#but i know will rick will scrap it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corvidcrossbow · 9 days

Text

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Era: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin’ me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

1K notes · View notes

escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 16 days

Text

Rick Grimes: Insomnia NSFW

Broadening my fandom horizons. My first TWD story and I’m excited to write more for Rick!

The night is pleasantly cool, and the grassy area provides a decent cushion under you. The group had all managed to reunite and were trudging along after leaving Terminus looking for a safe place to make permanent residence. You were all exhausted but safe and together. Rick was lying behind you, holding you securely to his chest. His breath was warm and even against your neck. All in all, it was the best-case scenario in a crappy situation, except for one thing.

You couldn’t sleep.

Your body was exhausted and sinking into the ground in relief, ready for sleep. Your brain was not on the same page. It was going a million miles an hour in hundreds of different ways. You had bouts of insomnia throughout your life, but this one had to take the cake. You tried to lay still. Everyone was still on high alert and extra movement and rustling could easily wake up any of the sleeping parties. Not to mention Rick who had always been a light sleeper. “Ya need to get some sleep darlin’.” Rick’s voice is rough, his calloused hand tailing down your thigh to stop your unconscious jiggling.

“I’m trying,” You whisper back in frustration. You want to sleep. You know tomorrow will be another long day of walking without a destination. If you had to fight off walkers or another group of people without having any sleep again tonight, you weren’t sure you would make it. Not unless the group pulled your weight on top of their own. “I’m so tired, Rick.” You felt a few tears mist your eyes, as embarrassment flooded you at your whiney remark.

You feel a soft kiss on your shoulder as he hushes you. You shift against him trying to get comfortable. His hand caresses up your side soothingly. His sweetness starts making you feel worse. Just because you had barely been able to sleep the last week didn’t mean that he should have to suffer through it with you. “I can almost hear ya thinkin’ baby.” His strong hand slips under your shirt rubbing your stomach in gentle circles. His fingers inch closer to your waistband until the tips sneak under.

“Rick,” You gasp, your hand going over his trapping it against your body to keep it from moving southward. “What are you doing?”

“Turnin’ off that mind o’ yours.” He kissed down your neck, his beard scrapping at the delicate skin. His movements are slow and his words are slightly slurred. He is exhausted and half asleep himself. You try to object but he unbuttons your pants with a flick of his wrist. The zipper slides down as his hand pushes deeper cupping you through your underwear. “Let me take care o’ ya.” You stroke up his forearm as he rubs you through your cotton panties. You lean back farther into him as his other hand snakes around you kneading your breast. It’s been too long since he touched you like this. Even exhausted your body responds to him, arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

You turn your head down and into his arm to muffle your moan as he slips a finger inside of you. He pumps it inside you a few times before adding another. You shift to open your thighs wider for him. It makes the angle deeper and Rick curls his fingers expertly. You whimper louder than you mean to when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and he hushes you. He knows your body and he doesn’t tease; every movement is purposefully pushing you towards your release. You rock your hip as he rubs firm circles on your clit.

“Rick,” You breathe nails digging into his arm. You are close and he knows it. His other hand comes up to cover your mouth. He sucks on your neck and doubles his efforts on your clit while keeping a steady thrusting of his fingers. You open your mouth to gasp, and he slips his finger inside. You moan sucking on them as your orgasm rushes through you. He works you through it making the orgasm linger, sparks of pleasure curling your toes in your worn boots.

Your body goes limp, melting into him boneless. Your vision is still blurred from your orgasm and Rick still slowly caressing you. Your mind is blissfully blank, exhaustion echoing through your body. You feel Rick’s beard scratch at your neck, and you are sure he is saying something, but you can’t make out the words. You just hum your agreement falling into a deep sleep before his hand can leave your underwear.

#the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes imagine

152 notes · View notes

artbyblastweave · 4 months

Text

So, the thing about Ward's worldbuilding is, it's bad on purpose. This is something I didn't catch until a relisten of the earlier parts, but the disconnect between the actual literal apocalypse that occurred two years prior and the shockingly advanced levels of infrastructure and technology is very deliberate. The entire thing is slapdash and farcical. You have people out the door of a shitty concrete hovel lining up for bad coffee. You have cars built out of random scavenged parts, "dumpsters" that Victoria can't manhandle because they're made of clumsily-welded-together scrap metal. Victoria can't reliably navigate at night because power to the city below is intermittent (and her mother Carol happens to live in one of the parts that does have consistent power; that's unexamined, make of it what you will.) The mall cluster shitshow goes down in a "mall" that, IIRC, is called out later as having been basically a dead end economically, a doomed grasp at a sense of normalcy. The patrol block uses recycled PRT gear, Dot's interlude involves the machine army jumping a bunch of bog-standard apocalypse scavengers. What you're looking at isn't a new society built up shockingly quickly; you're looking at the previously-well-supplied-and-externally-supported outpost of the recently destroyed society, and after two years they're finally chewing through the last of the head start they got. The societal equivalent of Wile. E. Coyote hanging in the air above the cliff, or of the seemingly-untouched duelist seconds away from sliding in half. Unfortunately, due to choices made about the timeframe and focus of the story, the Coyote sprouts wings. The duelist whips out a staple gun. Or to come at this from another angle- in The Walking Dead, a comic I really like, I can sort of organize the arc of the apocalypse into three-ish big chunks. For the first eight or nine months in universe, about 48 issues, things are obviously bad, right, quite a few people have died, but there's a sense among Rick and company that they might be able to ride it out, that things are on the upswing. They've got crops going, they have new births, maybe help from the government proper isn't coming the way they thought it might towards the start, but things are looking up! Then, of course, the Great Fuckening of Volume Eight occurs, and you enter the middle phase of the comic, where they're down to like a third of their group, they're food-insecure, they're constantly on the move, they're under attack from rapists and cannibals who've descended into habitual atrocity because they're totally without hope. Children are having mental breaks and killing children, the first friendly guy Rick met in the whole comic is now an insane hermit feeding dead bodies to his undead son, on and on and on and on and on. Bad times, but a comparatively short middle in the grand scheme of things. Then they find Alexandria, and the back half of the comic is spent basically on an upward trajectory with some zig-zags, there are still periodic existential threats but they're clearly past the nadir.

Ward feels like it starts midway through that first part, the you-don't-know-how-much-worse-this-can-get part, with the emphasis on the social tensions, the encroaching winter, but then it just...doesn't get much worse. I mean they have a rough three months, but then they sort of speedrun right to the hopeful future ending as soon as the titans are dealt with. There were parts that I suspect were supposed to be the dark-night-of-the-soul I'm alluding to but they didn't land as such. I feel as though the superhero genre stuff kind of subordinated the apocalypse stuff, made it less visible by virtue of whose POV we were following, and sometimes I feel that as a remedy to this, Ward should have taken place over the course of years, and it should have Just Kept Getting Worse. For example Breakthrough should have had to kill and eat Rain to survive the winter

#parahumans #ward #wormblr #thoughts #meta #the last line is a shitpost #everything else is endorsed #wildbow

322 notes · View notes

dixons-sunshine · 2 months

Note

daryl and wife reader having a mini 3 year old daryl and shes sassy like her mama also shes really smart and daryl just being the best father and husband to be ❤️❤️

Daddy's Little Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Life in your little home in Alexandria was amazing. You had a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter you couldn't be more proud of, especially since she brings out parts of your husband you couldn't help but admire.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, post the building of the bridge

Warnings: None.

Word count: 965

A/n: This sucks so bad. I didn't really know where to go with this and scrapped so many attempts, so I'm sorry for the bad quality. I hope this is still somewhat enjoyable at least.

Rick never went missing in this because I'm in my feels after seeing him look for a gift for RJ.

It's not a major plot point, but there are mentions of Rick in this. Also, my default name for any fics involving Daryl having a daughter will be Hazel because I've grown to love the nickname I came up with for my last Dad!Daryl fic, which is Hazelnut.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“No, Daddy. You can't.”

“'Course I can,” Daryl retorted playfully, taking the purple crayon from his daughter's hand. “Yer not even usin' the crayon, Hazelnut. Yer jus' holdin' it while yer colourin' with the red crayon. I need the purple more than ya do righ' now.”

Hazel huffed and folded her small arms over her chest, sending Daryl her version of a glare that the archer found absolutely adorable and amusing. “Not fair, Daddy. Gonna use it soon.”

“Until then, I'll use it. Once you need it, jus' ask, alrigh'?” Daryl told her, and chuckled when he saw her huff again and reluctantly continue to draw with the red crayon.

Daryl looked up and locked eyes with you, amused smiles on both of your faces. You were seated on the couch with Dog's head resting on your lap, fixing up one of the archer's favourite shirts while he entertained your daughter as she waited for Michonne to come pick her up for a sleepover with RJ. Daryl looked back down at his piece of paper and continued on with his drawing while you continued on with fixing up his shirt.

You silently listened to Hazel's happy babbling, smiling fondly at the father and daughter duo drawing stick figures and shapes. Suddenly, Hazel huffed again and threw the crayon down in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What's wrong, baby?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.

“I don't want to draw anymore,” she declared, crawling over to Daryl and clambering into his lap for a hug.

Daryl instantly dropped the crayon in his hand and embraced her, pulling her into his chest. Hazel nuzzled her face into his neck, giggling at the kisses Daryl placed on her face.

“It tickles, Daddy,” she giggled, bringing her small hands up to his stubble.

Daryl smiled and abruptly stood up with Hazel in his arms, eliciting a yelp of surprise from her that was quickly followed by more laughter. Daryl spun her around while placing more playful kisses all over her face, careful not to drop her. Dog jumped up from the couch with a happy bark, circling around Daryl as he wagged his tail happily.

You laughed at the shrieks of laughter that fell from your daughter's mouth. “Don't drop her, Daryl,” you warned him when he stumbled slightly. You turned your head when you heard a knock on the door.

“Never,” Daryl replied, placing one final kiss on Hazel's cheek before placing her down on the floor. He ruffled her hair before stalking over to the door, you getting up from the couch and trailing behind him.

Daryl opened the door and the two of you came face to face with Michonne, who had RJ perched on her hip. She smiled at the two of you in greeting, rubbing RJ's back soothingly.

“Hey, guys. Is she ready to go?”

Daryl hummed and turned around, calling out to Hazel. “Hazelnut! Auntie Michonne's here!”

You grabbed the sleepover bag that you had placed near the door earlier that day and handed it over to Michonne. Hazel's footsteps got louder until she ran up to you, hugging you before hugging Daryl. She then turned to Michonne and took her outstretched hand.

“Bye, Mama. Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Be good for Michonne and Rick, okay?” you greeted her.

She nodded and took off with Michonne, happily conversing with RJ while they walked. You closed the door and locked it, turning around to face Daryl. The archer smiled at you and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

You were confused but soon hugged him back, nuzzling your face into his chest. Daryl placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there, slightly rocking you side to side.

“Not that I'm complaining in the slightest,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss against his chest. “But what's with the hug?”

Daryl remained silent for a moment. “S'jus' 'cause I love ya. And I can't believe how lucky I am to have ya and Hazel in my life.”

“Well, believe it, Dixon. I love you so much. So does daddy's little girl,” you replied, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love ya both too. Yer the most important people in my life. I'd die fer ya.”

“Hopefully it never comes down to that. You're dying a very old man if I can help it,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Daryl wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Dun' worry. I ain't plannin' on dyin' on ya anytime soon.”

You smiled at him. “Good to know. That's really good to know.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x you #norman reedus x reader #dad!daryl dixon #dad!daryl

309 notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 3 months

Text

A Mess || Part 7

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

A/N: The long awaited seventh part :)

Summary: After escaping the treehouse, you and Daryl must find food, water, and rest in the forest on your way to complete the mission Rick had sent you on in the first place. You also almost die.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, TWD typical violence, Daryl being effortlessly attractive

You laid silently on the wooden flooring, out of site of the hungry beasts below. Daryl sat against a wall, sharpening a knife. Whoever built this thing left no form of entertainment or even comfort. Just some random tools and scrap wood. Guess they never got a chance to actually use their treehouse.

"I'm bored." You complained.

"Quiet." He whispered. You sighed.

"I'm bored." You whispered. He sighed.

"Can't do nothin' about that."

"Wanna play twenty-one questions?" You asked.

"Sure." He said, setting the knife down. "I'll start. What would it take for you to shut up?" He asked. You shot him a glare. He smirked and went back to sharpening his knife.

"You'd be the worst person to be stranded on an island with." You grumbled.

"Nah. I'll keep us fed."

"I'd rather die of starvation than boredom."

"Might get your wish. Food'll be out by tomorrow." He sighed. It had been two days. Two fucking days.

"Water?' You asked.

"Out."

"Fuck." You sighed. "Might as well just jump down and end it."

"How many bullets ya got?"

"Like, six."

"Got thirteen bolts and nine rounds."

"So thirteen shots, thirteen bullets. How many are down there?" You asked.

"More than twenty-six." He said.

"What if we distracted them somehow?" You suggested.

"How?"

"I don't know. Don't you have a lighter sir-smokes-a-lot?"

He nodded.

"So, we light a bolt or two on fire and you shoot it at a tree far away."

"Might not work." He warned.

"But it might, and that's better than nothing." You countered.

"Okay." He nodded. "We wait 'til dark. It'll be our best bet."

----

That night he dropped the rope ladder down and the two of you climbed about halfway down. Just enough that you could leap down without injury. Daryl shot two flaming arrows at two different trees in opposing directions. To your surprise they actually drew a decent chunk of the walkers away, but not all of them. You knew it wouldn't work for long, so your window was short.

With a nod, you both lept down to the ground with knives in hand, taking down the three or four walkers that were he closest to you. Then, you ran. You ran as fast as you could in the pitch back, relying on the sound of his own footsteps ahead of you to guide you.

By the time it was safe enough to slow down, you chest was on fire and all you could do was hunch over and pant for air. Thankfully you two had lost the walkers a ways back, but unfortunately now you had no idea where you were. Just trees and more trees shrouded in darkness.

"I think if we keep goin' this way there's a town. Can follow that road due north and we'll find where we were headed." Daryl finally announced, still short of breath.

"Should we just go back?" You asked, finally standing up straight. "To the prison, I mean? We've been gone for days, now. They're probably worried."

"Nah." He declined. "Been gone this long, we're goin' back with what we left for in the first damn place.

----

By daylight, your feet were blistered and sore and you hadn't stopped walking. The plan was to find some place in town to rest, but it was a long journey. Neither of you had spoken a word. Exhaustion and hunger were too overbearing.

"Can't you like... Shoot something so we can eat?" You whined. "I'm thirsty. And hungry. And tired. And--"

"And you say I'd be the worst person to be stranded with." He grumbled.

"Weren't you the one that said you'd keep us fed on a deserted island?" You shot back.

"Yeah, right after I asked what it'd take for you to shut the hell up."

"Food. That's what it would take." You told him. He sighed.

"Alright. Start a fire. I'll be back with some grub." He relented, offering you his zippo. You didn't protest. You got straight to work throwing twigs and dry leaves into a small pit you dug and ignited them with his lighter. It wasn't cold, so you didn't stay too close. It was hot enough without the extra heat. You did, however, hear a very faint trickling sound. Could it be? Water? Finally?

You immediately followed the noise. As it grew closer you got excited. You might actually have had something to reward Daryl for finding you food.

You stopped in your tracks. It definitely wasn't a glistening stream of cool clear water. No, in fact, it was just Daryl, taking a piss on a tree.

"Do ya mind? Some privacy would be nice." He complained. You sighed and did a 180, trying to shake the image out of your mind.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "When I heard the trickling I thought there was a little stream or something over here."

You turned back to him when you heard a zip.

"Could probably drink that." He shrugged. Your jaw gaped.

"Ew!" You shrilled.

"How ya think I survived eight days on my own in the woods when I was a kid?" He smirked. He was just messing with you, but he had no intentions of admitting that. Your expression was too priceless.

"Say less." You held your hand up. "I'll wait for you by the fire."

With that, you were on your way. Back by the fire, you sat and sharpened some thin sticks to keep yourself busy. They'd make nice skewers for the meat if he could find any game.

It was probably an hour or two until he made it back, and not only had you sharpened a lot of sticks, but you also had created a flimsy perimeter out of fallen branches and other forest debris. You figured if nothing else, it would at least trip a walker and let you know they were coming.

"Got a raccoon." He said. It was already skinned, he just needed to skewer the meat, which you helped him with. It had a strange aroma as it cooked. You were never a fan of rodents or the like.

However, the full feeling after scarfing down its delicious flesh made all of your complaints go out the window. As you licked each charred stick skewer clean of the grease, you moaned. "Thank you." You said. "I was so hungry."

"Mm." He grunted with a nod. "Say we take turns gettin' some shuteye an' head out in a few hours."

"I'll take first watch." You offered.

"Nah. Need to tune up my bow. You rest." He declined. You shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

You weren't going to argue. You were exhausted.

----

When Daryl opened his eyes, you were still sound asleep just a few feet away. It was pitch black outside. The fire had been out for a while. He remembered putting it out himself. There was no need for it after the meat was cooked and the remnants of the animal were burned to ash. He wiped his eyes and pushed his aching body up into a sitting position. How could he have fallen asleep? He was meant to keep watch. Anything could have happened to either of you while you were both out. He silently scolded himself.

His throat was dry and scratchy. He really needed to find some water for the two of you. Another day like that and you'd both be dead for sure. He sighed and moved over to you. He crouched down beside you, reaching to shake you awake, but something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, but you also looked dry. Your lips were cracked and flaky, and had it not been so dark he would have seen how dry the skin on your face looked.

"(Y/N)." He whispered, laying a hand on your arm to gently shake you awake. You didn't budge. "(Y/N), c'mon. We gotta get movin', we need to find some water."

"Hmph." You made a little puty noise as you rolled away from him. Had he not been so damn thirsty, he would have laughed.

"We can't survive like this much longer." He continued in a hushed rasp. "Get up."

"Tired." You mumbled.

"I said get the hell up." He demanded.

"No."

"Fine then. Stay here and die." He huffed, standing to his feet and gathering both of your things before he stormed away. He made sure his footsteps were loud so you could hear him walk away, hoping you'd feel the pressure and get up. He stopped when he realized you had no intentions of doing so. With frustration, he threw his head back and turned around. "C'mon. I ain't tellin' ya again."

Nothing. Not a peep, not a shuffle, not a damn thing. He groaned.

"You're a fuckin' child, ya know that?" He grumbled as he marched over to you and scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You whined. You slapped at his back.

"Quit your bitchin'." He scolded.

"Fine. I'll just sleep like this." You reasoned, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the feeling of his shoulder digging into your stomach.

"Like hell you are." He said as he dropped you down on your feet. "I got your shit. Now walk."

"It's dangerous to travel at night." You pointed out.

"It's more dangerous to die of thirst." He argued.

"Not as dangerous as disturbing a woman's beauty rest." You crossed your arms.

"Beauty rest." He scoffed. "You don't need any. Now walk." He demanded, pointing his finger in the direction he wanted to go.

"Fine, but only 'cause you asked so nicely." You gave in.

Besides your bickering, the night was relatively quiet, save for the crickets and frogs and rustling branches. After a little while, Daryl handed you your things, growing tired of carrying them for you. After another while, he stopped you, holding his hand out in front of you.

"Ya hear that?" He whispered. You perked up your ears, listening intently. It took a few seconds but finally you heard it, a soft white noise that you could only assume was; "Water!" You gasped.

"Mm." He nodded. "C'mon."

You followed after him, creeping silently over the dead foliage of the forest floor. Just a few yards away you stumbled across a small creek.

"Do we have anything to boil water?" You asked.

"Nah." He shook his head, holding an empty plastic jug in the water as it flowed by. "Just have to take our chances with it."

You flipped his zippo that you were still holding onto open and held it down to the creek.

"Looks clear at least." You observed. Even in the small firelight you could see clearly to the bottom of the shallow stream.

"Here." He offered you the first sip. Well, not really a sip. More like a gulp, or two, or ten. You wiped your mouth as you handed it back to him. He drank his own share before dunking the jug back into the stream and letting it fill all the way. When it filled up, he screwed the lid on and you both stood up. You gave his lighter back, before you forgot, and the two of you set off again with full bellies, a jug of water, and some rest under your belt.

----

"Sure we could one of these cars runnin'." Daryl said. It was just past daybreak now. You finally found the town that was supposed to lead you to the town you needed to be in. The two of you were in a small neighborhood with cars lined up and down the streets.

"I'll keep an eye out." You told him. He nodded and got to work checking out the vehicles.

As far as walkers go, the town wasn't too bad off. A few stragglers here and there, but nothing seemed particularly overrun. It was pretty small and rural, though, so that was no surprise.

You took down a lone walker that trudged toward you and turned your attention back to Daryl to check in. He may have been dirty and smelly after four days on the run, but damn he did look good.

His tan arms glistened in the sunlight with a sweaty sheen. His hair stuck to his forehead tightly and his muscles flexed and contorted under his skin as he yanked car doors open and leaned in the driver's side doors to try to crank them up.

"Shit!" You hissed as you fell to the ground. A walker had snuck up on you in your lusty stupor, falling on top of you as you struggled against the mangled thing. "Asshole!" You insulted the corpse as you struggled to reach for the knife you dropped on your way to the ground. It was too far, though, and if you shifted at all the walker's mouth would surely make contact with your face.

A whistle shot over you and an arrow impacted the top of the walker's skull. It went limp on top of you. You gagged at the feeling of its dry rotten flesh against your chest. Daryl appeared over you and yanked the body off yours, pulling his arrow out of its head.

"The hell were ya doin'? Just one took ya down?" He asked as he held a hand out. You accepted it and he pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

"Uh, I was just -- Uh, yeah. Didn't hear it." You stuttered.

"Pay attention." He scolded you.

"Right. Won't happen again." You nodded. You definitely wouldn't be admitting that you almost lost your life just to admire his sweaty arms.

"C'mon. These cars are dead. Let's move down the street a bit an' see if we got better luck." He instructed.

Masterlist || Taglist

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #twd daryl #daryl twd #18+ content

184 notes · View notes

zombiewhor3 · 1 year

Text

SOUTH PAW?

carl grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: mentions of character death (Abraham & Glenn), mentions of gore, traumatic events, mentions of amputation, begging, mentions of pregnancy (Maggie's), Negan, unedited work.

A/N: sorry for the long break, i've been so busy with a lot of things but i have a few scrap drafts i might put together and post so i'll try my best to update my queue this week.

a long night of violence is how she could describe it, a long night of tears pouring down everyone's faces as they watched a cruel man bash in two of their friends heads without even such an ounce of mercy for their poor souls in his mind.

the night felt like the eternity but as the sun had risen and the night faded it was still like a fever dream, like this wasn't all real and she was going to have to wake up soon from this nightmare.

except this was all real, Abraham and Glenn's dead bodies with their heads smashed in that was real, all of the blood splattered on y/n's face from the slinging of Negan's bat that was real.

she watched as Rick was tossed back out onto the gravel, his hands reaching to stop himself as he followed the man's forceful orders to get on all fours while he kneeled down to him.

"i'm giving you a choice Rick and this is your grand prize, what you do next will decide whether it becomes just those twos bad day or the rest of these lovely men and women sitting in front of us"

he gestured with his hands for his men to point guns at the back of their heads and y/n could feel the barrel pressed against the back of her head making her swallow harshly.

her knees started to ache from the rocks that pressed against them, the blood of a father figure had dried on her face and she could almost feel like it had been sinking into the pores of her skin.

she felt gross to have the blood on her, she felt sick each time she even looked at the dead man who was next to her, she felt sick knowing his pregnant wife was a sobbing wreck just a few feet away.

and Carl had hated to see her cry with each strike from Negan's bat that pounded into Glenn's head like he wasn't a person but yet just a piece of meat Negan used as his beating ground.

she watched as Negan had approached Carl making her heart sink as he rested his bat against his shoulder and she watched as some of the blood smeared out onto his leather.

he held out a hand to Carl who cocked his head hesitantly as he tried to ignore the gesture but Negan smiled and cleared his throat before speaking up "take my hand kid" he spoke bitterly watching as the teen finally gave in and took the man's hand.

he was stood up and Negan had waved his arm out to the side to where the boy's father rested on the ground, blood on his face, eye bags and his eyes red as his eye were still looking like they had been watering again, like they were on the brim of tears.

he pointed at the spot empty next to his father as Carl took a few steps watching as Negan stood in front of him taking a quite consideration to the gauze over his missing eye.

"you a south paw?" he asked watching as Carl looked clearly confused by a phrase he never heard before and it made Negan re-phrase his question to him, "you a lefty?" he watched as Carl shook his head while Negan pulled out a belt and un-raveled it.

he tied a belt against the boy's arm, "that hurt?" Negan remarked watching as the boy in the hat snapped back a quick 'no' before looking down at the leather tightened on his arm.

"on the ground next to Daddy and don't forget to spread your wings boy" Negan spoke as he watched Carl lay flat on the ground, his head turning in the direction to where he could see y/n and his father.

he could see the terror on his girlfriends face, the fear stuck in her eyes as her palms were flat and sinking into the same gravel the soft flesh of his cheek had now been resting against.

he could hear the crunching of Negan's boots against the rocks, and it stopped once he could see him crouch next to him thanking Simon for the pen that was given to him,

he himself was scared of what he had planned for him, what Negan had planned to do to Carl especially in front of his father and his girlfriend who had more tears pouring down her face.

he marked Carl's arm and apologized in such an sarcastic way that Carl had never even heard a human being sound so derisive in that way, even in the apocalypse.

he could hear his father start to beg as his girlfriend looked down at the ground using the back of her hand to cover up her sniffles, to cover up the rapid breathing spilling out from her.

he could see the harsh way her body rattled as she tried to manage to stay quiet in the fear that someone else would die, in fear that maybe it'd be her or even Carl that'd be next.

the word please was pouring like a continuous river in his head, the word his father kept repeating over and over as he begged Negan to show his son some mercy, to show he himself some mercy.

"don't beg me because i ain't the one doing shit" Negan spoke roughly patting Rick against the back before he gave his next order at the quite obvious traumatized man who was on all fours before him.

"Rick pick up your ax," he paused licking his chapped lips clean before continuing what he wanted Rick to do, "and cut off your son's left arm, now i know you're gonna have to process that for a second and believe me that makes sense so i'll give you a minute"

a loud gasp of air had erupted from y/n's mouth as she closed her eyes at the feeling of the barrel pressing even harder against the back of her head making her lip shake and her eyes flood.

he stood up and rubbed his hands on the denim of his pants watching as Rick's expression turn into now an even stronger pleading one, like it was just the ocean color of his eyes and the quiver of his lip giving off all the true emotion even more than his words that were spilled in such a babble of emotion.

"i am still gonna need you to do it though or all these people are going to die, then Carl dies, then the people back at your home die, and i'm gonna keep you living for a few years just so you can think about the decision you make right now"

Negan looked around at the men and women all lined up, and yet one had the courage to speak up, y/n to be exact only had the courage to speak up because it was her boyfriends life on the line.

"you d-don't have to do t-this, We understand! please we u-understand!" she looked down at her boyfriend who almost had a few tears slipping of his own as he looked at her,

as he looked at the shaking and sobbing mess this man had turned her into, he watched the sorrow tearing through her like a walker who was hungry for flesh.

he seemed to like the fear that ran though all of them, he liked the idea of watching them all tremble while they payed the price of wiping out one of his out posts because something about the pity and the terror gave him power, it gave him control.

"I'm not so sure Rick does. So i'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line i drew out for you! now believe me this is a screwed up thing to ask, trust me i know but it's gonna have to be clean nothing messy so our doctors can fold something over."

he watched Rick tremble as he kneeled and continued to spew out his words, "we have great doctors the kid'll be fine, probably. and Rick we're in a time frame so this needs to happen now or i will crush this fella's head in myself"

"please i can take his place" Rick begged over and over as his throat felt sore and his mouth dry while his eyes ached and his head started to pound at the idea of hurting his son.

"please Negan please" Rick begged again watching as the man ran over some stubble of his beard and shook his head with a 'no' to answer Rick's pleas for it to be him instead.

"this is the only way, not making this decision is a big decision. Do you want to see everyone in front of you die? because if you don't pick up that ax you will, and you will see everything"

Rick cleared his throat as his hands remained planted in the rocks still in a pity of confusion from the whole situation, and now Negan had started to count loudly and once he got to one Rick had his ax raised while Carl was yelling at him to go through with it.

Y/n sobbed into her hands as she could hear her boyfriend cry out for his own father to cut off his arm, and when she could hear the soft chuckle of Negan and the soft gasping of Rick and not even a subtle yell or scream from Carl but yet she still buried her face.

Negan had taken the ax away from Rick's raised arm and he reached up a hand to pull Carl up from the ground, "you answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me" and Rick nodded his head and agreed to the fact that he had now belonged to Negan and his men.

"see that look is the look i wanted to see! and man we did it, even those dead guys with the smashed in brains get a participation award for sure" he sighed as he tossed his bat over his shoulder.

"i hope for everyone's sake you understand how things work around here, things change and right about now they've changed whatever you had going for you is over, now i'll be back in a week Rick so use the truck i'll leave to gather my shit or someone else dies."

"I can't look, I can't, Carl please"

she mumbled feeling as someone in front of her had tugged on her hands softly, but she still held them against her face in fear she would see other blood being shed that she didn't want to see.

"look at me y/n, look at me"

he spoke finally being able to pull her hands away from her face once she realized that it was Carl and he had both of his arms, he furrowed his brows softly watching as she quivered and couldn't keep her eyes away from the line that he had drawn out onto his arm.

once he and his men had left y/n tried to stand but she could only drop back on her knees as she looked over at the dead man on the ground next to her, she gasped as her knees felt weak.

and it was Carl who lifted her up, it was Carl's arms that wrapped around her while he gave her the comfort of burying her face into the soft fabric of his flannel to shield herself from the damage and the violence that had been done to her friend.

she sobbed so hard that she could feel it shake both of their bodies, Carl stroked over her hair and watched as she shook under his grasp, she shook so hard her body started to wobble.

she couldn't speak because every time she tried to get a word out it was just a rush of tears, a rush of gasps for air, a rush of mutters that weren't even comprehensible to him or her.

her vision seemed blurry and her head was pounding so hard and her heart beat so fast she felt like she was dying, she felt like the world had been slipping away from her finger tips.

the only word that had been able to be heard was a loud gasp of 'no' as she looked at the line still on his arm, the line where Negan wanted Rick to chop off his arm, the line that now told trembling stories.

she squeezed her hand on it so tight that even the belt hadn't cut off that much circulation to his arm, she clung to his shirt as she could hear the sound of someone's shoes crunching against the gravel.

she could hear Maggie's cries and Rick who whispered something to his son who held out onto the shaking y/n, Sasha and Rosita frozen in such a terror and disbelief, Eugene still crying softly, Aaron and Michonne who were sitting in such a pity of silence.

and the two bodies around them.

y/n had slipped to her knees and Carl had let her, he let her bury her face into the ground and he rubbed her back as he tried to stop her from hyper ventilating at the shock around her but it was no use because it felt a ton of bricks were pressing against her chest.

She could feel a second hand on her back and she could tell it was Rick's by the wedding ring that she could feel through the cotton t-shirt she had been wearing,

"oh god, t-that c-could've been y-you" she sputtered out as she still felt like she could feel the specks of blood hitting her cheek with each and every strike from Negan's bat smashing into the pour mans head.

her body ached and it felt like her lungs had now finally collapsed in from the harsh beating her heart had pushed off, her bones ached from all the shaking and her cheeks were sore from the amount of tears that had been poured down them.

"i'm right here y/n, i'm right here" he had dropped to his knees and placed his hat down on the ground, he let his knees sink into the same rocks where the bodies laid.

where Maggie's tears had poured and where they knew the rest of the lives had just changed forever because they got the shit end of a deal they should've never even taken.

"Maggie" she managed to gasp out as she could feel her limp body being lifted up by not just Carl but his father, they had lifted her up so she could be taken to Maggie.

the widow's lungs gasped for air as she looked down at the ground, her knees ached and she felt sick even sicker than before, she could feel the teen reach out and place a soft but shaking hand a top of hers and to which she had finally spoken out.

"you need to go, you need to get everyone out of here Rick" Maggie spoke still sounding so brave, like she was keeping it all together when in reality she was spiraling in her mind.

spiraling at the fact her father, her sister and now her husband the father of her child had been killed in front of her, after they had begged and after they had tried their best to bargain.

"he's our family to, we'll do this together" Rick spoke watching as Maggie sniffled and the still distraught teen next to her had nodded along with the idea as her eyes filled with seeping tears.

"he's right we'll do it t-together because we're all family"

1K notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 4 months

Text

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three (you’re here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse (also on the way and also a modern royalty au cuz I got the urge to write one so bad lmao)

This AU was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

I hope y'all enjoy this part! It was a lotta fun to write, actually, since I got to talk about folklore I'm more familiar with lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve huffs as he kicks a pebble down the street. It bounces a few times before settling on the sidewalk, doing nothing interesting enough to alleviate his boredom. He turns around, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and looks at his parents. His mother is speaking quietly to a woman with a shawl around her shoulders, both of them bent over some book that definitely should have been crumbling by now. His father idly taps at bricks on the building next to them, looking relaxed but alert.

Steve glances at the building his parents are avoiding, the one the woman with the shawl walked out of. It’s a pale, faded yellow, the kind that tells him the building is old, old enough to have seen wars and generations pass it by. Shingles line a low roof, but something that’s either incredibly durable wood or stone so old it’s turned brown makes up the vaguely mountain-shaped top that reaches to the sky. Steve studies the building, his eyes wandering until he sees the door cracked open on the side.

He takes a slow step towards it, checks that neither of his parents noticed, and takes another. This continues until he’s in the shadow of the building, his fingers brushing against the wood. It’s cool against his skin, and the door isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks. He pushes lightly against it, an eager feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he slips inside.

A dimly lit hall made of stone sprawls out in front of him, and Steve hums softly as he passes by the paintings and scraps of scroll that are framed along the wall. He recognizes Hebrew on all the scrolls, but he doesn’t linger long enough to read any of it. Instead, he continues to walk, glancing through an opening that leads into a sanctuary. The opening is to the left of the bema, and he’s momentarily caught by the ark that contains the Torah. He can’t even see the holy scrolls, but something in his spine jerks and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to open the doors so he can gaze upon them.

He’s already going to get in trouble for slipping inside, though. Maybe he shouldn’t make it worse. Steve grasps this thought tightly, holding it in his mind until he’s able to tear his gaze away and continue walking down the hall. Other than that opening, there’s only one door left at the very end. It, too, is made of wood and opens far easier than Steve expected.

Shafts of sunlight stream in through narrow windows, illuminating dust that floats in the still air of an undisturbed staircase. Steve looks down at the first steps, crouches, and drags his finger carefully over the stone. A layer of dust comes off, and Steve comes to the conclusion that nobody has been up these stairs in a long, long time.

With a grin, Steve begins to climb.

The stairs wind up and up, far higher than Steve thinks should be possible given the height of the building itself, but what does he know? He just focuses on climbing, on reaching the top as he passes narrow window after narrow window, breathing in stale air that stirs in his lungs and builds. Strangely enough, he’s not breathless from the climbing, but from something else entirely. He isn’t able to name that feeling until he finally (finally) reaches the top of the stairs.

As he stands on the top step and looks over the loft spread out before him, he realizes it was anticipation. Like the stairs, this attic-loft is covered in dust, untouched by people for a very long time. A large window is opposite the stairs, allowing sunlight to stream into the area. The space holds a desk, a bed, more books than Steve has ever seen before, and a statue.

Steve stares at the statue, licks his lips nervously, and steps into the room. He doesn’t spare the books or anything else a second glance, instead making a beeline for the statue. It’s huge, towering over the twelve-years-old Steve even though it’s sitting. Its legs are crossed, and its hands are held palm-up just above its navel. The statue is round and smooth, not a straight edge in sight. It doesn’t have a neck, and its head is like a little bump on its shoulders, just big enough to hold triangle-shaped divots for eyes. Carefully placed next to the statue is a small clay jar and a paintbrush.

Without thinking, Steve picks up the jar and looks inside. Golden-hued paint shimmers inside, and Steve wonders how it hasn’t caked over or disintegrated after all this time. He tilts the clay pot a few times, watching the paint slide against the edges, and then looks up at the statue again. At second glance, he sees that the statue’s head is big enough for more than just its eyes. He could probably write on it, too.

With that thought, Steve grabs the paintbrush and very carefully pokes his foot against the statue’s leg. It seems strong enough, so he climbs up, following the statue’s calf to its knee. From there, he carefully holds the paintbrush with his teeth so he can steady himself on the statue’s arm. Once he has, Steve pulls himself up onto the statue’s hands, finding himself at the perfect height to reach its forehead.

Steve holds the paintbrush and dips it into the jar. The brush comes out covered in the gold paint, and Steve pauses, looking at the statue’s forehead.

He remembers a story his mother once told him about this very city, this very building. It involved a statue like this one, a golem, that was brought to life to protect his mom’s ancestors. Steve hums softly and carefully paints aleph, mem, tav on the statue’s forehead. His mom will find it funny when he brings her up here to show her the “golem” he found.

As he finishes off the tav, giving it a pretty little flourish just for the fun of it, the ground beneath him jerks. No, not the ground. The hands he’s standing on. Steve yelps, losing his balance and about to fall only to be cradled and carefully set on the ground.

Steve blinks, looking up at the golem to see it leaning down and staring at him expectantly. “Uh. Hi,” he says, breathless as he receives a small nod and wave in return. “Holy shit.”

Before he can say more, he hears a familiar voice in the distance shouting, “Steve! Where are you?”

Keeping his eyes on the golem, Steve sets the jar and paint down, scooting back along the floor until he reaches the top of the stairs. “I’m up here!” he shouts, hearing a muffled curse and the slam of a door far below. He sighs and stands, slowly approaching the golem.

“You’re really real,” he mumbles, stopping in front of the golem as he hears someone running up the steps.

He turns just in time to see his father reach the attic, guns at the ready, and panting from adrenaline and the climb. “What the fuck is that?!” he shouts, aiming the guns at the golem without thinking.

“Don’t shoot it!” Steve yells, barely getting the words out before he’s scooped into the golem’s arms and completely covered by its hands. The world goes dark, and he’s pressed close enough to the golem’s chest that all he can smell is pomegranate and the old ink and paper of Talmud studies.

“It’s holding you captive, and you’re telling me not to shoot it?!” his father asks.

“It’s protecting him!” his mother shouts, her voice shrill and panicked enough about his father shooting a golem to make Steve almost laugh.

Steve wiggles around, tapping the golem’s chest. “Those are my parents,” he says, “Please let me down.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, the golem does, carefully and slowly placing Steve on his feet once more. Its hands stay on either side of him, looking ready to pull him back into its protective embrace. His father looks harried, but his mother looks awed as she steps forward. The golem allows her to approach, and she carefully runs her fingers over the golem’s arms. “This is amazing, Steve,” she says softly.

“Can we please step away from the dangerous statue now?” his father asks, taking a step forward only to stop when the golem suddenly stands and towers over him. “Uh, what’s it doing?”

“You’re not Jewish, Rick,” Steve’s mother says, looking over her shoulder. “The golem is a protective figure in Jewish folklore, among other things. It’s most famous stories are about keeping Jewish towns safe from pogroms. It’s wary of you.”

“I’m your husband!” Steve’s father protests, angrily shoving his guns back into their holsters, “And Steve’s father! We should be on the same team!”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, walking over to his father and taking his hand. “I just have to introduce you.” With that, Steve leads his father over to the golem, placing his father’s hand on its arm, and saying, “This is someone you should protect, too.”

----------

After explaining everything, with plenty of interruptions from the kids after they came running back into the living room to escape Uncle Jonathan’s gin, Steve’s parents demanded to see the lab where it all started.

And now they’re here, standing in one of the lower levels, surrounded by dead vines that still haunt Steve’s nightmares on particularly bad nights. If he’s lucky, he won’t have one of those while his parents are home, but Steve has never really called himself lucky in situations that don’t involve life or death.

The wall that once held a gate to the Upside Down is nothing more than charred cement, reduced to a jagged line of something Steve really hopes is soot and not, like, disintegrated demogorgon. He carefully makes his way through the vines, avoiding them when he can and holding his breath whenever he has to step on one.

“Did you know this was a lab?” Rick asks, his voice echoing in the hall ahead of them.

“Of course, not,” Evelyn replies, and Steve can picture the glare she’s aiming at him. “I wouldn’t have let our son live here if I’d known.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I, for one, and very relieved Stevie lived here considering several of us would be dead without him.”

“Me, too,” Dustin says.

“Me three,” El says.

“I think Steve and I would’ve found each other even if he wasn’t in Hawkins,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow as she grins. “Platonic soulmates can’t he kept apart.”

Steve snorts and stops when he reaches the wall. He looks around and notices the corpse of a demodog a few feet away. Or, well, he thinks it’s a demodog corpse. “Stay here,” he says, tightening his grip on his bat as he takes a step closer to it.

“Hold it right there, young man,” his mother says, her tone bringing him to an immediate halt. “Your father will go towards the monster, and you will stay a safe distance away.”

“Gee, thanks for asking,” Rick mutters, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way over to the demodog corpse. He studies it for a second before just kicking the thing with his foot. Steve nearly jumps in to yank his father back, but stays frozen in place by Robin’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

His father kicks the corpse again, and Eddie suddenly asks, “Why do I feel like this is disrespectful?”

“Because it used to be alive,” El offers.

“It’s definitely not anymore,” Rick says, crouching down and using the barrel of his gun to push back one of the petals on its head. “Shit, what’s it need so many teeth for?”

“The better to eat you with,” Steve says, earning a snort from Robin and Eddie.

“And there were how many of these?” Evelyn asks.

“Dozens. Like, multiple packs, and they were all connected by this hive mind kinda thing,” Dustin explains, walking over to the corpse with no fear. “I mean, they weren’t all bad. Dart was okay.”

“He ate your cat,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and then he didn’t eat us in the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you were facing these things and didn’t use your guns to spare some girl’s feelings,” Rick says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just use the golem,” his mother says, frowning as she turns to Steve. “I mean, you know where it is, dear. You know how to bring it to life.”

“A golem? Like…from Lord of the Rings?” Dustin asks.

“You had a golem? Why didn’t you tell me you had a golem?” Eddie asks.

“How did we not think of the golem? Holy shit, we’re dumb,” Robin says, smacking her forehead with her palm.

“I couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t hurt one of my friends,” Steve says, ignoring Dustin for now. “It would only protect me and Robin. If something happened to one of us, it would abandon the kids without question. What’s the point then?”

“Hello! Confused people over here!” Dustin shouts, getting their attention. “What golem?”

“You know,” Robin says, “like…of Prague.”

“No, still lost,” Dustin says.

Steve sighs, about to explain it when Eddie beats him to it. “The golem is from Jewish folklore,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at Steve, “It was created and brought to life by a rabbi in Prague to protect his congregation from pogroms and acts of antisemitism. There are debates on why he had to disintegrate the golem, though. Some stories say it started killing innocent people, others say it fell in love, and others say the congregation were using it to do chores instead of letting it focus on protecting them.”

“Yes, exactly,” Evelyn says, smiling at Eddie and nodding with approval, “The golem doesn’t speak much, but it can answer basic questions. According to it, Rabbi Loew removed its aleph because it requested to go to sleep.”

“Oh, so it just wanted a nap,” El says, nodding as though this makes perfect sense to her.

“You said you had the golem,” Eddie says. “Where?”

“At the house,” Steve replies, watching as his father stands from the corpse and drags Dustin away from it. “I keep it in the locked room downstairs.”

“You said that was your parents’ room,” Dustin says.

“No, you assumed it was, and I never corrected you.”

“Can I see it?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. After a few seconds, he nods once and looks at his parents. “Did you see what you wanted?” he asks, “Can we head back?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, frowning as he nudges a vine with his foot. “I’ll come back later with Ardeth. See if he knows anything that might help.”

“What do we need help with?” Dustin asks. “The portal is closed for good. We closed it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure,” Evelyn tells him, smiling reassuringly before turning back the way they came. “Now that Rick and I are here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure those gates never open again.”

“And if they do,” Rick says, bringing up the rear as the kids follow Evelyn, “we’ll take care of it. You kids don’t need to put yourselves in danger anymore.”

Something in Steve settles at hearing this, his next exhale taking all the stress that had made its home between his shoulders with it. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about something normal. He glances at Eddie and Robin and thinks about going to see a movie with them, drinking at the lake, and just being stupid teens that don’t have to worry about interdimensional monsters.

------

Tag List (there should be room still! So, if you’d like a tag, let me know!)

@trueghostqueen, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @mogami13, @blcksh33p1987, @beawritingbooks, @remus-is-trans, @your-confused-friend, @estrellami-1, @nburkhardt, @vacantwatchers, @yeahhhh-suga, @phantomcat94

@blackpanzy, @ape31, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @plantzzsandpencilzzs, @flustratedcas, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @just-a-tiny-void, @disrespectedgoatman, @fallingleavesinthewind, @nymime, @nectandra, @moomkin77, @nadenia, @resident-disappointment, @copper-arrows, @romanticdestruction, @rowanshadow26

@nadenia, @northernlight-witch, @steddie-as-they-go,

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the mummy 1999 crossover #rick o'connell #evelyn o'connell #jewish steve harrington #jewish robin buckley #robin buckley #the party stranger things #the golem of prague #steve deserves good parents actually #anyway golem of prague my beloved you didn't deserve to be made into a monster by modern media

153 notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 7 months

Text

"We really need to stop meeting like this."

You knew that voice better than your own. Of course you did. The man was practically a mythical figure. You turned to see him leaning up against the wall a short distance down the hall from you, Lucille dangling in hand but resting against the floor. You turned around, still holding the crate you were hauling down to the kitchens.

Negan straightened up and paced closer. Your pulse quickened.

"I don't think it counts as meeting if you're just searching me out," you said. He grinned.

"Who says that's what's happening?" But the look you gave him made him chuckle and he shrugged. "So, what if it is? Anyway, I thought I'd bring you some news from home."

Your stomach churned with nerves and you nearly lost your grip on the crate in your hands. "Is—is everyone okay? You didn't—" You couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Kill some poor sonofabitch? Not this time. Everyone is just peachy, dollface. Unfortunately, that means Rick the Prick is still around and doing what he does." A flash of irritation flickered across his face. "And he's as righteous as ever."

You shifted and his hazel eyes studied your expression intensely.

"What was that thought, sugar? I saw it on your face, plain as day, even if it was only for half a second."

Your eyes were downcast. You shook your head. "I don't think I should say..."

Negan's finger, light under your chin, lifted your gaze to his. "Come on now. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't wanna know."

You gulped nervously, but spoke up. "I think part of the reason you hate Rick so much is because you have problems with authority."

Negan only smiled at this and you hated that it gave you goosebumps. "Babydoll, I am authority. And I keep telling you, if you'd just accept my damn proposal, you could have all the perks of that authority too. No more hauling crates or cleaning up kitchen scraps."

You held his eyes bravely now. "I can't," you said. "I have problems with authority too."

And at that, Negan smiled and laughed. He clicked his tongue. "Damn. This is part of why I like you so much. That quick wit... even if it's at my fuckin' expense."

Prompt: "You have problems with authority." / "I am authority."

#negan smith #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #wicked wednesday #the walking dead #negan drabbles #negan imagines #twd imagines

148 notes · View notes

starstruckwillows · 1 year

Text

— s/o + stuffed animals ♡

requested by @juneberrie <3

includes: annabeth chase, frank zhang, hazel levesque, jason grace, leo valdez, percy jackson, piper mclean — s/o that sleeps with teddies, gn!reader — tw; octavian /j, brief sex joke

annabeth chase 🏢

annabeth had a teddy when she was younger, but pretty much left it behind and never thought about it again. it’s never bothered her that you go to sleep with them, it’s never bothered her if you’ve brought one on a quest, but she’s never really thought about it much. until she was waiting for you in your room and, out of sheer boredom, began tossing them between her hands and examining the stitching and design. she’s also found that if you’re away from her, the teddies are something that connects her to you. she’ll never tell you, but she may borrow one when you’re on quests or visiting home.

frank zhang 🐻

human teddy bear. that’s why his emoji is a bear and not one of the many other animals he shifts into. frank is a teddy in his own right, but he honestly finds it cute that you have them littering your bed. will absent mindedly tidy them/line them up if he’s alone in your room, probably in height order, or with the smallest in their own row. he’s so interested in everything about you and will ask their names, where you got them, when you got them, what they’re wearing and why, ect. when you’re in that semi-peaceful, post-quest delighted phase of having nothing to do, and more importantly nothing to worry about, you and frank may lay and give them back stories and lives. when he’s a praetor and his responsibilities are almost never ending, it’s a fun pass time that helps him relax.

hazel levesque 💎

honestly, she’s never seen someone with more than one or two rag dolls. like most things in your modern life, it’s a learning curve for her. what she does know is you like them, and that’s all that matters for her. she doesn’t mind them herself, and if you ever gave her one, she’d be such an adorable mess of hardly contained glee. tries to give arion one, but he pretty much just eats it. she was horrified. never again. on nico’s next birthday, she does give him a skull teddy, having discovered they make great gifts, and although he just smiles and rolls his eyes at people laughing, he loves it. it has a prized place next to will solace on his pillow.

jason grace ☁️

bless his soul, he was raised by wolves. he did not have access to any aspect of a regular childhood, nor did he ever resent that. but he did have a scrap of a thing he received from thalia as a baby, almost losing all of it’s stuffing over the years and a single button eye left. but he kept it the whole time, and it brings him a lot of nostalgic comfort. now, as for your teddies, he has no problem sharing your bed with them. they’re comfortable and cute. they aren’t the strict upbringing he experienced at camp jupiter, but he’s discovered many things he’s enjoyed outside of that part of his life. and he’ll make sure to keep you as far away from octavian as possible, and his bloody stuffed animal massacre. puts his glasses on them as placeholders.

leo valdez 🪛

doesn’t see the hype. kidding - kind of. the concept of stuffed animals don’t bother him. they’re cute, they’re fun to make interact with each other (+ put in weird poses because let’s be real if rick’s target audience wasn’t children there’d be twenty sex jokes per any chapter featuring leo), and he has nothing against them. but he does have an innate desire to make them “more interesting”. this includes a lot of lasers and fire and weaponry. “leo, i do not want to lay in bed with my head against a bunch of cogs and risk accidentally shaving my eyebrows off, or worse.” “... no fun.” he will buy/find you more and more, regardless, the pile everygrowing.

percy jackson 🐳

sally jackson got percy some kind of fish teddy the second he was born, partly as a joke, partly as a small vice for her mild disgruntlement at the god’s customary absentee parenting style. he was never particularly attached to it, but i think he’d take it to camp in the summer - he’s got no teasing bunkmates to worry about, tyson’s too much of a sweetheart, and it’s a connection to his mum more than his dad. he may gift it to you at some point. i can see him always checking on your teddies before leaving your room, just to make sure nobody’s been knocked to the ground. he knows you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they had. he thinks it’s pretty sweet, your collection, and will buy you one or two before it grows so big he insists you don’t need anymore.

piper mclean 🤎

as a kid, she got iphones and designer handbags, not teddy bears. she never really cared for them, maybe charming her way into stealing a couple, for the kleptomania. it doesn’t, at first, cross her mind when she sees them all on your bed. when she sees you with them, curled up after a hard quest or a long day, however, she finds herself thinking how genuinely nice it is to relax with fluffy things and not much to do. when you gift her a few, she doesn’t necessarily name them or form an emotional attachment, but she does think they’re nice, and will frequently curl with them if she’s tired.

🏷️ — none yet

557 notes · View notes

sorrelpaws · 1 year

Photo

proper refs for my new r&m ocs :-) more info BELOW

morty v-37 - basically gets used as a human shield and then promptly left for dead by his previous rick(which is why hes got the scar and prosthetics), y-4441 finds him and fixes him up + erases his memories of the whole nearly dying thing. he’s pretty chillaxed and a bit more cynical than an average morty, more “rickish” i guess idk. tends to be skeptical, likes poking holes in rick’s arguments/inventions etc etc but like in a teasing way

rick y-4441 - very peppy, upbeat and emotional. he kind of reeaalllyyy dislikes the cfc and stays away from it as much as possible, especially after finding and unofficially adopting v-37. he’s not as tech savvy as most rick’s, his abilities are more akin to s1 rick’s skill level? as in, he lives off of scraps of materials and creative solutions, less god-like and more “old man in garage who happens to know physics and chemistry”. loves to ramble about basically anything and happily indulges in morty’s hypotheticals/questions whatever. EXCEPT! for why morty doesnt have his fingers he shuts that topic down immediately just does not want to deal with that can of worms at allll

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #ocs #idk #theres no name or real story for this au #except for like their backstories i mea #like they have no direction they're just chilling #but i like drawing them #theyre kind of? role swapped versions? buuutt like okay.#i usually hate roleswap aus bcs the way most ppl do them is by just tweaking designs AND ALSO switching the personalities #like ok this is just me rambling abt a pet peeve now but listen to me #it is much more interesting to take the characters and Keep Them The Same while putting them in a different position #that is a neat au in my opinion #but just ugh.#like ok if u just wanna draw alternative versions of the charas thats fine OBVIOUSLY #but i wish there was a biiittt more thought in there. like just a shred of idea #'scientist morty but he's still empathetic and loves his family' + 'regular grandpa rick who is just such an ass for no reason at all'#ok im over it. tell me my ocs r cool

539 notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 9 months

Text

Home is Where the Heart is (Part One) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWS: starting over, and identity crisis.

[[A/N: Thanks to @imaginemyfavoritefics for the name idea. The vibes of this are hallmark forward, so expect something rather cheesy. Thanks for reading!! ]]

You weren't running, you rationalized deep in your head -almost as if on instinct. You were an adult, you could deal with adult problems -like relationship issues, you just wanted to... you just needed a break. A breather even. Plus, they needed a teacher -it was practically destiny.

So, why did it feel like you were running?

You hadn't had a serious job in Atlanta, just an assistant, and as much as you loved those kids, you needed to do your job. When it felt like everything was going wrong in the world (and it was-), you still had teaching. It felt like what you were supposed to do, it was a reprieve from... everything else. So, even with a fresh start, you still needed teaching.

The transitions between cities bright against the landscape into more timid more rural areas was something you found somehow conflicting. You'd spent the last few years in the city, busy nights with a constant buzz of noise -cars honking, people talking, street performers... As it got quieter, there were fewer people on the road and the tall buildings turned into trees scrapping the sky; it was all a little surreal.

And it struck you then, you weren't scared -not really. Not scared to uproot everything and start over, it made you wonder bad it had gotten without you knowing.

"Okay," you hummed, turning down a sort of suburban road -houses every little bit, but much farther apart than the tight compression of a culdesac, "-1259, little white house-"

Your Grandma had called you at least 10 times ensuring you'd remembered the address -as if it wasn't written in your GPS. But as it turns out, back on these roads, just off what you assumed to be the town center, Google had no fucking clue where you were. So, perhaps you should thank her, actually.

"1259," you muttered, again -eyes focused out your passenger side, trying to see the addresses, "-little white house-"

And then, someone tapped on your driver's window.

"'Ay, ya need somethin'?"

You spun around in your driver's seat quickly, matching a man's -tall, brunette, brown-eyed. He wore some assortment of a leather vest and seemed to have been busy prior -you could see the dirt dusted under his fingernails and staining his jeans. The second thing you noticed was his tone wasn't friendly.

Maybe he thought you were nosing around in something you shouldn't.

"I, uh, yeah-" you rolled down your window, -briefly wondering how long it had been since you met somebody new, "-I'm trying to get to 1259? It's a uh, little white-"

"No, no," he echoed -interrupting you, less confrontational, "-I kno' the place, got a friend 'at lives near ya. Just follow me."

And without another word, he waltzed off in front of you -focusing succinctly on a motorcycle. An old one, by the looks of it, well-maintained though -maybe there's an auto shop around here?

The purr of the engine was loud, even through your rolled-up windows. Something in you had expected heads to pop out of windows -words yelled, so when they didn't... you assumed he was a regular here.

Cranking your car, you slowly cruised to follow him. He seemed to be attentive to you being behind him -driving slow when you were certain it had seen far faster speeds. Maybe even earlier today actually-

You appreciated it, nonetheless.

It was a short journey, a few more turns, and a little bit more driving down roads aimlessly. All things considered though, you were very close to the center of town -where everything was sold and the only stores miles in any direction resided. So, you could work with it.

That being said, where the house was wasn't exactly suburban. There weren't pristine sidewalks and crosswalks, or only little patches of grass here and there. You had a yard -a flourishing yard with trees and flowers and just... open space.

The neighbors were close enough that you could see the house -a surprising sort of light blue paneling, but you could definitely see that their fence far surpassed your own. Their yard seemed almost to last forever, you could even see a barn far back from the back of the house -red, yes, but very worn by the weather, and if you truly listened you could actually hear the shuffle of some livestock.

Okay, so next door to a farm, you told yourself -lightly, -totally can do this.

Without another thought the man pulled off to the side in front of you -making way for you to pull into the driveway. A smooth sort of ease on the bike that made you assume he had years of practice. He certainly looked the part.

You got out of your car, roaming close to him at a comfortable distance (for him or you weren't sure). He didn't seem the type to want strangers close, but then again you weren't really, either.

"Thank you," you started, kind of awkwardly but you were meeting someone new so you let it slide -tone taking a casual sort of amusement, "-I appreciate the help. I know I would've been out there for hours if-"

"Don't sweat it," he echoed -kind of coldly but you didn't know him well enough to assume he meant it that way, "-anythin' else?"

"Uh," you started, "-the Elementary? It's back by the center, right?"

"Yep, can't miss it," he answered, shortly, "-if ya need anythin' else, I'm only a few houses down. Otherwise, people 'round 'ere are pretty friendly."

You smiled -at your very first success, "Okay, thank you, really... uh...?"

"Daryl," he puffed out -making no effort to move from his motorcycle, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Y/N," you offered back, "-Y/N Y/L/N."

And without another word -only a single swift nod of his head, he was gone. It was such a quick exchange that you almost thought for a moment you dreamed it -that you'd somehow gotten the memo of where the house was and he didn't exist at all. Which, to be fair, at the rate your brain was firing could definitely be plausible. You were a mix of something between relentlessly tired from the drive, and insanely stressed because well... You'd just up and moved your whole life for good reason, but still.

"Everythin' alright?"

You blinked and were met with yet another unknown face. Not that you expected to know anyone here -other than maybe a few faces your Grandma had stories of. But this man... you would've known him.

Tall with a head of brunette curls matted in a sort of dirt -the same dusted across his shoulders, you guessed, and encrusted into his fingernails. His eyes were a sort of blue that you considered people write poems about and along his tan jaw was a big bushy beard -something about it was untamed. Like he hadn't cared to brush through it that morning, or maybe just hadn't cared for it for a while. Still, somehow he looked good. Handsome, even.

"Oh, yeah, sorry-" you started -trying to calm the flush of him just waiting while you downright ogled him, "-I just, I got some help finding my new place. Kind of zoned out there, but I'm... I'm fine, really."

He raised an eyebrow, intently, "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," you softened slightly at the concern his tone held -something in you aching in realizing you hadn’t been concerned over in so long, "-just tired. 'Been a long drive."

"Where'd ya drive from?"

"Atlanta," you answered -far easier than you intended to (there was just something about him-).

"A very long drive," he chuckled -low timber of his voice rattling through your bones (something in you stiffened -not again), "-ya need any help with anythin'? I got some free hands."

"If you're not busy," you countered -exhaustion a distant rattle in the back of your body, ever present.

"Nah," he reassured, blue eyes flickering over you, "-I got stuff 'at can wait. If you don't mind waitin' a minute, I can get my son to help too."

"Well..." you responded, slow and awkward, "-thank you."

"No, really," he echoed, "-ain't a problem. I'm Rick, by the way, Rick Grimes."

You smiled, maybe a bit less of a polite one and more genuine then, "Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. Do you... Do you live around here?"

Rick laughed -a sort of deep chuckle that mostly felt warm in tone as he roamed towards some of the boxes, "Yeah, I'm uh... I'm actually y'er neighbor."

"Oh," you echoed out, as he seamlessly picked up three -like it was as light as a feather, "-really?"

"Yea'-" he spoke, hoisting up the boxes slightly and you suddenly realized just how snug his t-shirt was, "-blue house, big farm-"

And despite the flatline of your brain then, you still managed to remember the large plot of land right next to yours. The beautiful blue house was his, of course it was-

Handsome, strong, probably married neighbor, you tsked yourself -remembering the mention of a son, -totally can handle this. Totally cool with this.

This trip wasn't to ogle neighbors, it was to care for yourself and start fresh, and further your career-

"You okay?"

"What?" You startled in place, merely jumping actually, "-oh, yeah, just... a lot to do. And even more tomorrow."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes sweeping over you -like he couldn't read you, "Take it day by day, 'sure it'll all work out."

Correction. Handsome, strong, caring, probably married neighbor, you ran through your head -words anything but at your leisure.

God, you were so fucked.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #home is where the heart is #rick grimes x gn!reader

184 notes · View notes

rollypoliesonarock · 11 months

Text

No one asked, but here's a vest tour! I've added a bunch since I last talked about it here, so here's the update!

Here's the full front and back

Most of this I made myself. The patches were mostly made by hand embroidery (anything machine done was probably given to me as a gift), with the exception of a couple that were just markers on white fabric.

Under the decorative patches is also a layer of random fabric patches, mostly from leftover projects scrap fabric, or old clothes I didn't know what to do with.

There's also some random paint splashes in green and red, and a ton of pop tabs and safety pins thrown around in empty spaces.

The pins I made were made from painted bottle caps, and held on with a pop tab and safety pin combo, with the edges of the bottle cap bent to hold it in place

The vest itself I got from a family member's friend, and said family member didn't want it. So she gave it to me to put patches on. I used it as a formal jacket for a year, but I didn't like how the sleeves felt, so I cut them off and ended up putting patches on it anyway. I've been working on this vest since last January, but many of the patches and stuff were transferred from my old jacket that I have other plans for, but that's for a different post.

Inside, plus the snack pouch

so much white embroidery floss, I'm surprised I'm still able to scrape up some in my embroidery floss drawer

Front top left (from the perspective of someone looking at me)

Gay frog pin is the only pin I own I paid for, I found all the rest for free from various events and also the library likes giving people free pins

Front top right

Got the Vulpix pin from some random lady at the empanada restaurant because she liked my nerdy jacket. A few months ago I reconnected with an old friend, who recognized the art style. So that's kinda neat

Front bottom left

I used to have the heart/brain patch sewn on an older jacket (that is no longer with us). I am never attempting to stick a needle through that thing again. Easily my most painful patch I own. Also a little keychain ring so I can clip stuff to my vest

Front bottom right

The worm's name is wormy, named by my friend who loves him. Wormy has been through a lot, and before finding a safe home on my vest, rotated between being a room decoration and a cat toy

The hotelier patch (the house on the pocket) is probably my favorite music based patch I've made. I spent way too much time on it, but I think it turned out nice in the end!

Back top

the trans flag section in the center is my favorite part. The peace was never an option patch is usually peoples favorite, and I get compliments on it regularly. It's hard to see, but the patch at the bottom left of the flag is the chemical formula for testosterone

Back bottom left

The QR code is a Rick roll, and also fully functional. When I made it, a picture of it was floating around between my friends between various group chats. I had one friend who tried to go to lengths to avoid getting tricked, until one of his friends sent him the picture, and he actually scanned it before realizing it's the QR code on my back. He was (jokingly) upset at me the next day. I want to make another qr code to a song I like more, but that one took longer than most my other patches do, so I'm not sure it's worth it.

Back bottom right

The Kos-mos patch (blue haired girl on left) is my favorite non music patch on here. It just feels like one of my most well made patches. Not much to say here, I just like the patch a lot

So yeah, that's my vest. No clue how many patches are actually on this, or how many hours I've put into this thing already, but it's probably a high number whatever it is.

If this gets at least 0.5 notes Ill talk about my other patch stuff, of which I've got a lot of.

#patches #battle jacket #embroidery #clothes #pins #diy #art #punk #emo

246 notes · View notes

enid-rhees · 4 months

Note

Hii, could you mabye write one with Michonne where she found you in some abonded store? Where you're kind of hiding yourself with the corpses? If not thwt's fine :)

you’re okay || michonne x fem!reader

warnings: angst if u squint

a/n: thank you so much for your request, anon! i hope you, and everyone else enjoys :D !! 🫶🏻

“Michonne, you go look through that store, i’ll take this one.” Rick instructed, pointing over to the store across the street. he then pointed to the one he’d be going into.

she nodded and reached behind her to take her katana off of her back, and held it in front of her as she started to make her way towards the store. there was one walker stumbling across the lot. when it noticed her and started to slowly walk over to her, Michonne effortlessly used her katana to slice his head off.

when he fell to the ground, she realized there were practically piles of dead walkers surrounding her. someone else was here. with that new knowledge, she was more careful when she walked into the store, keeping her katana at the ready.

the store was quiet, the only sounds you could hear were the buzzing flies that swarmed walkers and Michonne’s soft breathing. she began to walk around the store, taking anything that might be useful for Hilltop or Alexandria.

the walkie in her pocket began to release static sounds, and then Rick’s voice came through. “have you found anything?” Michonne reached for it and held it up to her lips, “a few scraps of food. still looking. you?”

“nothing yet. i’ll let you-“ Michonne suddenly heard shuffling somewhere near her, and she took her attention away from Rick. she debated on telling him what she heard, but instead chose to deal with it on her own. “okay. just let me know.” she said into the walkie, putting it back in her pocket.

she rose her katana in her hands and began to walk towards the room where she heard the noise. when she finally walked all the way into the room, a girl sat in the corner of it. she was covered in blood, and surrounded by more piles of walkers. she put her hands up the sight of the katana. her hands were shaking.

“please- don’t hurt me!” she cried out. “i-i promise i was just hiding. please… don’t hurt me.” Michonne looked at her with furrowed eyebrows for a few seconds, and then put the katana down. she then slowly kneeled down on the ground. Michonne reached out her hand, “you’re okay. i won’t hurt you… i promise.” the girl was hesitant in taking her hand, but she did anyways and allowed Michonne to pull her away from the walkers.

now that she was standing, Michonne could see that she covered in blood entirely, from her face down to her legs. the girl couldn’t have been any older than Michonne. “did you take out all of those? even the ones outside?” Michonne asked her, and she nodded. “yeah… but then there was too many to handle and i ran in here and tried to hide, but there was even more. so then i killed them too and hid behind them so they wouldn’t smell me.”

the girl kept shifting her eyes on Michonne and then to the ground. but Michonne couldn’t stop looking at her. “what’s your name?”

“Y/N.” she told her, and Michonne nodded. “Michonne. are you alone?” Y/N nodded, “always have been out here. are you?”

“no, my partner is out looking in the store across the street. but don’t worry, okay? i’m sure he’ll let me take you back our home.” Michonne was not the type to let a stranger come back with her like this, but Y/N… she was different. and she needed help. well, Michonne wanted to help.

“home? you have a home?” Y/N was almost in disbelief. “we do. and i can get you cleaned up, only if you want. you don’t have to come back with us.” Y/N stared at the ground as she contemplated. “how- how can i trust you?” she then asked.

“i know that i can’t prove it right now, but if you come with us, you’ll see. we have many others living with us.” Michonne told her. Y/N thought again, and then nodded after a few seconds. “okay… i’ll go with you.”

Michonne pulled out her walkie. “hey, Rick. i found something. you may want to come here.”

after another long intervention with Rick, Y/N was finally at Hilltop with him and Michonne. she had never seen a place like this before. she got out of the car and Michonne was already by her side. “i’ll get you inside and help you clean up, and i’ll give you some clothes as well.”

Michonne led her inside the huge building and took her upstairs, and into another room. she instructed Y/N to sit on the bed as she grabbed the supplies she needed. “this place is huge. and really nice.” Y/N told her. “it is. hopefully you’ll stay with us. you’ll be safe here.”

Y/N let out a laugh and Michonne couldn’t lie that it was such a pretty sound. “i think i’ll definitely stay here.”

Michonne took a wipe and began to gently wipe it across Y/N’s skin. “i could also do this myself, you know.” Y/N smiled, biting her lip as well. it took strength for Michonne to stop looking down at her lips. “i know,” she hummed, continuing to wipe off the blood.

once she was done, she walked over to her closet and started to dig through the clothes she had. she pulled out a shirt and jeans, and walked back over to Y/N. “here’s some clean clothes, i’ll be back after you’re done changing.” Y/N took the clothes and Michonne walked out as she began to change out of her bloody ones and into the clean ones.

Michonne walked back in a few minutes later and she took the clothes in her hands. “i can have someone wash these and they’ll be clean by tomorrow.” Y/N smiled and nodded, “wow. um… thank you, Michonne. seriously.”

“it’s no problem, really. you’re better here than out there.”

she noticed Y/N hesitate in her movements. Y/N began to lean forward, but pushed herself back. then after a few more seconds, she leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Michonne’s cheek.

Michonne’s face burned, and then Y/N pulled away. both of them couldn’t help but smile at the other and nervously look down at the ground.

#divider creds : cafekitsune #michonne #michonne hawthorne #michonne hawthorne x reader #michonne hawthorne x fem!reader #michonne x fem!reader #michonne x reader #michonne grimes #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #the walking dead x fem!reader #twd x fem!reader #twd blurb #the walking dead blurb #michonne blurb

68 notes · View notes