I was working the show today and I could either get paid actual money or get autographs/photos with people, and there was a mix-up with my photo options and I ended up with Joseph instead of the other person I initially picked. But I was not complaining 👀 this one was a lot more rushed than yesterday (feel like you can see the motion of me moving through the space even though this photo is still lmao) but he was still so lovely and chatted to every person 💛
I wasn’t there for the talk but saw a clip of him getting emotional when someone spoke about how much him and Eddie meant to them - like what an actual angel?!?
secret talent: sunshine finds out grumpy has a hidden skill, like playing an instrument or drawing. sunshine keeps encouraging them to show it off, and grumpy tries to act like it’s no big deal but secretly enjoys the praise
THE CABIN smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine, cozy and warm as you settled into the couch with your cup of tea. daryl was at the far end of the room, tinkering with his crossbow, muttering something about the sights being off. it was a quiet evening, the kind you’d come to cherish out here in the middle of nowhere.
that’s when you noticed it - a sketchbook poking out of the half-open drawer by the desk. it wasn’t like daryl to leave things out of place, and your curiosity got the better of you.
“what’s this?” you asked, standing up and plucking the book from the drawer.
his head snapped up immediately, eyes narrowing. “don’t go diggin’ through my stuff.”
“it was already sticking out,” you said, flipping it open before he could stop you. your breath caught at the first page - a detailed drawing of a deer mid-leap, its muscles and fur rendered with startling precision.
“daryl,” you breathed, glancing at him. “you drew this?”
he grunted, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “ain’t nothin’ special.”
“are you kidding me? this is amazing!” you walked over, flipping through more pages. there were sketches of birds, trees, even a portrait of carol that captured her sharp eyes and soft smile perfectly.
“stop,” he muttered, reaching for the book, but you held it away, grinning.
“why didn’t you tell me you could draw? you’re so talented!”
his ears turned red, and he scowled. “it ain’t no big deal. just somethin’ i do sometimes.”
“not a big deal? this is incredible.” you sat beside him, laying the sketchbook on your lap and pointing to a drawing of a bear. “look at this! the detail, the shading… you’re an artist, daryl.”
“i ain’t no artist,” he grumbled, but there was a flicker of something in his expression - pride, maybe, or at least a hint of satisfaction.
you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “you should show people these. they’d love them.”
he stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “nah. ain’t for showin’ off. just for me.”
“well, i love them,” you said, turning the page to a sketch of a rabbit. “and i love you.”
his hand settled on your knee, rough and warm. “you’re just sayin’ that.”
“no, i mean it. you’ve got a real gift, daryl.”
he was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft huff. “well don’t you go makin’ a big deal outta it.”
you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “too late.”
the evening went on, with you occasionally flipping through the sketchbook and gushing over his work while he tried to act annoyed. but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile.
later, as you were cleaning up the mugs from your tea, you caught him at the desk, pencil in hand, sketching something new. you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his head.
“what are you working on?”
“nothin’.”
you peeked over his shoulder, grinning when you saw the beginnings of a sketch - your face, soft lines shaping your features.
“that’s me,” you said, your voice filled with wonder.
“don’t get all mushy,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop drawing.
“too late,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.
he finally set the pencil down, turning to face you. his blue eyes were softer than usual, and his hands settled on your hips. “you really like ‘em?”
“daryl,” you said, cupping his face. “i love them. and i love you.”
his lips twitched again, and this time, he didn’t bother hiding the smile. “guess i don’t mind hearin’ that.”
you leaned in, capturing his mouth in a kiss, slow and sweet. his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. when you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough.
“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”
“so are you,” you whispered, your heart full as you kissed him again.
any maybe this one for Daryl too if you have the time… 👀 I love the way you write the softer side of Daryl 🥺
unexpected laughter: grumpy is having a rough day, but sunshine tells a ridiculous joke or does something silly, and to everyone’s surprise, grumpy actually laughs - loud and genuine - despite trying to stay serious
DARYL was having one of those days. everything seemed to grate on his nerves - from the way the sun beat down too hot overhead to the way everyone seemed intent on being in his space.
he’d spent the entire morning repairing a busted cart wheel, only to find out the axle was cracked too. by noon, he’d snapped at carol for hovering, glared at rick for asking too many questions, and muttered curses under his breath when judith toddled too close and almost stepped on his tools.
and then there was you. you’d been hovering too, always trying to help, trying to cheer him up.
“you want water?” you’d asked earlier, your voice all chipper and light.
“don’t need nothin’,” he’d grumbled, not even looking up.
you weren’t fazed, though. you rarely were when it came to him, which was both impressive and mildly infuriating. you had this way of brushing off his mood like it was nothing, sticking around no matter how hard he tried to push you off.
so when you wandered into the yard again after lunch, daryl let out a low groan. he didn’t even look up as you plopped down on the bench next to his tools.
“you’re still mad at the world, huh?” you teased, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.
“ain’t mad,” he muttered, jamming the wrench onto the axle with more force than necessary.
“you sure? ‘cause you’ve been growling at everyone like a rabid dog since breakfast.”
he shot you a glare, but you just smiled sweetly, like his bad mood wasn’t even a blip on your radar.
“what do you want?” he grunted, returning to his work.
“nothing. just thought you might need a little cheering up.”
he let out a short, humorless laugh. “don’t need cheerin’.”
“oh, i beg to differ,” you replied, your tone light. “you’ve got that permanent scowl thing going on. you’re like a storm cloud in human form.”
he didn’t respond, too focused on the stubborn bolt that wouldn’t budge. you watched him for a few moments, your head tilted as if you were sizing him up.
then, out of nowhere, you asked, “hey, daryl, what do you call a deer with no eyes?”
he froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “what?”
you grinned, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “no-eye-deer!”
his jaw tightened, and he looked back at the cart like he hadn’t even heard you.
undeterred, you leaned a little closer. “okay, okay, i got another one. what do you call a deer with no eyes and no legs?”
“don’t care,” he muttered, but you were already finishing the joke.
“still no-eye-deer!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands together like it was the funniest thing in the world.
this time, his shoulders tensed, and for a second, you thought he might actually snap. instead, he just shook his head and muttered, “you’re impossible.”
you pouted dramatically. “c’mon, daryl, that was a good one!”
he grunted, but you weren’t done yet. you tapped your chin like you were deep in thought, then brightened as if you’d just remembered something brilliant.
“oh! what do you call a fake noodle?”
he sighed loudly, wrench still in hand. “don’t.”
“an impasta!”
that was it. something in him snapped - not in anger, but in disbelief. he let out a short, bark-like laugh before he could stop himself, quickly clamping his mouth shut as if he could take it back.
your jaw dropped, and you pointed at him triumphantly. “i knew it! i made you laugh!”
“did not,” he muttered, his ears turning pink as he went back to the cart.
“did too,” you shot back, grinning from ear to ear. “you laughed. loud and everything.”
he shook his head, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching, like he was fighting to keep the grin off his face. “you’re an idiot.”
“maybe,” you said with a shrug, “but i made the grumpiest man alive laugh, so i’ll take it.”
he finally looked at you then, his expression softening despite the lingering frustration in his eyes. “you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”
“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, your smile unwavering.
he shook his head again, but this time it was more in amusement than annoyance. “get outta here before you break somethin’.”
“fine,” you said, standing up and brushing off your pants. “but just so you know, i’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
“god help me,” he muttered, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as you walked away.
and for the rest of the day, every time he thought about that ridiculous joke, he couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that crept across his face.
pairing : daryl dixon x reader
warnings : fluff, slight hurt / comfort
wc : 1.7k
a/n : little filler fic while i write my logan series :3
the first time it happened, neither of you really knew how.
it was late, the fire burned low, and most of the group had already shuffled off to bed. you were sitting across from daryl, neither of you talking much, just existing in the shared quiet that came easier than most things did nowadays. the crackle of embers filled the silence between you, soft and soothing.
you glanced at him, his face half-lit by the dying light, shadows carving out the planes of his features. his posture was as rigid as ever, shoulders tight, hands fidgeting with the frayed edge of his shirt sleeve. he caught your gaze and raised a brow, muttering, “what?”
“nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “just… you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
his scoff was soft. “look who’s talkin’.”
you couldn’t argue with that. sleep had been a luxury lately, the kind of thing you thought about wistfully but rarely indulged in. the weight of exhaustion pressed heavy on you both, worn into your bones, but neither of you made a move to head inside.
“guess we’re both a mess,” you murmured.
his lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile but close enough. “yeah. guess so.”
you fell silent again, but the stillness wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… familiar. in a way, it felt like company - good company - was the only thing holding you together some nights. eventually, the fire died down completely, and the chill of the night crept in.
you rubbed your arms, shivering a little. daryl’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he stood up, muttering, “c’mon. it’s cold.”
you blinked at him. “what?”
“you stay out here, you’re gonna freeze,” he said, already heading towards the small cabin the group had claimed for the night.
you followed him inside, mostly out of confusion, and found yourself lingering as he dropped onto the cot he’d claimed earlier. his boots hit the floor with a dull thunk, and he looked over at you, brows furrowing.
“you just gonna stand there?”
“where else am i supposed to go?” you asked, crossing your arms.
he huffed, shoving himself to the far side of the cot. “ain’t rocket science. there’s room here.”
your eyes widened slightly. “you want me to - ”
“didn’t say i want nothin’,” he interrupted, voice low. “just figured you’d be better off not sleepin’ on the damn floor.”
there was no real way to argue with that, so you swallowed your hesitation and perched awkwardly on the edge of the cot. he didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over himself.
you laid down slowly, keeping as much space between you as you could on the narrow cot. it was fine - quiet, awkward, but fine - until you started to drift off, and your hand brushed against his.
you tensed immediately, but he didn’t move away. didn’t say anything either. the warmth of his skin seeped into yours, grounding in a way you didn’t know you needed. after a moment, you let your fingers curl slightly, brushing against his again.
he shifted just enough to press his palm against yours.
you fell asleep like that, hands barely touching, and woke up with his arm slung over your waist, your head tucked under his chin.
after that night, it happened more often than not.
you didn’t talk about it - didn’t need to. daryl wasn’t the kind of man who used words to explain himself, and you weren’t exactly great at starting conversations either. the first few nights, you both kept a respectful distance, careful not to overstep. but over time, the gaps closed.
he didn’t pull away when your hand found his again. he didn’t flinch when your head rested against his shoulder. and when his arm looped around your waist to pull you closer, you didn’t hesitate to lean into him, letting his steady warmth soothe the ache in your chest.
it became routine.
no matter how long the day was or how much tension lingered between you during the hours of sunlight, when the night came, you ended up tangled together. neither of you really had to say it, but the need was mutual - silent and unspoken, but mutual.
one night, you found yourself tracing the faint scars on his forearm, your fingers light as a feather. he didn’t stop you, just watched in silence. when you looked up at him, his gaze was unreadable, softer than you’d ever seen.
“what?” you whispered.
he shook his head, barely perceptible. “nothin’.”
but his arm tightened around you, and he pulled you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. you didn’t press further. whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t ready to share it yet, and that was okay.
because lying there, wrapped up in him, was enough.
the run had gone sideways before it even really started.
what was supposed to be a simple supply run had turned into a mess of bad luck and bad timing. walkers everywhere, collapsing buildings, and the kind of chaos that left your adrenaline buzzing long after you’d made it back to camp.
daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight the whole time, his hand shooting out to grab your arm or yank you behind him whenever things got too close for comfort. not that you needed him to - years of surviving on your own had sharpened your instincts - but he didn’t seem to care.
“next time, yer stayin’ behind,” he grumbled as the two of you stumbled through the front gates, the night air heavy with tension.
“like hell,” you shot back, wiping blood and grime off your face.
he glared, but the exhaustion in his eyes dulled the edge. “ain’t arguin’ with ya right now.”
fine by you. you were too tired to argue either, and the ache in your legs was proof enough that you needed rest. by the time you both trudged into the cabin, the rest of the group had settled down, their voices distant murmurs.
you kicked your boots off and dropped onto the cot without much thought, your body already anticipating the pull of sleep. daryl hovered for a moment, watching you with an unreadable expression before sitting down heavily beside you.
“you okay?” he asked gruffly, his voice softer than usual.
“i’m fine,” you muttered, though your hands were still trembling slightly.
he didn’t look convinced. “you sure? looked like you were ‘bout to - ”
“i’m fine, daryl.” you cut him off, sharper than you meant to.
his jaw tightened, but he didn’t push further. instead, he let out a rough sigh and leaned back, his weight shifting the cot just enough that you felt it.
the silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until you finally broke it.
“you didn’t have to keep pulling me out of trouble, you know.”
he snorted, leaning down to untie his boots. “yeah, i did.”
you turned your head to look at him, confused. “why?”
he shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “’cause if somethin’ happened to ya, i’d lose my damn mind.”
the admission hung in the air between you, uncomfortably raw. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. instead, you shifted closer, hesitating for a moment before resting your hand on his arm.
he stilled, his eyes flicking down to where your fingers brushed against his skin.
“you don’t have to worry about me,” you said softly. “we’re both still here. that’s what matters.”
he scoffed, though it lacked any real bite. “ain’t that simple.”
“why not?”
he turned his head to look at you, the shadows in his eyes deeper than you’d ever seen. “’cause it just ain’t.”
your hand slid down his arm until your fingers found his, curling around them. his hand tensed briefly before relaxing, his grip tightening around yours like he was afraid to let go.
“you don’t have to carry everything alone, you know,” you whispered.
“ain’t got a choice,” he muttered, his voice low.
“you do,” you said firmly, shifting closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. “you’ve got me.”
for a moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of your words pressing heavy against him. but then his free arm looped around your waist, pulling you into him in a way that felt both protective and vulnerable.
“yeah,” he said quietly. “guess i do.”
the tension in the room eased slightly, though the vulnerability lingered. you stayed like that for a while, your head on his shoulder, his arm around you, until the chill of the night seeped in and you both shifted to lie down.
as you settled against him, your head on his chest and his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, you felt the faint tremor in his hand as it rested on your back.
“you’re shaking,” you murmured.
“ain’t nothin’,” he muttered.
you didn’t call him out on it, but you didn’t pull away either. instead, you let your fingers trace idle patterns along his arm, your touch light but deliberate.
“daryl,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper.
“what?”
“i mean it. you don’t have to do this alone. not anymore.”
his breath hitched slightly, and you felt him press his face into your hair, his grip on you tightening.
“ain’t used to this,” he admitted, his voice muffled. “don’t even know what the hell i’m doin’ half the time.”
you tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his face. “you’re doing fine.”
his lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “that so?”
“yeah,” you said, resting your head back against his chest. “better than fine, actually.”
he huffed softly, the sound somewhere between disbelief and relief.
“you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, his fingers brushing lightly along your spine.
you smiled against his shirt, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. “so are you.”
the two of you fell silent after that, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you both. but as you drifted off, tangled together in a way that felt more like home than anything else ever had, you couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - you were finally starting to understand what it meant to not be alone.
The prices are the same, but the vibe is different ✨✨
Disclaimer for those who don't know:
As for now, twitter has been banned in Brasil (where I live), besides tumblr, that app was my main way to find and contact clients and also show my work.
For that reason, I'd love if you could help me out by reblogging this post and also helping people know that I can't use twitter anymore.
Thank you so much always and we will not panic!
END OF DISCLAIMER
Ok! Commissions are currently:
OPEN
Feel free to dm to find more about my work, for new works or just to chat lol
I have a friend who is really good at this type of thing. He once found an old globe at a garage sale and he was able to pin the date of it’s making down to like a 6 month window, because it only would’ve been correct during a specific point in WWII.
I was mad impressed, because I have no mind for geography. I can barely remember my own state’s capitol.
BUDDY you're a BOY you're a BIG BIG BOY you're a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BOY you got mud on your face you BIG BIG BOY kicking your can all over the place singing WEE wee WEE wee WEE wee WEE wee
Thinkin about how Frodo says to Sam "All that I had and might have had I leave to you"....
Frodo gave up his future for the futures of everyone in Middle Earth, generically speaking. But the future that specifically should have been his was given to Sam. It should have been Frodo filling up Bag End with children. It should have been Frodo finishing up the book, getting elected Mayor a few times, sitting on the garden bench at Bag End, smoking a pipe, watching the summer clouds breeze by. "All that I had and might have had"...
The writers strike could impact your favorite show! A season might get cut in half causing the writers to send the main character to hell instead of saving him. He might have to be rescued by an angel the next season, whom he will have a homoerotic relationship with over the next ten years, shaping the culture of some blue website and changing the way people receive world news for years to come!
