#gunslingerdixon

               one last swing and the final spray of gore splattered across the songbird’s boots.  she was getting used to these outbursts.  the big displays of anger put on like shows while she stood back, merely playing the role of the innocent bystander.  on most occasions, beth kept quiet; happy all that pent-up rage was being released on the dead rather than herself.  still, she couldn’t help the slight spark of fear every time daryl exploded the way he did.  she knew when it was coming, too.  that look in his eyes, the tensing of his shoulders.  they’d been alone together long enough to catch those warning signs, and each time beth prepared for the harshest of storms.

               ❛  we don’t gotta turn those things into punchin’ bags every time I happen t’ make ya mad, daryl.  you just ––– you say  ‘ beth, m’ mad at you. ‘  n’ then I fix it.  or at least I’ll try.  ❜

                                       SHE OFFERS him a cigarette, all while inhaling it herself.

Send “✖” if you think my oc is well written.

                     ❛ I was thinking you more a diakos type. misplaced nobility & hero complex being what they are. christ is a little more MAINSTREAM however, so sure, lets go with that. ❜ of all the colorful survivors kol had the pleasure of meeting in his time since the end of the world, this back-water redneck happened to be one of the most interesting. quiet to the point it could drive someone INSANE, but even that wasn’t without its charm. the ferocity with which he sought to protect the weaker, the less deserving of survival, was commendable ( even if a fool’s errand. )