sneakin' up

anonymous asked:

Ham sneakin up under Tjeff's chin actin all cute & inoccent then BAM he slams his head up into Jefferson's jaw It's a great time for the both of them

PFFFFFFFF-!!

daily rhink for your health: tipsy rhett sneakin up on link at a party and draping his huge body on him, arms falling over his shoulders, face in his hair, muttering silly drunken nonsense in link’s ear before kissing him on the cheek and bouncing away cheerfully innocent, leaving link starstruck and blushy

Fun idea: when Elie is shocked or alone with Asatsuyu, he doesn’t use his fake accent.

So for example, if you scared him and made him jump, instead of being like, “Shittin’ ‘ells, mate!” he’d probably just be like “sHITTING HELLS, MAN” before realizing he forgot his accent and nervously try to make up for it by being like “D..Don’ go sneakin’ up on people like that, lad-”

anonymous asked:

how to up my sneakin' game?? I wanna be super sneaky, please teach me

okay. here’s what you do…
bodily aspect: work hard for a strong core, as it is directly correlated to the quality of ur prowess. work hard to gain those leg muscles. you’ll need very steady, supportive legs for proper sneaking. all u really have to do is crouch and move up and down, and you’ll get the feel for what i mean. thats a really important aspect of a good sneak. and make sure ur stretched up bc u don’t want any creaky bones poppin and drawing attention to ur position. practice a good swing of the hips when u move about. it’s all in the movement. work out ur arms extra if u intend to carry heavy loot. now for feets. move precisely and with ease. some people think ur supposed to sneak on ur tiptoes but really what u gotta do is a fluid movement starting at the ball of ur foot and propel urself forward.

garment aspect: if possible, wear muffled feet clothes. bare feet are better than noisy shoes. put your hood up, even if logically it makes no sense, trust me, it makes a huge difference. make sure to put away anything that dangles. wear dark colors. concealing your face is optional, but it certainly helps with the next part, which is attitude.

attitude: take on the attitude of a master sneaksman. get in the sneaking mood and have a good time. otherwise, whats the point? anyone can be good at sneaking, but it’s the attitude wherein the artform lies. attitude governs the skill of night vision and by sheer force of ur will, it enhances ur sensory perception in the darkness.

technique: everyone has a different style of sneaking. a master sneaksperson has familiarized themselves with many various kinds of sneaks and has the discernment necessary in order to implement the best technique for any given situation.

sneak roll: with practice, one will be able to perform a silent sneak roll. it’s the deadliest of feats, but all u gotta do is put ur mind to it. practice in a soft patch of grass until the movements imprint on ur body and it becomes muscle memory. disclaimer: i cannot be held accountable for any blown cover due to a premature sneak roll by someone who hasn’t mastered it yet. don’t be that person.

conclusion: from the slow but thoughtful sloth type sneaking, to the quick and agile catlike way, it’s all a big goof so do it however the hell u wanna to… but most of all, don’t forget to have fun. trust in ur ability to sneak like a master and watch urself be amazed… and thank you very much for this question, im honored

I'll Be Your Satellite

Request: I love your page sooooooooo much 😍😍😍 I was wondering if you could do a oneshot with Daryl and the reader to the song Satellite by nickleback ?

——————————————————

TITLE: I’ll Be Your Satellite

WRITTEN BY: more-walking-dead-than-you

// I know it’s late but something’s on my mind It couldn’t wait, there’s never any time ‘Cause life slips by without a warning And I’m tired of ignoring all the space that’s between you and I… //

The alarm clock on my nightstand struck 1:30 AM, earning a groan from the back of my throat as I try to force my eyes shut and fall asleep. I haven’t been getting any sleep these past few days, there’s too much going on inside my head so it won’t give me a moment to rest. And the main shithead setting fires inside my mind is the man who rides the motorcycle with a crossbow strapped to his back.

From the moment I met Daryl, I knew he was going to give me headaches. Good headaches, don’t get me wrong, but definitely some bad ones. I’ve always felt a connection between the two of us, but I can never get a good enough read on him to tell if he feels the same. He’s incredibly independent and keeps his emotions himself at all times. I try to crack him, because I know those emotions are in there somewhere trying to get out, but I can never get passed his hard exterior.

I’m extremely tired of never having time to actually sit down and talk to him anymore. He’s always volunteering to go on runs, guarding the main gate, or out hunting for food for the rest of us here in Alexandria. When he first got here, I really got to know him when he didn’t have any work assignments. I regret taking some of that time for granted, thinking I’d get more days to spend talking to him. I sure as hell don’t want to lose him now.

I need to see him. I throw my covers off and sit up in my bed, swinging my legs over the side to ready myself to stand up. I stretch out my back and stand myself up. I take a look at myself in the mirror, figuring I’ll be okay wearing shorts and a t-shirt outside on this hot summer night.

His house is only right across the street from mine. I know he’s home, I was woken up by him creaking open the gates to get back in after his hunting trip. I can’t guarantee if he’ll be awake, though, but it’s worth a shot. I want these sleepless nights to come to an end, and to do that, I need some closure.

// Let’s lock the door behind us They won’t find us Make the whole world wait… //

I don’t even knock when I approach his front door. I let myself in quietly, locking the door behind me for him because he always forgets.

I glide through his house with light footsteps, trying to find him. I’ve cleared the living room and the kitchen so far, skipping some rooms on the way because I’m sure I know where he’s at.

I make my way up the stairs and find myself approaching the second door on the right: his bedroom. The door’s wide open, and as I start to enter, I halt. Daryl’s standing at his dresser, facing away from me, stripping off his dirty gray t-shirt. I stop myself from interrupting, and instead watch in awe from his doorway.

His back muscles twitch with ease as he finally slides his shirt off all the way, tossing it in a pile of other clothes he must not have had the time to take care of either. I feel like the stalker of the month right now, but damn, it feels so good.

He goes for his belt, unbuckling it from one of its notches. Okay, I better interrupt now rather than have him accidentally notice me being a full-on creep.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt but—” I start to say.

Daryl flinches hardcore at the sound of my voice, his hands forgetting about their work on his belt. He whips around to face me, his back bumping the wooden dresser.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Daryl yells, breathing heavily.

I laugh a little, not normally seeing Daryl this flustered. “Damn Daryl, starting to get a little chicken lately?”

Daryl rolls his eyes, buckling his jeans back up (unfortunately.) “I’m not really used to havin’ guests over. And rarely are they sneakin’ up on me while I’m taking my clothes off.”

“Yeah, I guess that was just a little bonus for me,” I smirk, looking up at him as I enter and sit on the chair in the corner.

“Knew you liked it,” Daryl smirks back, sliding another shirt back on, earning a chuckle from me.

I knew a talk with Daryl would get me back to my normal self. All I needed was this moment.

“You know what else I like?” I throw out, nearly regretting it as the words come pouring out of my mouth.

“Hm?”

I bite my lip, looking up at him. “You.”

// While we dance around this bedroom Like we’ve only got tonight Not about to let you go Until the morning light… //

Daryl looks at me for what seems like an eternity. “C'mere.”

I flutter my gaze up to him quickly before sliding up out of my chair. I walk into his open arms like they’re my long lost home. He embraces me tightly into a hug, and my arms weakly wrap around his waist as I bury my head into his warm chest.

I start to rock side to side, not wanting to break our embrace. He moves along with me, starting a dance to the quiet sound of our heartbeats. Speaking an unspoken bond between us that I’ve been dying to hear.

// You can be my whole world If I can be your satellite Let’s dance around this bedroom Like tonight’s our only night… //

He kisses my temple quickly, almost as if it was too quick to even have happened at all, but I know it was real. He will never show anyone this side of him, and up until now, I didn’t think I would see it either. But here we are, slow dancing in this embrace to the silent sound of our heartbeats. His hands slowly slide down to the small of my back, and mine slide upward to rest on his shoulders. Damn, no one would believe me if I told them this happened. Not even Maggie. But I think I’ll keep this to myself, at least for a little while, to savor the beauty and rarity of the moment between only us. This is where I’ve felt the most at home since what feels like forever. Now, I know my sleepless nights won’t be a problem anymore, as long as I’m with Daryl.

// Dance around this room I’ll be your satellite Dance around this room I’ll be your satellite. //

Originally posted by theeverythingandanything

A Shot in the Dark (1/2)

Alrighty, my first Merintosh fic since falling into the trash can of that ship. Originally planned for this to be straight PWP smut, as I am a pathetic, sexually frustrated fool at the moment, but…my usual penchant for funny bits & girltalk wormed their way in, so…smut in the second (and final) part!

Her grip alternately tightened and relaxed on the arrow she’d notched in her bow, forehead wrinkled in a scowl. The whoops and hollers going on in the adjacent field were eating at the edges of her concentration, annoying the everliving hell outta her. What were her brothers thinkin’, horsing about with one of the men who’d nearly ended their pesky existence? And not just any man, either. Nae, he had to be the one that had led the other clansmen to come to her aid when Arthur had nearly overpowered her, Mulan, and Red, the one who initiated the bow to her as queen afore she’d even been crowned, the first who’d cheered her new, official queenly status. And now—completely against her will, mind ye—she found herself stealing glances his way, curious how this enemy had turned into such a loyal supporter. Aye, that was it. Simple curiosity into Lord Macintosh’s innermost thoughts, and not how she suddenly found herself wanting to skim her fingertips over his large shoulder tattoo, or tangle her hands through that dark mop of hair almost as unruly as her own, or see just how it might feel to fit her lips to—

“Gonnae take that shot sometime t’day, daughter, or were ye waitin’ for a special invitation?”

Keep reading

the-meta  asked:

Fem Tucker and Sister

PFC Tucker decides her alone time rock kind of sucks because, you know, it’s a fucking rock out in the open and relocates to the nice hot showers in Blue Base. The problem is Kaikaina Grif is like superwoman in this regard – she knows when she is needed. nsfw

Keep reading

Slip (Daryl Dixon imagine)

imagine: while wandering the woods, you fall into a river and a stranger pulls you out. you learn that his name is daryl, and that he’s lost his group. desperate for people to survive with, you trail along after daryl, despite his apparent indifference to your presence. (1,969 words)

based on a request from @darkgrungemusic. sorry it took so long to write but i hope you like it! p.s. gif below isn’t mine, i tried to find the source but was only able to find a weheartit page. please message us if the gif is yours and we’ll credit you!

  Crunch, crunch, crunch. That was all I’d heard for hours, the sound of dry leaves trampled under my boots. I was reminded so much of the dreamy, fall mornings of my childhood, the ones where I would gaze in wonder at the burnt colours of the trees’ discarded clothes. The ones where I would leap wildly into piles of swept-up leaves, always worried that I would disturb the hedgehogs that my mother told me were burrowed underneath.

  Now, the only thing I worried was hiding underneath the bed of leaves were the cold, dead bodies that wandered the earth. In some parts of the forest, the ground was so heavily coated that my feet sank in, and it was inevitable that soon enough I would feel a skeletal hand pull me down to my death. If anything, I was hoping for that. I’d been alone for two months after my group had been massacred while I was out on a run, and I’d been drifting aimlessly between the trees for a week.

  The distant sound of flowing water fluttered through the forest, and I found myself salivating. I’d never have imagined salivating for water, but I’d drank the last drops in my bottle two hours ago and my head was swimming from dehydration, which, come to think of it, was kind of ironic.


  It took longer to get to the river than I thought — an hour at least — but eventually it came within sight. I dashed down the riverbank, which was angled steeply on both sides. The grass was sodden, completely displaced in some places in favour of thick mud. I skidded precariously as I reached the water and desperately grabbed a slimy, mossy rock to save myself from the gushing river. Breathing heavily, I pushed myself up, wiping my hands on my jeans, which were already so dirty that a little more wouldn’t hurt.

  The water was still out of reach; there was a barrier of jagged rocks blocking me. I clambered onto them tentatively, trembling with fear of slipping and anticipation of drinking, washing. The flow of the river was so fast; flecks of water speckled my face, each feeling like a blessing. I was so close — I reached out a hand to cup some water in it and drink.

  “Hello?” said a rough voice, and I jumped out of my skin, letting go of the rock I was using to balance.


  The first thing I realised was that I couldn’t breathe. There was water all around me; the current slammed into my body until I felt like I was nothing at all, just a piece of debris being carried downstream. Just as I was about to open my mouth (whether to scream or to die I wasn’t sure), forceful hands clamped around my shoulders and I was dragged onto the riverbank.

  “Shit,” I croaked. “Shit, shit, shit.” I used my arms to move myself away from the river, scared of its ferocious power.

  “It ain’t gonna hurt ya now,” the voice from before muttered.

  I whipped around, startled yet again by the unknown presence. Standing a few feet away was a man, complete with a crossbow; leather jacket; dark, unwashed hair; shadowed eyes in which the ghost of a troubled past haunted; and an entirely unimpressed look.

  “Who’re you?” I tried to say indignantly, but a spluttery cough disintegrated my words.

  “Doesn’ matter,” he said, and he started to walk off, leaving me sitting damply on the riverbed.

  “Wait!” I called out, as loudly as my water-damaged voice would allow. I clambered to my feet and jogged to catch up with him. I hadn’t seen another person — an actual living, breathing person — since my group had perished. “Please wait!” I cried, even as I was just a few feet behind him. When I reached the man, I put a hand on his shoulder.

  He spun around, and his crossbow was no longer on his back but poised to shoot me. Shaking, I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  This seemed only to provoke him further, he gripped his weapon tighter and his eyes narrowed. “I wasn’ scared. Do I look scared?”

  “No,” I said. “But I bet I look scared as fuck,” I added nervously, trying to lighten the mood despite the arrow that was pointed at my head.

  The man’s hands trembled. “Y’do,” he admitted, and he lowered the crossbow. “Sorry. Don’ like people sneakin’ up on me.”

  “I could say the same to you,” I said disbelievingly. “You might’ve pulled me out of that river but you were the one that made me slip in the first place.”

  “Can’t blame me for that,” he muttered as he set off at a brisk walk once again. I followed closely behind him, having to pick up my speed to keep up with his large strides. “You’re probably jus’ careless.”

  I was clumsy, but there was no way I was going to admit that to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Why do ya care?” the man asked distractedly, refusing to look at me and instead closely examining the tree branches above us.

  “You saved me. Is it really too much to want to know who you are?”

  “… ‘m Daryl.”


  Daryl definitely wasn’t a talker. Despite my attempts at conversation, all I’d managed to get in return were stunted, one-word answers: “yeah”, “no”, “maybe”, and a few half-hearted grunts. Based on these answers, however, I had learnt a few things about him. He had a group, a large one, but he’d gotten lost two days ago (“two days” was the longest utterance I got out of him) while on the hunt for fresh water and hadn’t been able to find his people. “Are they good people?” I had asked. “Yeah,” Daryl replied, without a second of hesitation.

  “Can I… I mean, if — when you find your group, is it okay if I… join you?”

  “Maybe.”

  I didn’t feel at all reassured by his answer. He was distant, more so than anyone I had ever met. I chewed my lip idly, trying to think of something to ask, something to get him talking. As I dug my teeth into the soft flesh of my lip, I realised just how dry my mouth was. I hadn’t gotten the chance to actually drink any of the river water, even though I’d been completely submerged in it.

  “Do you have any water?” I asked, hoping that Daryl’s original search for the stuff had been successful.

  Rather than responding verbally, Daryl plunged a hand into the battered bag he was carrying and pulled out a full bottle of water. He chucked it back at me with such force that I stumbled as I caught it.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to regain my composure without much success. I gulped the water down gratefully, and grimaced when I realised I had emptied the bottle. “Shit.”

  “It’s fine, I have more,” Daryl said, apparently understanding what had happened without looking back.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. I levelled my pace with his to walk alongside him, but after a few seconds he veered off to the right, throwing me off. I was left walking a few steps behind him once again, convinced that the man held nothing but disdain for me.


  When it began to get dark, Daryl stopped to set up an overnight camp. I was amazed when he pulled a contraption made of string and cans out of his bag, designed to make audible the presence of the dead. He tied it to the trees around us, creating a safe area for us to sleep. Daryl said nothing about me settling down on the ground, and I assumed that he was okay with me joining him for the night. His skill set seemed endless: he lit a fire and then disappeared into the trees for no more than five minutes, and returned with two rabbits. He wasn’t too bad at cooking either, as the meat he wordlessly offered me was well-cooked and tasted as good as anything without seasoning could taste.

  “So,” I said, my words distorted as I bit into a piece of meat. “How are we gonna find your group?”

  “Didn’ know there was a ‘we’.”

  “Oh.” The food in my mouth started to taste like cardboard and I felt myself turn bright red. “I just thought… you know, you’re giving me food and water.”

  “Just ‘cause I ain’t an asshole, don’ mean there’s a we,” Daryl said, before tearing into another peace of rabbit.

  It was the longest sentence he’d said, yet it was also the worst. I dropped the rest of my rabbit on the floor and turned my back on Daryl. I lay down, using a mound of leaves as a pillow and the warm fall air as a blanket. I fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with nightmares in which Daryl let me drown in that river, and my dead friends watched and laughed.


  I awoke to the smell of rotting flesh. I forced my eyes open and immediately wished I hadn’t, as filling my vision was the face of a corpse, its gnashing teeth inches away from my shoulder. I screamed and tried to kick the thing off me, but my limbs moved like they were stuck in treacle. I stuck my arm out to try to reach my knife, the blade of which I had stuck into the ground, but it was too far away. Besides, my arm didn’t feel properly connected to my body, so I doubted I would have the power to stab anything.

  I stared into the vacant eyes of my soon-to-be murderer, and a mantra of bite me bite me bite me flashed through my mind.

  The moment was over as quickly as it had started when an arrow hurtled through the corpse’s brain. It dropped on top of me, and only then did I regain full control of my limbs. I pushed it to the side and jerked my knife from the ground. I sank it over and over again into the head of the body, tears running down my cheeks and my chest heaving with silent sobs.

  “It don’ need that, it’s dead,” Daryl murmured.

  “You can shut up,” I snarled, my tone surprising even me. “So much for your fucking cans.” Either we’d slept through the sound of the walker stumbling through the barrier Daryl had created, or it had managed to duck underneath without making sound. The latter seemed unlikely.

  Daryl raised his eyebrows and lay back down to sleep; it was still pitch black, apart from the dying embers of our fire. I stabbed the corpse a few more times for good measure, until I felt sufficiently purged of emotion. I collapsed in exhaustion, and tears continued to creep from my eyes even as I shut them to sleep.


  Daylight seeped into the world and pulled me into consciousness. Daryl was shuffling around, packing everything up.

  “Were you gonna leave me?” I said quietly.

  Daryl glanced at me. I wiped my eyes hastily, thinking that they must’ve still been red from crying.

  “No.”

  “Thanks. I would’ve left me.” I always turned to self-deprecation whenever I felt emotional.

  “Why would I leave ya?” Daryl said. “We’re a team now. We’ve gotta keep each other safe.”

  I blinked in confusion. “Like you need keeping safe.”

  “Well, I didn’t wanna single ya out.”

  I smiled the smallest of smiles, partly from Daryl’s hint of a joke, but mainly because he’d said we. While we’d only just met, and neither of us completely trusted the other, there was something there. Some kind of friendship to be had. And that was all that mattered.

anonymous asked:

Sooooo I was thinkin last night about how much Waverly love love loves her books and she probably takes such good care of them and dusts them everyday and if someone tries to interrupt her while she's reading ancient Sumerian or some shit she just ignores them. Enter one adorable puppy faced Nicole Haught sneakin up underneath her arms while she's reading in bed and just giving her eyes until Waverly finally gives up and puts her book away (carefully!!) so she can kiss Nicole goodnight

omg this is so cute im squealing!!! thank you for the prompt c:


Waverly was in her bed reading, and re-reading, The 12th Planet. It was her favourite book so far out of her collection. The book had even gotten its own notebook for cliff notes and important highlights of the Sumerian era. This, like most of Waverly’s books, was looking almost untouched. No dog ears, no post-its, just notebooks upon notebooks of the “useful” information it contained. Waverly couldn’t put it down. 

This, of course, created some problem for Nicole. Reaching out to her girlfriend when she was “in the zone” was next to impossible. Nicole tried everything; holding her cat in front of Wave’s face; pretending that she hurt herself; wearing nothing but Wave’s favourite shirt; wearing nothing at all. Nicole gave up when Waverly accidentally walked into a wall while going to get tea and reading at the same time. 

This time, Nicole was going to get Waverly to crack.

“Hey, babe, how many times have you read that book?” Nicole asked while getting into bed. She got no answer. “I guess it’s pretty boring by now…” she tried.

“The 12th Planet is not boring! It’s anything but…” Waverly stopped talking when she saw the grin on Nicole’s face. “Nice try.” Waverly scoffed and went back to reading. 

“Oh yeah? Well, how’s this?” Nicole sneaked her arm around Waverly and began slowly kissing her neck and tugging her earlobe. Waverly groaned a little and tried her best to focus on the book but it wasn’t getting easier. Nicole gently kissed Wave’s jaw, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman until she laid her head on Waverly’s chest. Waverly sighed.

“Fine…” she muttered and kissed the top of Nicole’s head whilst putting the book away neatly on her bedside table. Nicole let out a small squeal in victory as Waverly leaned in for a moment of passion before turning the lights off.         

can y'all believe troye sivan, my lord and savior, just gave us the foxes and andreil irl??!?! can y'all believe he is actually neil josten in the flesh?!?!?