eutanasia
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Recent works
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seu gosto na ponta da língua (meu sangue escorrendo no seu peito) by eutanasia
Fandoms: Ordem Paranormal (Web Series)
10 Jul 2025
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Summary
— Eu acho que 'cê 'tá gostando disso até demais, meu bem... — Você observa a pele do moreno ficando mais e mais corada sob as suas mãos, podendo assistir de camarote o impacto que suas palavras tem sobre ele.
E é adorável. É tão bonitinho o jeitinho que Rúbens reage à qualquer tipo de atenção. Mas você não se deixa enganar facilmente por ele, pelo menos não mais.
(Ou. Aonde Rubens, ao perceber que tem sentimentos por você, começa a te evitar. E você reage da melhor maneira que você sabe, colocando-o contra uma parede e deixando bem claro suas intenções.)
***escrito na segunda pessoa, sem descrições físicas para você além de pronomes femininos.
Recent bookmarks
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Summary
A year ago, a bullet tore through his side and left him in a coma for twenty-two days. When he woke up, he couldn't speak right. Couldn't stand. Couldn't piss without help. The doctors said he was lucky. The therapists said he had potential. The department said they'd wait.
But this - today - was the line in the sand. This was the evaluation that would decide if they’d take him back.
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A character study of Rick Grimes, a man left shattered by a life he no longer recognizes. A near-fatal shooting left him physically and mentally broken, unable to return to the man he once was. His world is a desolate landscape of silence and isolation, with Judith left as a fragile anchor to a life he can barely hold on to. When an unexpected encounter with a quiet, observant man named Daryl Dixon and his dog offers a sliver of hope, Rick is forced to confront whether he can be saved, or if he is truly beyond repair.
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TSA wasn’t the dream. It was loud and repetitive and half the time people acted like you were personally trying to ruin their vacation. But it was stable. It was federal. And for someone like Daryl, that meant something. Meant a paycheck on time. Meant benefits, even if he never used them. Meant that when the floor creaked in his apartment at night, it wasn’t from someone trying to bust down his door for drug money or rent owed.
Didn’t take a diploma to stand in one spot all day and tell people to take their shoes off. Just patience. And maybe a strong bladder.
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Daryl works as a TSA agent at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. It's a boring but stable job, and at the end of the day he really has nothing to complain about. Especially not when twice a week he gets to see the most gorgeous man in the most expensive suit. Soon, Daryl finds himself navigating unfamiliar territory: genuine connection, vulnerability, and the terrifying prospect of letting someone in.
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Winters in Georgia got cold. It could be worse, he knew, but it didn’t much matter how much worse it could be when you’re sitting in an inch of snow. Thinking ‘it could be worse’ just made you feel stupid. Sure it could be, but, now, this sucked.
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Shameless Rickyl. A drabble prompt fulfillment from tumblr.
Series
- Part 1 of This Lonely Life
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Summary
Reading Daryl is something that takes practice. Rick wonders if Daryl knows as much when he breaks the silence. "Merle use'ta tell me I was your bitch."
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“Lemme at them!” Merle laughed, running a finger over his nose to sniff up the remains of the dusting around his nostrils. “I will-”
Daryl rounded on him, pushing him away from the door. “You ain’t gonna do nothin’. The hallway’s fuckin’ full of-”
“Imma take them all on!” Merle exclaimed, jumping to the side to avoid him. He grabbed the table and started to pull it off the door.
“No, you won’t, ya ass, that’s the fuckin’ cocaine talkin’.”
They were on the fifth floor of an apartment building, the outside wall nothing but rows upon rows of bricks, no staircases, no drain pipes, no lighting rods, no damn way out.
“Hey, crackheads!” came in through the window.
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How Glenn met Daryl, brought him to the Atlanta campsite and gave him a reason to stay.