#postal dude fanfic

[strawbrygashez]

OC (kinda??) x Postal 2 Dude

Photos (Part 1)

SOO I really like this one official piece of Postal art work & I decided to make some Yaoi based off dude & this random guy 😎 so he’s not really a oc but he has no canon personality or name or anything to my knowledge so yeah!!! Tw ig for g0re mentions. I named him Sam!!!! :3 uhhH let me know if u guys want a part two! Sorry for any mistakes 🫡

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“Ah- Shit Dude I told you not to pull so hard.” The blonde grumbled from below Dude, his hand that held onto Dudes arm, tightening in grip. Dude let out a almost sadistic chuckle before loosing his grip on Sams hair. “Well sorry for trying to make your damn pictures look more realistic.” He teased before making some kinda motion similar to ruffling the blondes hair apologetically. However, it only made Sam huff before getting up off the ground and walk over to behind the camera. Dude only watched him for a moment before rolling his eyes and then starring down at the fake blood that drenched his own clothes.

In reality, there was so many different ways Dude could help Sam get more realistic imagery. He could have really roughed Sam up, brought over real blood and gory bits, strike real fear into Sams heart, and really beat the blondes jaw in, but he supposed there was no point in any of that. The photoshoot was to show of Sams skills in special effect makeup for his silly little website he had in hopes that someone, somewhere in the film industry would reach out to him about working on something together. The photos weren’t being took to showcase actual real pain.

He also supposed his fondness of Sam was the main reason he didn’t wanna do anything too crazy and genuinely terrify him. This was his one only genuine good friend he’d had in ages (besides Champ of course). So he had to repress whatever urges sneaked up into his missed up little mind to the best of his abilities unless he wanted to go back to feeling utterly alone in this shitty town again.

Dude was brought out of his thoughts once Sam let out a impressed whistle after a while of the sound of him clicking around to look at each picture. He even has a slight little grin which was rare coming from him. The man usually had a empty, emotionless resting bitch face which fit for him pretty well as a person. Sam was a huge horror nerd, darkly inclined, and loved the paranormal and real true crime stories. The only thing about him that didn’t quite fit that kinda stereotypical person was instead of a mass of messy dark long hair, he had platinum blonde hair and light blue eyes, which Dude made it a point to pick on him for, at least once or twice a week.

“What?” Dude asked as he wiped some of the fake blood off his hand and onto his already ruined shirt. Sam motioned for him to come over behind the camera before making room for him to look at it himself. Once Dude came over, he had to squint at the small picture to see it clearly. It was.. a cool picture he guessed but he wasn’t exactly sure what was so impressive about it. Sam took notice of Dudes confused expression and huffed yet again before pointing to Dudes face in the photo. “Look man! That’s pure insanity on your face right there. You look so fucking cool.” Before moving his finger and yet again examining the picture.

Dude wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about that comment…He definitely wasn’t offended or really anything like that but honestly he didn’t try to put that much energy into the ‘crazed’ look Sam had wanted from him yet. But well…whatever. He knew he just naturally seemed to scare people anyways and if that helped Sam out, then who gives a shit?

“Mm..Guessed ya picked the right type of guy for this project, huh? I know you wouldn’t want my ugly face in your pictures just for no reason.” Dude joked as he reached into his trench coat pocket for his sunglasses. The lighting in the room was killing his eyes, who turns their living room into a makeshift studio of sorts anyways?

Sam glanced up from the camera and back to him, his black expression coming back. “You’re not ugly, Dude. I picked you because you get my vision, you got cool style, and well.. I don’t know anyone around who wouldn’t be a big baby about doing this kinda stuff.”

“So you only picked me because everyone else thinks you’re weird? That’s-”

“Exactly the same boat you’re in?” Sam finished the sentence before yet again, facing back towards the camera. Dude stood still for a moment in silence before biting his bottom lip and faking a karate chop awfully close next to Sams neck, which only caused him to flinch slightly. “mm- You’re soo lucky I like you Sammy.” Dude threatened jokingly with a grin before he stood up right again. “Mhm. Anyways, I think I got some really good pictures I’ll definitely use. So go shower.”

Dude raised a eyebrow. “Huh?”

Turning off the camera for right now, Sam wiped his ‘bloody’ hands across his jeans while looking at Dude. “Put your clothes in the washer and go shower. I’m taking you to dinner.” He clarified, matter-of-factly. Again, Dude just dumbly stood there confused. “I uh- That wasn’t part of the deal. You only said you were going to pay me and-”

“Yeah? I still am but I also wanna take you to dinner.”

Dude still couldn’t really process what was going on. Sure it wasn’t anything crazy but he was making it sound like a-. Dude let out a chuckle at that thought. “You’re making it sound like a date or something Sam.” Dude said, grinning at the ‘bizarre’ idea. But Sam only shrugged. “So? Whatever.”

They both stood there, both secretly thankful for the fake blood and whatever else covering the slight redness coming to their faces. “Eh- uhm. I didn’t bring extra clothes.” Though Dude knew he was supposed to sleep over, he hadn’t really came prepared like it was a ‘sleepover’. He’d spent too much time trying to come up with a lie to tell his wife about why he’d need to be gone overnight and in turn, forgot to pack.

“That’s fine. You can borrow some clothes. I don’t think we wear sizes too different.” Sam replied. ‘Sharing clothes? Damn now things are getting even gayer.’ Dude thought to himself. The thoughts and feelings coming to Dude made him feel slightly sick, especially because it was mixed with another feeling that he didn’t know how to quite describe or wanna admit to for some reason. But.. it wasn’t a particularly bad feeling. “I uh.. Don’t you want the bathroom to yourself? You’re the one with that liquid latex on for the bloody chin thing you got goin’ on..”

“I can just clean myself off in the kitchen sink. Plus, no offense Dude but you needed to shower before I even added the fake blood on you.” He said, with of course a twitch of a smile showing. Dude frowned a tad. “Oh wow. Thanks. That’s really-” but before he could get his sentence out Sam picked up a near by rag and told him to just hurry up before heading to the kitchen. Leaving Dude to let out a sigh. Seems like there’s no way out of this.. and why didn’t Sam deny the accusation that it was a date? That question made Dudes face feel slightly warm again to Dudes dismay. Well whatever. At least it seemed like he was going to get a free meal out of all of this if nothing else.

Sucking it up for now, he finally decided to make his way toward the washer and dryer as he took in his surroundings. The home was filled with Halloween and horror decor that Dude was sure stayed up all year round. The place was just basically a big mancave which he couldn’t help but be slightly jealous of. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from his wife if he wanted to put up stuff similar to what Sam did in their trailer.

Oh yeah.. his wife. Hopefully she wouldn’t spot them out together. But he was doubtful of that happening. The bitch would never run a errand herself. Plus he could come up with some story on the spot if really needed.

[shitty-postal-dude-daily]

i slept all day whoops. i love drawing like a kitty

[wumblebum]

- Leo

[rikaluver]

Joy Ride - Postal Dude x AFAB Reader

Genre - Smut

This is an old fic of mine, you can find it on AO3 but I don't know where since it was on my old account...Anyways, enjoy!!

The heat hits you like a wave. The sun beats down relentlessly from a cloudless sky, casting everything in a harsh, unyielding light. The gas station is a low-slung building, its faded yellow and red paint peeling in the desert sun.

You get closer and spot a tall man in a tattered black trench coat loitering near the pumps. He’s got a scruffy goatee and a wild look in his eye, and he seems to be muttering to himself as he paces back and forth.

Freak, you think to yourself. 

You push open the door, and a blast of cool air washes over you, providing a welcome respite from the scorching desert heat. It’s dimly lit inside, with rows of shelves stocked with snacks, drinks, and other random shit. There’s one other customer inside—an older man. He’s standing by idly, not looking at anything or buying anything. It’s like he’s not even there. 

You make your way to the back of the store, grabbing a few snacks and some beer (a lot of it). There isn’t much to do around in this ghost town; you spend most of your time getting drunk or high. As you return to the store's front, you notice a display of souvenirs near the register. Postcards with the Grand Canyon, refrigerator magnets, random shit with the state flag plastered on it, you name it. 

The cashier appears disconnected, staring blankly ahead and barely acknowledging your presence. As rude as it is, you snap your fingers before him to get his attention. He blinks slowly and looks at you vacantly before scanning your items. He’s moving in slow motions as if operating on autopilot. 

You don’t bother to make small talk; you know he’ll give one-word responses, not registering your words. It’s always the same with the people in Paradise. They’re like zombies. 

You finish paying and gathering your belongings, though you can’t help but feel a bit of unease. 

You feel the warm sun on your skin and the desert air in your lungs the moment you step outside. You shield your eyes from the sun's rays, waiting for your eyes to adjust. 

The people in this town stick around one place, and you rarely see them anywhere else, so when you see the guy there when you entered, smoking, it’s not a surprise. You know everyone’s face (not that there are many people, to begin with), but you can’t recognize this guy. You’re unsure if you’ve ever seen him outside, and you’d undoubtedly remember him considering his height (he’s got to be 6’5” at least).

He spots you after a while and quickly stubs his cigarette out before walking up to you. 

“You’re not one of the contaminated ones, I can tell.”

“Jesus, dude, what?”

A manic grin spreads across his face, “You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?”

You take a step back, feeling a bit uneasy. The man in front of you seems like he’s on something. And, unlike everybody else in the town, you can’t tell what his next move will be.

“There’s something in the air infecting everyone in Paradise. You and I are the only uninfected people left in this town.”

You scoff and push past him, making your way back home. You were right to think he was a freak when you first saw him. As animated as he may be, he’s still one of the crazy people around here. 

Are you the only one with a functioning brain around?

The man grabs your shoulder and turns you around effortlessly, griping you too firmly. Not only was he abnormally tall, but he was also abnormally strong. 

“I know. I know what you’re thinking—you think I’m one of them, right? Different but still crazy, yeah?” His eyes flicker between you and whatever’s behind you (you know there’s nothing and no one behind you). The look in his eyes is one of a man on the edge, teetering between madness and despair. “You can trust me, though. I thought the same when I saw you,” he punctuates each word, his grip tightening.

You feel a sharp jolt of pain through your muscles; the shit he’s saying goes in one ear and out the other. You need him to let go. The pressure is intense, and it feels like his fingers are digging deep into your flesh, leaving a mark you can feel long after he’s released his hold.  

“Yeahyeahyeah, you’re right, now let me go!” Your voice comes out more desperate than you’d like it to.

Realizing that he may have been too forceful, the man quickly lets go of your shoulder. “Sorry,” he says, a note of concern in his deep voice. “You’re willing to hear me out though, right?”

You nod, rubbing your shoulder to soothe the soreness, not considering what you just agreed to. And before you know it, the man’s taking you to his house. He introduces himself as Postal Dude. You’re not sure why he’s using a fake name if, apparently, you two are the only ordinary people around.

As you approach his home, you see it’s in disarray, with broken furniture and discarded items strewed outside. It seems The Dude has been living in survival mode, making do with whatever he can salvage. 

It’s no wonder you’ve never seen him around.

Once inside, Postal Dude leads you to a small, makeshift living room with only a few small lamps providing light, a worn-out couch, and a rickety table that needs to be flipped back up. You sit on the couch (the only “clean” place) and look at his living conditions.  The walls are bare, and the floors are made of old, creaky wood planks that groan at any pressure applied. Stacks of newspapers, empty beer bottles, and discarded food wrappers are piled up in the room's corners. There are a few personal touches here and there, a well-arranged collection of….weapons on a nearby shelf, an old game console (he doesn’t have a TV), and porno magazines! How homely!

He doesn’t sit down with you. He, instead, walks over to the window, peering out anxiously through the blinds. His posture is tense, and you can tell he’s on edge. Jesus, you can practically see the fear and anxiety emanating from him, and you wonder what he’s looking for. You assume the “infection” must make him paranoid and attentive, always looking for potential threats. 

“You okay?” you ask cautiously. 

After a few moments, he turns back to you, his expression still serious. “We need to be careful,” his voice is low and urgent.

“Uh, yeah, for sure,” you fiddle with your bag. Maybe drinking might get him to calm down (and break the silence). You take out a can of beer, you’re shocked the thing’s still cold, and hold it out to him. “Want one?”

He doesn’t reply but walks back to the couch and grabs the beer you’re offering. You watch as he cracks open a can and chugs it down like it's nothing; he lets out a satisfied sigh and sits down next to you. He seems more at ease. He grabs another from the bag, cracks it open, only taking a sip this time, and begins to ramble about the supposed infection. His tone is urgent; his words spill out quickly as if he's been waiting for someone to talk to about this for a long time.

“It's crazy out there, you know,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. “People are turning into these—these things. I don’t even know what to call them.”

You nod, taking in his words. It’s clear now that Postal Dude is fucking mental. But hey, he’s the most exciting thing around town and will have an actual conversation with you, so you decide to humor him.

"Have you seen them?"

“Yeah, all over the place, they’re slow but fuckin’ insane. If I ever let one catch me, I probably wouldn’t be here to help you. You’ve seen them too.”

“I have?”

"Yeah, back at the gas station. Two of them." He drinks the rest of his beer and goes on a tangent about…stages and stuff…to explain the ones you encountered. You give up on trying to keep track a couple of words in, and the guy talks for what feels like forever. You start chugging beers with him to cope with the total bullshit he's spewing. Nothing he's saying makes sense. You're surprised you didn't see any comic books about aliens invading Earth lying around. His imagination is way too active. Or he's delusional. He's mistaking everyday citizens who work tirelessly for people infected and trying to kill him. It's safe to say you don't believe a single word coming out of his mouth. Though, you're having fun listening to him talk. 

The Dude’s voice is deep and gravelly; he speaks in a low, measured tone, as if every word is carefully chosen for maximum impact. Even when he’s slurring his words right now, you like it. When he finally finishes his deviation, you realize how much you miss hearing him talk. 

His voice isn’t the only thing you like about him. A middle-aged man with a rugged appearance isn’t exactly who you’d go after, but his looks are eye-catching. His hair’s unkept and greasy, falling in messy strands around his face. His deep-set green eyes draw you in. In fact, he’s one of the few good-looking men in Paradise. Or you’d assume you never paid attention to looks (or sanity). Dick size was the only thing that mattered.

And speaking of dick size…

“So…what do I do?”

He slurs something you presume to be a ‘what?’

“About them going mad and attacking me, what do I do about that?” 

“Fight back.” You know the question’s stupid, and so does he, chuckling a little under his breath. “If you'd let me, I don’t mind showing you a thing or two.”

He explains some basic self-defense techniques, stuff you already know. The more he talks, the more excited you get. Something about his voice hits you hard, deep in your gut. It might be the alcohol. Who cares what it is, though?

You lean in closer, catching his lips with yours in a slow kiss. He returns the kiss in a far less passive fashion. He doesn't wait for you to acclimatize to his kiss's more aggressive tempo, brushing his tongue over your lip eagerly. The subtle taste of alcohol lingers on his lips. When he opens his mouth, and his tongue meets yours, the citrusy, bitter flavor is intensified tenfold. You groan, pushing further into the kiss. Postal Dude seems more than pleased to indulge you, playing along with your lead while his hands wander and grope at whatever’s most readily available. Down they go, over your back and shoulders to cup your ass, twisting around to knead and stroke your thighs and hips. It's as if he can't decide which part of you was the most enticing.

After some time, he wraps his hands around your waist and hoists you onto his thigh. You only now realize how tall he is; you guessed he was 6’5” at first, but he’s humongous. So is the tent in his pants!

Your hands trail down between the two of you and unbutton his trousers, and at the sight of his undergarments, you sort of raise an eyebrow. You brush your fingers against the tip of his crotch, and he lets out a hitched breath against your lips.

“You got a condom?” He pulls away from your lips and trails kisses on your collarbone.

You whimper slightly at the contact, “no…is that a deal breaker for you?”

He sighs and mumbles a “yeah” against your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s fine, man,” you shuffle him off your shoulder a bit. When he looks up at you, you raise your hand to his face, cupping his neck and rubbing your thumb under his jaw. “If you won’t fuck me without a condom, I’m down with giving you head or a handjob.”

Postal Dude considers it for a brief second before his face bores the dejected expression it did a minute ago. 

“Orrr…” you trail off.

“Or?”

“Or I could ride your thigh while you jerk off.” 

That’s an idea that sticks with him. He’s not comfortable letting anyone around his junk. If he’s ever had anyone around his junk, that is.

You watch as he takes himself out of his boxers. You gawk at the sheer size of his dick before taking it all in. It suits a man his height.

You're somewhat grateful neither of you had condoms on you; there's no way you could fit that all in you. Well, maybe you could, but you'd end up in the hospital.

Words can't express how badly you'd love to touch it (whore). But alas, you can't. Gotta respect boundaries.

As he begins touching himself, you find yourself (metaphorically) drooling at the sight. It's, like, really hot. He pants and lets out soft whines occasionally, and you eat up every part of it. After a bit, you realize you're just staring at him and not fulfilling your end of the deal (plus, you're horny as fuck, and you have to take care of that too). You start your movements on his thigh, nice and slow. You let yourself enjoy how good it feels to grind against him, albeit embarrassing. His eyes are on you, and you can't tell if he's judging you or what, but he's undoubtedly enjoying it if the way he thrusts up into his hand is any indication. 

It's humiliating. 

It's exciting.

With a slight struggle, you wrap your arms around his neck and get closer for a quick peck on the lips. 

The “supposed” peck quickly turns to making out, and one of your hands rests on his head, not keeping him there, just finding a more comfortable position. Without realizing it, your fingers run through his ginger hair, and he whines into your mouth, leaning further into the kiss. 

You pet him some more, and his hips buck into his hand each time, giving you more pleasure. It’s embarrassing for him but extremely arousing for you. 

After a while, you pick up the pace against his thigh. You vibrate as he fucks his hand, admiring how you look. It’s disgusting but oh-so intoxicating. You pant into each other, verging on each other's climaxes. The Dude cums first with a breathless grunt, and you follow, wetting his thigh. 

[yummycrummy]

random p1 oneshot I've been workin on (u don't have to read it all I just felt like sharing it)

[w3ird0s-0rgans]

The sneak peak snippet of the video I'm making with the 'puppets'

(I'm playing out a ao3 fic for the fun of it)

(Sorry if my voice is goofy or slurred I have speech problems)

[coquetteraccoon]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something for postal dude with a really sweet girlfriend who’s also a ballerina. Thank you

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT SOMEONE REQUESTED SOMETHING

But yes here you go:

The daily question for him is: how are you with him? And why?

Someone as sweet as you, as graceful as you, with him? Didn’t make sense in his mind, but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. He loved how sweet you were to him, he felt like he could be himself around you and on top of all that, Champ LOVES you, to the point he’s started nicknaming you Disney Princess. But that’s not your only nickname, a few being: Sugar Plum, Pas De Lovely, Arabest, usually some cheesy ballet pun, but also some typical ones like Sweetie, Darling, Dear, etc. but he always supports you any way he can, going to all your performances, helping you tie your En Pointe shoes, and encouraging you as much as humanly possible.

“My pirouette was terrible”

“The fuck are you talking about? It was great, you did it perfectly”

“You don’t even know what a pirouette is”

“It’s a jump and it was great”

“…thanks Babe”

As you continue to date he does learn the terminology of ballet better so he can know what you’re talking about, which is when the ballet nicknames started. He will help you stand up for yourself if he feels like you’re being too nice. If you’re being kind of a pushover he will say something about it and will use “other” means to prevent it from happening. If a girl was being mean to you because you weren’t able to play Odette in swan lake, her ankles might magically be injured so she can’t either.

All in all he loves the hell out of you and thinks you are the best ballerina he’s ever seen

[rebmeat]

my essay for my art school application : 1 page

the postal fanfiction I've been writing for 3 days : 7 pages + 1 page of paragraphs i removed

[kittycraftt]

before i post any of my oc x canon art/edits, i look at this picture and hype myself up

[bat-bytes-back]

From a fanfic we read on AO3 where the dude has DID

[strawbrygashez]

Tyler Durden x Postal 2 Dude

Donuts (Part 1)

Yes I know this is super cringe & random. I’m sorry. I love crossing over different fandoms I’m into soooo yeah. This takes place during the time Tyler leaves the narrator and uhmmm I dunno, just be nice to me please 😭 Sorry for any mistakes and whatnot.

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Time goes by fast when you’re having fun. Well, as much fun as you can have in the small chaotic town known as Paradise, Arizona. The plan had been to keep moving around from town to town, state to state but a certain chance incident happened that put that plan on halt for the time being.

And as Tyler laid there finishing what was left of his ‘post coital’ cigarette, on a mattress that desperately needed to be replaced, he felt the one who put a pause on his plans, move from under the sheets as they laid on top of him. Glancing down, he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he was met with the scowling ginger who was peaking only their head out and squinting their stupidly bright green eyes.

“Ya finally done hiding in your cocoon there sweetheart?” He teased as he plucked the cig out from between his lips before blowing a small puff of smoke right into the other mans face. It barely affected him besides the groan he let out as he lazy fanned the smoke away. “Dickhead.” Was all he muttered before resting his chin back down on Tylers bare chest.

Tylers boy-ish smirk melted into more of a genuine smile as he stared into the others eyes. It really was genuinely insane how vivid of a green shade the mans eyes were to Tyler. Out of all the men and women he has messed around with, none had such captivating eyes and not even in a romantic sense. This guys eyes just had this interesting quality to them where they looked just like gas station puddles when the light hits them a certain way… At least that’s what they reminded Tyler of anyways.

Once he focused fully back on the man and the way he was still squinting, Tyler chuckled before only just seemingly now remember something important to the other. “Oh yeah..You poor baby.” He mockingly coo’ed again as he carefully reached over to grab the discarded pair of sunglasses on the poor excuse of a side table. “Poor Dude can’t go without ‘em for five seconds.”

Dude grumbled something or another under his breath before snatching them out of Tylers hand and sliding them back on. “Yeah, yeah. And you can’t wait even a second for me to get up to turn the lights off before we fuck.”

“Well that’s on you for not turning the damn lights off before we fell asleep.” Tyler pointed out as he put what was left of his cigarette out on the side table. “If you got bad eyes when there’s light then why-”

He was cut off when Dude placed his hand over his mouth. “Shut it. I was tired and you were too.” He lazily muttered.

Under his hand, he felt Tyler grin again before the blondes mouth opened and bit down on his pointer finger, a bit too hard to be considered ‘playful’.

Dude let out a loud “OW!” before quickly pulling his hand away and rubbing his finger off onto the bed sheet to he the spit off. “Motherfucker…”

Dude had to have been one of the most worth while people he’d been around in quite a while. Not only was he witty, oddly charming, and pleasantly ‘weird’, he also could just tell Dude was at ‘rock bottom’ and perhaps been so for a while. Dude was the perfect personification of all Tyler had ever preached about from self destruction to not letting your things own you. Hell, he was doing even better than him in that regard. Instead of living in a house, Dude owned a little run down shitty trailer home and all he really had outside of that was some dog that was out running around named ‘Champ’.

Another thing about Dude he found interesting was the whole ‘Postal Dude’ name. Tyler was pretty sure even the worst parents in the world wouldn’t have picked a name like that out for their kid. So he’d come to the conclusion that Dude also decided not to let a name ‘own him’.

The more he thought about Dude, the more he thought about how if something were to happen to himself, he’d have no problem at all passing ownership of ‘Fight Club’ along to Dude. Dude would have to fight….a certain someone for that position but he didn’t want to think of that ‘certain someone’ right now. Maybe, hypothetically, it would be easier to let him in on Project Mayhem. Honestly he wouldn’t have been surprised if Dude had already been in on Project Mayhem. The first thing he’d seen Dude do was something basically torn straight out of a page of Tylers book. And what did he do specifically? What happened at their chance meeting?

Well, while Tyler had been trying to get a hold of someone on one of the phones right outside some gas station, he watched as this weirdo, fully grown mallgoth dressed man walk out of the gas station with a box full of donuts, walk around back (passing Tyler), poorly hide himself behind a bush, unzip his pants, and piss onto said donuts. This all of course before he zipped his pants back up and tossed one of them at a nearby cop.

Once the cop stopped, the pisser quickly turned around before they could tell he’d thrown it and to Tyler’s surprise.. The cop then proceeded to pick up the ground donut, eat it, and then violently vomit.

Of course Tyler had to introduce himself to this odd specimen and since then, he’d somewhat glued himself to Dudes hip and helped him with whatever daily tasks Dude had planned and what turned from just being what was supposed to be a three day stop, turned into about three weeks. Three weeks he’d spent staying with Dude in his little trailer home. What was even more surprising than that though was the fact they’d only had sex one other time before today.. and Tyler was usually the of guy to participate in ‘marathon sex’. The only reason why he assumed it ended up playing out like this this time was because Dude was just one of those people who had more to offer than a quick fuck to Tyler. He had his own unique opinions about life, morals, and just wasn’t someone you’d meet to often. Nothing usually captivated Tyler more when it comes to people like him.

~

As he was currently thinking of the fact they’ve only gotten down and dirty one other time, he realized something. “Yknow, I hardly ever fuck gingers. Especially ginger guys.” Tyler spoke as he slid his fingers into the others hair.

He couldn’t tell for sure but it looked like Dude closed his eyes at the contact. “Hmm… Am I supposed to feel honored by that fact?” Dude asked with a hint of sarcasm. It was kinda hard to tell sometimes, he spoke mostly in a monotone voice. Tyler answered anyways, “Yknow it baby”, followed by a slight tug of his hair, to which Dude whined. Not in a particularly pleased tone, one more out of annoyance. “Agh. Stop that.”

“I thought you liked-”

“Being manhandled. Yes. Just not right after you just fucked me to near death.”

Tyler rolled his eyes but rubbed the spot he’d tugged his hair from. “Lame. Must take you a while to get it back up, huh?”

Dude ignored what he just asked for now and opted just to now lay the side of his head against him. Seeing that Dude wasn’t as defensive as other people Tyler knew, he just chuckled again as he continued to play with his hair.

Tyler hadn’t been much of the type to cuddle but for some reason, he didn’t mind that much since it was Dude. Maybe it was because he could tell Dude was a loner. Tyler always found himself enjoying messing with the loner types anyways. That or despite the fact that he loved that Dude got into trouble and mischief almost every day, he knew deep down that a break every once in a while was good and to be honest..Dude wasn’t too bad on the eyes. He somehow looked really pathetic but also rugged and dangerous at the same time. It excited him.

~

It had been quiet for a while as Tyler pondered different things involving Dude until the ginger finally broke the silence. It almost made Tyler jump since he was sure he’d fell asleep.

“How much longer are you staying?”

“Huh?”

Dude let out a yawn before moving around a bit to look up at him while still on top. “How much longer are you sticking around for?”

Tyler was silent a moment before raising a brow while grinning. “Why? Want me out of your hair already?”

“No I was just wondering since I’m uh- running low on food ‘n shit. Plus I thought you said you were traveling around. I don’t know why anyone would wanna stay more than a day in this shit hole. Unless you’ve been going out and doing stuff or-”

“Have you seen me go out without you since we met dumbass?”

Dude frowned slightly at the name calling. “Well- no but I doubt you’re sticking around for me so..”

All Tyler could do in response was roll his eyes and push Dude off of him so he could sit up and stretch finally. Dude didn’t seem that offended though as he just ran a hand over his face, still groggy.

“-sounded like such a girl….” Tyler mumbled as he popped his back.

Dude frowned again, glaring at him. “What was that?” He asked. “Nothing hun.” Tyler replied shaking his head with a smile before he turned his head to look over at the alarm clock. “It’s still pretty early. Wanna go grab breakfast somewhere?” He asked the man laying next to him who still looked one minute away from falling asleep. “Mmmmgh..fineee. Just give me a couple more minutes to get up.”

[napsfork-brainrot]

Postal 1 Dude x Reader: Meeting

A/N: This is a mini-fic of how you (yes, you!) meet the deranged, yet somewhat of a softie, Dude. Enjoy this silly little idea!

Paradise... What a joke name for this town.

It's as if the town was only given this name just for a sick joke, a spit in the face, to those that were unfortunate enough to live here. The only reason you had decided to even set foot in this town is because it had low rent prices for housing, and it was the only thing you could afford without having to "make ends meet", so to say.

The town of Paradise, Arizona is home to many people. Unfortunately, most of these people are criminals, violent drug addicts, and genuinely hateful people. Sure, you weren't a saint yourself, but you tried to not go out of your way to cause harm to others, even if you felt that they may deserve it. However, with your minimum-wage job at the coffee shop and the numerous rude customers coming into your work just to give you grief... you could swear that you were losing your patience and felt thin layers of your sanity being cut away from your brain.

After a long day of work, you walk away from the coffee shop, carrying your stuff in your arms. All you want is to go home, take a shower, and go to bed. It's the same thing you do every day, anyways.

Go home. Take a shower. Go to bed. Wake up. Go to work.

Repeat. Forever.

Even though you want to go home and just relax, you can't help but feel that you need something new in your life, something that can help you get out of this endless spiral of repetition and silent despair...

You were losing yourself in your thoughts, not paying attention to anything as you walk down the sidewalk. As you pondered how to get out of your emotional rut before you became too depressed, you suddenly collided with someone!

"Ah..!"

You yelped out, stumbling a bit as you caught yourself. The person you collided with stopped and turned his head around, looking at you with a blank look on his face. You looked back at him as you stood up straight, putting a hand on the back of your neck as you started to apologize.

"H-Hey, sorry, man. I didn't mean to bump into ya."

You said, giving him an awkward smile, hoping that he wasn't too angry or annoyed with you. However, the reaction you got was something very, VERY, different from what you were expecting.

The man turned around to fully face you, and you could tell that he was... definitely different. Long ginger hair, a ginger goatee, a pair of black shades over his eyes, and a black trenchcoat over his shoulders. He gave you a small smile and he shook his head, speaking rather quietly. He seemed to be rather shy, giving you a small chuckle before he spoke.

"Oh..! Aha... N-No, sorry, it's... I should have paid attention. You're fine..."

The man said with a shy smile. He held his gloved hand out towards you, introducing himself.

"The name's Dude. ...Well, it's what people call me, anyways. ...Don't think I've seen you around here before."

You felt a small smile come to your face as he spoke and you shook his hand. You gave him your name before pulling your hand away, continuing to look at him with a comforting grin.

"Nice to meet you, Dude. Yeah, uh, I actually just moved here not too long ago... It was the only town that I could really afford rent in, so... Heheh... Ya know."

You said in a somewhat joking manner. Dude seemed to find that funny as well, laughing along with you. The two of you stopped laughing and he nodded his head, running a hand through his hair as he continued to smile.

"Haha! Hey, I don't blame ya... Hey... If you need anything, and anything at all..."

Dude said, his voice turning into a slightly more serious tone. He turned and pointed at a dirt driveway off to the side of the road.

"...My house is just down that dirt road. You can come on over if you ever need anything... Or, anyone, really."

He seemed to have genuine care for you, even if you two had only just met. Dude continued to speak, empathizing with you about living in this town.

"People here are... weird, I know that. So, meeting someone like you is... kind of a breath of fresh air, you know? ...Sorry, I must be sounding all soft right now. But, I mean it. You come over if anything happens... Got it?"

Dude said, putting one of his hands on your shoulder as he gave you another smile.

You were hesitant for a moment, a bit bewildered by his trust and protectiveness for you. But you knew that he meant it. He was different, just like you.

"...Okay, Dude. I will."

[thefandomverseau]

TITLE: Barney Calhoun's Super-Functional Family

DESC: Barney decides to take his family out to kill some Combine soldiers as they were being far too energetic at the base. It goes about as well as you can expect.

LENGTH: 399 words

TWS: Canon-Typical violence/blood/gore

SHIPS: N/A

FANDOMS: Postal, Half-Life, Cry of Fear, Afraid of Monsters

"Hey, wait up!" Barney called as Dude went off running, wheeling Simon with him as they charged at a crowd of Combine soldiers.

"Fuck you!" Dude called back, smile stretched wide on his face. Barney watched in awe, shock, and some disappointment as a chainsaw-wielding Simon was basically thrown at the enemy by Dude, being used as a living weapon. Dude spun the wheelchair around, the whirring blade cutting easily through the midsection of one Combine soldier, staining Simon's hoodie and hands a crimson red as Dude cheered. David whooped, grabbing his semi-automatic weapon and beginning to mow down Combine soldiers without a care in the world. Alyx took off running after Dude and Simon, who were currently throwing severed heads at other metro cops, cheering loudly. Profanities sang through the air as the blood bath started. Gordon slowed to a stop besides Barney, a playful smile on his face as they watched what had become their family murder people and play with their limbs. Sophie, who was hiding slightly behind Barney, seemingly shared his sentiment about the craziness of all of this. "Well."

"Look, they're having fun." Gordon said, gesturing towards the bloodbath in front of them. Dude had abandoned his previous choice of wheeling Simon around and was strangling an innocent civilian with the entrails of one of the Combine metro cops. Unlike Simon, Sophie, David, Gordon, Barney, and everyone else in the resistance, Dude didn't really care who you were or what your stance was. He just liked murdering the fuck out of people, because he's a psychopath like that. "And they're getting some energy out. I think this was a good idea." Gordon hummed, cocking his pistol. Barney sighed, shrugging, knowing that even after this they'd still probably be energetic.

Barney, somewhat tired, decided to just watch the chaos happen. David seemed to be dissecting someone, Simon was using his wheelchair to run over people from behind, Dude and Alyx were throwing giblets at each other like snowballs and Gordon was trying to get as many headshots as he could. Sophie, the angel of the group, decided to stay with Barney. Everyone except the two of them were covered in blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids. Speaking off, Dude was currently pissing in people's faces. Barney was filled with a sense of pride. Yeah, his family was crazy, but at least they were having fun.

[consumed-by-fandom]

I’m gonna be the early bird and post my gift for the Postal Gift Exchange 2023, so here it is! My gift is for @sthsonic09 and it’s a P1 x P3 oneshot about time travel (kinda) and the past.

This is the first time I’ve participated in a gift exchange, so I hope I delivered (pun unintended). This was really fun to write and a nice change from my usual postal fics! Highly recommend checking it out if you want some p1/p3 content :]

[mfuro]

out of curiosity what kind of tags or types of fics do you guys want to see with postal dude? i already have an idea for writing one with dude having very feral animal behavior. but besides that i really want to hear what other people think is needed

[angels-askblog]

BRO I NEED THE FULL LORE OF ANGEL AND POSTAL DUDE NOW!!!!! You mentioned dude killed her and now I'm really curious on what happened

:3

im still working on the lore,,, but heres a little snippet of when they met, and then another snippet of like..what happened during the first postal game and how angel died,,,, ^_^

so, for when they first met, i mentioned this in like the first ask i answered on this account, but i’ll explain it on here too!!

Basically, Angel and Dude met at a bus stop, it was like the middle of the day, Dude was just walking around, trying to get something off of his mind. Angel had been recently released from the mental hospital and was going back to her parents house!! Dude thought that Angel was interesting, but he didnt bother to talk to her, so Angel made the first move and started talking with him!! They started out as friends until like a year when they finally started dating, i think it would’ve been right to add in their lore that they stayed friends for a while until they actually started dating because when Angel was released from the mental hospital she would’ve been in a bit of a bad mental state, mostly because she was scared to go back to her parents house. honestly should i make a fanfic about how they met …. :3

as for how Angel died, it would’ve been during the first postal game(obviously :3). She would’ve been at home, alone (since dude killed her parents which she doesnt know that her bf killed her parents!!) Angel probably would’ve invited Dude over and was waiting for him, she wouldnt even know that he was on a fucking rampage and she was gonna be just another victim😭 Honestly i could see Dude wanting to give Angel a quick and painless death. maybe he’d shoot her in the forehead, or something like that!! (=^▽^)σ

Also Angel would come back ( ´ ▽ ` ) not as a ghoul or anything like that, but instead as a hallucination that would taunt and blame Dude for everything, maybe even make some jokes ^_^ (originally she was supposed to come back as an undead zombie that would be overly obsessed with dude but i thought it would’ve been a little boring..)