#ALL OF YOU GET OUT
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I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.
So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.
4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),
Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.
You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.
He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.
That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.
You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.
Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.
You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.
In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.
He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.
Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."
"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."
He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.
Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.
Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.
Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.
He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.
Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.
"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.
"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.
"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"
"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.
He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.
The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.
The damn chair creaks again.
He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.
Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.
He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.
The corners of your mouth tug up.
He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.
Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.
It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.
The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.
Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.
The need for oxygen is strong.
Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.
Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.
It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.
"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.
It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.
It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.
"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"
You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.
Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.
A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.
Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.
Both of you hiss at the friction.
Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.
He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.
Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.
The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.
Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.
"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."
"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.
"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.
Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.
Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.
His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.
You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.
He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.
"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.
"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.
With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.
Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.
Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.
"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"
"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.
With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-
Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.
"Fuck!" You yelp.
"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.
Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.
Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.
You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.
"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.
The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"
Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.
Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.
You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.
Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.
You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.
"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."
"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.
Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.
When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.
Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.
Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.
Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.
Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.
The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.
Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.
When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.
Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.
As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.
"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."
He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?
He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.
In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.
The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?
Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.
The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.
This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.
The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.
"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.
"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"
"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.
Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.
"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.
Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."
In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.
Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.
You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.
In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.
You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.
Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.
"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.
"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.
"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.
With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.
The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.
"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."
Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.
The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.
Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.
"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.
All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.
If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.
Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.
Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.
You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-
"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."
The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-
Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.
"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.
"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-
That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.
He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-
Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.
It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.
Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.
Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.
"Whatchu grinnin' at?"
Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.
"Feels good."
"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."
#WHEW I NEED TO BE NEUTERED Y'ALL#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x female reader#twd smut#fuckin' tiktok editors wirh their fuckin sexy edits#fuckin norman reedus with his stupid fuckin face#ALL OF YOU GET OUT#of my head#please.
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you are all so annoying. god bless
#when americans & british ppl realize they're equally terrible the world will start healing#the rest of the world is looking at y'all fighting like clowns rn please get serious#the americans are worse tbh they gassing this up like a win baby you TIED#0-0. both of you walked away with A POINT#and england still got more bc they actually won their opener. have none of you watched a world cup before#if you weren't there when mario götze scored the game winner in the 2014 finale don't talk to me#all of you GET OUT#world cup#wm22#usa vs england#thank god the clownery is over
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work all night on a drink of rum
daylight come and me wan go home
stack banana til the morning come
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
a beautiful bunch of ripe banana
daylight come and me wan go home
hide the deadly black tarantula
daylight come and me wan go home
lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
dayo
dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
#someone suggested i turn off reblogs. to that i say. i’m not a fucking quitter#esp when i get to see my husband dancing in my notifs every time this gets a note#since this reached 30k notes i wanted to say that people in the notes saying you shouldn’t feel safe around horses are right#story time :) when i was very little i got kicked in the face by a horse.#obviously this is very dangerous and i could have been concussed but there was no bleeding or bruising or no teeth knocked out#so my family didn’t believe me and even tried to convince me that it never happened at all. accused me of lying about it#it was specifically my grandma (who i realized much later in life was extremely emotionally abusive) who insisted i was lying.#but i remember it clearly. i know that it happened. i know that it struck my front teeth and knocked me to the ground#and i have never felt safe around horses since <3 or my family actually#ahem. i always felt safe around my grandparents. ‘‘not anymore’’ said knife grandma
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as an aroace, im particularly dangerous, because i wont fuck or marry. i only know how to kill.
#aroace#aromantic#asexual#asexuality#ace#aro#im so glad you guys are enjoying this stupid post i made at work#okay i wrote that at 3000 notes but what the FUCK is happening#10000 notes on this no effort fmk post and not one aspec i know irl#dgmw im still very happy that yall are enjoying this post but also like. come hang out with meeeeee :(#okay this is getting ridiculous. 40k notes and still no aspec irls. where the FUCK are you all
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reminder to myself and whoever else needs it to stop feeding the machine. I'm aware I'm yelling into the void but look at the past couple years of games. They're pushing $70, $80, $100!!! for games that are completely unfinished, unpolished, and sometimes completely unplayable. Yes the game showcases were cool. The doom game looks sick and I don't even go there, but they're shaking the shiny keys to distract you and get you swept up in the hype. They're going to push so much fomo marketing to get you to jump for it full price.
Wait for sales. Wait and buy a used copy. Hell, wait a couple days (even hours!!!) after launch and reviews and breakdowns will start coming out. Our game backlogs are already packed, and mr big AAA studio can deal with some of us waiting to see if they actually delivered what was promised.
#I am whining to myself but preorder culture drives me insane#I love waiting ~2years after a game comes out and getting it for like $10#and all the patches are done! the updates are all there! dlc's out!#but feel free to reblog if you vibe#personal
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Reblog the fundraisers you mfs!!!!! I don't know why you all skip those to reblog some pic of a banner saying "FREE PALESTINE" or of news from Columbia University! Literally these people from Gaza have made an account on Tumblr and is writing in english to communicate what they need and you all are coming onto my blog or on the tag and not reblogging their posts. We have people both Palestinian and non Palestinian vetting the fundraisers! I mean more the reblogs, more the chance of the fundraisers gaining momemtum, the more there would be a chance of a donation. Please donate if you can and reblog!!! and follow them if it is possible.
@/mohammedayesh has posted about getting leaflets, telling them to evacuate Rafah. They are very low on funds. Go follow them and reblog their posts and donate if possible.
We have @/haneenatya too whose mother is suffering from eye stroke and need to evacuate. Please I have been following them for some days and it doesn't seem their own posts are getting much attention.
Follow them! They are on tumblr. Reblog their posts and donate. The protests in universities are being done on account of them. They should be our focus.
(EDIT: on re-reading my post it seems as if I am dismissing all that the students of universities are doing. I am not. I just meant, since all of it is to help Palestinians, we must not ignore them when they ask for help).
#free palestine#don't only reblog popular posts#reblog posts these people are making from Gaza#I know we all struggle financially#which is why I think if we can get more and more reach then out of those people at least some maybe able to donate#their blog names are those which I have mentioned#please look at their posts#P.s. i have edited in some links please click on them and you will be redirected to the blogs of both the gazans#a popular 11k notes post has nothing over your attention on them
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(✿◕‿◕) die (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)
#MY GIRLLLLLLLL <333333 you're doing amazing sweetie kill them all you deserve to#anyway. coping mechanism. the problems in my life i could solve if society just let me have a death note#this show really is an exercise in patience and suffering i get SO squicked out#by how much the horrible characters and situations mirror the insanity of what's happening in real life#also the revelation that some of the actors are Exactly as shitty as their characters are is. ugh.#but every time i'm like okay i can't take it i need to stop to protect my headspace#i think of kimiko and am like.... no... i need to see my gir....#hope karen gets jucy roles in other shows too PLEASE#the boys#kimiko miyashiro#karen fukuhara#theboysedit#tvedit
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Let the poor man rest.
#also no he doesn't want to experience life as a normal person. no he wouldn't sacrifice his powers to live again.#he LOVED being powerful. he was very proud of his powers. he was at the top of the world. what he disliked was being so lonely at the top.#which having reunited with Geto now he is not.#and he wanted to keep the next generation safe due to his past regrets and teach a generation of kids to be at the top together.#and he wanted to get rid of the corrupt higher-ups and reform the Jujutsu society.#and he did all of that. Yuta and Yuuji are both alive and safe and the kids are all reunited with each other stronger than ever#and the higher-ups are d**d.#Gojo obviously wouldn't hate to keep living. he clearly didn't expect to lose and die. but as he himself confirmed#he died doing what he loved. he went out the way he wanted. he went out with a bang. he had the best fight of his life and gave it his all.#as he said 'he had fun'. he said it would have been embarrassing if he died of old age or sickness.#and now that he's gone he's happy with his friends and especially Geto. he found peace.#He said it himself 'Now i'm wishing that it's not just a dream'.#also for those of you who say that Geto & Gojo wouldn't be together because one would go to hell and one to heaven... no. just no.#first of all. Gojo did a mass m*r*** before his death#second of all. they're Buddhists. they don't have heaven and hell. don't bring Abrahamic religions into everything.#and you'd be surprised by the excuses the Abrahamic religions find to not let people in heaven.#probably Gojo wouldn't go to heaven even if he didn't kill the higher-ups due to...idk... occasionaly doing pranks or sth.#but Gege apparently created a whole other afterlife of his own. and Toji Geto Gojo Nanami and everyone were all gathered there together.#you SAW that. so stop.#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#gege akutami#my two cents#satosugu
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mentor
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#gojo satoru#megumi fushiguro#jjk art#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk leaks#pulled another allnighter fr Angst's sake cries i havent slept.......but i couldnt help myself i was out all DAY i hadnt drawn all DAY#do u know what that does to a mf i felt all antsy and Wrong#so i cracked an energy drink i think i may have a problem honestly but hey at least u get ur daily dose of megumi angst#remember how i said i considered including gojo in the yuuji/tsumiki/megu squared train piece#well this is me making up fr Not including him there#i ws right his and megumi's relationship deserves its own homage smile :)#anyway @ anon who wanted a gojo/megumi hug.....ik it's not exactly a hug but you can forgive me im sure <3#dare i say it's better than hugs jeremy.....#honestly fr all my gripes w gojo i Did get kind of emo abt this?? but i feel like. the majority of my emotions r on megumi's behalf#also might have been the mukashi mukashi no kyou no boku on repeat that'll also do it#seriously debated putting translated lyrics as the caption but it feels like a copout doing 2 lyric-captions in a row#also i do have some shame. miku lyrics r a bit.#anyway art notes uhhhhh finally got gojo's hair to not look Yuuji#who knew the trick was to make it longer smh maybe sleep deprivation n 10 hours of staring at a screen Does make simple problems hard#oh file name 'proud of you' btw
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I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.
I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:
Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)
Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)
Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often
Eat dessert first
Celebrate well, and often
Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)
Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.
Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate
Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)
Walk without having a specific destination or goal
Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.
I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.
#mental health#mental health support#positivity#if anybody has ideas of their own definitely include them!#i just think being stuck with this feeling that you don't have autonomy and that you ultimately aren't an equal person or a person at all..#...in comparison to other people can be a really troubling and dangerous place to be in...#...and that isn't the person's fault for feeling that way. they didn't pluck those thoughts out of thin air...#...like i have felt that exact way all my LIFE because i have been abused for. probably 2/3s of my life...#...only within these past few years have i even FELT alive. frankly it's going to take a while to repair what i have been left with...#...so i know the feeling and i want to help others feel even a LITTLE bit alive. you deserve it...#...you deserve to take in a deep breath before slowly realizing 'oh my gd this is what it feels like to be alive' and SMILE about it#i want that for you even if it is brief. even if it is small. even if it is a whisper. i want you to feel alive#unironically getting rid of the idea of 'guilty pleasures' has made my life SO much better
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✦ Freshly ordained ✦
#a packless dog will happily accept his collar or something like that#own art#own characters#CanisAlbus#art#artists on tumblr#Machete#anthro#sighthound#dogs#canine#animals#maybe you might benefit from a little bit of context in this case#Machete becomes a priest at around 20 or so#he has trained all his life for this goal#he has worked himself to the bone and sacrificed so much#because he believes it would make him respectable and worthy and give his life a purpose and meaning#he gets his very first cassock from the tailor's and it immediately fits like a second skin#for the first time ever he feels like something he wears actually makes him look kind of nice#the hard part is over it'll be smooth sailing from here on out#there's a period in Vasco's and Machete's lives where they were apart for almost a decad#they met in their late teens when they were both studying in the same university in Venice#became friends and then lovers#but had to separate when Machete graduated and Vasco dropped out#Machete was ordained as intended and Vasco followed his father into politics#they meet again unexpectedly in their early 30's thanks to their similar jobs#Machete had became a cardinal secretary of state and Vasco was a Florentine diplomat#this takes place shortly after he had lost contact with Vasco and before he reconnects with him again
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dont worry about it jason...
#im trying to figure out how to draw them#the brothers ever#jason todd#robin jason todd#discowing#dick grayson#if i get even one negative comment about the discowing suit youre all going in the blender#no.1 discowing supporter#batfamily#batman#dc comics#they are so brothers you cant tell me otherwise#i struggled with this help me#expect more art if i can GET MY SHIT TOGETHER#jason todd robin#my art#dc art#this might have been based on an incorrect quotes generator but SHHH
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dragon meat, you, and me
#marcille donato#falin touden#farcille#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#tw blood#tw body horror#tw gore#as a normal farcille fan this revival has been on my mind since i first read it and getting to watch it is like yippee!!#like messy revivals are everything - the consequences that will haunt u for the rest of the time they are alive#the initial hopeful moments where it all seemed well but quickly descend to That not being the case - losing not only the bit of evidence#evidence that your dream may work out but also someone you deeply care about in the process… marcille my Beloved#ofc wholly thruout the journey - at the forefront of it - getting falin back was the most crucial point but so wuickly :(( it was lost#on the other end its crazy to think about the compoments of falin now - human - dragon (dungeon) - marcille’s magic and desperation#the food the crew cooked (digested) - she is made of many parts!!#also i did not realize how medical it feels to draw smth like this. i dont usually explore the inner parts or use a lot of blood#in my work so rendering everything and looking up refs it felt quite magical (?)#ruporas art
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ALSO IMPORTANT TO NOTE, people dropping mad mad sums of money on gfms and charities and stuff are extremely impressive but that DOES NOT MEAN that putting like $5 towards someone's fund or any good cause is any less valuable, a lot of crowdfunding is about momentum and those single digits add up super fast, you do not need to be Rolling In The Dough to make someone's day!! moving the dial at all is extremely positive!!
#what is ACTUAL POISON to crowdfunding is The Full Stop. when it just runs cold. at that point a single dollar coming in feels like#pushing the wheels out of the mud. all you need is movement. as long as it keeps moving.#this applies to gofundmes this applies to large organizations this applies to people asking for grocery money#moving the needle even just the slightest bit!! is huge!!#take it from someone who gets excited about $1 patrons#sergle.txt#people used to attach Apology messages to their $5 when I was raising money for my breast reduction#as if they should be doing more. but they were already doing so much and I was elated to just see a new donation Of Any Amount#ANY donation is extremely exciting to the person or people actually receiving it!!!!
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He's getting dragged out, kicking and clawing at the closet!
#I've gone a little red string on a pinboard insane over this scene#don't know if you can tell#baby we're getting you out!!!!!!#help us father help#love Eddie's little fleabag moment#vine boom sounds all around though#gay ass eddie#eddie diaz#911 hot priest#father brian#911 abc#buddie
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i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one
his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.
ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication
ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.
#dunmeshi#dungeon meshi#shuro dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#toshiro nakamoto#dont get me wrong i understand relating to a character and hating whoever wrongs them cause youre protective or you relate really hard#but i think toshiros been getting the short end of the stick for a long time now 😭#even his love for falin is misunderstood#he literally states all the reasons he likes her#and none of them are superficial#but hes so closed off and has such difficulty expressing himself that instead of asking her out or smth he just#proposed to her out of the blue 😭#leading a lot of ppl to just assume that he went 'white woman spotted' and proposed#do Not misunderstand me i am#a HUGE farcille stan#obviously#but i dont think toshiros feelings are surface level and i think theyre absolutely crucial to understanding him and his motivations#as a character in this story
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