#ANYWAY ty for tha ask

[radioactive-mouse]

3 for the life series ask game?

3. favorite overall alliance/team up

FUCKKKKK LITERALLY THE HARDEST QUESTION EVER ok. ok. i’m about to give you a fucked up answer. because realistically i’m such a desert duo guy im such a ranchers guy etc etc. but when i think about like. my favorite pair of characters in the entire lifeseries

last life martyn and grian. i need you to understand when i say this that i do not mean the southlands. i mean whatever freak backstabbing narrative foils who care about each other a weird amount thing that they had going on that season. maybe it’s just me but also holy CHRIST my favorite guys of all time i love to put them in so many situations

#sawyer chaotic-solutions and i live in our beautiful mind palace #and i forget sometimes that they are not a widespread pair that was pretty popular #ANYWAY ty for tha ask #:3 #who-needs-braincells #ask

[gaydexvocaloid]

Sorry your WIP reminded me of this thing I saw earlier

LMFAOOOO NOOOOO DONT DO MY BOY DIRTY LIKE THIS COLOSTAGE PARODY ACC…. NAWWWW…. THAT IS NASSSTYY GOD DAMMMM

#asks #DONT APOLOGISE BTW !!!!?? i love any and all asks especially stuff like this #my poor guy done dirty .. #i lovvvvve fuksse so much he deserves the whole wide world #in my dreams he gets a synthv vb or maghnite vb. #my dreams are full of lies…… #yamaha is never getting him off of vocaloid 😞 #ANYWAY THO TY FOR THA ASKKK

[under-the-dirt]

comfort.

this is for the request of @airghostlyfox ty for your request, sorry it took a bit to complete!!

pairing: taskforce 141 x gn!reader

tags: fluff :3 that’s really all, cuddle puddle with the task force. UNDER 13 DNI!

It was a tough say, to say the least. The recruits were a rowdy, annoying bunch. If this is how they treated their sergeant, there was no way they’d make it far in the military. You sigh and fall back onto your bed, exhausted and upset.

Your sad silence was interrupted by a smooth Scottish accent, and a knock at your door.

“Ye alrigh’ ‘n there, lovie?” Soap asks, and walks in after you grumble a response. “Was ‘t tha recruits?”

You nod and grumble again, and he walks over and wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you up to sit in his lap on the edge of your bed. He rubs your lower back gently, keeping your head pressed to his chest.

“Don’t worry, lovie. ‘S alrigh’.” He coos, and you soon hear another knock and another set of footsteps and another set of arms around your waist.

“Why are we upset, love?” Gaz’s smooth voice warms your ear.

“Tha recruits,” Soap huffs, rubbing your lower back gently. Another set of footsteps and another guff voice asking what’s wrong.

“There’s my birdie, wha’s got ya upset?” Prices rough voice questions, rubbing your arm gently. “C’mere love,” He coos, lifting you from the Scot’s arms and pulling you to his chest as he lays down. Soap hops down and wraps his arm around your middle while Gaz rubs your leg over Soap. The unexpected happens when your infamous Lt. walks in and without a word, wraps his arm around your back and toys with your hair.

You forgot about the recruits long ago, now the only thing on your mind was Price’s heavy cigar and cedar scent as you buried your nose into his neck. You were quick to fall asleep, that’s for sure.

i hope you’re feeling well! also, rly sorry if you meant individually, this is how i pictured it <3 j cannot stress how difficult it is to write 5 people cuddling at once, quite the task i hope i never have to undertake again lmaooo anyways ly ghostly :3

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #call of duty x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #cod fluff #modern warfare x reader #cod mw2 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish #price #mw2 #kyle garrick

[lxkeeeee]

MIRROR ADD ON SCARA JUSY FUCKS U HARDCORE TY >>>

LOOK AT THE MIRROR MY LOVE

husband scaramouche x fem kitsune wife! reader

synopsis: he wants you to look at the mirror as he fucks you in a mating press.

genre: smut with plot

notes: not this ask immediately giving me a reason to write hahahaha anyways just a short scenario because this idea is making me ascend *horny grip*

The sounds of the bed creaking in a fast and rough rhythm can be heard, broken moans and soft grunts can be heard.

Scaramouche just looks down to see his wife's naked body, legs pressed against her chest in a mating press, his hips snapped back and forth in a very fast, sensual rhythm, “ha-ah~ you feel so good, such a good slut. Alw-always ready for my cock~” he stutters out, a playful mocking tone in his voice and he sees his wife slightly glaring at him before she just sighs as she went back to enjoying him, he just laughs a little. He looks up again to see a mirror facing them, he smirks as he uses his hand to lift her chin to make her look up from her position to see herself on the mirror getting fucked by him. What she sees is enough to make her even more aroused, her tear stained cheeks glistening against the moonlight, her neck covered with so many bites and hickies, her lips parted as moans kept leaving her mouth as she felt him stretched her so good, feeling his cock twitch inside of her. “Look at the mirror my love, look at how you looked getting fucked by me~” scaramouche says, a loving and teasing tone present on his voice, his hand immediately trailing from her chin down to her breast, his finger gliding to one of her hardened nipples which immediately sends a shiver down her spine. Her eyes rolled back from how intense he was pounding into her, usually he isn't this rough when it comes to sex but she guessed that his day was stressful, her eyes still staring at the mirror as she watched herself get fucked mercilessly, moans kept on spilling out of her lips, her husband's name kept being repeated like a prayer. His hand found its way to hers, slipping their fingers together, gripping into each other like their life depends on it.

Her breast bounced in each thrusts, loud slapping of skin can be heard, it's too much but at the same time so good...

Scaramouche just chuckled, his eyes dark with lust yet filled with adoration as he watched his wife go dumb as she was getting fucked by his cock. His eyes went down to see her belly to see a small bulge of his cock that appears and disappears as he thrusts, his eyes slowly went down to look at his cock that has a white ring starting to form at it's base, he smirked as he continues to pound on her, already can sense she's close to her limit.

He looks at his wife's fucked out express with a smirk, he leaned down, hips still thrusting, captured her lips with his own in a messy kiss, his tongue immediately slipping into her mouth, exploring every crevices before pulling away.

“Tha-thats right, cum for me my love~” he choked out, feeling himself getting closer, his voice hoarse and deep, enough to send shivers down her spine, “mmm~ ha-ah~ I'm gonna, I'm gonna~!” her voice gut cut offed as she felt herself cream on his cock, her fox like ears stood straight as she did so, eyes rolling back. Scaramouche almost felt his legs give up as he felt her orgasm, making everything felt tighter, he squeezed his eyes shut as he rode out her orgasm to approach his, “Such a go-good girl, yes... Let-Let it all ha~out” he moaned out, loud squelching noises from can be heard as he thrusted into her cunt.

She just looks at the mirror lazily, mind foggy as she felt so sensitive after her orgasm yet he's still thrusting into her, in the mirror she can briefly see a bulge in her stomach and that's enough to turn her on again, the thought of her husband's length is big enough to leave a bulge in her stomach is making her more aroused, tears started stream down her face as she felt so sensitive.

Scaramouche just cooes in a gentle voice, as he felt himself approach his climax, “ssh-shh, it's gonna be ove-over soon, don't spill a drop okay?” he says softly and she nodded and he smirked, “good girl.” he says and with one final thrust, he came. thick strings of cum immediately painting her womb, broken moans leaving their lips.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

I still don't understand the science behind the cock bulge but I find it hot so I just added it 🧍 anyways, it's currently 1:30 am lmfao, ngl I was able to sleep awhile ago but I woke up when I suddenly got this idea. Sorry if it feels rushed hahahahaha

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #fanfic #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #lxke is completely unhinged #lxkewrites #asklxke #husband scaramouche #lxke's husband scaramouche works #banner by cafekitsune

[wc-m0ch4]

Shadow the Hedgehog x gn! Reader NSFW Headcanons

I forgot that you have to reply to an ask directly so he's the image of said ask lol

(Separate note but I kinda wanna do some of the rottmnt or 2012 tmnt bros so I might be doing some stuff on them next lol anyways–)

Shadow is on the dominant side I feel like this is obvious LMAO

Like he might occasionally sub but it'd be like a power bottom sort of thing

He'd definitely be into forcing his partner into submission

BRAT TAMER

sorry

Anyways

A close runner-up is having a S/O that willingly submits to him from the get-go

Send nudes/ revealing pics to this man PLEASE–

Imagine you're texting Shadow asking him when he'll get home and he's all 'it's going to be hours before I get home, be patient' yada yada then you send a pic in some lingerie and he just:

"Be ready."

Then like 10 minutes later you're getting railed LMAO

He's got a folder of every dirty picture you've sent him and he'll tease you about them

You walk in on him sorting through them and he laughs when you get embarrassed

"You're the one who sent the pictures. Did you think I would waste such works of art?" And he's got a pic of your ass on screen LMAO

I think he'd be into photography during sex

Not sex tapes but like he's got a Polaroid camera specifically for when you two go at it

Also I think he'd like punishment

Okay imagine Shadow makes a bunch of rules for you to follow in the bedroom that day but he purposefully makes it so you can't AHAKDNABKAND

"Aw, couldn't do it, love? I guess I'll have to fix that."

And there rules to follow during the punishment and if you don't follow them.... sheeeshhhhh

Like let's say he spanks you, you have to count each one, thank him properly each time, you're not allowed to squirm or whine, like you are so FUCKED (LITERALLY)

I don't think he's really into bondage exactly but let's talk about him tying your hands and then telling you if you want to cum you have to figure it out yourself OMFGGGGG

You try to hump the heel of your foot and he mocks you the whole time

Adding on to that, he's into orgasm denial/control

If ya want your orgasm, ya gotta work for it, thems tha rules

He'll use toys and give you tasks to do

He'll have you sucking his dick while he controls the remote vibrator inside you

If you want him to turn up the speed, you better get to gobblin that cob yfm?

I think Shadow would prefer missionary so he can see your face, so you can wrap your legs around him, so he can grab at your hips and nipples, etc.

Okay so outside of the bedroom–

Shadow manspreads and it's just MMMMM

He'd do things in public that turn you on without even thinking of it lmao

Like he'd grab your hips when he's trying to move past you

Or whisper in a low voice in your ear

Or say things without realizing the double meaning (a perfect opening for 'that's what she said' jokes)

Okay continuing on,

I think he'd have some sort of claiming thing going on

Cum inside you/on you, mark you (bites, bruises), writing on you, etc.

I mean like you're your own person, of course.... but your his

Okay I know I've been going on about his kinks but overall I think he'd be pretty vanilla is just occasionally he'll get more risqué

That's when all the kinky shit pops out

Not entirely related but Rogue would probably ask you some time into the relationship if y'all have done the deed LMAO

And if you say 'yes' she's asking for details lol

Anyways that's all I got for today, thank you my dear anon <3

Happy Holidays to everyone! I wanted to do a holiday themed thing but that might be coming later (like months later lmao)

Requests are open currently and I'll see y'all soon ;)

#fanfiction #sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow headcanons #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow x reader smut #shadow the hedgehog x reader smut

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 8

Part 8: Observant

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 7.6k (oops) Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. a bit suggestive wink wink. A/N: hi hi. apologies for the late posting (again). exam season is in full swing and im drowning a bit. butttt, I managed to get this little (its the longest chapter yet lol) part out for you guys <3 just cause I love u so much. ps. the gif is a hint ;)

Every step west of that cottage distanced you further from the cold front following yesterday’s rain. The day hadn’t started exceptionally hot, but the week’s gradual dip in temperature made the sun’s increasing beat feel more eager than you’d known it as of late. The further you got, the more frequent sips you took from the lukewarm water bottle in your bag, even tying that sweater you’d been cuddling for warmth in, just yesterday, around your waist. 

Daryl seemed alright, all things considered. His arm hadn’t proved too troublesome, but the area had proved relatively deserted anyway. The two walkers you came across were tired and slow. Not much of a threat. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either; he hadn’t shed the flannel underneath his vest yet. 

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when you met the border of the next town, a few hours later. 

“You’ve been through here before?” You asked Daryl, pointing to your spot on the map while walking side by side down the first commercial strip of the town. The stores looked like something out of a movie, quant but full of country charm. If it hadn’t been for the boarded windows and rusted cars sitting in the road, it would’ve been a lively sight. 

“When we first cleared the prison. Made our way through all the places nearby, too.” 

“Couldn’t have left a little for us?” You teased, glancing up at him. 

“There’s still some left. Shit we didn’t need.” 

“Shit we might need?” 

“Mhm. Lemme see tha’.” He grabbed the map from your hand, raising one of his own to block the sun from his eyes. He glanced over the paper, squinting at the tiny roads, then at the street sign above. 

“We can take this to Red Oak.” He tapped the street lines on the map, then continued forward. 

“What's on Red Oak?” 

He looked over his shoulder with a slight smirk. 

“Somethin’ we need.” 

It wasn’t until halfway down Red Oak Drive that you realized what that was. 

When it clicked, you smiled. 

It was an auto repair shop. Daryl had been here before, briefly as he told it, but long enough to make note of a few vehicles still in good condition. One of which was an old, dark blue hatchback that only needed a new battery and some gas to get started again. It was still sitting in the backlot, bathed in the sun’s last harsh rays of the season after the two of you made your way around the building. 

Daryl popped the hood. It was in the same condition as it was when he first found it, with a dead battery and dusty windows. 

“Do we… recharge it?” 

You didn’t know much about cars other than how to drive them. 

“Unless ya got a generator I don’t know ‘bout,” Daryl quipped, to which you softly rolled your eyes. “We need a new one.”

“Well, there’s gotta be something here.” You looked back to the building. 

“Mhm.” He nodded, closing the hood again. “Come on.” 

He kicked the back door three times. You were surprised that hadn’t been enough to bring it down; it was a flimsy thing. They must’ve not worried much about burglars in a small town like this. The brick wall was sturdy, though. Ridged edges pressed into your shoulder as you leaned against it, one leg crossed over the other while the wait began. A breeze of crisp, much more seasonally appropriate air rushed by, fluttering your few loose pieces of hair; you’d have to redo that mess of a ponytail soon. 

Daryl readjusted his hold of the crossbow, rolling his shoulders back— as well as he could, the left one was still noticeably stiff. 

You weren’t subtle about keeping an eye on him. 

“How’s the shoulder?” 

His eyes squinted under the bright sun. “Fine.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“’S a bit sore,” he admitted.

“I tried to tell you.” The loose smile on your lips was sympathetic, rather than teasing. 

“I know.” Daryl chewed at his lip. “But, I know ya get why I couldn’t stay there, neither.”

You stood a bit straighter, and the smile slipped away. 

“I do.” 

Daryl nodded. The air was heavy, not only with the newfound heat but a lingering tension— knowing— between you. If there was anyone who could understand his urge to find what was left of his family, it was you. The night you told him about your brother was still fresh in memory. There had been a vagueness you kept about the whole thing, a tone that could have sounded like a casual acceptance of fate, but Daryl remembered that look in your eye. The tear that slipped past. He didn’t have any doubt that you’d searched as far as you could for him.

But some people were too far gone. 

The shared silence between you two had grown comfortable these last few weeks. This one was different. Stretching seconds, then a minute, it made his muscles heavy. His weight felt unbalanced, even with two feet on the ground. 

Daryl had never been good with words— unless you counted those snarky quips he made. He either didn’t think at all or thought too long. It made him snappy and surly, the type of man people would’ve avoided before this thing. Somewhere there was a list of names to prove it. And yet, he had something to say. He wanted to. 

“Thank you,” he finally mumbled. 

Your expression lifted at that. “For what?” 

“For keepin’ an eye on me. Takin’ care’a me the way ya did.” 

Still, you seemed confused. A knit of your brows and a sweet look in your eye as you tried to pick apart some deeper meaning. Of course, you helped him. That’s what you promised, back at the start. 

“Of course,” you replied. “What else was I gonna do?” 

“I didn’t think you were gonna leave or nothin’,” he said, recalling your conversation while patching him up. Loyal ran deep in you, like it did him, and he trusted that you wouldn’t just leave him to rot. “But a lot’a people would’a.” 

Maybe that’s what he meant. Thank you for not being that person. 

You blinked, readjusting your focus on his serious demeanour. He was reserved, his lips drawn in and eyes barely holding your stare. 

“Well, that’s not us,” you said plainly. 

A reminder that he’d given you that loyalty, too. You weren’t sure if there were words to express how it didn’t feel so difficult to give your attention and care to the health of the man who fought tooth and nail for you to live, even after all the harm you’d caused him. It wasn’t even that you felt you owed him, but you knew he deserved it. 

Daryl gave you a small glimpse of a smile. Soft and sweet, like he was proving to be— deep down, at least. It drew a lopsided grin from you too. Your temple rested against the cool brick wall, and under the sun’s golden glow, you looked quite pretty like that. It was a talent, how quickly you could turn the charm back on; nothing else seemed to grab his attention the same way.  

“After all, what are friends for?” 

Daryl scoffed. He hoped he didn’t sound ungrateful when he blurted, “Tha’s wha' we are now?” 

“I would say so. We keep saving each other’s lives and the conversation is half decent.” You shrugged, as if indifferent. But your smile had turned playful not long ago, about the same time he noticed a warmth at his cheeks.

He’d blame it on the heat, if you asked. 

A second or two later, a walker slammed against the door. 

Daryl’s shoulder wasn’t too restraining; he lured the lone monster out and freed his knife from its skull without breaking a sweat. You gave him a quick smile of acknowledgment before the two of you stepped inside. 

The garage was in rough condition. A sign that was probably falling apart even before the world did, cheap tile floors, and a thick smell of mildew mixed with something decomposing— you were, unfortunately, quite knowledgeable about that smell, by now. The nicest thing about the building was that big roll-down window in the front that let the storefront become soaked in sunlight. The summer must’ve been a lot more tolerable with that wide open.

When the sunlight sneaking into the abandoned building didn’t reach far enough, Daryl held a flashlight in his mouth and scanned the store with his bow. His left shoulder was still stiff, so he had to depend on his other arm to bear most of the weight. Of course, you’d already tried to get him to keep it on his back, if anything, and take the gun instead— but he refused. All but demanded you keep the gun for yourself. 

The two of you searched the aisles with quiet steps, waiting for another unfriendly face to jump out of the shadows. 

It didn’t come. 

Instead, you gathered the few supplies Daryl needed, even pocketed a pair of sunglasses that you were sure would be useless after today, and went back out to that warm autumn day. Sitting on that small bench by the side of the building, eyes protected from the sun, you watched Daryl pop the hood of the car. He was quick at work, dexterous fingers tinkering with different parts of the vehicle that you could barely label. 

Between sips of water, your sight caught on those fingers— now smeared with grease— perhaps a second too long. When he turned to wipe his hands along that red rag in his back pocket, he noticed your lingering eye and paused.

Hesitated. 

With the pair of you caught off guard, you tried to break the quickly growing tension and asked, “Were you an auto mechanic before?” 

Daryl shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes as he did. He stretched underneath the hood again but spared you a glance back. Eyes squinted under the sun, the shine of sunlight hitting the grease along his exposed skin; the scene before you was beginning to look like something out of those ridiculous male model calendars. 

“I jus’ know cars,” he rumbled, a slight smirk to match that thick accent.

It was getting absurd, really; the hot sun wasn’t the only thing making you blush. 

You swallowed another gulp of water. 

It turned out the battery issue wasn’t too complicated. Daryl recounted some of his steps to you, telling you about which wire connected to which point, and so on. It was valuable information, undoubtedly worth paying attention to. The only problem was that by that point, the sun’s beat had stripped him of his vest and hitched the sleeves of his flannel around his elbows. The fact that the top three buttons were undone, opening across that broad and bare chest of his, wasn’t lost on you, either. 

It felt like a tease. He did. 

All you could do was nod along with his rough drawl and lean against the cool brick wall while you tried to deny checking him out. But really, everything else came second place to the swell of that shirt around his biceps, and his tense, thick forearms. Muscles overworked after dealing with tight gears and heavy equipment. 

The shade of those sunglasses was dangerous, giving you the excuse to let your eyes roam free all while Daryl was none the wiser— or so you hoped. 

Thoughts you hadn’t entertained in a long time began to roam free, too. It hadn't bothered you when they left; survival was the top priority, not romance or desire. Of course, the lack of time and potential suitors was a factor, too— why would you think about that when there wasn't even a chance for it? But here you were now, staring at Daryl, and recalling that fluttering feeling of attraction in your gut all too well. 

He was kind and strong. Whatever brute strength and resilience he had was matched with that three-sizes-too-big heart of his. After all, who else would take in an injured stranger, nevertheless one that attacked you just hours beforehand? Daryl might’ve blamed it on getting even, after you helped him from the window, but you knew there was something more behind that harsh stare of his. 

Something delicate. 

For whatever reason, you’d been lucky enough to see that gold-hearted nature firsthand. It sliced through his rough exterior, sparkling like a piece of glass caught in the sun. It was fragile, but you’d seemed to weave your way inside, anyway. 

You inhaled— stop. 

It might've felt otherwise, but there was still parts of Daryl you didn't know. Sometimes you forgot he was a man you’d known less than a month, been friends (barely) with less than two weeks. Even if he proved to be a good person, and was clearly easy on the eyes, from the obvious display ahead, these thoughts were intrusive. Perhaps an outcome of an idle mind. A natural attraction after a string of moments free of tension; all those life-or-death events bonded you, for better or worse, and as the urgency and blood washed off, you were falling victim to the full extent of that tie. 

“Got tha’?” 

“Mhm,” you faintly hummed. 

He said your name— no, repeated it. Embarrassment snapped you back into focus. Here you were daydreaming and practically ogling the man, while he was trying to teach you something. Help you. 

“Asked ya to grab another jug.” He gestured to the empty distilled water in his hand. Thank God, you were able to ignore that flex of his arm— mostly— when he did. 

“Right, yeah, of course,” you stammered. He tossed you the small flashlight before you scurried back into the building. The dark, cool air was a welcome relief against your hot cheeks, and you hoped it’d bring down whatever flush had inevitably crept up your chest.

At least you had those sunglasses. 

Maybe Daryl could feel your eyes roam his bare arms, chest, neck— stop— but you still had an inch of dignity left; he couldn’t prove it past the dark tint of those glasses, now sitting at the top of your head. 

Strolling through those same aisles, you grabbed another jug and tried to shake the last of those thoughts from your mind. Like how his eyes were as blue as the pretty Georgian sky, and were quickly becoming a solace for you. 

You were starting to like the looks he gave you— like he had while waiting at the door. It wasn’t that he was easy to read, no, you’d probably be fighting for a glimpse into those thoughts of his for the rest of your life. But every time you met those eyes that were once so harsh, you remembered the forgiveness he’d shared with you. The kindness. Perhaps it was a bit selfish because when you thought about that, it made something bloom deep in your chest. Something warm and sweet and good. 

You wanted to share it with him too. 

Somehow. 

Helping him find his people was your first try. You hoped you wouldn’t need a second. 

You grabbed the second jug of distilled water and turned to head back. 

A thump came from behind. 

It was odd. Two years spent in this world and yet, in a week, you’d reverted right back to that jumpy girl at the start. The air became thin, and you had to suck in a deeper breath just to keep your head straight. Heart pounding against your ribcage.

The last time you were in a dark store alone, it ended up with three people dead and Daryl shot. 

You spun around, flashlight high. The light danced across the aisles, no walkers or living under the fluorescent glow. That wasn’t enough to soothe your anxieties, so you placed the jug on the ground next to you and grabbed your gun, instead. 

It was then that your light landed on an exit sign. You could see the frame of a door below, in the far corner of the store. You approached it carefully, previously neglected as the pair of you assumed it was just a fire exit leading to that back alley, but now, with your heart still beating fast, you suspected something more lying behind that door. 

You twisted the handle carefully, gun ready in the other hand, but it was locked. 

You checked the front desk, found a ring of keys, and tried two before you found the right one. By then, your heart had slowed a bit. An engaged lock between you and that warning was slightly comforting, but you were still on edge. Finger ready by the trigger, if needed. 

The door creaked open and you stepped inside. 

Immediately, you found the source of the thump. A lone walker. Long, thin hair that was missing chunks and skin like leather stretched across its loosely hung open jaw. Its eyes were wide, staring out to the door you’d just walked through, but other than that low moan that rasped past its throat, it barely moved. 

The walker was old and frail, decomposing in this backroom alone since, if you could guess, the start. It didn’t even try to crawl. It couldn’t, there was a heavy cast on its leg reaching up to its upper thigh. A mop lying on the floor— maybe the thump. A bottle of antifreeze sat next to it, a dried splash of something bumpy and red. 

Puke. 

She killed herself. Locked alone in a backroom, with a broken leg and no other choice. 

The various ways you found the dead often reflected their last moments. Guts hanging out and bits of muscle torn from their flesh meant the obvious. Bullet and knife wounds, too. At the start, the mourning had almost been unbearable. Suffocating. Sympathy never stopped, there were simply too many roaming the world. It became dormant after one too many tried— and almost succeeded— to kill you. Then, something you only ever thought about in silent moments like this one. 

You unsheathed your knife and stepped over the fallen mop. It was the least you could do. 

The room was untouched. It didn’t have many valuables. Not for this world, anyway. There was a stack of cash and a nice bracelet in the bottom drawer of the desk, but nothing other than a couple of mints and a screwdriver that was worth keeping. In the top drawer, you found a single key on a thick, metal ring.  

You pocketed it, just in case. 

Other than the desk and those wobbly shelves filled with client records and taxes— a whole lot of paper— there was only that lumpy grey blanket, draped over something leaning against the wall, left to check out. You peeled it off carefully, but a cloud of dust surrounded anyway. Between coughs, you recognized what was underneath. The somber tone of the room lifted quickly, then. 

From the front of the store, Daryl called your name. Apparently, you’d been taking too long and his suspicions had arisen. 

“I’m okay!” you called back, clearing your throat one last time. “Be there in a second.”  

Even though you knew even less about motorcycles than you did about cars, you smiled as you gripped the handles. You were betting Daryl knew about bikes, too. You kicked up the stand and moved the bike through the store. Twisting it around the aisles and picking up that leftover jug of distilled water as you did. 

“I found something.” You grinned as you stepped back into the sunlight. 

Daryl’s eyes widened when he saw what you were leading. 

“No way.” He said, wiping his hands across the red rag, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Where’d ya find this?” 

“Backroom. We missed it earlier.” You pulled out the keys you found as Daryl quickly grabbed the bike.

His hands ran over the handles, then the seat. 

“And I think I found the key.”

He had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. You hadn’t even realized he could smile like that. 

“Pass ‘em ‘ere.” 

You dropped the ring in his open palm as he straddled the bike, thighs on either side. He looked down at the beast of a vehicle between his legs like it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. 

And then he looked back at you with that same look, and it almost made those intrusive thoughts from earlier seem a bit less insane. 

You were sure you had a goofy grin of your own. “You know how to ride one of these?” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. Stupid question,” you chuckled, eyes roaming over his leather vest— back on— and patchwork jeans. You never liked stereotypes, but Daryl sure was one sometimes. 

“Jus’ a bit,” he quipped. 

“You know,” you mumbled, smile growing, “I’ve never been on one.” 

“Never?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well, come on, girl.” 

You certainly didn’t need convincing. He shuffled forward, giving you the space to swing your leg over the seat behind him. At first, your hands grabbed at the spot, maneuvering your balance into a comfortable sit— but the overwhelming sight of Daryl's exceptionally broad back, draped in that black leather vest, soon had you squirming again. 

“Ya gotta hold on to me, alright?” 

“Okay,” you mumbled. You placed your shaky hands on his sturdy shoulders, like handlebars of your own. It was lucky that he was wearing that vest now—an extra layer between your skin and his— because you were pretty sure your palms were slick with sweat by that point. 

“Not there.” Daryl’s hand wrapped around the bend of your elbow, gently pulling your hands down. “Don’t need ya diggin’ a finger in my scab.” 

Then he repositioned them around his waist. 

Like it had been nothing. 

It had— you reminded yourself. Whatever bothered thoughts that kept slipping into mind today were an exception. Maybe your period was coming back. Or maybe that hot sun had melted away every bit of self-control you had left. 

“Ya might wanna hold on a bit tighter. It goes fast.” 

Your lungs constricted. Suddenly this felt wrong. Dangerous. 

“Wait— what about your shoulder? Should you be moving it—” 

“‘M movin’ it less sittin’ on this thing than off’a it.” 

“Well, shouldn’t we be wearing helmets or something?” 

The vibration of his laugh echoed through his back, which you were practically pressed up against. You might've cared more about his flippant attitude if he hadn’t reverberated a particularly soothing warmth back into you. 

“You chickenin’ out?” 

“No. I’m just remembering every motorcycle crash horror story my brother told me.” 

“He ride?” 

“God, no. He was an ER nurse.” 

“Well, we ain’t gonna crash.” Daryl rolled his shoulders back, and your grip tightened already. Nerves overcoming you. “Promise.” 

His confidence was reassuring. His firm body, even more so. 

“Alright then.” You nodded and the engine roared to life.  

Daryl’s feet lifted off the ground, landing on the rests just in front of yours. He found his balance quickly, even with you wrapped around his back. The pace was slow at first, a steady crawl that seemed overpowered by the loud rumble of that engine below. 

Then, when he finally passed the lot, he shot down the street. 

You couldn’t even guess how fast he was going. The world around you started to slip away, a lost frame of reference. The trees lining the road blurred into splatters of green and red, like a watercolour painting, and the wind rustled through those strands of hair that hadn't made it into your ponytail this morning. Racing through the breeze, that chill came back. Cold, little shards of air splintering across your face and hands.

The sudden bolt of movement made your stomach drop, that fluttering feeling of emptiness finding its spot. It reminded you of riding a rollercoaster as a kid, holding your brother’s hand tight and putting on a brave face as the big sister. It might’ve worked all those years ago, but you were pretty sure he’d be laughing at you now. You squeaked like a mouse, digging your face into the warm leather at Daryl’s back. The threading of his angel wings tickled your face alongside your wild hair, and you felt that familiar rumble in his chest again. 

“Ya alright?” He yelled back. 

You sucked in a fresh breath of air and peeked an eye open. It felt like the bravest peek in the world— the blurry, fast world. Though still huddled behind Daryl, with a vice grip around his steady waist, you were sure it didn’t appear very courageous to anyone else. 

“Fine!” You managed to reply, “I just didn’t expect that.” 

His gruff voice was harsher when he had to speak over that deafening engine. You barely made out his next sentence: “Want me to slow down?” 

You thought about it. But by the time you understood his offer, your eyes had opened completely, almost adjusted to the speed of the world around you. You even sat up properly, looking to your left as he raced past a strip of abandoned cars. That floating feeling inside your chest began to feel less dizzying, like Daryl’s waist was a tether to gravity as the bike ripped down the streets. He was always positioned firm and steady, like that beat of his heart you could feel against your cheek. You trusted him to keep you solid, even as the wind picked up. 

“No,” you practically squealed with a newfound excitement. “Keep going!” 

Much to your increasing delight, he kept that speed until you noticed a group of walkers at the end of the long-stretching road. He slowed down to turn, the joy and carefree adventure stained with reality, once again. The engine was loud. You glanced behind as Daryl bolted back through the street you’d just gone down, the blurry heads of the dead turning toward you in the distance. It’d been as good a sign as any to head back, with the gas slowly dwindling too. 

When you reached the car garage again, the bike crawled back through the lot, allowing you to finally take a deep breath and catch that fluttering feeling in your stomach. The bike paused and the engine turned off. The stark difference in noise was shocking— some time down that road you forgot just how loud the engine was, and just how quiet the rest of the Earth was nowadays. 

Daryl sat back, hands limply grasping the handlebars, head bowed to the beast of a motor below him. He seemed content from behind. Relaxed. 

You leaned around his shoulder. “End of the line?”

He seemed to snap back into focus then, glancing at you. 

“Gas is runnin’ low anyway.” 

You nodded, but added hopefully, “Maybe we can find more?” 

“We should use it for the car.” 

You sighed, “I know.”

The engine was still warm underneath your legs. Your disappointment was just as fresh. That could’ve been your first and only chance on the back of a bike, for all you knew. 

“Good first ride then?” 

“Are you kidding?” You laughed. “I get it now. Horror stories be damned.” 

He chuckled, even throwing you another glance back. But the second after your eyes met, his grin fell an inch. He turned his face away, too, and it hadn’t only taken a second longer for you to notice how close he was like this. You still wrapped around his back. 

“Ya gotta move so—” 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, climbing off the bike. Trying to steady yourself on the ground was harder than you anticipated; your legs felt like jelly, already missing the smooth leather beneath you.

Your eyes caught on Daryl's vest as he also got off. 

In front of you. 

The bike balanced on its stand, Daryl on one side and you on the other. Something caught his attention, just above your eyes. 

“Ya got…” He gestured with a lazy hand around the top of his head. 

Your eyes went wide, hand flying up to the wild mess of your hair. 

You patted down a patch. “There?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, giving you the ghost of a smile.

You felt it again. Butterflies. 

Fuck. 

---

By the time you finished siphoning gas from the other cars, Daryl was done fixing the blue one. Throwing your few bags in the backseat, you climbed inside. You in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. He liked to drive. It seemed to calm him, from that loose expression he wore. 

“We’ll keep drivin’ west, see wha’ we can find.” Daryl gripped the steering wheel with one hand. The other lingered by his mouth, thumb occasionally gnawed at. “Can siphon gas from the cars on the road. Hunt for food, sleep in the back.” 

“A home on wheels.” You rolled down the window as the car began to drift down the same streets you’d just sped through. The wind was softer than it had been on the bike. You already missed that terrifying, joyful freedom. 

There was another way you could chase it, you realized. You started to dig through the glove compartment. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” 

“CDs, hopefully.” 

His eyes flickered over you. Hair now brushed, let loose from that ponytail and tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward. The sun was still strong late into the afternoon, direct rays landing across the dashboard and reflecting onto you. It explained that glow you had. 

“God, I’d listen to anything at this point.” 

Daryl glanced over to the road, but his attention didn’t slip off you completely. 

It never seemed to, anymore. 

“Here.” You popped the cd from its case and rubbed it against the soft fabric of your sweater. “Can’t believe this is the only one. Who the hell owned this car?” 

Daryl’s lip twitched up at your soft snark. “You a music snob or somethin’?” 

“No.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just hoping for something better.” 

With one hand off the wheel, he clicked on the radio. Static rumbled from the speakers until he slid the dusty cd inside. The dark melody was slow, something that reminded him of those nights in the same run-down bar in the early nineties. A favourite of his uncle, then his brother, and while the pair of them served a stint in jail, Daryl’s. 

It was strange, feeling better off without your family by your side. But Daryl had all his life to get used to that thought. It wasn’t until he made his own family, then lost them, that he felt the opposite. He missed that group more than he could say, missed that feeling of purpose they gave him. 

Though, as the days rolled on, you were beginning to fill that ache in his chest, too. 

“Sure there’s nothin’ else in there?” 

You checked again, but it was mostly a polite gesture. There hadn’t been much in there, anyway. A pair of old gloves that you’d already stuffed in your bag, some tissue, the lone cd, and a brochure. 

“Only this.” You flickered through the pages of the sale brochure. It was for the development of a small community, units starting in the low three hundreds. The prospective opening date was off by a few years, though. You doubted they’d even broken ground before everything fell apart. 

“You really don’t like it?” 

“Ain’t exactly a fan,” he grumbled. There was a flash of disappointment across your face, caught in the corner of his eye. His frown lifted a bit. “’S fine, though. Ain’t a big deal, neither.” 

“What are you a fan of then?” You tossed the brochure back inside the box. “Now that we have a radio, next time I’m scavenging I’ll keep an eye out.” 

Daryl thought for a moment. “I dunno. Only really listened to what Merle liked.” 

You blinked, brows knitting a centimetre closer. 

“You spent a lot of time with him?” 

“When he was around.” 

Something stung in your chest. No, your heart. From the sparse details Daryl spared about his brother, Merle didn’t seem the reliable type. Every story he told was followed with stiffness. Those memories were distant and cold— the type of coolness that grew from hurt, not time. 

You knew to tread lightly. 

“What’d you guys do?” 

“Whatever.” Daryl shrugged. “Drank. Went huntin’. Nothin’ special.” 

“So you hunted even before this?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Merle taught you?” 

“My dad.”  

“Oh.” 

Daryl had never mentioned a parent before. Given the age gap, you’d assumed Merle had probably raised him a good chunk of his childhood. When he was around, anyway. 

That cold tone Daryl had for his brother extended to his father, also. A part of you wondered if that hurt had been deep, too. Maybe as deep as those scars on his back. 

It was an insensitive thought. Unfair. Daryl didn’t owe you anything, and he certainly didn’t deserve you stuffing your nose in his family’s business. 

“Do you like hunting?” 

“I liked the forest. Liked eatin’.” It was better than being home. “But I didn’t do it ‘cause I liked it. Was jus’ somethin’ I had to learn.”

With a nod, you went quiet. A softly contemplative look on your face. It piqued his interest, a flutter of nerves catching in his gut. 

“Why ya askin’?” 

“Just curious,” you answered. “You’re the only person I’ve had out here that didn’t jump at every snap of a branch.” 

“Well I got practice,” he said. “Stuck with a lotta city folk, then?” 

You turned back to him then, a sly smile hanging off your lips. “I’m city folk.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Cause you’re jumpy, too,” Daryl scoffed. “Scared’a your own damn shadow.” 

“I like the forest,” you defended with a slight pitch to your words. It made Daryl smirk, too. “I just don’t like how dark it can get. It’s freaky. I’ll never get used to it. Maybe all those bright city lights mess with your brain after all.” 

Daryl nodded, and he knew the moment had presented itself. The tone shifted a bit serious when he finally asked the question that’d be pressing him. 

“Atlanta, then?” 

“Briefly.” You nodded. “My brother and I were visiting before everything happened.” 

“Heard it was bad there.” 

It was. It’d taken a long time to stop waking up in a sweat with memories of that night. 

Still, you shrugged. “It was bad everywhere.” 

“Yeah, but they weren’t droppin’ bombs everywhere.” 

“I got out before that.” 

Good timing.

“We were only there for two weeks. If the trip had been a month later, or earlier, we wouldn’t have been anywhere close to Georgia when this thing hit.” 

Daryl felt something fester in his gut. Anxiety? That distant, non-existent what-if made him shift in his seat. He could feel it looking over your side profile— the curve of your nose and lips, the soft flutter of eyelashes— and it hit him like that bullet had. Fast. 

It was true. You’d grown on him. He cared. 

“You’re not from Georgia?” 

You shook your head. “Nope.” 

“Explains the accent.” 

“Or lack thereof,” you countered. “I like yours though. It's charming.” 

Daryl scoffed, and you gave him a look. 

“What? I’m being serious. You have a nice voice.” 

A pretty shade of light pink scattered across his cheeks. You couldn’t help that loose smile you wore. It was nice to make him nervous, for once. Of course, you weren’t about to rub it in his face. You glanced away, eyes caught in the fast shades of green, orange, and red passing by the window. 

“What about you? Where were you at the start?” 

Daryl cleared his throat. “Same place I’d always been. Hometown.” 

“You never left?” 

“Nah.” 

“Not even for college or…” 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he tried not to side-eye your reaction when he finally muttered, “Didn’t go.” 

Though that part of him that held all those pessimistic, self-doubts was a strong force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need to prove himself— never cared to before— but now here he was, sitting with that gnawing feeling in his gut, wanting to. 

And yet, you barely even shrugged. 

“I almost didn’t go, either,” you said nonchalantly, eyes running over the back of the CD case. “You ever wish you had, though?” 

“Nah.” 

“Fair enough. I think you could’ve been good at it, though. You’re very…” 

Daryl waited, brow hitched as you hummed. 

“Intuitive.” You’d decided. “You know, you have good instincts. Sometimes it feels like you know what’s gonna happen before it does.” 

He sat with those words a moment, then offered one of his own: “Observant.” 

“Yeah, exactly. Maybe you could’ve been a lawyer… Or a cop.” 

“Nah,” Daryl huffed. “Cops ’n I never got along well.” 

“No?” You teased. “You used to get into trouble, Dixon?” 

“Merle did. Guess I tagged along for the ride.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I was a dumbass.” 

“You being a dumbass— that’s hard to imagine.” 

“I didn’t have to,” he quipped. 

You smiled at the easy wit that always just seemed to flow from him. 

“So you didn’t leave town before this?” 

“Not really. Never even left Georgia.” 

“Seriously?” 

He shook his head. 

“Well, maybe after we pick up your friends we can go on a road trip.” 

Daryl gave you a look. It was questioning, sure, but gentle. “Plannin’ on stickin’ around then?” 

“Well, I uh…” you paused. Curiously, you hadn’t thought about it much. Since those initially tense first days together, the possibility of parting ways with Daryl, not because of a feverish worry or a herd, but because your shared journey had reached an end, hadn’t come to mind often. The two of you hadn’t been together long, but you’d already been through a lot. Patching the other up, too many close calls to count, sharing what little supplies you had… just to say ‘see ya!’ after everything felt wrong. Incomplete. 

“If you’d let me. I don’t really have anywhere else to go— anyone else.” 

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. 

It was a short acknowledgement. A single word. It still made you smile. 

Daryl wasn’t like most people. He was forgiving and insightful. He let you live when you probably deserved to die because he wasn’t like most people. All you knew about the others was that they’d earned Daryl’s loyalty at some point, and made their own way into his sentiment, too. If he trusted them, you hoped that meant you could too. 

Hoped. 

Worry crept back in. Maybe the others wouldn’t want you there. The stain of the prison could’ve been enough to taint your reputation, completely, even if Daryl vouched for you. And, if it came down to it, choosing between you and them, there was no doubt in your mind. He wouldn’t pick the girl he knew for a couple of weeks over his real family. 

It poured out faster than you meant. Words slipped, mumbled and stuttered, “You think they might— might wanna kill me? Or, I don’t know, cut me loose?” 

“Tha’ ain’t gonna happen.” Daryl watched the road. “They’re good people. Like you.” 

The weight of worry lifted off your chest again. He had a talent for that. 

You smiled. 

Good people. 

You tried to hide the flush at your cheeks and chest, glancing out the window. “How’d you find them anyway?” 

“At the start, Merle ’n I were in the middle’a huntin’. Didn’t even know ‘bout the walkers until I found one out there, ’n it tried to take a bite outta me.” 

“Shit,” you hissed. 

“Douchebag was all over me. Smelt somethin’ awful. I started yellin’, screamin’ at the thing. Punchin’ him. He jus’ kept coming, then Merle shot it.” He scoffed, “Thought I was ‘bout to serve hard time for murder, till Merle said he’d heard something on the truck’s radio ‘bout dead bastards comin’ back to life. We left for Atlanta after tha’.” 

“Refugee camps?” 

“Never made it. That was when we found the others on the road. We stayed up by a quarry for a while. It wasn’t safe, so we kept movin’, till we found the prison. ‘Bout a year ago.” 

“You stayed there a year?” 

Daryl nodded. “We lost a lot gettin’ there. Made somethin’ of it, though.” 

“I didn’t think anything like that could be real.” You shook your head. 

He met your look. It’d gone from smiling to serious in a few sentences. That slight bite at your lip, a quiver in your brow. 

“It was," he said.

“Do you think you could ever have that again?” 

Of course, he’d thought about it. Even if he tried not to, those memories of the prison and the community they built from a grey, desolate building— a prison— were overwhelming. It was the first time in maybe his whole life that he felt a purpose. People didn’t just depend on him. They accepted him. They liked him. 

He stole another look at you. That bloom of familiarity was deep in his chest, again. 

“Maybe.” 

---

Another hour passed. The sun was softer, a cold breeze shifting through that open window until you finally rolled it back up. You still stared outside, watching the trees slip by.

Daryl had traced the backroads back to the main road leaving the prison, and you’d been travelling west since. The same way he’d seen the bus go. It seemed strange that they hadn’t come up with an official rendezvous spot, just a last chance at loading on that bus together. But maybe a more detailed plan would’ve been useless anyway; places didn’t last long, nowadays. 

The car rolled to a stop. Your head lulled to face forward, finding a slight ache in your neck when you finally tore your eyes away from the window. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, about to slip when your eyes landed on the answer. 

Instead, you gasped, “Oh my God.” 

There, sitting in the road, was the bus. 

Splatters of blood painted the siding. A dozen or so bodies sprawled by the back door. Some were piled on top of each other, limbs mixed. Others lay alone. All of them had turned before they were put down for good. 

You could just tell. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed his white-knuckle grip around the steering wheel. The veins in his hands popped out, muscle turned into stone, and there was no use in glancing up at him; you already knew that look of pain— despair— he had. Could practically feel him begin to bottle up every word, emotion, or care. 

You were the first one to exit the car. 

Goosebumps broke out on your skin as a cold breeze took hold. That chill sunk into your skin with the sound of the second door opening, and something stiff and heavy clouded behind you. 

It was coming from him. You knew that already. It made that pit of dread in your gut even heavier. 

Was it fury he was feeling? Grief? 

Even when you finally did glance back at him, lingering by the car's side, you still couldn’t say for sure. That glossy look in his eye was certainly bitter. Tense with emotion that you knew he was fighting to reign in. It left him with a dark glare as he stared at the dead faces of his people— the only ones he’d known for sure got out. He had practice keeping that type of anger silent. Not the one that made you punch some asshole at the bar, but the type that was born out of misery and regret. 

He’d been abrasive at the cabin. Then softer after the pharmacy. Even strained in the cottage, with you tending to his back. But he’d never forced himself numb before, not like this. You could tell he was holding back. A guttural scream, you thought, from the tension in his neck and that vein threatening to pop out where a swollen bump had been a few days prior. 

But his lips drew shut in a taut line, and he was quieter than the rustle of the trees. 

It made your stomach knot. Though, you were sure it was no worse than what he might have been feeling— if he'd let himself. His only lead: bloody, dead, and rotting in the middle of the road. If you’d kept driving, the tires would’ve ripped through decaying muscle and crushed bone. 

It wasn’t fair. 

The gas station. His wounds. The bus. These people, lying like trash on the road. No more significant than the withering leaves beside them. 

There wasn’t the time, nor the energy, to spend digging graves. But you dragged each limp body, one by one, to the side of the road. Right where the grass bled into the concrete, they laid. 

Sometime around the third body, Daryl began to help. He picked up the opposite limb with his good arm, then eventually his bad one too. 

Nothing but that gloss across his eye to tell you these people meant anything to him. He was retreating by the second. Crawling back into that ugly pit of animosity and cynicism that always seemed to have a spot waiting for him. Each body you moved reaffirmed it. Pushed him deeper as hollow eyes fell on the cold faces of the people he cared about. He fed. He protected. 

Or, tried to. 

It was never enough. 

-> part 9

A/N: so much happened in this part I mean... reader finally realizing she might have a lil crush on him... the bike ride... the car conversation... THE BUS

anyway. back to our regular scheduled bad shit happening to our fav fictional characters. if u have any predictions or thoughts, lmk :p

FYI: I'm expecting to miss next weeks posting. I have too much to do with exams, sorry! after that ill be graduated so lots of free time coming up lol.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #Daryl Dixon / you #Daryl Dixon / reader #daryl / you #daryl / reader #daryl dixon series #the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #the walking dead fanfic

[alexanderlightweight]

I loved the Chronic Pain!Alec story! Could I request Deaf!Alec and specifically his challenges?

Hey so first, if anyone is deaf/HOH and would like to correct anything please feel free to let me know. This fic did not have a sensitivity reader (though if anyone volunteers I’d welcome but also i do not expect it)

i hope you enjoy anon ty for the prompt!

-

Alec shivers as his awareness rune is activated, the sensitivity a familiar rush that envelopes him. It means any injuries he’ll get he’ll feel tenfold, but it’s worth it. Alec can feel the currents of the wind, the sensation of a demons form crawling from the shadows and the shaking of the earth where they step.

What he can’t hear will be made up for and demons are nearly silent anyways. Alec never really understood why everyone thinks his success is shocking when half of his enemies don’t even make noise until after they’re attacking.

Everyone thinks Alec should be at a disadvantage but he doesn’t think he is. For every mission he’s given, it’s completed perfectly. He’s the most highly decorated solo hunting specialist to ever be seen and Alec knows the clave hates him. They hate what he’s proving, that shadowhunters with what the clave considers limits — who are normally hidden away in Idris — are just as if not more capable, than what the clave considers their perfect specimens.

Alec was supposed to have a team but there is only so much he can do when his siblings won’t listen to him. Which is ridiculous, considering Alec is the one who can’t hear. However he can read lips and while the amount of permanent runes that Alec bears is more than most can handle and more obscure than usually allowed, Alec wants what he wants. It was ridiculous that his siblings expected him to still cater to their insubordination and willfulness when they knew how much was at stake for him. So Alec had submitted a request to become a solo hunter and shipped his protesting siblings to Idris where his parents had gone once he’d turned sixteen.

After all, it’s not his fault that Valentine experimented on him as a child and his hearing was taken as a result. If anything, it’s his parents and Alec makes sure that they know it, every time they try to shame him or push him down. Alec looks at them and he smirks, because Alec lost his hearing before his parents took him and ran but Alec didn’t lose his voice.

Though not for a lack of Valentine trying.

“Was it the screaming?” He asks his mother one day when she's speaking so fast he can barely read her lips, interrupting her and rolling the words over his tongue, feeling the reverberations of his own throat as he works out where to let the sounds linger. Talking is a necessity when one is a commander, even if Alec only ever leads teams from behind a screen with another on the comes, interpreting for him.

“What?” Alec sees her lips say, because she’ll never lower herself to using mundane sign language, no matter how beneficial it’s turned out to be for shadowhunting teams as a whole and not just Alec. They have a rune that lets them see in the dark, being able to communicate silently is a boon, not that his mother will admit it.

“The screaming. Was it the screaming that made you run? To flee Valentine? I remember it, I remember you held me down at first and then he promised to make it all better and father held me down instead.” Maryse is staring at him in horrified realization and Alec smiles, because his memory of it goes deeper than Maryse’s walls do. “I think you were crying. I wanted you to call me baby and hold my hand and tell me I’d be okay, that you’d protect me. You didn’t though, you’d stopped comforting me already, I remember that. Instead it was ‘Valentine please’ and I never heard your voice again.”

Maryse is shaking and Alec grins meanly, teeth sharp because if she’d ever once been sorry he would have accepted it but it’s too late now. “Was that all? I have an Institute to run.” He brushes past her, deliberately turning his back in a way that makes the conversation over. Maryse will have to grab him to stop him and she won’t, because Alec won’t let her.

— “Mirai!” he calls, because while he’s never sure how loud he’s being, his second is normally close enough or someone is close enough to let her know. A few minutes later she’s there, a large tablet and a file in her hand and she’s shaking her head as she follows him to his office.

He signs out, ‘meeting now. Reports first. Demon sighting new’, and Mirai sighs and keeps her head turned to him so he can read her lips as she looks at her tablet.

“Very well Commander, I’ll see that the weapons room is restocked before any teams are sent out. Apparently the ichor cleaning team is backlogged again.”

‘Idiots gone?’

“Indeed. It seems we’ve finally culled the herd enough that we are lacking in imbeciles who act before they think.”

And Alec keeps his laugh silent because his joy is rare and sacred to himself, and instead he just smirks meanly.

‘Good. Weapons priority anyone off.’

Mirai nods and puts down her tablet to respond, ‘confirmed’ and then she leaves and Alec stares at his desk overflowing with so any missives that he’s tempted to set them on fire. Instead he reaches for the first one and grins. The High Warlock of Brooklyn is finally responding to his request and Alec is hoping that if there are wards he can add to his Institute so that he doesn’t have to have his runes as active as he does. He manages, but it’s exhausting and it does wear on him over time.

So it’s with an unfamiliar flicker of hope that Alec eagerly sends over an answer and he wants this to work, but he makes himself focus on his other work and then, two hours later and message with the same elegant scrawl of the first reply flashes into place.

Alec reads it with a growing grin before tapping out a message on his tablet. Mirai will take care of everything for him and he knows that all of his people will ensure that High Warlock Bane has the best experience in an Institute he’s ever had in his life.

Though, considering how the clave feels about anything they consider different, Alec doubts the bar is very high. Which is fine, Alec is perfectly happy kicking it off the ground and shattering the celling of the claves idiotic prejudices with it.

#writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #lumine writes #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

[sol-shines]

Hiiiiii my sunshine!!! I’m here to be a distraction :)

Anyways here’s a ton of questions for you. While hearing about any of them would be good, the Cebu trio or Mickey or literally any of the MM crew would be 👀👀👀

1: are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

5: how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

21: their favorite place to be?

23: how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

33: if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

34: how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

I love you!

(ask game here!)

!!! hi baby!! sorry this took a minute. let's see... on account of our conversation this morning. Oggy Time

1: are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

tha BLUES. not the music just. the color. he's a very frosty guy and he sorta lives up to the aesthetic lol. he'll wear any colors, although I feel the most common are like. blue and white. other neutral tones thrown in, cool colors too. and patterns are good.

5: how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

World's Largest Sweater Collection for this guy. the more frumpy and grandpa-core the better. sir you live in the fucking philippines,

21: their favorite place to be?

ough,,,, god this is a hard one. im gonna say the crankit family kitchen, specifically with rai and dai. he'll never admit it tho.

23: how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

hm... low? it was already low before he started t, so it's honestly a little soothing. as for tone... pretty serious, usually. even when he's joking, his humor is very dry and deadpan. it's really funny when he gets all riled up and his voice cracks, tho.

33: if applicable, how would your other characters describe them?

ooh.. ok i'm gonna do just a few:

shirai and daiya: their beloved kuya. oh how they treasure getting on his last fucking nerve. no but really they both look up to him sooo much, they think of him as a really steady and caring person. to his face tho, "kuya killjoy" lmao. "shortass."

murphy: LMAO don't trust this man he's down bad. "cute," obviously. nerd but in an endearing way. a giver, but needs to take better care of himself.

rey: aer best friend. "snores too damn loud." a kindred spirit, they are both way too exhausted to give a fuck. "the best of all of us. except maybe justice. idk don't make me choose."

34: how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

tired. both in general and of everyone's shit lmao.

i love you too!!! ty for sending this in !!!!!!! MWAH !!!

#cebu chaos #ocs #ogden #ask game #sol speaks #LOVE this guy. im sure nothing bad ever happens to him :)

[elkkiel]

ty for the tag @bubacorn 🩷🩷

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

mostly sleep token WIPs, some are personal and/or professional pieces too bc I am a disorganized little rat with super-ADHD. this actually prompted me to make a proper WIP stack on procreate so thank u friend for spurring to clean my digital bedroom lol

OKAY so here's what I call them in my head:

Zodiac/Eden's bday

Boba eyes 3

grabbing tha moon

Ophelia

Boba eyes 2

III does a little dancey dance

Boba eyes 1

potion bottle

logo fix

magpie

iced tea redraw

Here's what they're actually called:

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Ophelia

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

Untitled Artwork

I like to live life on the edge, and by that I mean on the verge of tears when I can't find my fUCKING FILES

anyways here's some taggies @hookedhobbies @long-lost-ghost @shaottzang + whoever else lol this is an interesting one

[javelinbk]

The Beatles in Australia/New Zealand: part one (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

George and John talk to Bob Rogers about Rolf Harris and tying their kangaroo down

Bob: Have you heard any Chinese singing? John: Err, no Bob: To 'Waltzing Matilda', here are The Beatles George & John (singing): Ah, Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, you'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me Bob: Don't ask me what a jumbuck is, I don't know George: Oh, we know what a Frank Ifield is though, don't we? Bob: Ahh, and Rolf Harris John: Cobber George: Tie me kangaroo down, sport John: Cobber Bob: In twenty-four hours overnight, you've come from summer to winter. How do you think that's going to affect your health? John: Err, I don't think it will affect it at all George: We're always just naturally unhealthy, so it doesn't matter Bob: And you're going to wear these Hong Kong suits that you've had made John: George and I haven't had any made Bob: Haven't you? John: No George: No, cause we're saving up Bob: But we read about it in the papers John: Oh, you never believe what they write in the papers. Paul's had one, that's all. He's had two. George: Our road managers' have had one or two Bob: Now what are you going to do whilst you're in Australia? George: Err… John: Play… George: …tie me kangaroo down, sport Bob: Are you going to be able to get out, or are you going to have to be locked in your rooms all the time? George: Well, we don't really know until we get to wherever we're going John: We don't expect to get out, anyway, if we do it's a… lucky, you know? George: If we do it's a lucky? John: It's a lucky, thas say me Bob: You can't go on living in a prison like this all your life John: Well, it won't last all our lives, will it? Bob: How long do you think it will last? John: Well, don't ask me that! But we know it won't last all our lives, so that's enough

#I haven’t listened to these interviews for years #oh to be fourteen again #I love the friendship they built with bob rogers/rob bodgers on this trip #tie me kangaroo down sport #beatles in australia/nz #bob rogers #john and george #interviews: john #interviews: george #australia 1964 #1964 #buddies and pals #june 1964 #audio and transcripts

[chthonicgodling]

10 for chal and 18 for pho and icy ?

Ty!!! again questions from here w ocs from here - aaaand again behind a cut cause LONG Lmfao aaughhhh

10- If they have a love interest how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? (Re: Chal)

FENIXE AND I DIDNT PLAN CHAL AND BEL GETTING TOGETHER AT AAAAALLLL just like everything we’ve ever done it just sort of happened! So Chal was pretty solidly the way she was since before Bel, BUT certain traits of hers did definitely end up becoming emphasized just by nature of putting the two of them next to each other especially one specific thing like

The thing about Bel is that, as a mindreader and also as a split god linked to his own twin sibling, Bel’s not…. good at…….. communicating his own thoughts and feelings? Like Bel’s always been used to Ty just knowing everything about him all the time cause the two of them are ALWAYS in each others heads they can’t turn it off. That’s not to say Bel isn’t extremely well spoken and emotionally intelligent he just uh. Forgets to Do That On The Outside.

‘Cause then you put him next to someone like Chal who is not only incredibly imperceptive of how other people are feeling (she has gotten so much better with this but lmao still!!) but also NOT in tune with her OWN thoughts and emotions, and so all of that “Chal-ness” about Chal just jumped way more intensely to the forefront. Bel’s always poker faced and never reveals what he’s feeling - Chal, his partner, is frantically babbling every single thing she’s thinking and experiencing the second anything pops into her head. Bel himself summed up pretty concisely a while ago (yes I went back to 2017 to find tbis exact quote lol) - “I think the way we love each other is different.  You're more intense, I'm more subtle.”

so was that on PURPOSE okay no like I said Chal was never designed with Bel specifically in mind but. Is this something about Chal that’s become more pronounced as she developed alongside Bel! yyeeessss. So to foil alongside Bel Chal has gotten LOUDER and BABBLIER

fun fact re all of this though that idk if I’ve ever shared - they have had MANY conversations about their extreme communication differences cause it has caused problems due to Chal not!! being able to read minds and Bel!! forgetting that not everyone can read minds!!!!! They have a rule set up between them that Chal can ask at any time “what are you thinking” and Bel will always answer honestly no exceptions 💞 Chal asks this 40 times a day and it’s become so second nature to them that she’s even occasionally slipped up and done it to like, Tory, Gany, lol

18- What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? (Re: Icy & Pho)

the way these are both Chal related cause the last time they were really around in canon doing anything was around her lmfao—

For Icy: I’ve yet to formally do anything about this in canon but Icy’s still on and off crushing on Chal solely because I think it’s really funny so i’m stalling as long as possible since Neo and Icy are forever endgame anyway. HOWEVER I have discovered in my daydream planning that the way Icy will finally and definitively stop fawning over her is gonna be the moment he finally has an actual in depth conversation with Chal in order to discover that Chal, just like Icy, is an anxious wreck disaster - maybe even more so - and the shock of looking in a metaphorical mirror will be enough to knock some sense back into him. No way can Icy be the put together confident one in a relationship they can’t BOTH be falling apart aahhhh. Icy’s gonna realise that he can only date an opposite! HMM WHO’S ICY’S POLAR OPPOSITE AND CONVENIENTLY HIS BEST FRIEND AT HIS SIDE —

For Pho: this came to light for me the moment Pho and Chal actually met each other in canon cause I hadn’t realized how Pho was going to behave until he was behaving as such (I said, as the person responsible for writing and controlling all of these characters — shhhhhhhh) — is the discovery that Pho REALLY can’t stand Chal and it’s NOT for any of the reasons anyone else has hated her lmfao?! Literally nothing to do with Thanatos?!?!!

Pho and his dayglo glitter projection self has always existed outside of “time” in the sense that since like, physical age 4 onwards Pho has never actually ACTED his age, babbling in competent paragraphs due to his powers as a brain-mental(dream) god advancing him well beyond typical development. Kid-not-really-a-kid. Who else in the palace was merely kid-shaped but actually mentally existing well beyond their physical age???

Why, mindreading mindgods Ty and Bel of course, who froze themselves deliberately in the shape of children at age 7ish to be 7 forever with their big sister Meli, despite their powers advancing them outside the confines of age and space and time. they’re mind gods - they’re every mind!

and that’s a lonely life to live forever but not when you have a glittery buddy who’s also masquerading the same way to hang out with :-) besties! Except of course then Bel and Ty moved to Chal’s house— and dropped the facade, for Chal’s sake, to actually appear as the adults they were. For Chal’s sake! happily ever after for Chal!

…well. then. Pho was quite dismayed to discover that his besties weren’t kids to hang out with anymore. they didn’t even tell him fffdkfkff whoops??? like they just showed up at the palace again all different and Pho hanging out there with Icy was like what the FUCK??? so when Pho finally met Chal the discovery - suddenly became very clear to me that he harbors QUITE a bit of jealous resentment against her for “taking Bel and Ty away” and uhhh. will this be a grudge Pho holds forever?! maybe lmao! everyone’s oblivious no one can read Pho’s mind cause it’s all glitter sooooo……….. hm…….. keeping that one in the back of my mind……

#asks #oc talk #Elysium essays

[random-ran-me]

(Little story pov for my oc ran)

Tw: soft noms and flirting:,] sfw!

He walked along the counter, his claws clicking with each step, his little hook clicking against his makeshift lantern that he had made oh so long ago, sun shone through the window as the evening sky turned to one of sunset, I wonder if awtic is home yet, he thought to himself with a hum as he used his hook, with a loud clack tying it to the counter, and sliding down his rope, just in time for him to hear the creaking of a door, that must be Awtic! Ran said half out loud as he rushed over to his friend, who was just taking there shoes off and setting there bags down, awtic leaned down smiling at Ran with a big goofy grin “hello there cutie pie~” awtic said messing with Ran as he watched the borrowers face turn bright pink, “your looking for me so you must need something from the all mighty awtic dontcha?~” he said teasingly as he picked Ran up by his shirt collar, Ran muttered some shy words and his tail dropped between his legs- “w-well- I- uhm- n-no just wanted to s-say hello!..” awtic smiled and walked to the living room, sitting down on the old couch the old rusty springs in it creaking as he sat, his tail flicked grazing the side of Rans face softly, his stomach growls softly, and he set Ran down on his belly “so how was your day pip-squeak?” Awtic asked lazily with a slight roll of his eyes, “hey I told you not to call me tha-“ Ran sighs “never mind.. but it was good! I played with the cat next door!” Awtic nods slowly thinking this over a bit “anyway how was your day?” Ran asked tail wagging as he had just gotten comfy, “well I forgot my lunch and I’m absolutely starving~” he groaned rubbing at his hungry belly “andddd….. other then that it was ok.. butttttt I think.. I need a little snack” he winked at Ran who was already picking up what he was laying down, and was already trying to escape the couch, but alas his little paws were not fast enough and he’s scooped up in awtics rough hands, the feline purring, “oh come onnnn Rannyyyyyyyy~ I know you enjoy this” he said smiling as he raised the borrower up over his maw “nononon- you like this! I don’t!! So please put me down!!!! Awtic bad cat- no- bad kittyyyy!!” He yelped out as Awtic dropped him then caught him again teasingly, with a little giggle “pshhhhh- lier lier pants on fire- your being a dramatic little gobit arnt you?” He started baby talking Ran as he dropped the boy into his maw, his blue tongue licking him over rather quick, coating Ran in saliva “ew awtic nooooo! And I’m wearing shorts!” Awtic rolls his eyes knowing Ran never really got sarcasm nor his jokes- he gulps softly as Ran squirmed, and slid down his throat.. awtic traced the borrowers decent all the way down to his belly, burping once the kid landed in it, he giggled as his tail softly rested over his gut, that was growling and gurgling happy to have some food, he put his arms behind his head leaning back, he couldn’t hear Ran but he knew he was probably screaming so he just had to wait till his meal settled down a bit before giving it some affection. He purrs softly it shaking poor Ran who was pushing and shoving at the blue saliva coated walls, “a-awtic you know this gives me anxiety!!… oh it’s not use…” Ram sighs and curls up cat style in a little ball in the dark space listening to the soft heart beat and breathing, and the gentle movements of the stomach, it all working as a sort.. of sleep ambience, he tried to stay awake.. but his eye lids became droopy, and he soon fell asleep, awtic rubbed softly at his belly “there you gooooo little goattt- there ya go” he said contently and with a more softer and meaningful voice then normal

#g/t community #g/t ocs #g/t #g/t fluff #random #g/t related #giant/tiny #tw vore #g/t vore

[solaaresque]

HELLO HELLOO crush anon here !

i have a huge update aha

so long story short, things did not go to plan.

as i'd planned to, i confessed to the guy i liked. honestly, the closer i got to that confession, the worse i was feeling about it, and i was certain he didn't feel the same way.

and i was right! he didn't feel the same way 🤕 anyway we decided we'd stay as friends, and surprisingly, nothing's that awkward between us. it's as if it never happened (i don't know if i should be happy or sad about that)

but ermmm thats not the main thing

so i have another friend. and i told him about the guy i like not liking me back. the friend was pretty off about the whole thing since the start, but i didn't really look into it much (maybe i should've)

cause turns out, the friend actually has a crush on me.

now, this was a huge shocker. when he told me that, i didn't really know what to say, and i still haven't told him anything sob

i might actually try going out with my friend, cause i feel like i was so infatuated with my crush that i didn't exactly pay that much attention to my friend (i feel pretty bad about that 😅)

thas alll thought id update u !!

ANYWAY hows stuff going on with u ??

hello crush anon !! wb ✨

ooo an update 👀👀

oh my… that does sound rather anxiety inducing—esp when ur abt to confess… 🫂 but im glad the 2 of u were able to remain friends !! (and yeah i get that that can be confusing, since u did have feelings for that person and it can be a little disappointing not to have those feelings requited…😵‍💫)

oh there’s more?

oh my… 😱that’s quite the plot twist. hm, well if u think it’s a good idea, maybe try a single date and see how it goes? don’t rush into it tho, esp if ur not certain u like them back.

but wow… that’s a lot… how r u feeling abt all this?

i’ve been p good ty for asking💕 !! my xmas break def wasn’t as eventful as urs but it was nice all the same… now i’m prepping for my mocks ahaha which is. not fun :’)

#🎀asks🎀 #🎀bff crush anon

[under-the-dirt]

Hello!!! Could i get Price x reader who ends up falling him but ends up ignoring him couse they to fall in love kind of thing but then he confronted them eventully.

sorry i didn’t answer this earlier!! i started it and then it deleted the draft :[ but anyways, i love this req ty nonnie!!

pairing: john price x gn!reader

tags: a lil angst but not really, somehow i managed gn!reader w a lil smut, implied masturbation, uhhhh lmk if i missed anything cuz i probably UNDER 13 DNI RAH

Avoiding the captain was hard. He was just about everywhere you went, regardless. Wether it be the gym, common room, kitchen, anywhere you went, he seemed to be there.

It’s not that you were desperate to avoid him, it’s just that you couldn’t help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach every time you saw him, or the blush that dusted your cheeks when he talked to you, calling you love or sweetheart, all lighthearted but god, so, so sexy.

You’d been avoiding him for weeks now, and you’ve noticed he’s begun to seem almost.. annoyed. Easier to rile up, blowing up at rookies, etc. You hoped you weren’t the cause.

It all came to a head on your recon mission, you’d been paired up with the captain and it seemed normal, up until he pulled you into an alley and pinned you to the wall, ensuring both your comms were off before he began.

“You go’ a reason fer avoidin’ me, yeah?” He questions, sliding his knee between your legs to keep you up and unable to move and squirm.

“N-no sir.” You respond, gathering yourself from the surprise of his sudden actions before he pushed closer, lips right by your ear.

“You sure, sergeant?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then why am I seein’ ya run away like a little school girl with a crush? Hm? Don’t think I ‘ear your pretty little moans late a’ night when you think I ain’t listening? Think I don’t ‘ear ya calling my name?” He purrs gruffly into your ear, pressing his chest to yours, moving his knee up further to rub against that spot between your legs.

“S-sir-“

“Don’ wanna ‘ear it, sergeant.” He growls, moving his knee back and forth between your legs, pulling a muffled whimper from your lips. “Ah, so thas’ why? There’s my answer right there, lovely.” He coos, chuckling before pulling away.

“Captain we can’t-“

“Wha’ did I say? Now, my office, 1900 tonight, understood, sergeant?” He asks, and you nod. “Words, sergeant.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

ok this was fun to write. btw, i’m wanting to start a big series, but i have no idea what it’ll be. probably ghoap x reader, price x reader or tf141 x reader. which might b difficult cuz i’m not the best at writing gaz but wtv lmao if y’all have any tips please lmk!! also, i’d prob make an autistic coded!reader bc i’m autistic so it’d be hard not to bc i’m not sure what it’s like to be ‘normal’ on a psychological standard, so the reader would be accidentally autistic because i tend to make the reader kinda like me. but, any big series ideas please give them!!!! i want to write longer and better!

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #cod smut #captain price #call of duty x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price cod #price mw2 #price #mw2

[3llisarts]

Oc interview

I was tagged by @noodlecupcakes < 3 ty!! And I tag @disney-dreams-25

Rhys Thompson - Transformers OC

Name: "Rhys Thompson, but don't go telling anyone else that-"

Nickname: "Depends on who you ask, Wraith calls me Little Spider and Dylan usually calls me Rhy' or Baby."

Gender: "Female."

Star Sign: "What's that again? Gemini- i think."

Moral alignment/personality: "Chaotic Evil."

Height: "5'5"- but don't even think about starting with the height jokes-"

Sexual Orientation: "Straight."

Nationality/Ethnicity: "American. You seem trustworthy enough, like I said, don't go tellin' anyone any of this."

Fave fruit: "Strawberries, though watermelon is a close second."

Favorite season: "Summer. It reminds me of bein' back home in Vegas. Miss that place, you know."

Fave Flower: "Roses, as fucking cheesy as that sounds. They're prickly but so beautiful."

Fave Scent: "If i'd have to choose, it'd be a tie between gun smoke and fresh rain."

Coffee, tea, or HC: "Not much of a coffee or a tea woman- I'll take a Monster or one of those canned Cold Brews any day, though- much as Dylan's trying to get me out of that habit."

Average Hours of Sleep: "That depends on if I'm on a hit or not. On a hit, four to five. But if i'm back home with Dylan? Five to six, sometimes seven."

Dog or Cat Person: "I haven't had a pet since Nitor... well, if you wanna consider a lion like Cybertronian a pet anyways. But to answer that? I'd say a dog. There's something admirable about their loyalty and... I don't see myself having another feline, after my old friend."

Dream Trip: "Anywhere warm, really. But specifically? Aruba."

Favorite Fictional Character/Real Person: "I don't have a lot of close people- 'friends' if you will, but i'd have to say, Wraith- my mentor- or my boyfriend, Dylan."

Number of Blankets They Sleep With: "Four to five, I hate how cold it gets here in Chicago during the winter-."

RANDOM FACT: "I always wanted tattoos- But I never had the time- and then there's also the stupid fear of needles."

-----------------

Orion Barys - Far Cry 5 OC

Name: "Orion Barys~ Though if ye want, Officer Barys."

Nickname: "Ah got a lotta those- but some a tha' honorable mentions include darlin', love, and 'course, Officer."

Gender: "Male."

Star Sign: "I'm a Virgo!"

Moral Alignment/personality: "Ah would have to say... chaotic good."

Height: "6'1."

Sexual Orientation: "Originally, ah thought ah was bi, but later came to realize, ah am gay~."

Nationality/Ethnicity: "'Merican."

Fave Fruit: "Apples! Specifically red, but ah ain't picky."

Fave Season: "Winter. There's somethin' so peaceful, wit' tha way tha snow comes down and covers everything. Ah love it, though summar is also nice."

Favorite Flower: "Sunflowers!"

Fave Scent: "Either campfire smoke or burnt rubber."

Coffee, tea, or HC: "Ah like black coffee, preferably that extra strong brew ye sip on during long ass nights."

Average Hours of Sleep: "Seven to eight most nights, though if i'm busy, six to seven."

Dog or Cat Person: "Both, actually! Ah got mah Bear and Ozzie, ah love em to death. Ah also have a guinea, 'er name's Snickers~."

Dream Trip: "Ah always wanted to go down to Daytona~ never seen one a them races in person. Though now? Ah wouldn't mind a trip to tha' Whitetail Mountains."

Favorite Fictional Character/Real Person: "Mm. Ah would probably say somethin' 'long tha' lines a John Wick, or one a tha' Fast an' Furious crew."

Number of Blankets They Sleep With: "One~ Ah usually run hot, an' ah don't like wakin' up all sweaty tha' next mornin'."

RANDOM FACT: "Ah recently retired from tha' FBI, 'fore I came out here to Hope County."

#rhys thompson #far cry 5 #transformers dark of the moon #transformers bayverse #holland valley #transformers oc #FC5 oc

[mlynar-nearl]

this is very long i am apologies

yes !!! i read ur essay (?) on mlynars grief too and i just think that youve got it down super neat (ive probably repeated this too many times) so like good job !!!

ah indeed i was the anon who asked abt his kit last time too (saw the art of him too btw its very pretty, very nice ur friend did an amazing job!) so do you think hed have a talent like aosta's in that he does extra (maybe % or maybe fixed) dmg to unblocked? or hes got like a skill thats like fartooth (global only target blocked but in his case its global only target unblocked?) i think either ways adding a different debuff to all of his skills would be fun ! do you think hed be rng based cc (like aak?) or like its specifically one debuff to each skill, those kinda stuff? honestly er this is a lot of questions you can selectively answer but i just think hes probably a neat wraith killer lol no more annoying unblocked assholes running around ehe but also on a separate note, do you think he has any special interactions with other operators (excl the ones from laterano) ? his hobbies etc (just go wild man, tell me wtv even his preferred breakfast or whether he hates grass or smth) also yes ty for the advice abt mandragora !! i only figured it out like... once i accidentally made her drop blocks on herself and she died due to low hp and i was like wtf cos ??? free elimination ? and i learnt i was very wrong later on but pozy saved my ass aha so it all worked out anyways ! just training for when i actually bother clearing ch 9 ig oh and until u said it i didnt rly notice that sss like... hates all snipers. (ive tried using chalter it didnt go well... pozy as well) like all the late stage sss stages just completely dont let you use snipers for anything other than like buffs (unless youre rosa ig might have chance) shit i screwed up this is even longer than last time im so sorry if this is uncomfortable to read :sob: if this is too uh ew to converse with i can chacha slide into ur dms (but give me time i am... well theres a reason im anon) but yeah anyways have a nice day so sorry for this length and as always u can selectively answer or ignore lol ! hope ur well !

don't worry about the length, i love answering questions! I will try and get to everything. thank you for the compliments ab my post i try (oh my god do i try) :]

i think his talents would involve extra damage + prio unblocked enemies + his source of crowd control. his CC would be strictly bind, not RNG like aak, because his arts are specifically grappling hook/rope shit. i think i've been theoretically calling this talent and arts type "tethering." in lore he mainly uses it for traversal, but there's no reason it wouldn't work on people, too, so i think it fits best as a crowd control bind. one of his skills would then just do a "talent trigger increase" as part of their functionality meaning extra bind chance. of course, how useful he would actually be as a concept depends on the numbers, which is the part i'm bad at, but still, fun to think about :]

for other operators, he would definitely get on well enough with some of the cooks among the RI operators, for one. his favorite flavor of sweet thing is cinnamon, and cinnamon is easy to incorporate into things, and he's smart enough to be polite to the people feeding his interests. he would also, i think, have interesting but awkward interactions with the iberians, because while he is not himself iberian, he has traveled extensively there and shares memories of the profound silence/aftermath thereof with Andoain. ultimately, i think he's polite to most everyone he runs into if he were to go to RI, but he's already rather closed off as a person and you have to open him up with a crowbar, so i don't know if anyone could be considered a friend of his. i don't even think fiammetta is really a friend of his (he would call it that, but that's far from correct), more that they have similar enough feelings on a specific topic that leads them to cooperate. i think even increasing trust with him still leaves a lot under the surface.

other shealtiel facts...he prefers cats to dogs but understands the appeal of both, but his favorite animals are birds. being a sniper, he sees a lot of them, and spends a lot of time in places birds nest. i imagine lateran schools have a class on religion similar to catholic school (where i have unfortunately been), and that was his favorite subject because his mother was a canonist and spent most of her time analyzing the scriptures and teachings of lateran. he's surprisingly flexible because of this- he actually idealogically overlaps with andoain more than he'd like to admit, he just hates the man's methods. and life choices. when he's on the road he survives off of breakfast bars and terran poptarts. he prefers chilly weather to heat, but hates heavy snow. he has a halfway decent singing voice but never uses it outside of when he's free enough to attend a lateran service. his plan for immediately after achieving his goal (killing andoain with fia) is to take a vacation somewhere cold-but-not-too-cold and isolated and not answer his messages for six to seven months. he's still on the fence about where, though. he would do that right now if he didn't have duties to fulfill. his favorite mixed drink is a gingerbread gin and tonic (g&t + baking spice infused amaretto.) his favorite non-alcoholic drink is cranberry juice. he's become partial to a dying brand of iberian cookies because andoain likes them and he's started buying them up ahead of him out of a petty sort of spite.

SSS really does hate snipers which sucks b/c i do love me a sniperknights. chalter doesn't fall off quite as bad as some because she's useful for bosses but it's still Bad. i still bring snipers for the aspd buffs, but most of them just arent gonna hold up too much. sad :( gj with mandra! she's annoying but at least in her actual boss levels that aren't TFN you get the automatic pillar destroyers. good luck on chapter 9 when you get there :]

#ash answers #anonymous #shealtiel #LONG post #long post so sorry.