Peter Solarz
Show & Tell
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
One Nice Bug Per Day
taylor price
JBB: An Artblog!
RMH
almost home
oozey mess
★
dirt enthusiast
Xuebing Du
blake kathryn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
JVL
noise dept.
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Belarus
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@desperxdo
(( hiatus notice ))
as you may have noticed i haven’t been super active on this blog lately! i’ve been focusing on my troy blog here and might go on a semi-hiatus there, as well, because i’m about to start work!
i will continue writing threads from time to time, although i might be quite slow. i am up for plotting in any case, whenever i’m on, so please don’t hesitate to contact me on either blog!
I am the spark that ignites the fire I am the wind that blows on trees I am the breath you take before you run I am the adrenaline before you punch I am your soul I am your strength I am survival
Independent TWD blog. Original character. Semi-selective. Written by Zoe
CALL THIS AN EXPERIMENT.
So I explained to the french community how to rp on tumblr (I made them a 7 word pages tutorial actually) but they all are too afraid to not be able to speak english. Some of them actually have a good level. So yeah, maybe they’ll make a mistake or two but can you, please, like (or reblog) this post if you don’t mind roleplaying with someone whose first language is french? Knowing that they could make some mistakes in english.
i’m french, i’m up for roleplaying in french, too (or spanish)
do you have a the walking dead character, oc, or verse ? if so, please reblog this post with your character(s) name in the tags, if you are an oc please specify that, and if you only have a verse be sure to specify that as well. please reblog once per blog.
reblog and tag appropriately and you will be added to this list.
We are creating a masterlist for every The Walking Dead roleplayer.
The Walking Dead show/game/comic/spin-off.
The list is here.
finelendal:
I want to make this known; it’s OKAY to flirt with my muse, it’s okay to say flirty things to them, yes, they may not react to it, they may not respond to it positively, but know as a mun I’m 100% OKAY with it. Especially if my muse is clearly attractive appearance wise, go a head, flirt with them, if my muse is your muse’s type, it’s okay to flirt, we don’t have to be shipping, we don’t ever have to ship to have you flirt with my muse; I WONT think you’re pushing a ship on me either. But I just feel that some people are scared to have their muse be flirty to another because we a muns might take it the wrong way.
I’m not saying this goes for everyone, but I’m letting you know that it doesn’t make me uncomfortable and I’m fine with it.
the school bell rang clearly throughout the entirety of the building, a sign that the day was finally over. he stuffed all his books in his backpack & shuffled off of his assigned stool. the only thing that was on his mind was the fact he had to meet maya outside the school library, a place he usually avoided narrowly. she’d had a rough day & it was up to zach to make her feel better, to pick her back up again. he hurried out of the classroom & down the numerous flights of stairs that led to the home of books. he watched as the door opened at just the right time, revealing the petite brunette. ❝ —- hey you. ❞
There was one word flashing bright in Maya’s mind: shitty. That’s what the day had been. Shitty life, shitty morning, shitty breakfast, shitty friends, shitty mom. She didn’t live at her mother’s anymore, they’d hurt her too much there. After a rough patch, Maya had managed to get emancipated and was staying at a friend’s while she saved enough money to afford her own place. At least she had been before the parents had found weed stashed in Christine’s (her friend) room. The bitch didn’t even take responsibility for her stupid behavior, she’d gone and told her parents that the weed was Maya’s. Blatant lie. Even better, she’d told them in front of Maya, during breakfast that very morning. They’d immediately sided with their daughter, not even trying to listen to Maya. Christine was perfect, Christine went to church on Sundays and never cussed, Christine wouldn’t smoke pot. My ass she wouldn’t, Maya kept thinking since the incident. To top it all off, for some reason her mother was spamming her cellphone with voicemails and texts. The young girl didn’t even bother replying, but the constant vibrating and beeping was interfering with her conversations with Zach. She’d ended up telling him to meet her in front of the library at the end of the period. She couldn’t deal with anything at that moment and decided to cut everything and study for a test she was sure she’d fail anyway.
Her sighs of despair as she read her textbooks, fidgeting with her pens and eyes drifting away every now and then, were quickly replaced by a sigh of relief when the bell rang. She felt like she might explode if she didn’t talk to somebody now. Someone she could trust. Zach was one of those people. Heck, with Christine that bitch out of the picture he was likely the only one left that she trusted. Everyone liked Zach, everyone knew Zach, polar opposite of her, yet Zach wasn’t arrogant and pompous like the other kids. He didn’t stick a label on himself and he was genuinely kind. He’d been there when nobody else had, and above all he tried to understand. Her schoolbag was just another weight on her shoulders that she was too tired to deal with, but she held onto it because she couldn’t just let go. She was sick of everything, her thoughts were a mess and she was just so tired. The brunette pushed the door open rather violently, still frustrated at life, but she softened when she saw him approaching.
“Zach, hey! What’s up?” Maya’s frown turned into a smile, a genuine one that she was happy to display for him. “God, has life been throwing rotten lemons at me. Yet here you are, my fully pressed and sugared lemonade!”
ATTENTION WALKING DEAD ROLEPLAYERS !
over the past couple of months i’ve noticed a little drop in activity in the walking dead community, so i’m going to put together a masterlist. if you are a twd canon, original character or multimuse blog, then please reblog this post. you may also reblog if you have a twd verse. added bonus, if you could put in the tags which of twd characters you’d like to see, would be perfect.
@anarchywithin:
He saw her head hit the corner of the dresser and tried to cry out, but his throat had seized up along with the muscles in his legs. In vain he tried to wrench the covers aside and go to her, scoop her up in his arms and cradle her close, but nothing in him was working in sync. It would take a few minutes for his nerves to ease up, to wait for the panic and adrenaline to subside. All he could do was watch, from his pitiful half-curled position on the bed, as Maya picked herself up and stumbled out of the room. Helpless, guilt-stricken tears stung his eyes. He blinked hard to be rid of them, cycling instead through a familiar loop of shame and self-hatred. If he had struck her…if he had killed her…
She returned before he could spiral any further down that path, carrying with her a bottle of water. His heart crumbled in his chest at the sight of her, hating how much she loved him no matter what he put her through. Wishing he had the strength to leave her and never risk hurting her like this ever again, or that she would have the sense to leave him. How many times had he done something like this? How many more times would it happen before he finally went too far? When would she finally learn that he was never getting past it?
Hands unclenching from their fists, he took the bottle and raised it to his lips with almost mechanical compliance. Once he drank his fill, he set it aside and reached out compulsively to feel the side of her head, fingers gently parting her hair in search of blood.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, wincing at the dampness he felt. A blow like that would give her at least a mild concussion, but he supposed with bitter optimism that it could have been much, much worse. “You okay?”
Her eyes filled with tenderness as she watched Sawyer drink. She almost forgot the pain, the pulsating sensation where her head had hit the chest. Watching him, she repressed a grimace. She didn’t want him to worry. She was there for him; they had been through so much, even before the outbreak, she finally understood someone’s pain and felt like she was understood (although the pain was very different).
Maya smiled what she hoped would be a reassuring smile, although the discomfort showed at its corners. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” It was true, she would be, but her head throbbed and the wound would probably need to be disinfected. She brushed the thought aside, she’d worry about that later, when she was sure Sawyer was okay. She knew the nightmares felt vivid to him, he’d told her about them once, how they felt. She couldn’t imagine the horror of being stuck in your subconscious, the mind playing its evil tricks on you, repressed memories and traumas floating back up to taunt you.
Her heart ached for him as much as the wound on her head pained her. The gentleness of his hand in her hair, the mark of affection and care that he showed her pulled her towards him and she let her cheek rest on his shoulder, forgetting all about the blood in her hair. “I’m here for you, Sawyer,” her voice softly whispered close to his ear, warm a tear silently rolling down her cheek. The pain was getting stronger. She remained in that position for a few more seconds, although in the darkness they seemed to last longer.
“I might need to clean that up, though,” Maya blurted out, letting out a small giggle to lighten them up before pulling apart. “Do you mind...” Maya began, hesitant, yet still flinching at the pain, “Doing it for me, please? I can’t really tell where it hit.”
Yeah, they should’ve treated you better. They should’ve cared more. But they didn’t and they don’t, and your life keeps moving forward.
If you are a ship whore and you know it click reblog.
I am the spark that ignites the fire I am the wind that blows on trees I am the breath you take before you run I am the adrenaline before you punch I am your soul I am your strength I am survival
Independent TWD blog. Original character. Semi-selective. Written by Zoe
@anarchywithin:
If he could sever the need for sleep from him like a dead, mangled limb, Sawyer would happily do it with whatever rusty serrated blade he could find. He’d bleed out for such a gift; to be free of the bomb in his skull waiting to go off as soon as he was vulnerable. As soon as he was weak.
And he was never weaker than he was while sleeping. He was more afraid of sleep than he was of either the living or the dead. It was the only time where he couldn’t tell the difference between the two.
Of course he couldn’t be free of it, anymore than he could shed his own skin, and every day he’d watch the sun start to fall behind the horizon like the axe of an executioner swinging down to the chopping block. But he resisted the need with a stubborn will that he knew, he knew defied logic. The more exhausted he was, the harder it was to stop the flashbacks and hallucinations; the less sure he was that he – that any of it, this place, this life – was real, and that he wasn’t still drowning back there in that fucking desert. It was such a thin line between then and now, and so easily blurred…
But he couldn’t bring himself to peacefully succumb, pushing himself instead until he was so tired that sleep came instantly, concussing him into oblivion. There was no headlong plunge into the dark, nothing to swallow him whole. He only slept in brief snatches, a handful of hours here and there when he had no other choice – usually when Maya forced him, as no one else could.
Naturally, she won the argument about who would take first watch tonight. Normally he would have put up more of a fight, but it had been two days since he last slept, and they both knew it was starting to catch up with him. So he did as commanded, and collapsed on the bed of the first apartment they cleared.
He fell asleep instantly. And the nightmare waiting for him saw its chance to strike.
There was nothing special or remarkable about this one. Some half-buried memory of Afghanistan unearthed and corrupted by more recent horrors. A boy he killed unthinkingly, caught in the crossfire of a shootout between his unit and local insurgents, resurrected into a grotesque walker with snapping teeth and clawing hands. Hollow eye sockets, rotting skin, a putrid smell that couldn’t possibly be a dream, it had to be real.
First there was only the instinct to get it off of him. He kicked and shoved, thrashing with animal strength. But he knew there was only one way to put this boy down for good. In the dream, he reached for a stray pipe to bash in that soft, pulpy skull. In reality, his hand closed around an antique bedside clock set in marble, heavy enough to surprise him and pull him out of sleep, and hurled it abstractly through the air.
His eyes, already wide open, snapped into focus just in time to watch the missile sail directly towards Maya’s head. His only thought, somewhere between the unfinished shout of “SHIT, LOOK OUT –”, was that if the blow didn’t kill her outright, it would settle for caving in her face.
A split second. That’s all she had to move out of the way, and hundreds of thoughts rained down in her mind as the clock flew in the air.
She wasn’t afraid. She’d already been through things like these with Sawyer, but she’d quickly learnt to stay close to doors at all cost. In that split second, she remembered one of the first times she’d tried to wake him up. She could still feel his hands around her throat; his fingers had pressed hard against her skin and she had almost passed out by the time he had snapped out of it. It still amazed her how, with his strength, she hadn’t suffocated earlier.
Her body almost mechanically threw itself sideways, in the opposite direction of the clock. THUMP! Her skull hit the corner of a dresser and she heard the clock hit the floor with a loud crash, her head thumped hard and her hair felt as though it were soaking. She hoped it wasn’t blood, maybe she was just feeling things.
The brunette pushed herself up, balancing on both legs before holding onto the furniture to regain herself. It hurt, but not as much as she thought it would or as it did when she hit it. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. She kept repeating this to herself, although a small groan escaped from her mouth.
Maya turned to look at him in the bed. The sweat, the panic in his eyes. It wasn’t new, but it still hurt seeing him that way. She shuffled back to the previous room, her hands blindly looking in her bag for the bottle of water she kept there. The floor creaked as she made her way back to Sawyer, bottle in hand.
“Here,” the girl muttered, handing the bottle to him, before sitting on the bed. Then the pain hit her on her side, the one she’d thrown herself on. She winced but tried not to let it show. He’d just woken from one of the nightmares. Right then, he needed her, not the other way around.
BOLD what your muse can do. REPOST, don’t reblog. TAG ten muses.
bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive a submarine | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a backflip | play chess | give cpr | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive/calligraphy | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | magic tricks | yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read morse code | pick a lock
Tagged by: @alwaysasurvivor
Tagging: @anarchywithin, @wordgiven, @lockethearted, @electricalundead & anyone who wants to do it!
okay i gave in and went and made a canon if anybody here would rather plot with my troy (i’m still working on everything and i’m probably not keeping the theme but)
indielists:
do you have a the walking dead character, oc, or verse ? if so, please reblog this post with your character(s) name in the tags, if you are an oc please specify that, and if you only have a verse be sure to specify that as well. please reblog once per blog.
reblog and tag appropriately and you will be added to this list.
