The Sentient Orange

This BLOG belongs to some SENTIENT ORANGE with oversized red lips and questionable life choices. Somehow she keeps posting things like this place is a damn PERSONAL DIARY for a CONFUSED TEENAGER — except she’s already in her 20s now. Embarrassing.

[thesentientorange]

─── ✿ Info Dumps ✿ ───

From now on, this profile is called THE SENTIENT ORANGE. And it was formerly a blog called Tikhiy Dozhd.

This is the MAIN PROFILE. But it still looks like the damn personal diary of a confused teenager, but in the body of a girl in her 20s.

| POST | REBLOG | THINGS |

Links to the most important contents:

| WIP Game (2026) | Original apocalyptic story |

TIKHIY DOZHD (13+):

TUMBLR: click here (the clean version for this name)

AO3: click here

FFN: click here

WATTPAD: click here (even though it’s a secondary platform)

The profile under the name TIKHIY DOZHD is a "safe" and accessible space, easily viewable by a broad audience. In general, the content published here avoids excessively mature themes and representations.

The 13+ label exists only because most platforms require it, not because of the actual content.

It remains essential to refer to the TAGGING system and the CONTENT WARNINGS: these are meant to help each reader understand whether a story is suitable for them or not.

Have a good time here :)

ASTRONAUT CAT (18+):

TUMBLR: click here (don't look at the blog name, 'cause the other one was already taken. Rip.)

AO3: click here

The profile under the name ASTRONAUT CAT is not a safe place.

This is not an invitation; it’s a warning: enter only if you’re an adult and mentally prepared for the mess.

You won’t find comfort, good manners, or wholesome content here.

This is an 18+ profile, in the most literal and least reassuring sense of the term.

If you scroll past, you lose nothing. At best, you spare yourself trauma, questionable content, and poor life choices.

TAGS:

[multific]

His Forever

Summary: Daryl Dixon never imagined marriage would mean anything to him after the world ended. Then he found you. 

The ring sat in Daryl’s pocket for six straight days.

Six.

Every morning he told himself he was being stupid. Every night he touched the small velvet box hidden inside his jacket and thought about you anyway.

It had happened during a supply run outside Alexandria. It was just like any other day. Just another abandoned house slowly being swallowed by time and nature. Broken windows, collapsed furniture, dust coating every surface.

Daryl had only entered because Aaron wanted canned food from the kitchen cupboards.

Instead, Daryl found the ring upstairs. A tiny velvet box hidden inside a bedside table drawer.

He almost ignored it completely, but then he opened it.

And there it was.

A simple ring with a small diamond that still caught the afternoon sunlight somehow despite years of dust and ruin. Daryl stared at it for a long moment. The old world felt strange sometimes. He found ghosts everywhere.

People who once loved each other enough to promise forever. Most days Daryl thought forever was a dangerous thing to believe in.

Then he thought about you.

About your sleepy smile every morning when he returned from runs. About the way you automatically reached for him. About sitting on the porch together after dark while you rested your head on his shoulder, fingers interwined. About how Alexandria finally felt like home because you were there. And suddenly the thought appeared so naturally it nearly stole the air from him.

Marry her.

Daryl immediately shut the box again.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself.

Yet somehow the ring still ended up in his pocket. The problem was that once the idea existed in his mind, it refused to leave him alone.

By the second day, Carol noticed something was going on with him. Mostly because Daryl kept absentmindedly checking his pocket every five minutes.

“You’re acting weird,” Carol Peletier observed casually while chopping vegetables.

“Ain’t.”

“You nearly walked into a wall earlier.”

Daryl grunted and Carol narrowed her eyes.

 “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re going to ask her to marry you.”

He looked genuinely horrified.

“Keep your damn voice down!”

Carol gasped dramatically. 

“You are!”

“Shut up.”

“You found a ring, didn’t you?”

Daryl stared at her silently, Carol placed a hand over her heart.

“This is the best day of my life.”

“It ain’t even like that.”

“You have carried around that expression for three days straight, Daryl. You look like a frightened raccoon.”

“A what?” He scowled deeply.

“You heard me.”

Carol spent the next several days being completely unbearable. Every time you walked into a room she smirked at Daryl like she knew a secret.

Which she did.

Daryl considered throwing himself off Alexandria’s walls at least twice.

Meanwhile you remained blissfully unaware, mostly because Daryl still acted normal around you.

Well.

Mostly normal.

You noticed the increased staring and the fact he kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something before changing his mind. One evening while sitting together on the porch outside your house, you finally nudged his shoulder lightly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothin’.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“Said I’m fine.”

You studied him carefully, he looked nervous, which almost never happened unless something truly mattered to him. You reached over and took his hand gently.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Daryl’s chest tightened painfully, that was exactly the problem, because he loved you so much it genuinely frightened him sometimes.

That night he barely slept, and by morning he had decided two things.

First, he was absolutely going to ask you.

Second, he might actually die from the anxiety beforehand.

The opportunity arrived unexpectedly later that afternoon, most of Alexandria gathered near the centre of the street helping repair fencing after a recent storm.

You stood nearby sorting tools while laughing at something Glenn said.

And Daryl suddenly thought, If I don’t ask now, I never will.

His heart hammered violently.

“Hey,” he muttered.

You looked over immediately, smiling the second you saw him.

There it is, Daryl thought helplessly.

That damn smile.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

He absolutely was not. Daryl rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms against his trousers before glancing around.

Too many people.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

“Can ya come with me a sec?”

You tilted your head curiously but followed him without question, Daryl led you behind one of the quieter houses near the edge of Alexandria where the noise from the others faded into the background.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried, you have never seen Daryl like this before. Daryl turned towards you. Then immediately forgot every single sentence he had prepared.

Brilliant.

“Daryl?”

He swallowed hard, his fingers fumbled nervously inside his jacket pocket before pulling out the small velvet box. Your eyes widened instantly.

“Oh.”

Daryl stared firmly at the ground, he was too afraid to look at you in the eyes.

“Found it on a run.”

You looked down at the ring before looking back at him, he was still staring at the ground.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

Daryl’s heart pounded so hard he genuinely thought he might throw up, finally he forced himself to continue but he still couldn’t look at you. 

“Been carryin’ it around.”

“Why?”

Daryl finally looked up at you then, his blue eyes were full of something so open and vulnerable it made your chest ache.

“Cause I kept thinkin’ about you.”

Daryl rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck.

“Ain’t got some big speech planned or nothin’,” he admitted roughly. “Don’t really know how ta do this right.”

“You’re doing fine,” you whispered, he laughed a little under his breath.

“Nah. Prob’ly not.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I know I wanna wake up next ta you every day I got left.”

Tears immediately filled your eyes Daryl stepped closer.

“Know the world’s all messed up now. Maybe rings don’t mean much anymore.”

“They do,” you whispered shakily as his thumb brushed nervously against the edge of the box.

“You make this place feel good.” His voice cracked slightly. “Make me feel good.”

Your heart completely melted.

“And I…” He exhaled shakily. “Hell.”

“Take your time.” You smiled, you could only imagine how difficult this was for him. He was never a man of many words. Daryl looked at you with so much love it nearly hurt.

“Will you be my wife?”

Silence.

Daryl’s entire body tensed immediately. Then you started crying, his eyes widened in panic.

“Oh God. Was that bad?”

“No!” You laughed through your tears instantly.

“You cryin’ seemed bad!”

You grabbed his jacket quickly before he could spiral further.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Relief hit his face so hard it almost looked painful, you were sure a huge weight fell off his shoulders just then.

“Oh thank Christ.”

You burst into laughter while he shakily slid the ring onto your finger. It fit surprisingly well.

“There,” Daryl muttered softly, staring down at your hand like he could not believe it. “Mine.”

Your entire chest warmed.

“Your wife,” you corrected gently.

Daryl looked absolutely wrecked emotionally by those words.

Then he kissed you, with overwhelmingly tenderness.

One hand cradled your face while the other settled firmly against your waist like he needed to keep you close.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling helplessly. Unfortunately, neither of you realised Carol had followed him.

“Oh my God!”

You jumped, Daryl groaned. Carol stood nearby looking ready to explode with excitement.

“I knew it! I knew it!”

“You were spying on us?!” Daryl snapped.

“Yes,” Carol replied easily. “And I regret nothing, that was so cute.”

Then she spotted the ring on your hand and immediately screamed loud enough to alert half of Alexandria. Within seconds, people started appearing around the corner.

Glenn looked delighted, Maggie gasped happily, Rick blinked once before grinning.

“Holy shit,” Glenn laughed. “Daryl proposed?”

“Everybody shut up,” Daryl muttered, already turning red.

Too late.

The entire street erupted into celebration, yet through all the noise, Daryl only looked at you. Still staring at the ring on your finger like he could barely believe this was real.

“You happy?” you whispered, Daryl looked back up immediately, then he cupped your face gently.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Got everythin’ I ever wanted.”

And honestly? You felt exactly the same way.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[thesentientorange]

Damn! It's ssssoooo cute 🥺

It's so tender that it almost makes me cry...

[kittyknowsthings]

[cilantroodon]

[ID: Despicable Me meme with Gru presenting a plan on posterboards. First step: That’s a neat idea! Second step: Someone should write it! Third step: I’m that someone. Gru stops and looks back at step three with concern/disappointment/sadness. End ID.]

[thesentientorange]

Opsiee :)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

be kind and respectful to fanfic writers

be kind and respectful to fan artists

be kind and respectful to people in your fandom

be kind and respectful to people

[thesentientorange]

Be kind and respectful :)

[writingdose]

“I want to write a fic about this but I don’t think anybody will be interested in it” ummm hello excuse me ma’am what do you mean you don’t think anybody will be interested in it??? YOU. YOU ARE INTERESTED IN IT???? write it because YOU are interested in it and YOU want to write about it. fanfic writing should always be first and foremost about YOUR enjoyment, not other people’s.

[thesentientorange]

A little remind for many of us :)

[writingdose]

“I want to write a fic about this but I don’t think anybody will be interested in it” ummm hello excuse me ma’am what do you mean you don’t think anybody will be interested in it??? YOU. YOU ARE INTERESTED IN IT???? write it because YOU are interested in it and YOU want to write about it. fanfic writing should always be first and foremost about YOUR enjoyment, not other people’s.

[thesentientorange]

A little remind :)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

there are fanfic writers who are: "I want to write about this prompt but other people have already done it before, unfortunately. I would have loved to write it 😢"

and then there's me who unapologetically writes about the same prompt, same trope (that has absolutely been written by other people before), same ship — in slightly different ways, at least 200 times in across 200 different fics of mine.

[thesentientorange]

:)

[healiing]

Having friends on tumblr is really great. I often refer to you guys in real life as “my friend from england/autralia/california/new york” and it makes people think I’m very well traveled when really I’ve just spent a lot of time on the Internet.

[thesentientorange]

Cool — It would be cool if that happens too :)

[goth-queen]

[thesentientorange]

Ugh 😩

[cherrygarcia-07]

I Will Take Good Care Of You // Spencer Reid🩵

synopsis: in which you worry about spencer seeing you sick for the first time, but he insists on coming over anyway

pairing: spencer x reader

genre: fluff!

wc: 950ish

notes/tags: i got stuck on a req and remembered i had this half written so surprise, reader is kind of a princess, could almost be a bombshell! reader if you squint, spencer is a sweetheart as always (and also a bit of a tease), spencer pulls the Doctor card, their relationship is still kinda new !

masterlist // pls reblog if you enjoy it helps promote the fic so much !!

————————————🩵———————————

Groaning, you reached over to your nightstand, grabbing your phone with crabby determination wanting to end its incessant chiming once and for all. You’d been deep in sleep at long last when a shrill sound awoke you, making you curse into your pillow as you forced yourself up onto your elbows. Grumbling and mumbling, you hit accept, not even bothering to see who dared to interrupt your peace.

“Hey, do you prefer apple or orange juice more?” A familiar voice bombarded you immediately, the sheer level of awakeness in it quite frankly insulting.

You blinked a couple of times, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “Huh?”

“Sorry. Hi, honey.” Spencer’s voice finally registered in your ears. “Do you prefer apple juice or orange juice?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You stifled a yawn, mood now somewhere half between exhausted and utterly confused.

“You need plenty of fluids when you’re sick and I know for a fact you’re neglecting the responsibility.” You could hear the exasperated eyebrow raise through the phone. “Fruit juice is essential for boosting your immune system and fighting illnesses and so I’ll ask you again: do you prefer apple juice or orange juice?”

“Wait-“ you blinked again, “you’re coming here?”

“Yes.” He answered decisively. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that a-” you trailed off under your breath. You glanced down at yourself: horrendous bedhead sticking up at the back of your head; grubby old pyjama pants rolling halfway up your leg; and a pile of tissues mountain high on your nightstand that was honestly just plain disgusting. “Yes. Yes that’s a problem. I’m all snotty and gross- you are not seeing me like this.”

Spencer pouted and you heard him begin rummaging through bottles on a shelf on the other side of the phone. “Well, unfortunately for you I care far more about your health than about you being ‘snotty’.”

“No!” You huffed, suddenly much more awake as you jolted up in bed. “I’m still your nice, new girlfriend you don’t get to see me all snotty and gross yet.”

“I didn’t realise there were time constraints to this kind of thing.”

“Yes there are.” You were fully awake now, glaring into the phone as if he could see it. “You’re not allowed to see me like this for another year, at least.”

Spencer hummed on the other side of the call, something almost smug in his voice and you could practically hear him smirking when he spoke again. “So you’re saying you’re still going to want to be with me in a year?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t get cute.”

“Another year at least.” Oh yeah. He was definitely being smug.

“I said don’t get cute.”

He laughed under his breath, a cocky sound that said he knew exactly what he was acting like. A menace. “Cute and your long-term boyfriend, huh?”

“If you carry on I’m not going to let you in at all.” You huffed as you hurtled yourself out of bed, but there was a smile betraying your words as it crept its way onto your face.

“I’ll just use the key you gave me.” Vaguely, you could just about make out the sound of bottles hitting the bottom of a basket. It seemed like he was buying both just in case.

“The key I gave you for emergencies.”

Spencer went quiet for a moment, and somehow the whole world seemed to stand still. “You being sick is an emergency to me.”

Damn it. The thought of a boyfriend seeing you sick and grubby and practically melded with your bedsheets should send you running. It should have you barricading doors, throwing your phone away, coming up with some kind of vague excuse to be MIA until you were back to your prim and proper self. But for some reason with him the thought melted away until it was nothing, seeping through the cracks and washing away any voices telling you to shut him out. Your mind drifted away, conjuring images of Spencer standing on the other side of your door with armfuls of medicine and soup and juice. You picture him standing there with a sappy smile, one that says I’m so happy to see you but please for the love of God lay down and let me care about you, and all the walls you’d put up crumble.

“Hello?” His voice passes by you like a cloud and you hazily blink yourself back to focus. “Are you okay?”

‘Yeah,” you clear your throat, straightening your posture like he could see it and trying to summon back your own stubbornness, “I mean if you insist on coming over I guess I can’t stop you.”

The giggle that sounded through the phone could have knocked you off your feet if you weren’t already holding yourself up against your nightstand. “No you can’t. Now will you please get back into bed? I can hear you stumbling around.”

“I swear, you have the hearing of a bat.” Grinning, you flopped rather unceremoniously back into your messy heap of blankets. “I’m not allowed to freshen up first?”

“You can freshen up when I’m satisfied that you’re well hydrated and effectively nourished. And when I’m there to make sure you don’t lift a finger.” You opened your mouth to protest, forgetting Spencer’s sixth sense was becoming more perfectly attuned to you by the day. “Doctor’s orders.”

Trying to hide the fondness in your voice you sighed, rolling your eyes theatrically as you tucked yourself up in bed like a princess waiting for her prince. “Well,” you hummed, picturing the moment he’d walk through the door like your knight in shining armour wielding bottles of fruit juice, “I can’t argue with that.”

-

[thesentientorange]

Lovely 🥺

[luna-azzurra]

I genuinely cannot explain to a non-writer what it feels like when a chapter suddenly clicks. it's not satisfaction. it's not relief. it's this horrible specific feeling like you just remembered something you never knew. like the story was already there and you finally stopped being in the way of it. i don't know what to do with that feeling. i just close the laptop and stare at the wall for a bit.

[thesentientorange]

What can I say? It's a harsh but true truth...

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

you get a comment on tumblr. it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a DM. it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a message on instagram. its a bot trying to scam you. you're an author and you get an email telling you how much they loved your book and want to showcase it at their bookclub. it's a bot trying to scam you (and it uses bad AI to pretend it knows your story). you get a comment on ao3 saying how much they love your fic - and they made you fanart!! it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a hate comment on ao3 which insults your writing or calls you a monster for writing something "problematic". it's a bot. but at least that one isn't trying to scam you.

[thesentientorange]

Bots.

[blissphemous]

[thesentientorange]

Better —

I read tumblr stories, I am sorry.

(Especially if the stuff is to be read in English. "English is not the first language" cit.)

Whether it's smut or not is another thing.

[hotchnerss]

this is Spencer's sexiest scene actually

[thesentientorange]

Pretty much 🤭

[thesentientorange]

Since I have a Tumblr blog, this thing happens for the second time. I am talking about a user that comments under one of my post.

The first time I don't remember when, but I think it was arleady after the new Year. But I dunno precisely when. The second time, well, today. Under the post where I shared a image taken from Pinterest.

And it follows (word per word):

I have something important to tell you its about your account, but i cant message you idk why?? plase send me a message

The same message in both the occasions, and under an original post (not reblog). The difference? They are two different account, but both are... empty. As if they had been opened a few minutes ago.

I don't know why they should write these kind, if not SUS things...

Also, Ii my case, it's pretty hard—I have both private chat and requests enabled.

If you don't see these messages, it's because I've blocked them and reported them as spam.

But what if they are not spam? It's quite difficult that they aren't. That's 'cause too many coincidences have made these profiles suspicious...

Not too long after this post was published... an equally suspicious user writes this...

I'd really like to understand your situation better. If you're comfortable, we can talk privately so you can share more openly. Feel free to message me on Telegram at (esername) or on WhastApp at [phone number].

Username censored, along with social contacts...

[thesentientorange]

Yep :)

The post isn't mine, but it's from Pinterest: this is the link.

[hotchnerss]

early seasons little buppy spencer you are so very loved by me

[thesentientorange]

Ooohhhh.... baby 🥹

And only my husband to protect with all my strength. He's too much of a cuddly potato... 😤