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, which had power over fire; and cried with a loud cry to him that had the sharp sickle , saying; Thrust thy sickle, and gather the clusters of the vine of the earth; for her grapes are fully ripe. And the angle thrust in his sickle into the earth, and gathered the vine of the earth, and cast it into the great winepress of the wrath of God. And the winepress was trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs.”

Hourglass Tattoo Ancient Greece and Rome knew three cruel fates; Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Clotho held the distaff from which the thread of life was spun by Lachesis, while Atropos wielded the shears and cut the thread when life was ended. They were deemed cruel because neither she who held the staff of life, she who spun the thread nor she who cut it, regarded the wishes of any man. In the Sublime Degree Freemasons hear a beautiful prayer, taken almost wholly from the Book of Job (14, to 14 inclusive). Just why the fathers of the ritual thought they could improve upon Job, and left out here a verse, thee substituted a word, is a sealed mystery. The phrases of the King James version seem intimately connected with the ritual of our hour glass and scythe of time: Man that is born of a woman is of a few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. And dost thou open thine eyes upon such a one, and bringest me unto judgment with thee? Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one. Seeing his days are determined, the number of his months are with thee, thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass; turn from him, that he may rest, till he shall accomplish, as an hireling, his day. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring boughs like a plant. But man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the Waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up; so man lieth down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. O that thou wouldest keep me secret, until thy wrath be past, that thou wouldest appoint me a set time and remember me! If a man die, shall he live again? All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.” Masonic Hourglass “If a man die, shall he live again?” Job’s cry of despair has rung down the centuries; it is one of Freemasonry’s glories that her answer is as ringing! Her tragedy ends in hope; her assurances of immortality are positive. Ritual of hour glass and scythe, if read alone, is gloomy and disheartening, but not as parts of a whole which end in a certainty of immortality. Measurement of time has demanded the attention of learned men in all ages. Our modern clocks, watches and chronometers have a long and intricate history, and many ancestors quite unlike their descendants; among them the sun dial and hour glass. Just how old the instrument is which measures time by the slow dropping of liquid or running sand is not easily stated; ancient Egypt knew a water clock and Plato is said to have invented the “Clepsydra,” in water drips from container to container, marking hate passing of hours. The substitution of sand for water must have occurred early, sand having the great advantage that it runs more slowly than water and does not evaporate in the process. The sealed semi-vacuum double bulbs of more modern days were then, of course, unknown. Masonic Hourglass Nor can the earliest symbolic relationship between the passage of hours and days and man’s life both here and hereafter be stated; the connection between time and life is so intimate that it is difficult to believe that ideas of duration as a factor of life, as well as a practical matter of eating, sleeping, etc., did not arise coincidentally. Both old and New Testaments have this poetry; Isaiah 38-10: “I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave: I am deprived of the residue of my years.” and John 5-25: “Verily, verily, I say unto you; The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live.” The brethren who built upon the simple esoteric work of operative Lodges the magnificent system of philosophy, life and morals which is our Freemasonry, wrought with the viewpoint of their times. Yet the abiding spirit of the ritual is a reality, otherwise it would not have lived in men’s hearts and worked its gentle miracles for so long a period. Apparently taking some somber pleasure from dwelling on mortality, decay, the evening of life, old age and death; these early Masonic ritualists nevertheless builded well when they endeavored to impress upon all brethren the vital importance of time. Indeed, time is so intimately interwoven in the degrees of Freemasonry (see Short Talk Bulletin, January, 1928) that it very obviously has a symbolic ass well as moral significance. Shakespeare wrote of “the inaudible and noiseless foot of time,” and “time the nurser and breeder of all good.” Richter denominated time “the chrysalis of eternity;” Franklin called it “the herb that cures all diseases.” Tusser said: “Time tries the truth in everything,” echoing Cicero’s “Time is the herald of truth.” Paine dug the meat from this nut in writing “Time makes more converts than reason.” Freemasonry’s ritual deals with time in a strictly limited sense; we speak of a definite number of years the temple was in building; of the days the Master was buried; of the scythe of time, which cuts the brittle thread of life; of the hour glass which marks the passing of life. But in the symbolic sense Freemasonry makes of time a vast conception, allied with the very fundamentals of God and the hereafter. Her whole teaching is of the preparation for another and better life by a substantial and an honorable living of this one. Freemasonry makes a very clear distinction between everyday time, which all men share; - eight hours for labor, eight hours for God and a worthy brother, and eight hours for refreshment and sleep - and the time his immortal part must spend in the hereafter. Masonic Hourglass The scythe of time “cuts the brittle thread of life and launches us into eternity.” The immortal part of man “never, never, never, dies.” “Time, patience and persever-ance will accomplish all things.” “Through the valley of the shadow of death, he may finally arise from the tomb of transgression to shine as the stars, forever and ever.” Quotations might be multiplied; they will occur to all whom the ritual is familiar. Lucky the Master Mason who has grasped the deeper meanings of the hour glass and the scythe, and comforted is he who see behind their gloomy outlook a gleam of light; “In the night of death hope sees a star and love can hear the flutter of an angel’s wing,” as the great agnostic phrased it.”

Masonic Hourglass

Hourglass Symbolism Welcome to MHC Virtual Museum! The Hourglass, Hourglass History The origin of the hourglass is unclear

Hourglass History hourglass facts, hourglass symbolism, hourglass timer, hourglass clock, hourglass sand timer, Father Time and Mother of Time, hourglass definition, hourglass for sale, sand clock wikipedia, Hourglass – symbol of Death, History of Hourglass, Masonic Hourglass See also:

Time symbolism

Hourglass and Death on St Thomas’ Church Hourglass – symbol of Death Hourglass and Skeleton “Hourglass and Cards” Exhibition Father and Mother of Time Time Hub The Hourglass, Hourglass History Hourglass symbolism Hourglass Body Hourglass Tattoo Symbols of Time Mother Time Hourglasses Father of Time Hourglasses Read the full article

#Clessidra #EggTimer #Hourglassfact #Isikhwama #itulatioata #Magic #MasonicHourglass #přesýpacíhodiny #Rellotgedesorra #Relojdearena #sablier #SandClock #SandWatch #sanduhr #Science #Soatglass #timeglass #Timglas #velago #Zandloper #الساعةالرملية #砂時計

[coolblue-navyblue]

Get to know me tag!🥞

I was tagged by the love of my life @aliens-are-watching, thanks karen 💓

A - Age: 16

B - Birthplace: Alexandria, i think

C - Current time: It’s 10:15 pm and i have to get up early tomorrow

D - Drink you last had: iced tea, that's what i'm about

E - Easiest person to talk to: probably my favorites @aliens-are-watching or @bitch-naesheim

F - Favourite song: Right now, either Cherry Wine by Hozier or Valerie by Amy Winehouse

G - Grossest memory: honestly, most of middle school

H - Horror yes or horror no: only if it's not realistic. some of them get a little too real

I - In love?: definitely not

J - Jealous of people?: Yeah, usually.

K - Kicking ass?: trying my best, we'll see what my next report card looks like

L - Love at first sight or should I walk by again?: i'm definitely not smooth enough for pickup lines, that's all i have to say

M - Middle name: you have to be a level 8 friend to unlock lmao

N - Number of siblings: one is enough

O - One wish: to know what i want in life? this one's hard

P - Person you last had a phone call with: @bitch-naesheim because she knows i hate phone calls

Q - Question you are always asked: 'why do you dress like a mom?' idk i get that a lot, it's because i'm at least 65 on the inside, and i'm probably also cold

R - Reason to smile: new music from @aliens-are-watching , new books, learning cool things, warm blankets and sweaters, friends i can count on

S - Song you last sang: i never sing tbh, probably the Nice Work broadway soundtrack when i was with a bunch of theater kids

T - Time you woke up: 8:04, because my sister decided i'd slept long enough

U - Underwear colour: red ?

V - Vacation destination: I’d really love to see europe for the history, and california, and of course guadalajara for karen !

W - Worst habits: procrastinating of course, trying to do all of my friends' homework at the same time

X - X-rays: i've never been injured, again it's my inner mom

Y - Your favourite food: probably sushi? and those smoothie bowl things

Z - Zodiac sign: Aquarius, it's usually right, though today i was supposed to meet a new romantic interest and i literally only spoke to my sister lmao

I tag @scrunghoe , @s4r4y4 , @ungracefulgrace and @evangeiical if you guys want to do it, and anyone else who would like to!

[remembermemorablememories]

Sunday, January 6, 2019

post #363

main points:

- wake up late around 12:30pm from last night

- talk with sheena for a bit, then parents

- lunch with sheena from wendy’s, wawa and dunkin + the office

- a bit more research into sigma 17-50mm lens

- looking at a few more places for apartments 

- make guacomole with sheena

- dinner with parents

- birthday cake for sheena

- chilling in sheena’s room watching MVD smash ultimate

- spend time with sheena

today i:

-  woke up late around 12:30pm. i was super tired from last night getting back around 4am. i went to sheena’s room to check in on her and she was crying/feeling sad. i talked to her a bit about how things are going in school and how she’s feeling and asked if she wanted to see a doctor. she said maybe she should

i went downstairs and talked to mom and dad about how she was feeling and they also agreed it might be a good idea to take her to the doctor to see if it’s depression. mom suggested i take sheena out for lunch and i agreed it was a good idea

- went with sheena to wendy’s. she got some nuggets and a jr cheeseburger. i wasn’t feeling wendy’s for brunch so we went to wawa and i got a quesadilla. and then we went to dunkin donuts and i got a rasperry filled donut and sheena got some coffee

- we drove back and got back around 3:15pm. LOOL so late omg. we watched two episodes of the office. one of them was mrs. california and betting on whether jim thought pam’s replacement was attractive

- went back upstairs and saw a new video by tim kellner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebU7eLlzs9Q

got inspired to look into sigma 17-50mm lens again to see different people’s attempt to use it for cinematic purposes. also learned a bit more about ND filters. and in the end, didn’t really decide on anything as usual

- around 6pm sheena asked if i wanted to help her make guacomole and i was like sure. so we went downstairs and cut some avocados, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos and cilantro. while we were making it mom and dad had someone come over to take a look at the kitchen and do some planning in terms of what they hope to accomplish during the renovation. and also get a concrete timeline of what they plan to do in the next few weeks

we watched another episode of the office, the pool party at robert california’s house

- then i ate dinner with mom and dad while sheena went upstairs. she didn’t feel hungry (cause we ate at like 3pm). i also just ate a small amount of food. there was more tofu so :P i talked to mom and dad about how sheena was feeling and what we might be able to do

- ate the fruit tart cake for sheena’s birthday from yesterday. we hadn’t eaten it yesterday cause we were all full from dinner but we ate like 3/4′s of it today. sheena showed me ben’s film reel for college apps and we also watched alexandria cortez’s dancing video at BU

- chilled in sheena’s room and helped her with some AP calc homework here and there. she said she still felt mostly confused about when to use the chain rule or not. i was watching some MVD gameplay of the tournament going on in florida. i watched zero vs. newcomers in pools. m2k vs. tachyon and losing. then salem vs hbox. i learned about the “research” meme from brian. then i wrote up yesterday’s blog post. sheena wrapped up her her homework and then was gonna head to sleep

- took a long shower around 10pm and then went back to my room to chill. watched this dope ass smash recreation of the avatar intro

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wad4_1Mc7sA

- around 11pm sheena came into my room crying and felt sad. we went back to her room and waited for her to calm down/let it out. then we talked a lot about school and why the school system feels a bit pointless. i think it’s especially prominent with technology, like you can google for anything at your fingertips. and, at least in the context of high school, it feels like you can learn everything on your own. why do you need to sit in class for 8 hours a day from some not so great teachers to teach you this information? and also the sense that as a teenager, you start to understand things in life and society yet you still have no full control. for example if you hate your job at some point you can be like, i quit. if you don’t like high school, there’s not really much you can do about it. it led to some good discussions i think

- we woke up mom and dad around 1am after sheena felt better to ask them if they can take her to the doctor tomorrow. sheena felt like maybe she does have some type of depression. mom and dad were pretty supportive and said that they will take her ASAP

- we got some water downstairs and grabbed sheena’s ipad and i made her watch david dobrik’s car chat with brandon LOL. i forgot it was 25 minutes long. i thought there were some good points in the video but most of it was irrelevant. it was mostly the ending bit about how david feels about people who get angry. the way he sees it is that everything’s so pointless, why get so worked up about things all the time? just let things go and enjoy/have a good time while we’re all here

and with that i feel like sheena was pretty sleepy. i was pretty sleepy too LOL

so we went to bed around 1:30am

the end

#post #normal #january #2019 #family

[spilledblood]

(  @vyrulent​ said:  ‘ what do you mean the car won’t start ? ‘ - from lisa ( them stuck in a car with zombies all around? ) / spooky inspired starter )

      Rick slams his palm into the steering wheel, twists the key again only to hear the engine sputter and die.   ❝ Shit, ❞   he mutters, eyes lifting to the windshield as the dead slam themselves into the metal hood, hands pressing to the glass, teeth bared  — Rick’s heart is a steady pounding in his ears.

      He barely wants to repeat himself, as if saying it again will lock it into reality. It won’t start now. It won’t start no matter how many times he turns the key into position, or how many times he tries to punch the gas.

      Throat dry, curls gathering sweat, he looks to Lisa, doing his best to hide the desperation in that moment.  ❝ I mean it’s dead —  we’re not movin’. ❞

#vyrulent #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; asks ( don't talk. think ) #;; not today not tomorrow ( v: alexandria )

[spilledblood-a]

wlkrbait asked: "I'm not looking for any trouble." love me

( @wlkrbait​ )

    It’s easy to assume that every person is accompanied by trouble. It’s that quickness to judge and speed to the worst assumptions that he has to keep in check. It’s become almost second nature to be critical of strangers. The world’s burned him more than once, people have been the single worst threat to everything that he has -- everything that he built. His family, blood and built, easily lost by the wrong decisions.

    It’s a damn contradiction to believe in people how he does and equally look for any hint of trouble. Rick’s hand flexes over the grip of the gun on his hip, brow creased as his eyes narrow to watch the other man.

    There’s no clear sign one way or another. He could trust him at his word and frankly, it’s all he can do. The part of him that wants to believe in others, that wants Alexandria to be a place that opens its gates and grows -- it’s the voice of reason when fear coils in his chest. Every person in Alexandria is a life he’s responsible for. No matter what he’s asked for since the start, he’s sure of that much. 

    It’s his job to protect them.

    Letting his hand relax on the gun, his expression softens, despite remaining on high alert. Rick nods, acknowledging the fact that he says he’s not looking for trouble.   ❝ Y’won’t get far if you are, ❞ he warns, though after a breath, follows with the one way he has to vet strangers. ❝ How many walkers’ve you killed? ❞

#wlkrbait #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; asks ( don't talk. think ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow ) #*loves!!!*

[kidsviral-blog]

Egyptian women use social media to combat escalating violence against female protesters

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/egyptian-women-use-social-media-to-combat-escalating-violence-against-female-protesters/

Egyptian women use social media to combat escalating violence against female protesters

http://twitter.com/#!/_amroali/status/273392150476095488

Citizens of Egypt are taking to the streets to protest the Muslim Brotherhood and President Mohamed Morsi’s dictatorial power grab. Unfortunately, while all protesters are putting themselves in the crosshairs of the Brotherhood and police, female protesters face an additional risk: sexual assault. Incidents of harassment and rape at protests in Tahrir Square have been on the rise since the beginning of the Arab Spring, and reports of sexual assaults at the anti-Morsi protests are all too common.

Note that rape and harassment are used as some sort of a weapon to deter girls and women from coming to Tahrir…. fb.me/1jro8TzkM

— Rajaa Aquil (@rajrouj18) November 25, 2012

Many reports of rape and sexual assault on unveiled women on #mohamed_mahmoud and #tahrir be very careful. MB thugs to blame.

— Karim El Hakim (@half_revolution) November 25, 2012

Why is there always so much sexual harrasment in Tahrir? #Egypt #PT

— FadiM (@FadiG_Syr) November 27, 2012

Sexual harassers in #Tahrir targeting female journalists. Watch it ladies!

— Run (@Run_Rana) November 27, 2012

“ARAB WINTER” – Near Tahrir, 3 women have clothes ripped off, another woman victim of “mass rape.”

— Mark Wadsworth (@Wadsworth_Mark) November 26, 2012

***Middle East Media reporting a mob of 300 men sexually harassed 3 women near Tahrir Square in Egypt: bit.ly/TgBR2F #tcot #p2

— El SOOPer!! (@SooperMexican) November 26, 2012

descriptions of sexual abuse incidents in #tahrir indicate intentionality & organization that goes beyond spontaneity or drug-behaviour

— فجر الثورة الأممية (@maysarathustra) November 26, 2012

Female protesters are being warned of the possibility of sexual violence:

Anyways, for all the women in Tahrir Square today, sexual harassment there is SERIOUS! So, be safe, don’t walk alone, and leave before dark.

— Norhan Tomoum (@LeTomoum) November 27, 2012

Ladies if u wish to partake, do so. But be aware of ur surroundings. Stay in a group. And expect harassment & b prepared to act. #Tahrir

— Rehab El-Bakry (@Rehab_Elbakry) November 27, 2012

How heartbreaking to think that women are at risk of being raped merely for having the courage to speak out against tyranny.

Fortunately, citizens are taking steps to address the misogynistic violence and are spreading the word via social media:

To report sexual harassment cases in #Tahrir, call 01011910917.

— S. (@SummerNazif) November 27, 2012

report any sexual harassment incidents that happen to you or you witness in tahrir or elsewhere by sending an sms… fb.me/2aK61cn18

— HarassMap امسك متحرش (@harassmap) November 27, 2012

report sexual harassment today in tahrir and elsewhere by sending an sms to 6069 with what happened and where or send us @harassmap #endSH

— HarassMap امسك متحرش (@harassmap) November 27, 2012

All girls and women in #Tahrir, Dial 01157892357 to report incidents of mass Sexual Assault or Tweet @tahrirbodyguard cc @harassmap

— Shaimaa (Bad)ra (@Shikalinaa) November 27, 2012

A group of women has also created a special Twitter account, @TahrirBodyguard, to provide support to victims and potential victims of harassment and assault:

Heads up Cairo: A civilian effort to provide protection to women from sexual harassment in #tahrir: #FF. @tahrirbodyguard. Pls RT

— Rawahروعه(@RawahBadrawi) November 27, 2012

Women in #Tahrir, contact @tahrirbodyguard for cases of sexual harassment. Great initiative to ensure safety for women!

— MK مريم (@MariamKirollos) November 27, 2012

Indeed. It’s incredible and encouraging to watch these women boldly put themselves out there and use social media to effect positive change.

We set up this account to help keep you safe in #Tahrir. If the government can’t protect us, we can protect ourselves. Pls RT

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We cannot stand back and watch another woman being sexually assualted in #Tahrir. Time to act now. #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

Women in #Tahrir. If ur alone in Tahrir and need support, please tweet at us and we will RT and hook you up with protection #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We started because a woman was too scared to go to #Tahrir and fight for what she believes in. #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We want to get vests with #TahrirBodyguard written on them to volunteers in #Tahrir. Noone should be terrified to go and demonstrate

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

@twitdemaria Hi Maria. We are just getting started. We are women who just couldn’t see other women being assualted

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We have to be honest with you, we are just getting started. The least we can do is to get the word out that someone is being assualted (1/2)

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We are now working on getting PRE-SCREENED volunteers who will be there to provide cover for women alone or in distress.(2/2)

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

@miaelfeky Yes we do know better because we are women ourselves. Still we ask women to watch their clothes to not draw much attention

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We are not doing this for today, this will be a long ride so we are building a support system for future visits to #Tahrir #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We have a long to do list, but we know it’s not just about today. This is a long-term effort. #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We also want to report and record every incident. Please get in touch and we promise to withold your identity. [email protected]

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

Instruction doc sent by our friends at @eipr on managing & dealing w/sexual harrassment/assault. bit.ly/YmIExX #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

In addition to raising awareness, acting as a distress line and volunteer link, we are also creating a network of volunteers to protect

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

There are volunteers on the ground in Tahrir wearing badges with أمسك متحرش on them, trying 2 help those facing harassment #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

Ladies in #Tahrir, please remember 2 things: 1 volunteers wearing امسك تحرش badges and the “safe tent” – Al Dostour’s tent #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

We came into being because of the many women before us who were assualted and we want to END this. #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

One of the things that inspired to take a stand is how people dismissed some sexual assualt cases as exaggeration – we need to record!

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

This isn’t just about #Tahrir by the way, but like everything in the past 2 years, everything starts in Tahrir. #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

This painful footage for a girl being gang-harassed gives us more determination to take a stand. youtube.com/watch?v=zAnvdW… #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

Horrible. But it’s truly inspiring to witness the fierce determination of these brave women to ensure that such violence is stopped cold.

When something so beautiful & courageous turns ugly & cowardly : Let’s end sexual assaults in #Tahrir NOW #TahrirBodyguard

— Tahrir Bodyguard (@TahrirBodyguard) November 27, 2012

Hear, hear.

#nov27 #egypt #tahrir #alexandria GOOD LUCK no democracy thru temp. dictatorship.Safe spaces for all, no sexual harassment!

— Amir Matar (@aamatar) November 27, 2012

To men going to Tahrir tomorrow: ensure you are prepared and ready to let sexual harassers know they are never welcome. Ever. In Egypt.

— H.A. Hellyer (@hahellyer) November 26, 2012

We applaud the efforts of the women — and their male supporters — to put an end to the violence, and we pray for their safety.

Please lets pray for no sexual assaults in #Tahrir tonight

— Noah Raford (@nraford) November 27, 2012

* * *

Update: Twitter has inexplicably suspended the @TahrirBodyguard account. The brave women who set up the account are now tweeting from @TahrirBGBackUp.

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/11/27/sexual-violence-against-egyptian-female-protesters-escalates-women-use-social-media-to-raise-awareness-offer-support/

[spilledblood-a]

anonymous asked: (xhellxboundx) "Do you ever wonder if this is all you’ll ever amount to?" Of course Shane wasn't really referring to Rick, but himself. Shane was drunk again, "A crazy alcoholic who can't seem to remember screwing over his best friend right?" He supposed this was the reason Negan told him to stay away from Rick, clearly Shane didn't listen well, Moonshine made his memory bad.

    This isn’t about him.

    Insecurities about what he’ll amount to aren’t typical for Rick. His concerns are always pointed outside of himself, directed at those who he sees a future for, that he worries about the stability of that future for. His children, his people, the family that relies on him -- Rick’s become more than he’s ever wanted. He longs for simplicity.

    Even if he’s too stubborn to even allow that of himself. There’s a sympathetic furrow of his brow as he listens to Shane, but after a brief shake of his head, he acknowledges him more seriously. 

    ❝ It ain’t out of your control, Shane. Some things might be, but if y’take your hand off that moonshine for more than a few hours, y’might see things different. Might take a long time, might be somethin’ harder than you’d like, but you bein’ an alcoholic, Shane? Y’need to fix that. Y’need to let the bottle go. ❞

@xhellxboundx​

#xhellxboundx #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow )

[spilledblood-a]

    Rick drops his hatchet to the table, gun following. Disarming in an attempt to pull himself from a warring headspace. The weapons left alone on the table, he turns over his shoulder to Eden instead.  No matter how safe they are, how safe he should ultimately feel, the lingering existence of the Saviors can keep him on edge. His brow creases, acknowledging her in silence briefly.

    They’ve been safer since her arrival, no doubt. 

    ❝ I keep thinkin’ they’re still goin’ to try somethin’. ❞

@nottobecrossed​ liked for a starter!

#nottobecrossed #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow )

[spilledblood-a]

    ❝ Shit! ❞

    Glass shatters as the bottom of a damp box gives way, bottles smashing into concrete, beer splattering his boots as he backs up, dropping the box to the ground with a thud. Huffing out a sigh, Rick rakes a hand back through his hair and eyes the mess of glass and beer.

    He thought he’d hit the jackpot with the boxes -- though if that first one was any sort of sign, the rest of the  boxes were probably rotted through. Still, there could be something worthwhille. ❝ ‘least that one was just beer -- ❞ he notes, turning his head back in Randy’s direction, adding as an afterthought..  ❝ Y’know, I’d kill for one that didn’t taste like ass. ❞

@silverf0xes​ liked for a starter!

#silverf0xes #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow ) #idk what this is! #but i hope this is okay!

[spilledblood-a]

    They could’ve been dead. Hell, probably should’ve been dead. Blood everywhere, the stench so familiar that it barely disgusts him, barely noticeable amongst the rot in the air.

    For a moment, he wasn’t sure they’d make it, that the walkers would’ve finally made a meal of the two of them. But, he’s standing there, blood soaked, machete lax in his hand and he flashes a grin to Nita, one that lends itself to the laugh that catches in his throat. With the danger gone, and the anxiety lifted, his adrenaline has no other outlet.

    ❝ How many lives you think we’ve got left? ❞

@thc-wrong-side-of-heaven​ liked for a starter!

#thcwrongsideofheaven #;; ic ( i was a sheriff ) #;; alexandria ( v: not today not tomorrow )