darlcnc-blog

[darlcnc-blog]

                 i don’t want to face the world in tears.

                                                 [ detective dominick “sonny” carisi of law & order: svu ]

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ok but who says it better me or andrea.

“You. Hands down. And m’not just sayin’ because I’m talkin’ t’you.”

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Sits in silence, disappointed in himself for walking straight into that one.

M'never callin' you Daddy.

“That’s fine. I much prefer it when you call me ‘Philipppp~’.”

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  the roleplay fandom needs a motherfucking boost in positive vibes, and overall treatment of each other. this fandom has become a cesspool of hate, and i figured i’d do something fun to combat it. there’s no official way to participate, just do what you can to make those around you feel good.

3/28 — FIRST DAY TUESDAY; get the message spread around the roleplay fandom.

3/29 — SECOND DAY WEDNESDAY; send love to blogs you admire from afar, or consider close friends via the inbox or submit option.

3/30 — THIRD DAY THURSDAY; post something positive about yourself and your portrayal, we all need our own self love before we can do anything else.

3/31 — FOURTH DAY FRIDAY; promote your fellow fandom writers via reblogging their promos.

4/1 — FIFTH DAY SATURDAY; pledge something you’ll do to make the fandom a better place.

4/2 — SIXTH DAY SUNDAY; the finale!!!! keep an upbeat attitude while liveblogging.

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                             You ANSWER to me. You PROVIDE for me. You BELONG to me. 

                                        Independent Negan from AMC’s The Walking Dead 

                                                   pinned by taylor | graphics by taylor 

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ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ falling in love starts with who the fuck is this?

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callmejcsus:

@mycsctis ( I really tried holding back from writing this )

Thin streaks of sunlight crept through the blinds, making the dust in the air barely visible, as Paul opened the door to the next room they would scavenge. They hadn’t had much luck, in the abandoned town they searched through, but Jesus wouldn’t give up. If he’d learned one thing from all the times he’d gone to scavenge, it was that he’d always find at least one thing of value. While that hadn’t happened yet, Paul was persistent. 

He turned to look Daryl, and gave him a silent nod. This is how they operated: wordlessly, but still in complete sync. They moved together, like two parts of one being, both ready to protect each other from anything that would stand in their way. 

Knife and flashlight in hand and pointed before him, Paul walked through the fairly large room, one that seemed like a dining room table that had been destroyed by the end of the world, and now had been collecting years of dust. Blue hues then fell to something Jesus hadn’t layed eyes on it what seemed to be like years. An old wooded record player, sat on the very corner of the room.

“Hey, look at this,” he said, quietly, at the hunter behind him. Slowly, Paul walked to large music box. A vinyl disc, sat on top, just waiting to be played. Lowering his knife, and putting the flashlight in his pocket, Jesus carefully lifted the disc. He took a deep inhale, then exhaled, blowing all the dust away. There was an almost pealed off sign on the black disc that read. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Who’s ever this was, Jesus knew they had good tasted.

A smile crept onto the mans face, as he looked at Daryl, wide eyed and curious. “I haven’t seen one of this in ages.” After looking to his sides, he’d come to the broad assumption that this house was safe. “We should see if this still works,” he finally said, letting curiosity get the better of him, and smiling the way he always did at Daryl.

The town had been well picked over; there was so little in the way of comforts let alone actual supplies and Daryl couldn't help but wonder about Grimes' law of averages -- about the belief system that had been explained to him when he first met Paul. Their luck had been incredible until he showed up and tricked them, and while Dixon tried not to be superstitious there was a voice in the back of his mind hinting towards the scout being something of a bad luck charm. He'd gone on plenty of runs in the past and never returned absolutely bone dry -- not like this, and the only conclusion in his mind was that it had something to do with Paul himself. Maybe the man was simply unlucky. Maybe their search styles didn't mesh. Maybe he was too much of a damn distraction.

It was hard to put his finger on, exactly -- but that doesn't stop him from placing the blame or getting frustrated as time goes on.

At least they work well together. Daryl trusts each one of Paul's steps as they move through the house, ears perked for any sound of the dead or otherwise. Blues are trained to movement, blades held tight. The lack of anything material or walking makes the town feel like it played home to ghosts and it causes a certain weight to grow in the hunter's chest. An uneasiness settles and he decides, in silence, that they wouldn't be checking many more houses after this one. Something felt wrong to him. Something that he couldn't place or name, but it was there.

Dixon sees nothing of interest in the dining room but something catches Paul's eye and sure enough, he ends up wondering and searching alongside the shorter man. A brow quickly lifts as Paul inspects the dusty player -- a million scolds forming on his tongue but dying befoe they pass his teeth.

It was a noisemaker. Noises were dangerous in their new world. Noises gave them away to shamblers and to smarter threats. It was music. Music had died with Beth Greene. With the rest of the world and yet he stops himself and thinks of baby Judith and her right to know such sounds as she aged. He thinks of the baby Maggie was fighting daily to carry -- about what kind of future the lot of them were fighting for.

In Daryl's heart, he wanted his loved ones to live in a world where they could enjoy music again. “Don’t be surprised if it don’t.” The warning is for himself just as much as it is Paul as he shifts his gaze away from the smile -- away from the kindness that always seemed to radiate off the other. He shifts, unsure of himself and the comfortable air between them during their time alone. Unsure of what to think of it or what to really do about it. 

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redmachette:

@darlcnc liked this for a starter

    The last thing he wanted to do was leave Daryl here but he knew he didn’t have another choice. The Kingdom was safe, Ezekiel had been kind enough to offer Daryl refuge and he knew the smartest move was for Daryl to stay here. Even though it was the smartest move it didn’t make it any easier. 

    They’d have to leave soon, head back to Alexandria and regroup and that meant Daryl would be here alone. Not technically alone but without his family. He had just escaped torture at The Sanctuary and now he had to be stuck here by himself. It was awful, but there wasn’t any other way. 

    Rick clasped his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze—his gaze meeting Daryl’s. “You know you can’t come with us.”He said quietly, not wanting to catch the archer off guard. “We’ll be back for you, promise.”

Dixon wanted nothing to do with The Kingdom -- nothing to do with it or its many faults. Everything about the place felt like it was a lie. A scam. It wasn’t quite Woodbury or Terminus but there was something about it that Daryl couldn’t shake from under his skin. People were happy to serve a King who didn’t deserve the title in the first place. They weren’t minions but they were ... something. Lucky, maybe. Naive. 

He’s already homesick -- Hell, he’d been homesick since the Saviors threw him into a truck and yet the plan was to keep him away for even longer. To keep him safe. Hidden. Stuffed away in the fairytale land that was The Kingdom. Dixon’s heart hurts in more ways than he can ever explain and he lingers, eyes pleading as he and Rick share a moment. “I don’t belong here.” He knows, finally, where he does actually belong. Who’s side he needed to be by. Before the fall of the world Dixon had only been a shadow but Rick and the others helped him to become something more. Something real -- and he feared what he could turn into without them much longer. “ .... c’mon....” It’s a weak attempt at changing the other man’s mind and he knows it. Both of them do. 

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                     you see, i am the wolf, and this dirty, little piggy lives inside of me. you see every now and then, i forget which one that i want and which one that i need. i have come to realize, that both of them have become a necessity. i now have come to realize : THAT I BECOME WHICH ANIMAL I CHOOSE TO FEED

     penned by malley. 18+

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    ❝ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.                 ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇs ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ. ❞

ɪɴᴅɪᴇ & sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ʀɪᴄᴋ ɢʀɪᴍᴇs ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍᴀʀᴜ

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dcngeroushearts:

              despite what daryl may THINK, the last thing she really wanted was to cause a scene or embarrass him in front of the entire group. she just wanted everyone to be safe. she knew that he wasn’t the evil one in all this. he probably got played just like she got played. phillip was a charming man, when he wanted to be. arms cross over her chest as she follows him to the empty cell block       relieved for the quiet. ❛ d’you wanna tell me how long this has been going on?? ❜ she practically is SNAPPING at him, already, no matter how much she tells herself to keep her cool. to calm down, get to the bottom of it first. but, her anger is boiling over, and taking advantage of her. ❛ and before you try to play dumb, i KNOW about you and phillip. the governor. ❜

she knows his name and something about that BOTHERS him. her relationship with philip wasn’t something kept very secret and yet there was something -- something small and stupid and hopeful in his heart about the man’s real name that now HURT. both of them aren’t about to play the DEFENSIVE; she wants answers and he doesn’t think it falls under the category of HER BUSINESS. she snaps and he bristles, prepares for a fight because he has no right to do anything else. he can’t be hurt by her words, by the way she looks at him. by ANY OF IT, as it would imply that there was something to be GUILTY about. he shoves it all down. fights himself and andrea at the same damn time.

“does it matter how long?” words bite and he can’t stay still -- can’t keep from swaying like a snake ready to strike. he stares on, waiting to see what she REALLY wants to say, what he can get out of her after making it clear they weren’t going to BULLSHIT about any of it.

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In the morning when I wake And the sun is coming through, Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, And you fill my head with you.

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                      he’s always been THE SWEET ONE.

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i am among those who scatter everywhere as wildly as fallen leaves in autumn only to die in one place unheeded in the earth as the ashes of a past.

                      i.            ii.

the word home has eluded my lips I do not know what it is anymore.

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                                “she is made of dreams and kindness and a gentle love;                               hope resonates just as deeply in her chest as emotions do. “ 

( art credit: x ) 

[darlcnc-blog]

requested | daryl + beth (4.12) // daryl + maggie (7.14)