#✧ — ⋆ about — ❝ chip m. ❞

[lunar-gl1tch]

kamen rider blade is about Love, conceptually, but on a more meta level, incidentally even, it's about how much the adult world of 2004 has failed and is utterly oblivious to the struggle of your twenties and the only solution is banding together and maybe huddle up in Tsubaki's dressing room

[bu-blegh-ost]

The time has finally come, @girlsonlytreehouse !!!

Today I shall share with you the fruits of my work. But first, allow me to take you on a journey I myself have been through while counting all of this shit down.

First things first, I decided to count the rolls in the context of the characters rather than the people playing them, simply because the luck of the actual people could not be measured accurately if I only take Riptide into consideration (and also I thought it would be more fun). The guys have several different campaigns, some that I do not have access to, so I've decided to seperate all their Riptide rolls into characters they play instead, cause then we can clearly see which character is the luckiest. But ofc if you want this to be attributed differently, the data remains unchanged, so that way you all can interpret the results however you wanted and still have all the info you need on hand.

Another issue were the advantage/disadvantage rolls. When a character rolls at advantage, they roll twice and the only roll that counts is the one that was higher, while the other is discarded and the opposite goes for disadvantage. So for example if you roll at Disadvantage and you roll a nat 20 and a 2, that nat 20 technically doesn't matter. Despite that I decided to count each adv/disadv roll anyway, because despite the fact that it does not count, it was still physically ROLLED, which means it contributes to the character's overall pool of luck. I tried to separate them at first so you guys can make your own decision whether to add them or not, but in the end I decided against it cause it was insanely hard to keep up with. There were just too many and too often, which led me to believe that it was fair enough to count everything as long as they actually rolled a dice.

Which brings me to the last complication, which is of course Gillion's Prophetic Screwup. At the beginning of the campaign Gillion was able to exchange anything that he actually rolled into a nat 20, and in return the DM can change any roll he does afterwards into a nat 1. That way there was supposed to be an equal number of wild unrolled nat 20's and nat 1's to balance Gillion out back to 0, but it didn't turn out this way. In more cases than not, Grizzly would either forget or fail to find a good place to screw Gillion over, so the ability bacame much too unbalanced. So they changed it somwhere in the middle of Edison Kingdom Arc. From then on, if Gill rolled anything from 1-10 it would automatically become a nat 1, and if he rolled from 11-20, that'd be a nat 20 instead. Either way these rolls had nothing to do with luck, as he wasn't actually rolling anything, thus I decided not to count these 'artificial' nat 20's/1's. However I did keep track of them nonetheless and I'll still give you the number of those, just separately, and from then on you guys can make your own decision on whether or not you wish to count it.

OOOFFF ALRIGHT.

Without further ado, here are the nat 20's results (up to ep106):

Gillion: 52

Chip: 58

Jay: 55

Goobleck: 8

Surprised? Yeah I was as well. First things first I never expected this to be this close. And never in my right mind could I possibly predict that it would he CHIP of all people to have the highest score here. But I've seen it with my own eyes. And tell you what. Jay had this in the bag for most of the damn series. She would consistently roll good and always when you need a good roll the most. There were times when she would have such a massive lead it was unthinkable she could loose it. But then she would just kinda...stop rolling good for a bit and allow the other two to catch up. It just wasn't as visble if you don't pay much attention, but I thought it to be cute. It's as she was waiting for them <3 But she was still mostly leading. It was only the current arc that made Chip surpass her. After his terrible luck in Feywilde, he bounced back so strongly right after, that he managed to jump in front of the luck queen herself.

And now I bet you're curious about the other side of the coin. Give it up for natural 1's!:

Gillion: 55

Chip: 53

Jay: 52

Goobleck: 1

You see, I kind of expected it to be Gill, but I need you guys to know that this wasn't the case at all times. Jay? Yes. If there is one thing that's consistent is that she had the lowest amount of natural 1s at all times almost, but the person that was suffering from nat 1 curse for a long while was Chip. In the Feywilde Arc he would be so far ahead of everyone, that I was genuinely sure that there is no way anyone catches up to him. But then he popped off in the next arc with nat 20's and Gillion? Oh my gosh, Gillion didn't disappoint. I've never seen a man fail this much let me tell you XD He ended up with the least nat 20's as well, but I thought the difference would be much higher until he didn't roll 4 fucking nat 20s in ep 100 and then this double nat 20 attack roll in the Black Sea whduihdius AND HE CAUGHT UP AS WELL, more or less.

Idunno, maybe this is just how luck works, but it truly seems that the trio shares their successes and burdens almost equally. They support each other and in return fate has their backs as well. Honestly I couldn't have hoped for better results. Also can we give shout out to Goobleck, the true MVP? He's been on the show only for a while but look at this nat1 - nat20 ratio!!! Go goop man goo!!!

So now for the additional stuff that I also counted just for fun:

*Prophethic screwup nats:

Before the rules changed Gillion replaced 8 of his rolls into natural 20s, and in return Grizzly replaced 3 of his rolls into natural 1s.

After the rules changed he only got high enough number for 4 nat 20s, and a low enough number for 7 nat 1s.

So that together makes additional 12 nat 20s and 10 nat 1s from the prophetic screwup alone. I don't think they should be added, but the numbers are there so feel free to do whatever you want with them :)

Downs and death saves:

Throughout the campaign Gillion went down 14 times and rolled 8 death saves.

Chip went down 6 times and rolled 4 death saves.

Jay went down 4 times and rolled 3 death saves.

No shocker here, Gillion dies a lot XD

Knights:

In their journey Gillion knighted 4 people: Julien Booker, Clorton, Garrieth and Duke.

Corruption score:

Thus far each character has the following amount of corruption points (Black Sea):

Gillion: 0

Chip: 2

Jay: 3

Queen: 1

Gryffon: 2 (i think, unsure abt that one, may edit later XD)

Earl: 1

That is all I have for now. I may be clinically insane :)

Good day to everyone and I hope you found this data interesting. Take care <3

[remyfire]

Today's morning bubbling emotions are about Margaret who is the only one wearing a piece of protective equipment here, but Trapper who still keeps a hand on her back the whole time they're running, then not only tries to keep her a little covered when they have to hit the deck, but also dips his head to say something in her ear once he sees they're safe for the moment. Extreme husband behavior.

[notbecauseofvictories]

getting ready to leave a job and intensely regretful that I can't bring the team with me or express my feelings in any articulate way: I am....going to bake you guys so many treats.

[just-a-mod]

Fleece of the Deal Breaker because to get it, you have to break the deal maker (|)w(|)

so any way, I want DLC to kill The Fox from COTL

something of a spiritual successor to this art

[thevalicemultiverse]

The following story has been translated for American Audiences.

It was originally told in British.

“Hi could you give me an elevator? I’ve got an apartment. Yeah, and all the paint is french fried.”

Cuddlepile

Alice: [flat look at the anon] Very funny.

Victor: [tilting his head at that last sentence] "And all the paint is french--" Oh -- oh! Chipped! That took an embarrassingly long time to get...

[biillys]

no context cos who needs that. anyway. love it here. thanku @ breaking bad for letting me borrow ur villains.

anyway. here's some billydaryl becos i'm feeling brave and also becos i can.

“you bring your kid with you to fuckin’ deals?” the guy spits at him, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping on it.

billy feels his heart stop and slowly backs away from him, making it a few steps before fucking bolting for the truck. when he makes it, he yanks the door open and finds sunny sitting up in her seat, a piece of paper on her lap and pen in her hand, and a fucking snackbox of chicken nuggets and fries sitting beside her. 

“hi, daddy. are we going yet?” she asks, smiling up at him.

billy feels relief flood his veins at seeing her safe, then fucking dread and paranoia take over, slowly turning back to face the stranger who now not only knew he had a kid with him, but apparently got close enough to give her colouring in, to fucking feed her.

“what do you want?” he asks, swallowing thickly, suddenly feeling heavy. 

the guy gets up close and personal, stepping right up to his face. “i want you to sort your shit, and stop bringin’ her on fuckin’ drug runs.”

billy swallows again, his mind going a mile a minute, trying to get his head around the fact that there's now four entire people in the world that know about sunny’s existence. billy, todd, sunny herself, and now this random stranger from the parking lot of one of todd’s buddies bar. fuck.

billy looks at him, feeling his eyes fucking well up. “i can’t,” he breathes out. wants to yell at him, ask him if he thinks he fucking chose this.

“can’t? or won’t?” the guy asks, his leather vest catching the streetlight. 

billy closes his eyes and clenches his fist, quickly turning to look at sunny who’s watching on apprehensively, before turning back. “i can’t,” he pushes out, voice cracking. “i don’t have a fucking choice.”

the guy steps back slightly, his face going from angry to slightly worried, still mainly angry though. he flicks a look over billy's shoulder to sunny, before focusing back on him. “you one’a jack’s crew?”

billy’s blood freezes. he takes his own step back and feels his back hit the truck door. no one that knows jack or todd is someone billy can trust. this guy’s probably already got his hand on his phone, ready to call billy’s personal monster the second he floors it out of here. 

he doesn't respond.

“todd’s a piece of shit, get a new fuckin’ job, man,” the guy eventually says, giving billy another look before turning to walk away. 

billy watches him leave, eyes glued to the angel wings on the back of his vest. 

he has no fucking idea what just happened, but he thinks he might actually be safe. with the way his face twisted whwn he said todd’s name, billy doesn't think the guy's gonna rat him out about meeting sunny. not that billy thinks todd will care, since he’s the one that made billy bring her in the first place, but it wouldn’t be the first time todd’s put him between a rock and a hard place and expected miracles.

the next week, billy triple checks the carpark before leaving sunny.

“we don’t talk to strangers, we don’t take food from strangers, and we don’t get out of the truck,” he repeats, hand on the door handle before turning to look at her one last time. “i’ll be back before you know it, okay, just stay down.”

sunny stares at him, face scared.

he holds his pinky out and waits for sunny to slowly interlock her own with his, then shakes.

“okay, daddy.”

he swallows, gently tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, before pushing himself out of the truck. 

inside, he deals with the usual crowd, giving ceaser his stock then handing out merle’s and axel’s. gives phillip’s and joe’s theirs, too, counting out the money they paid him, then finally, he splits.

he makes it two steps out of the bar before noticing the guy from last week. 

stopping dead in his tracks, he takes in how close the guy is, the way he’s leaning through the truck’s open window–a window that was rolled up when he left but is now somehow fucking open–and is just–talking to sunny. having a fucking conversation with her. 

suddenly, billy feels every bit of anger and pain and unfairness he’s buried down for the past five years. 

he’s gonna fucking scream.

who the fuck does this guy think he is?

sunny’s four, and this guy can’t stay away? 

billy’ll fucking kill him. 

“get the fuck away from her,” billy basically growls, coming up behind him.

the guy spins around, his eyes wide, but before billy can do anything, sunny shouts out to him, happy as fucking anything.

“look, daddy! he got me sauce this time! have you ever had sauce?”

billy looks at her then and finds her face covered in ketchup, a half eaten nugget in her mouth and a bitten nugget clutched in her hand. 

billy can only feed her what todd buys them back home, and todd’s fucking stingy with the groceries. it's ramen noodles on a good day, and moldy bread on the bad, and billy hasn't had nuggets or chips since before, let alone fucking sauce. he hates himself in that moment for feeling jealous. knows he should be happy that she’s experiencing something normal for once. that her world’s expanding. meeting new people and trying new foods. all the things billy dreams about giving her, but can’t.

as quick as it came, the fight drains out of him, and he’s just so fucking tired. looks at the tomato sauce covering her face and hands and just wants to climb into the truck and take a bite for himself.

“what’d we say about talking to strangers, and eating food strangers give us?” he asks tiredly, scrubbing a hand down his face.

sunny freezes, mid-chew, looking at him with sheepish eyes. “not to?” she screws her face up then, suddenly looking defensive. “but he’s not a stranger, his name is daryl!”

“knowing a stranger’s name doesn't make them not a stranger, punk,” he replies, looking at daryl cautiously.

daryl chooses that moment to back off slightly, taking a few steps back. they stare at each other for a moment silently before billy makes a move to get in the truck, and this time, daryl doesn’t have any parting words for him. billy gets in and floors it out of there. 

billy spends a lot of time between that drop and the next drop attempting to teach sunny about stranger danger.

it’s not easy, though, considering sunny’s world consists of only three entire people, and before daryl, it was only two. 

she knows other people exist, of course, billy’s told her enough stories over the years for her to know about max, her aunt who's a badass on a skateboard and has bright red hair. that billy has a mum somewhere in california, and the second they can, they're gonna go track her down and find her. she knows he grew up with a best friend named argyle, before he got ripped away from that home and planted in hawkins, indiana. but all those people are just stories to her, and even though he tries to make them as real as possible, he knows she thinks of them like she thinks of all her bedtime stories. 

nothing but a tale.

after struggling with it for a few nights, billy cracks.

“you just got me, okay, kid?” it comes out harsher than he intended, and he fucking hates himself when he catches her flinch.

forcing himself to take a deep breath, he turns around to face her fully from where he was scrubbing a plate. 

“you’ve just got me, and i’ve only got you,” his voice wobbles, threatening to break. fuck, he’s such a shit fucking dad. all she’s trying to do is understand the world and he can't even explain the concept of people to her without making her cry. he swipes a hand at his nose before quickly sitting down beside her, letting her curl up into his side.

“remember,” he murmurs into her hair, placing a gentle kiss there before tugging her in close and hugging her tight. “it’s just you–” he pokes her, “–and me–” he tickles her, getting a small giggle, “–against the world. we don't need no one else, yeah?”

she blinks up at him, eyes wet, then slowly nods. “i remember.”

she cuddles in close again, tucking her head under his chin, and he lets his head fall back and stares up at the ceiling of the peice of shit buried rv, trying not to break down.

god, all she’s got is him–a complete and utter fuck up that has absolutely no business being a dad. she should be out there in the real world; making friends, learning things, eating birthday cake, playing with fucking toys. she should be living life like a typical four year old, with the entire world at her fingertips. not living in some hole in the fucking ground, eating mold, and living in fucking rags. 

he just hopes that one day, if they ever get free, she’ll forgive him. 

for not being enough.

touching a hand to his stomach where he can feel it getting firmer, he stuffs a fist in his mouth as a sob threatens to break through. 

he prays they can forgive him, too. 

“what's your favourite-ist food, daddy?” sunny asks without even looking up, too busy colouring in a falling-to-bits colouring-in book that todd gave her months ago.

billy puts the book down that he was reading, a book he's read quite literally over fifty times now, but its one of seven that todds gave him, and it’s the least boring one he’s got.

he doesn't remember an exact favourite food or its taste, just vaguely remembers eating fucking everything, whenever he wanted. remembers the way he used to be able to go to the cupboard or fridge in the kitchen, and there’d be options. his dad might've been tight on what billy was allowed to just open, getting riled up about food waste and what not, but still, it was an option. susan used to cook dinner most nights, and on special occasions like max’s birthday, or the night they moved to hawkins, they had takeaway. 

he remembers fast food, and milkshakes, and susans shitty casserole. he remembers pizza, and birthday cake, and a thanksgiving spread. he remembers argyles mum’s special after school brownie, and the way he ate four pieces and made himself sick.

he tries to tell her about all of them, but when she looks at him lost and overwhelmed, he decides to dial it back and focus on one thing.

“me and max sometimes used to go to the takeaway shop, on summer break. we’d go after she’d stacked it on her board too many times and i couldn't be bothered surfing anymore,” he starts, trying to keep emotion out of it. “and she’d ask for ketchup on her fries, and since i was a dickhead older brother, i’d tell them to put barbecue sauce on them instead.”

sunny puts down the crayons she was using to look at him.

“what's that?”

billy rubs a hand down his face before sinking into his seat further, taking a deep breath.

‘i don't even know how to describe it, punk. it’s like–wait, you know what daryl gave you last week? nuggets and fries, right? so, fries are just like–okay, so. imagine bread–carbs–but deep fry it, and also make it not moldy. and then fish is like–” he stops, trying to figure out where to even start. “it's like–deep fried as well, but fish is salty, i guess.” he pauses, thinking about it. “well, it actually depends on what kind of fish you get," he corrects, “and then sauce is just, like, sugar with flavouring. sort of,” he concludes lamely, shrugging. “ketchup's meant to be tomato flavoured, and it's as red as shitbird’s hair was. you had some, remember? and barbecue sauce is brown, so it kind of looks like shit. max hated it. was probably the only reason i liked it.” 

sunny says nothing.

billy wants to bang his head against the wall. that was the world's worst explanation, and he knows it. sunny’s only ever had those two deep fried things in her life, just three days ago, and sauce? his kid’s barely even tasted sugar.

sunny beams at him, though, when he finally looks at her, completely captivated. 

“one day i wanna have fish and fries, and i wanna have ketchup and barbie sauce,” she dreams, her eyes wide. 

billy chokes on the lump in his throat.

“one fuckin’ day, punk. i promise.”

on their way out to the drop the next week, sunny shoots him troubled looks the entire way. 

pulling into the car park, billy turns to her, waiting expectantly. 

sunny doesn't make him wait long.

“is daryl a stranger, daddy? because i love nuggets.”

billy stares at her wordlessly then sighs.

“if daryl brings nuggets, then i guess–” he stops, taking a second to compose himself. can’t actually believe he’s letting this happen. “then i guess you can have them. but do not leave this truck, you hear me?”

she smiles the worlds biggest smile at him, and billy thinks the only reason he doesn't fucking hate todd down to his core is because of this. because she looks so much like him when she smiles, or laughs, and billy spent so long worrying he would resent her when she came, but turns out, he loves her more than life itself. she’s all he has, even if she did come from the worst thing in his life.

“please–just, stay in the truck, okay?”

“okay, daddy.”

daryl leans against the wall in the alleyway, watching as the guy gets out of his truck then heads inside the bar.

blowing out a lungful of smoke, he keeps one eye on the entire car park, and another eye on the truck.

he doesn't have to wait long before the kid pokes her head up, pulling faces in the window then drawing pictures with her fingers in the fog of her breath.

he takes another quick surveillance of the car park before quickly ducking in the sidedoor of the bar kitchen, grabbing a takeaway box filled with nuggets and chips and sauce that he ordered earlier–just in case–before quickly ducking back outside.

slowing his stride down considerably and making sure he's as unthreatening as possible, he crosses the car park and quietly knocks on the driver's side window.

thinks–this is the creepiest thing he’s ever done, trying to befriend a fucking child, but then the kids face lights up at the sight of him, and she basically dives over to her dad's side of the car to press the unlock button on the door.

daryl opens the door and passes along the box of food.

“hi!” she exclaims, grabbing it from him and digging in, and daryl winces. she may as well’ve just yelled it. he quickly checks the car park again, and when he finds it still empty, he focuses back on her.

“i’m just gonna–” he starts, then rolls down the window before stepping back and closing the door. taking a step back in, he folds his arms and rests them on the now open window sill, and settles in.

“you good?” he asks, not knowing why he gives such a shit about this whole situation, just knows he does. 

he went from thinking her dad was a piece of shit, to thinking maybe there's something going on, with the way he looked when he said he didn't have a choice. hasn’t figured out whether he believes him yet, but aside from sitting shotgun to drug runs, this kid seems well-loved. still, doesn't hurt to keep an eye out. daryl knows too many kids that got caught up in this shit from lowlife parents, grew up right along side them. most of them never got out. daryl barely has.

“i love nuggets,” is all she says, then she holds one out for him.

“nah, i’m good. all yours, kid,” he waves her off.

she grins at him then looks down at her feast, fingers hovering over which nugget to pick next.

“daryl. do you have bar-bee sauce?” she asks next, screwing her face up when she can’t get the right word out. “barbie sauce. bee-bee?”

“barbecue sauce?” he offers, watching her eyes go wide and her head start nodding frantically.

“yes! bar-bee-que sauce! daddy says it’s his favorite, and he hasn’t had it since before,” she explains, sorting her food out and splitting it all in half, placing some on the lid side of the box and leaving the rest in the container part. “and he hasn't had nuggets, or fries, or ice-cream, or cake, or pizza. daryl,” she asks, looking up with a confused look on her face, “what’s pizza?”

daryl stares at her blankly, trying to keep up with the conversation. the past two times she’s barely spoken to him, this is a whole new side of her.

“uh, pizza’s like–i don’t know,” he shrugs, biting at his nail when she gives him an unimpressed look. “just pizza, i guess.”

“that means nothing to me,” she sasses back, all attitude.

he nods to where she’s arranging her food, “you gonna share that with your dad?” he questions, trying to figure out what she meant when she said ‘before’. before he started working for jack? before he moved to georgia? before he had a kid? feels weird to stop having pizza, of all things, for any of those occasions, though.

“yep. he’s gonna be so excited. he’s always puking, and i’m always holding his hair back. but he says if todd gave us good food that wasn’t moldy, then he wouldn't be sick all the time, and he could eat. daryl, is this moldy?” she asks, holding up a fry, reaching her hand out as far as it can go so daryl can inspect it closely.

daryl takes a long and hard look, all for show, then gives her a thumbs up. “all good. no mold.” 

she grins up at him again then starts eating from her stash. “good.”

“you want me to get some barbecue sauce for you? so you can surprise him?” he asks awkwardly, not really knowing what to do now he’s pretty sure she's not like, actively being abused and in need of help.

“oh please! please please please! yes!” she shouts, almost tipping the snackbox off her lap. 

daryl snorts then nods at her, telling her to lay low again and he’ll be back. thinks her dad will probably be back out soon, since he always seems to be straight in and out, no fucking around.

ducking back in the kitchen, he grabs a few barbecue sauce sachets, then at the last minute, steals another box of nuggets and chips and two sodas.

heading back out to the truck, he presents the kid with his haul.

“more nuggets!” she yells, before her eyes catch the drinks. “wow, what are those?” she asks, mesmerised.

“soda,” daryl says, passing her one. he watches her shake it and turn it around, looking at every part of it, then look back up at him. 

“what do i do with it?”

daryl feels himself stare at her. knows she’s a fucking kid, and by the sounds of it, a sheltered one at that, but still. how can you not know what a can of soda is, let alone how to open it and drink it. her dad’s a fucking drug dealer, you can't tell him that he’s one of those freaks who doesn't allow sugar in the house.

just as daryl’s about to take it back and open it for her, he hears the front door of the bar open. looking over, he sees her dad walking their way and braces himself for whatever mood he’s about to deal with.

sunny seems to catch her dad walking over as well, and immediately unbuckles her seatbelt and kneels up on the seat, showing off her haul. her dad’s steps slow as he takes it in and he turns to daryl with wide-eyes.

“daddy, we got you barbecue sauce! i told daryl it was your favorite-ist, and he went and got some! and, he got soda!” she announces, holding up the can to him as he reaches her door. 

billy brings his hand up to shush her, looking around the deserted car park before opening her door. she launches herself forward and into his arms and he catches her with ease, but he looks straight at daryl from over her shoulder, looking fucking blindsided.

daryl thought this guy was in his twenties, even his thirties before he got a closer look at him, but now, standing right in front of him, no posturing or outbursts getting in the way, daryl’s starting to doubt he’s even cracked eighteen. jesus fucking christ. how the hell’s he wound up working for todd and jack already.

the guy eyes the food and the drinks then looks back at daryl. 

“you can have ‘em, don’t want ‘em back. you’re good, man,” he nods at him, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible. 

the kid mentioned her dad had been throwing up a lot, and standing there and taking him in, daryl can honestly say that the guy looks like shit. like he hasn’t showered in a while, or cut his hair. like he hasn’t eaten, or slept, or smiled, or even fucking existed. 

he looks like what daryl imagines ghosts would look like. like they're hanging on by a thread, tethered by one single reason left to exist, and the knife to cut the string is hovering just out of sight.

the dad’s hand slowly inches forward and swipes a fry, dipping it in the brown sauce. bringing it to his mouth, he closes his eyes as he puts it in, and when he finishes it, he opens his eyes back up to look at him, and daryl realises he’s crying.

“thank you,” he manages to get out, wrapping both arms tight around his daughter again and burying his face in her hair, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“daddy, are you okay?” she pulls back enough to ask, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

her dad nods jerkily and wipes at his eyes. “yeah, sun. i just fucking miss home.”

“and your sister? who has red hair?” she checks, then double checks, making her dad laugh. 

“yeah. i miss mad max and her fugly hair.”

the kid turns to him then, still hanging off her dad’s neck. “daryl, have you ever met someone with red hair. dad says his sister has red hair, but that's crazy. you can’t have red hair.”

daryl’s about to bullshit a reply when suddenly the front door of the bar opens.

the dad all but throws sun down in her seat, looking completely fucking terrified.

daryl decides then and there he’s gonna do whatever he can to help. doesn't know what shit they're involved in, but–fuck it. 

everyone's involved in shit in this part of town. him and this guy basically run in the same circles anyway, if he’s his brothers dealer, and daryl works at the bar he conducts business at.

he nods at the dad to get in the truck before taking a step back, casually making his way over to dwight who just stumbled out. 

distracting him with shoptalk, he watches as the guy climbs in the truck quietly before starting the engine, throwing his arm over dwight’s shoulder when dwight automatically goes to look over. 

“how’s sherry likin’ your new hours, man? glenn said negan’s runnin’ that place into the ground.”

dwight takes the bait, going on a rant about how negan knows what he’s doing, there's just gonna be an adjustment period is all. daryl couldn't give less of a fuck. just needs the dad and the kid to fucking leave already.

finally, their truck passes, and daryl drops his arm and stops, pulling his pack of smokes out.

“you good to get home like this?”

“what, you gonna drive me home, dixon?” dwight laughs, making it to his piece of shit toyota.

“get fucked.”

[chipistrate]

Wonder if we'll ever see Luis in the games

I think it'd be neat, he seems like a fun guy

I hope not, I really don't like him

Sorry Luis fans, he isssss way too creepy for my taste

[03349656115]

appleiphone

[wetslug]

actually really really proud i just went to the grocery store and didnt buy anything i knew i couldnt portion myself on

[potatochip-oc-dump]

doodles.primarily focused on gidget and arthur but there is one (1) princess here too

[malevolententity]

i stg if i start hallucinating the albatrio because m listening to stuff in english again so my brain can actually come up with its own sentences in the voices m gonna be so fucking mad

[deus-ex-mona]

series i’m gatekeeping from my family vs series i’m ✨ok✨ with my family knowing i’m into:

[our-inspire-verse]

Being a factive and fronting for the first time out of nowhere in your new body

[corvikari]

Selfsona/Persona headcanon #1

somewhere down the line, in the long line of my ancestors there were probably a couple goblins, at least one unicorn, and a f*cking dragon.

and this kids is how archfey’s are made

[birdyinabottle]

I've recently found Apple Notes to be quite useful as a quick digital sketchbook for jotting down ideas. For some reason a new note doesn't carry as much weight as opening a new canvas in procreate or fresco so I feel like I can work more freely. The lack of zoom and dedicated art tools helps me stay loose and in ideating mode. And the infinite vertical scroll helps me stay in the flow :) don't sleep on it!