#the mailbox arrow in the back....

[kithtaehyung]

I've been slowly making my way through 3tan and I just wanna say it is one of the best fics I've ever read. When you can create a dynamic that I randomly think about unprompted, you've done something special.

Thank you for such an amazing story, and I hope to see more updates in the future cause once I catch up, I know I'm probably gonna lose my mind lol

Oh my god?? This is absolutely thoughtful and wonderful to say!! Thank you so much for the kind words, and apologies for the late response, it has been pretty hectic for me😅 But wow, thank you! 3tan yoongi and reader (and all of them for that matter) mean the world to me. I’m glad you think about them randomly, bc I certainly do every day😭

There’s a lot more to come. I basically planned out most of what’s happening (didn’t wanna plan it too hard or else I’d feel stuck) so there’s a clear path to the end🥹🤍 Just have to sit down with it and get things done!

[howi99]

Little black sheep chapter 0

Cinder: *sigh, shaking her head in a disappointed manner* Jaune, this is suicide.

Jaune: It's genius!

Cinder: *frown, folding her arms together* You are going to get yourself killed. If not by a pack of beowolf, then by Mrs Arc when she hears about this.

Jaune: Nonsense! *Turning around, pointing his finger at her face* And stop calling her "Mrs Arc", for heaven's sake! It's weird and you called her mom just fine not even a week ago!

Cinder: *blush slightly, looking to the side* Just entertaining the idea of letting you come with me to Beacon is enough to make myself unworthy to call her mom. *Groan* Why must you want to become a huntsman?

Jaune: *cocky smirk* I could ask you the same question.

Cinder: I was trained, Jaune!

Jaune: So was i-

Cinder: *now using her pleading voice* I only showed you the basics! We don't even know what your semblance is! Heck, you can barely use your sword to hit me with the flat side of it, let alone cutting anything! *Sigh* Please reconsider your decision; i can always teach you more once i come back!

Jaune: *deadpan* Cinder, we both know you'd be too occupied working on the field to teach me. You just have to look at both mom and dad to gather that much.

Cinder: ... *Sigh* You win... *Mumbling to herself* Never should have unlocked your aura in the first place...

Jaune: *laugh* You honestly think that would have stopped me?!

Cinder: ... Probably not, no.

Jaune: *placing the envelope in the mailbox* Beside, i'll have you on my side. *Smile* What's the worst that could happen?

_ not distant future _

Jaune: *running from the Deathstalker, Cinder under his arm while she shoots arrows at the beast* SHIT SHIT SHIT!

Cinder: *panicking, seeing said Deathstalker approaching* SHUT UP AND RUN FASTER!

Jaune: I'M ALREADY RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN! I WASN'T PLANING TO BRING EXTRA WEIGHT!

Cinder: WELL SORRY, BUT MAYBE IF I HADN'T NEEDED TO JUMP IN FRONT OF THAT BIG BUG TO PROTECT YOU, WE WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE!?

Jaune: IT'S AN ARACHNID, NOT AN INSECT!

Cinder: NEEEEERD!

Pyrrha: *thinking while running beside them, chuckling* (So that's what they meant when they said they were an inseparable duo, huh?)

_ back to present _

Cinder: ... I don't know, but saying that usually brings bad luck.

Jaune: *shrug* Eh, problem for later me.

[darkmaga-returns]

By Ed Sherdlu

The United States Postal Service and mail thieves are both getting better at their trade.  The USPS now saves time by delivering mail to one master mailbox serving an entire neighborhood, apartment building, or other centralized location.  The problem is that this supposed increase in mail efficiency also makes it easier to steal dozens, hundreds, and even thousands of mail-in ballots.

Thieves have broken into mailboxes for years.  Their favorite targets were checks or someone foolish enough to mail cash.  The advent of electronic banking with its associated credit and debit cards made marauding through mailboxes more profitable.  Thieves steal new bank cards and quickly run up charges, buying easily resalable items.  They then list the fraudulently bought item on sites such as eBay or Craig’s List.  The stolen cards quickly become cash.

But the mailbox burglars found a better way than prying into mailboxes one at a time.  They now steal the Postal Service’s master keys to hundreds of mailboxes.  Rather than breaking into mailboxes one at a time, they can now access the back of a group of mailboxes, turn the stolen key in the lock, and collect the cash.  Stolen keys sell for as much as $7,000 on the black market. 

Recently, thieves found even more gold in the illegally entered mailboxes.  Mail-in ballots are easily stolen and sold.  A few hundred purloined ballots can easily tip the tide in a local election, and hundreds of thieves can change a state’s results.  How lucrative is this?  The target list is virtually endless.  In California, Colorado, and other states, voters do not even have to request a mail-in ballot.  The state sends them to every registered voter!    

This is not just a potential problem.  The Postal Service admits that more than 8,000 of the so-called “arrow” master keys are missing.  That total does not include the stolen keys.  Those 8,000 missing keys are exactly that: 8,000 express-lane illegal entryways to your mail that our Postal Service confesses it cannot find!

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 45: Peace And Goodwill

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Thomas’ gifted money to John did not go wasted. The view of the approaching country house brings a smile to my face, however the sight of someone hunched behind a boulder pointing a gun does not. The car halts next to the mailbox and I check the name. Shelby. I’m in the right place.

“Oi! Steenstra!” John shouts from across the lawn. “‘S that you?”

“Hello, John!” I wave back, clutching the bag of cookies I brought with me. “I come with neutral intentions and glad tidings!”

He relaxes and starts jogging over, followed by two small dogs. “You just missed Ada!”

“Thanks again for the party invitation. You didn’t really-”

“Oh yes, we did!” John cuts me off with a hug and eyes the bag. “It’s been a whole year since you’ve made us biscuits!”

I smile and quirk a brow. “So you’re excited I’m here just for my culinary skills, eh?”

“No, I did miss you,” he says sincerely. “‘S good to hear you and Ada have enjoyed America but it’s good to have you back.” He tugs at his coat. “It’s been bloody freezing! How are you not cold?”

I shrug. “I love the cold. It brings me back to my Scandinavian roots. The cold feels natural to me.”

John rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the house. “Oh, big deal. Brag about ancestors living in an ice cube. Let’s go inside for some tea, eh?”

He leads me to the front door and I walk inside to a cozy-looking parlor. I can’t help but notice the beautiful greenery draped over the fireplace. 

John catches me looking. “First time seeing a British Christmas, eh? We’ve got our traditions.” 

He points to something above my head. I look up to see a sprig of green plants with white berries tied together with a red bow.

“Mistletoe?”

I’m not unfamiliar with the custom. In my culture it’s a druid tradition that’s supposed to be a symbol of male fertility.

John grins deviously. “Want me to call Tommy over?”

I hold up a warning finger. “No. I mean it, John. No talk of that. I’m here to-”

“What? To make everything better again?” he mocks sarcastically with narrowed eyes. “Nice try.”

As if on cue, Esme appears in the doorway. Here we go.

Her vicious eyes cause me to freeze. “Verena.”

“Hello, Esme,” I greet gently. “How are the kids?”

“What money do you use?” 

Her question throws me off. “Pardon?”

Behind me John groans. “Again, Esme?”

“What. Money. Do. You. Use?” She demands.

“M-My earnings. And some funds from my vader.” I hold up my bag. “I brought biscuits. Some chocolate ones, but also some almond cookies. They’re shaped like Dutch Christmas characters.”

“You have no idea what we’ve gone through,” Esme snarls. “And you show up like nothing’s changed?”

My own face twists into a scowl. “You think I don’t know things have changed? I am truly sorry for what Thomas did to John and the others but it was not my fault.”

“She’s right,” John agrees. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll all come to terms because you’re playing peacemaker, Verena. I did invite him-”

“No, John!” Esme hisses. “No more of him!”

I hold up my hands and look between the couple. Tea will have to be postponed. “It’s been lovely to see you all but it’s getting late.”

“Good to see you, Verena,” John waves from the couch.

I can’t help but smile and set the bag of biscuits down next to him. “Merry Christmas to you both, and the children.”

I retreat back to the door before Esme can skin me alive. She follows me the same as a fox stalks its prey. 

“Are you staying with that bastard?”

I reach for the doorknob. “Yes.”

“Tell him to go to Hell.”

I think part of him believes he’s already there.

I’m so tired of being stuck in the car. Throughout the drive to Arrow House I watch the sun sink behind heavy gray clouds. I might not be as cold as others but I do still catch on to the dropping temperature. As the giant mansion approaches, a few random snowflakes scatter across the car window. I haul my trunk up the stone steps and am greeted by a stern-faced lady with her hair in a tight bun.

“Ms. Steenstra?” I nod and she continues. “I’m Frances, the head housekeeper. May I call a footman to take your bags?”

“No, no. That’s quite alright. I can manage.” I walk past her into the hallway and nearly bump into another maid. “Oh! Hello-”

Her eyes widen with panic. “I apologize, Ms. Steenstra!”

I frown. “What for?”

She looks down and wrings her hands together. “We’re not supposed to be seen. I- I took a wrong turn. This is the wrong staircase.”

There’s more than one? “You have your own staircase?”

She nods, still looking at the floor. “A hidden one.”

My curiosity sparks. “Can I see?”

Her head flies up. “Oh, miss, you don’t want to. It’s dark and full of spiders.”

I know Thomas treats his employees well but her skittery behavior makes me suspicious. “How exactly does the staff work here?”

Behind me I hear Francis let out a disapproving sniff. “A routine of tradition. You Americans obviously don’t follow it.”

The girl in front of me gulps. “Frances has the highest position of housekeeper. I’m only a scullery maid.”

My jaw drops and I wait for Francis to exit before speaking. “This traditional system is one-sided. How is being forced into always being in a poor society fair?”

Her eyes light up. “Actually Mr. Shelby is most generous with his terms of employment. Frankly, Francis is the one holding onto tradition.”

“Ah! You’ve met Lydia.”

We both turn to where Thomas has just walked in from his study. The maid immediately starts apologizing.

“Sorry Mr. Shelby. I was just leaving-”

“You can stay,” I assure Lydia and give Thomas a look. “She can stay, right Thomas?”

He looks as if this sounds like a simple request. “Yes.”

Another pair of eyes peeks out from behind Thomas’ legs. “Daddy, who’s this?”

Oh my. Charlie’s grown so much! He’s already talking. He’s grown into a sturdy, adorable child with curious eyes. Seeing him gives half the reason I wanted to return so badly.

Thomas kneels down next to him and points to me. “Charlie, this is my good friend Verena. Do you remember her?”

He scrunches his face at me. “V-Veena?”

“Vah-ree-nuh,” Thomas annunciates.

“Veena?" Charlie tries again. How cute!

“I like it,” I chuckle and also kneel down to his level, extending a hand for him to shake. “Merry Christmas Eve, Charles. It’s good to see you again. Have you been keeping your daddy in line?”

Charlie recognizes I’m no longer a complete stranger and grins at his father. “Uh-huh!”

Thomas puts a hand on his shoulder. “Charlie, Verena and I are going out for a talk. We’ll be back for supper, alright?”

Charlie nods eagerly. “Okay.”

Thomas calls for Francis to take him away and we both walk back to the front door. I look out the window and gasp in delight to see even more snowflakes flurrying through the darkening sky. It’s nearly dusk. The magical sight of the pure-white flakes almost looks imaginary.

“It’s finally snowing!” I can’t contain myself.

“Would you still be up for talking outside?” Thomas asks mysteriously. “I’ve got an idea.”

Now fate is just being cruel. A horseback ride through the snow? How more romantic is that? I guess as a city girl this is something very special. But Thomas doesn’t see this as anything intimate. To him a horseback ride is just another pastime. He preps a beautiful dark gray horse for me and his black horse for himself. 

“Do you know how to ride?” Thomas asks as I mount the large beast.

“I’ll figure it out as I go. I’m really excited!” I gush as the horse begins to trot through the billowing snow.

Thomas brings his horse ahead of me and starts leading us through the fields. I’ll admit the feeling of sitting on the horse's back is unfamiliarly awkward but the horse itself is being very gentle with me. It has a patience of its own and doesn’t go too fast.

“How’s she working?” Thomas calls from ahead.

“Very cooperative!” I respond. “What’s her name?”

“Scarlet.” He pauses a second. “I’ve got a question about your father.”

“Shoot.”

“How does your father handle differences in his employees? By sex, I mean.”

Interesting. There’s little chance that Thomas will change his own mind about how he runs things; but it’s refreshing to hear he wants to know how other families deal with problems. He’s showing an interest in my family the same way I have taken an interest in his.

“Simple. They’re all paid fair,” I say as Scarlet steps over a small brook. “What you work for is what you get. If you put in the time and effort then you reap the rewards. Man or woman, he doesn’t discriminate. Unlike some other shops near us. But he does set certain boundaries so women are not put in harm’s way.”

I’m starting to lose Thomas through the thick snow. He notices and halts his horse so we can stop to chat. 

 “Does he ever have strikers?”

“No need for any. Half of his employees are our family and he’s too gentle to let a disagreement go unsettled. Firm but kind, as moeder says. But our business is much less than yours. Yours is… an empire.”

Thomas nods, regarding me with a look that shows deep thought. “Your father runs things through strong capitalism.”

I smirk and wipe away some snowflakes from my hair. “That’s the American dream for you. We’ve had countless immigrants who were looking to build a life for themselves and their families. They start as bartenders, busboys, and janitors. Now they’re paid by salary. Some of the best rumrunners I’ve ever seen. Quite similar to how you run things.”

A spell of silence falls over us and we take a moment to enjoy the peaceful serenity. The only sound is the whistling of the wind through the tall grass. In the distance I see the warm glow of the Arrow House windows flickering through the snow. Not quite like Christmastime in Brooklyn but it looks like what all the greeting cards advertise. Abel’s right. It’s going to be a challenge to be away during the holidays.

Thomas breaks the silence. “‘S this your first Christmas away from home?” 

His soft voice and the bittersweet homesickness tug at me. “Yes.”

“Will you miss your family?”

A sad smile crosses my face. “That obvious, hm? I’ve only been away for a week but it’s different without being there for the holidays.”

Thomas reaches across for my hand but I still grip the reins. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have waited until after the holidays for you to come back.”

“Because I knew I was needed here,” I answer wisely. “It’s been a hard year on everyone and… I felt God telling me to come back.”

“Is that the real reason you came?” 

He asks as if I’m not telling him everything. Why does this have to be so hard?!

“I still love your family after all these years, Thomas. You all need as much help as you can get.”

Thomas considers my answer and hums. “Charlie was certainly happy to see you. I’m sure they all were.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate. Ada and I have been the peacekeepers between the two opposing sides. Thomas vs. the line of everyone who hates him. And that line’s starting to become noticeably long.

“Thomas, please,” I plead as he starts leading his horse back towards the house. “You need to talk to your brothers. Mend this family.”

@meadows5

[avalonpalewoods]

19th of April, 1825

Been having bad migraines these last few days so mostly I stayed in. Went fishing yesterday to distract myself from it and my nightmares. I also took some discarded leather from the barn and made some chest armor, as well as some rudimentary wooden tools. The workbench Morgan gave me is really coming in handy.

Kingsley went out into the woods and got lost in the middle of the night. Whittaker, Morgan and me went out to look for him and we found him in the graveyard. He seemed fully out of it and very confused. Whittaker handled it and we went back. Luckily they're still staying away so we didn't run into anything out there. I'm getting concerned.

Waited an hour after we brought Kingsley back and broke into the mayor's place. Climbed a tree and sneaked in through one of the upper balconies. Got into the armory and its COMPLETELY EMPTY. They genuinely have no weapons or armor at all, no way to defend themselves. I'm starting to think the lack of training and supplies for defense is deliberate. Took a bow and some arrows.

I also decided to check the archives in the basement since information is also useful. Found some recent letters and many, MANY books. Most of the ones I got to skim were about the formation of the town, its religion, and the increasingly tighter laws over the years. Found a book about the local flora that Morgan will probably find useful so I dropped it off in her mailbox. Managed to sneak out the same way I got in.

[luvvannie]

00 ❀ a teensy little crush (written)

since your sixteenth birthday — the day you were graced with the title of cupid, passed down from your father after his retirement — you’ve spent your days sifting through love letters and replying with the wisest romantic advice you could recall from his teachings.

you were getting sick of it. painfully, bone-deep sick of it. and as terrifying as it was to admit, you were even starting to grow sick of the colour pink. five years trapped inside the corporation — a giant, pink building in the clouds — clocking in every day just to read letters from people with egos too big to realise they were the reason their crushes wouldn’t like them back. and of course, it only got worse during the holidays. the influx of people expecting cupid to grant them a holiday miracle increased tenfold, especially on christmas and valentine’s day.

christmas… god.

it had been almost four months, and you still couldn’t get that letter out of your head. that stupid, stupid letter. stupid cupid — you can’t fall for a boy. that breaks every HR rule in the book!

and to make matters worse? the boy was an elf. ugh. gag. red and green is the worst colour scheme in the universe.

maybe you were losing it. you were going insane, just like your senile grandmother did before your father took over cupid corp. maybe it was time for a break... a nice long hiatus... the north pole, perhaps? you did like snow. and hot chocolate… sleighing was fun. and maybe you could finally see this boy in person, steal a few glances and run away like a lovestruck high school girl.

no, no, no! you slammed your head onto the white marble desk with a dull thud.

how did it even begin?

christmas was fast-approaching. you were working overtime to send out as many responses as possible, because for some reason everyone believed christmas magic would spellbindingly gift them a soulmate, no matter how horrific their personality. the sun was rising on christmas eve, and you were panicking — you hadn’t even made a dent in the stack of letters. frantically, you sealed the envelope you were working on and grabbed the next letter, tearing it open and reading as fast as your eyes could move from word-to-word.

until you slowed down. your eyes softened.

this one was... different. sweet? sincere?

an elf boy — what was his name? sung hanbin. he wasn’t begging for an aphrodisiac arrow to be shot at his crush (seriously, what kind of maniac even asks for that?). no, he was thoughtful. gentle. he genuinely cared for this girl — another elf in his gift-making department. the way he described her... it sounded like he’d steal every star in the sky if it made her smile. he wasn’t asking for a miracle — he had a whole plan, one which he had come up with himself, after putting together all of her favourite things, which he had found out about by himself, by simply… paying attention to her. all he wanted was your advice. did you think his plan was good enough?

you never swooned over letters, ever, especially not the ones from straight men. they were always rude, selfish, greedy, egotistical, and then they wondered why their girls wouldn’t like them back. but this? this one felt... real. so you wrote back, just like any other letter. and maybe — maybe — you got a little curious. so, you did the cupid-equivalent of stalking. you peeked into your magic telescope and... well, damn it. he was attractive.

then, a week later, during your new year’s break, you were clearing out your mailbox and saw it. a new letter. from sung hanbin.

he thanked you for your help. said it hadn’t worked out. he’d been rejected. but instead of blaming cupid like most clients did, hanbin... thanked you. it was strange. hanbin didn't know who you were. no one knew who you were. people always seemed to take your anonymity for granted, sending you the most vile things imaginable just because their crush ended up rejecting them.

the letter went on. he thanked you for all the things you did for other people. your selflessness and bravery. he hoped that you had people who you could rely on as well, just like how everyone else relies on you.

it almost brought a tear to your eye. for once, someone seemed to care how cupid was.

so... maybe you sent him a letter back pretending to be your secretary, dayeon...

and maybe... he wrote back.

and maybe, just maybe... you’ve been exchanging letters with him every week since under your fake identity. and have the teensiest little crush on him.

and if all that wasn't bad enough, he'd sent you another letter. one week before valentines day... asking you (well, dayeon) to be his valentine.

and so you panicked. and didn't write him back... for two months?

stupid cupid.

prev { m.list } next

taglist (open) : empty ! (cmt on m.list to be added!!)

[cryptid-stimming]

💌 Love Letter Stimboard 💌 for Anon

x x x / x x x / x x x

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: A gif of someone using tweezers to seal a miniature envelope with a red heart sticker before placing the envelope into a box of similiar envelopes. A gif of someone placing pink envelopes into a mailbox and patting them lovingly. And a gif of someone unfolding a square paper puzzle with a heart design to reveal images of keys and a lock inside.

Second line: A gif of someone holding a small canvas and using a gold paint marker to add details, the canvas is painted to look like an envelope with flowers and a heart design. A close-up gif of a love letter, signed with 'my sweetheart love you so much' and a doodle of a red heart with an arrow through it. And a gif of someone tilting a canvas painted to look like an envelope (with flowers and a heart design) back and forth in their hand.

Third line: A gif jumpcutting to short shots of someone adding heart and flower stickers to a small love letter, before folding it in half. A gif of someone lifting two handmade envelopes and opening the flap one by one, the envelopes are pink and white and have a red heart seal. And a gif panning over a collection of 1920s love letters spread across a surface.

End of image description.]

[melodytale]

Torial’s roll during main story

2/?

Unlike in the original game, you do not meet her in the ruins you will meet her on your way to Snowden town as she lives in a small cabin tucked away in a grotto. after exiting the ruins you will wander down a similar path to the original games, but instead of meeting sans you will instead meet Tori. The initiation of her interactions will be caused by the player, getting startled and nearly falling off a cliff . (This you will later learn whas flowy’s doing) she hears you and runs to your aid when she pulls you all the way up she realizes what you are. You can notice her demeanor, slightly change from that of a worried mother to one of a slightly more suspicious/weary individual. Before the interaction can lead to anything else the sound of another in distress causes her to quickly run away.

You will not encounter her until stumbling across her home this will be accomplished by having me path blocked by some particularly thick snow while trying to find a way around it you find a a mailbox and an arrow pointing into the grotto when reading the mailbox, it will display the text ( Torial’s home) heading up into the grotto will reveal a small loog cabin.

Knocking on the door will lead to a familiar voice calling out saying that they’ll be there in a s econd once they open the door, they’ll be hit with a wave of shock, realizing almost immediately, you’re the human that they ran into earlier in the day still wary of you but concerned of how thin your clothes are for how cold it is, she will reluctantly bring you inside.

once inside she tells you to stay by the fire and starts to look and see if she has anything warm in your size. She will come back a few moments later with a small fluffy jacket. This jacket is also a piece of armor. checking its stats reads (a thick and soft jacket that smells of firewood. Is to big for you) (defense +5 speed-2) she will ask why you decided to visit her home you will tell her it is because the path was blocked and you wanted to see if you could find a way around.

at this point there is a shift depending on the route that you have taken, if this is a neutral or pacifist route the following description will happen

She’ll take a moment to think before, nodding to herself, and stating that she remembers some of the teens practicing their magic out there. she’ll take a moment to think before stating that she will go out and help you clear the path, though you can tell her she still doesn’t fully like you Not really understanding why you’ll start to head out the door. she will not let you leave until you wear the jacket. If you refuse to wear the jacket twice, she will engage in a fight mainly because this is how she has to get the teens in the area to realize that she’s serious.

The fight looks very similar to her fight in Undertale. tho the main two differences is she’s not as soft with her tone and wild fights. Don’t need a rhythm to be able to be completed. If you can find the rhythm in the pattern you will never be hit as all battles will have an underlying rhythm. (If I ever get the chance to attempt animation I’d love to make one of the fights! I’d also love to get better at pixel art to make sprites) depending on if you spar her or kill her during the fight it will go into a different path detailed in pacifist or neutral

If she’s killed — you can head back to the baracade only to find nothing has changed tho if you interact with the snow you will get the text (it doesn’t seem as solid as earlier maybe that house has a shovel) so if you go back to the house and explore you can find a shovel in one of the cuberd’s if you continue to look around you can find a slice of cornbread and a cornbread muffin. Then you bring the shovel back to the snow mound and can clear it tho the shovel will get stuck so you have to leave it behind. (pacifist and neutral will be the same after you leave the shovel behind)

After you spar Tori she will say (I have forgotten the strength of you humans, tho I can’t help but remember an old friend) then turn to leave before turning to ask if your coming with her. Continue’s same as a pacifist run

As both of you start to head down the path back to where the mound of snow sits you’ll hear her talk about how she deeply loves all of the kids in the area. She just wishes that they would think about how their actions have consequences for others not just themselves once you get to the blockade, she’ll hand you a shovel and she’ll start using her fire magic. once the snow is cleared. You realize that she doesn’t really look at you with the hate that she did just mirror moments ago. her feature soften, and her voice softens a little bit as well. she thinks you for the help before handing you a piece of cornbread and a couple (2) cornbread muffins as a thank you. The check description of this slice of cornbread is similar to the slice of butterscotch cinnamon pie in the regular game. tho the muffins read (a soft but hearty treat best enjoyed hot with butter heals 25HP)

Genocide— after you leave the runes you will encounter torial at the same spot as in the other too routes tho she was awaiting your arrival. The battle starts silently and little is said during it tho it doesn’t last for long as one nice stick to the abdomen ends the fight as quickly as it started.

[wowstrawberrycow]

Another Middle Earth custom doll is in the works!!!

So while my Thranduil Barbie is on hold I have a Celebrimbor dolly in the works! He came to me fresh out the mailbox just minutes ago! I'll be working on him later tonight!

He is going to be made from a 1979 Blueberry Muffin doll from the Strawberry Shortcake series. He absolutely is a sweet little muffin! So I had to chose him!

A special thanks to @gauntletgirlie for helping me make the decision to keep the stain this leg as a bruise from his evil ex boyfriend Annatar/Sauron!

I also wanna thank @withallthatisleftofmyheart for being supportive through my dolly journey! They are helping decide on dolls for characters. I really appreciate them bouncing ideas with me!!

Brimby needs some repairs and I'll be making yarn hair for him and reflooring it at some point as well. He'll be getting arrow scars and a stabby chest scar as well! We can also say bye bye to one of those thumbs!

Thanks everyone for being an awesome community and taking an interest in my lil dolly hobby!

Anyways here's the BB!⬇️

Let me know y'all's thoughts!

I'll be blogging about Brimby's Little Muffin Adventure soon!

Check out that tiny Brimby booty though. Brimby's got back 🤣

[walker-bait-1973]

We Ain't Dead Part One

Photo Edit By Me

A Daryl Dixon X Reader (she/her) Fanfiction

18+

Warnings: Usual TWD Violence, Death, Alcohol, Swearing, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn, Fluff

Author's Notes: This takes place starting in season 1 (The Greene Farm) and then goes off on its own timeline. I also admit it starts slow. I have to get through a few chapters to get it really going. Please be kind as this was the first TWD fanfiction I'd written. I also had it originally with my own OC, but I changed it up to be more fun for the reader. Hopefully, I caught all the name changes. Enjoy!

Master List

Chapter 1: Sophia

Daryl was out searching for clues on Sophia, deep in the surrounding woods by the Greene Farm while everyone else was wrapped up in the drama surrounding another child. He didn’t want to be around that shit. The little girl’s mother, Carol, was worried sick. Daryl wanted to help this poor woman. She’d had a rough life with her abusive husband before he got bitten and had to be put down. He could relate to the abuse as his past was saturated with it.

He had taken one of the farmer’s horses and went further than the rest of his group. He saw something floating in the water by the area that Sophia had hidden from the Walkers in. He slid off the horse and down the rocky hill to it. It was her doll. He triumphantly tucked it into his belt and went to return to the horse, but the horse spooked and galloped off, leaving him to fight several walkers that had been attracted by the horse’s whinnying. 

He took out two, but slipped on the mud, landing in the water. One had pinned him down, nearly drowning him. He couldn’t reach his trusty crossbow, and his knife fell out of his hand. Suddenly, an arrow cleared the air, catching the walker straight through the skull. It dropped, and Daryl threw it off. He sat up, spitting out filthy water, looking around for the bowman. A twig snapped. He was feeling around in the murky water, searching desperately for his crossbow. He saw a figure passing through a line of trees.

“Hey!” he yelled out. The figure stopped. He squinted, half-blinded in the late afternoon sunlight. The bowman made his way down the rocky ledge, bow on his back. His booted foot pushed into little niches, fingers gripping ridges. He was wearing a black newsboy cap.

When the hunter got closer, Daryl realized it wasn't a man, but a woman. She offered him a hand out of the water, and the thick muck around his feet. He took her hand reluctantly, and she helped him out. He shook out his hair and checked over his crossbow. The woman dropped her pack, pulled out a dry cloth, and handed it to him. He wiped his face.

“You from the farm?” he asked. Her eyes flickered.

“No.”

“Where’d ya come from?” he asked.

“Just passing through,” she answered, “saw the dead ones. Then I saw you.”

He handed her the arrow from the walker’s head. She took it and returned it to her quill.

“You seen a little girl? About this tall?” he indicated with his hand.

She shook her head, “No one until now.”

He saw the collection of dead rabbits hooked to her belt. He pointed with his chin.

“Nice haul.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, reaching for one.

“Naw,” he put up his hand, “Stayin’ on that farm back there.”

She looked past him in the direction of Greene’s farm.

“You know ‘em?” he asked. She shook her head, "I've just seen the name on the mailbox. Follow me,” she said. He hesitated. Even though she’d helped him, it didn't mean she was safe. She turned back around, “Did you lose a horse?”

He nodded.

“Follow me then.” She led him into a clearing where she had the horse tied to a sapling. It was surrounded by a thin line of barbed wire. He looked around as she wound back the wire onto a thick stick. She proceeded to untether the horse. She rubbed its muzzle and led it to Daryl.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. She nodded, taking a moment to give the man a once over. He wasn’t very tall but looked tough. He was covered head to toe in filth and dripping like a drowned rat. A permanent scowl on his face, his eyebrows knitted together over a pair of deep-set blue eyes. From the cuts on his arms, and the tears in his muscle t-shirt, he’d seen better days. His hair was short and plastered flat with mud.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he stroked the horse. He checked it over for any injuries.

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Daryl.”

“That horse is a scaredy cat, Daryl. She jumps over a twig snap.”

“Damn horse,” he grunted. Y/N shouldered her pack, pulled an apple out of her duster pocket, and fed it to the horse.

“You said you’re looking for a girl?” she asked. He nodded. woman’s eyes searched Daryl’s eyes, but he averted them. He bobbed his head.

“Brown hair, shorts, name of Sophia.”

Sybil petted the horse one more time before saying, “I hope you find her.”

She grabbed her bow, put it across her back, and gave a slight wave goodbye.

Daryl nodded in her direction and watched her disappear into the woods.

Chapter 2: Keep Moving

The Greene farm became overrun with Walkers after hearing gunshots from that direction. Many people died that night, bitten, and devoured. Flames shot up into a mushroom cloud from the dry hay, and animals ran amok. Y/N ran towards the fire, keenly aware that there were people living on that farm. She arrived just in time to see the last vehicle take off, a motorcycle. Hearing blood-curdling screams she saw a woman pinned down by a small horde of dead ones. She loaded her bow, “find peace,” she whispered before shooting her clear through the skull. She died, yet the dead ones continued to feast on her shredded body.

Y/N began to head back to the woods when she had the chance. She heard the whinny of a horse. She rushed toward the cries and saw its reins were tangled in some low branches. She quickly untangled it, Slid up and over, fitting her feet in the stirrups, and guided it through the woods away from the horde. She hit the open road, coaxing the horse into a full gallop, heading in the direction the survivors drove off in. When she arrived at where the group had met up in the wake of the disaster, they were already gone again. 

She studied tire tracks, and discovered someone was leaking oil; it was still warm and wet. Once again, she encouraged the horse in the direction she was sure they were going. When she found them, she hung back, dismounting the horse and taking it into a treeline to observe the group. There were about fifteen people, one of which was in late pregnancy, and a young boy. She watched through her binoculars and listened to the conversation. She decided she wasn’t going to approach them just yet as they were all jumpy and roadworn. She made camp, deciding against fire so as not to attract any attention to herself. When she woke in the morning, the group was gone again. She walked along with the horse on their trail but lost them at the crossroads. 

Chapter 3: Followed

For months, the group was going from house to house, scavenging, running from walkers, and getting worn out from fear and lack of sleep. Everyone was looking to Rick for directions. When they were finally on their last can of food, which was a can of dog food, Rick threw it across the room angrily.

“There has to be something around here. Some place where we can hole up. Behind walls.”

Three days later, they found the prison.

Y/N gradually picked up their trail again and saw the state of each house they’d stayed in. She headed toward the prison, and finally, found them inside the big fences, fighting the dead.

Smart, she thought, realizing they were going to make a go of living at the prison.  She set up camp not far from there, waiting indecisively.

In the bright sunny morning, Y/N took a ride into the nearest town. It was deserted, and she only had to take out a few dead ones. She went into the first store she came upon, a department store. Rummaging through the different departments, she stopped in the clothing area and grabbed a few t-shirts and flannel shirts. She exchanged old ones out of her pack to make room for the new ones. She headed to the camping equipment. It was nearly empty, things tore off shelves. But she managed to find some rope, some fishing line, and some hooks. She pushed them into her pack. As she was exiting, she heard a vehicle approaching. It was the motorcycle, and she recognized Daryl. She rushed out to get to the horse, but he was already off his bike, holding her in the bead of the site on his crossbow.

“Where’d you get that horse?” he called out. She stepped from the shadows.

“From the farm.”

“You,” he said, lowering the crossbow slightly. She nodded, keeping her hands away from her body.

“You followin’ us?”

She figured honesty was the best policy, “Yes.” 

“Why?” he demanded.

“I heard the shots, saw the dead ones. I came to the farm, but you all were gone.”

“What are you doin’ hangin’ around now?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was gathering supplies, and I was going to offer my help at the prison.”

He frowned, “You found the prison?”

She nodded, “Kinda hard to miss.”

“Who are you with?”

“I’m alone. I’ve been pretty much alone. Since the beginning.”

He lowered the crossbow more but remained on high alert.

“All alone out here…” he repeated. She nodded. He grunted.

“I can help you get supplies.” She offered.

“Naw,” he shook his head, “I can handle it.”

She shrugged, “suit yourself.”

She climbed onto the horse and headed out. Daryl watched until she was out of sight. He proceeded to search all the stores and houses. He piled stuff into his pack and headed back to the prison. While he drove, he scanned for signs of Y/N. 

Chapter 4: Better Than Out There

The group of survivors worked hard to clean out the prison. It was overrun with Walkers. Each day they’d get a little further inside until they secured a cell block and moved in from the fields they’d taken. It was dark, dank, and grungy, but they were safe. Now the real work was to begin.

Baby Judith was born and lost her mother during labor. She desperately needed formula. Daryl was back out there again, searching. He made his way to a nearby town. There he found Y/N fighting a group of dead ones. He watched for a moment. She’d kicked one away, another away, and took two down at once with one knife in each hand. Her boot slammed down on the head of a fallen walker, then the other. He was impressed even more so when she popped up and shot her bow at the last Walker heading her way. He saw one coming up behind her and shot it with his crossbow. She spun around to see the walker on the ground. He stood there tight-lipped, his crossbow at his side. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“You still around?” he asked.

She nodded.

“We have a baby now,” he said looking about. She was still alone. He’d been keeping an eye on her, tracking her as well.

“There’s a daycare center,” she pointed up the road. She showed Daryl the way. She tapped on the window while he held his knives ready. Walkers came to and dragged their rotten hands across the glass, leaving grimy streaks.

Sybil opened the door enough to let one out. He stabbed it easily enough and waited for the next one. They continued this way until there were no more. She opened the door fully now, and went inside with him, her bow in her hands. They cleared room by room, searching every nook and cranny. Y/N’s eyes scanned the walls. Colorful handprints with children’s names littered one area. She continued along the wall. There was a bulletin board covered with pictures of the children. 

She began looking underneath a changing table finding diapers of all different sizes, tossed them into a plastic garbage bag along with wipes, and baby powder. She returned to the hallway, lifting her bow at foreign noises. She glanced down the hallway, where the sound came from. Daryl had his crossbow up, pointing it in her direction. They both lowered them, meeting halfway.

“Diapers,” she said, holding up the bag.

“Formula,” he replied, dumping the containers into the bag along with some bottles. One more sweep. Y/N grabbed blankets, and Daryl a stuffed teddy bear. When they got outside, she held out the bag to him. He took it.

“Come on,” he said with a jerk of his chin.

“To the prison?” she asked. 

He nodded. She shook her head.

“What’s your problem, woman? Better than out here,” he said, sliding onto his bike.  She looked around. He had a point.

“You comin’?” he asked. She nodded, putting her foot in the stirrup to mount the horse again.

"Ain't your ass sore from that damned beast?" he eyed the horse warily. The truth was she was tired of riding in general. Her ass was always bouncing and she was sore everywhere.

"Sort of…" she remarked, self-consciously rubbing her ass.

He jerked his head in his direction, "c'mon then. Let's go! Jesus, you're slow." She directed the horse up beside the bike and reached down with an open hand.

“The bag.”

He tossed it to her. The bike pulled away, and she followed, the horse running fast, staying close behind. When they got to the prison gates, Carl and Carol were standing there, waiting to open it.

“Who’s that?” Carl asked. Carol shrugged, squinting her eyes.

“I don’t know, but she’s with Daryl, so we let her in.”

The horse followed Daryl up the drive, through a second gate. He turned off the engine. She tethered the horse to one of the chain-link fences near the grass to graze. Rick sprinted out of the prison, gun at the ready. Daryl put up a hand.

“She’s with me.”

Rick lowered it, returning the gun to its holster.

“We’re a little protective around here,” Hershel said from the doorway, “I’m Hershel,” he held out his hand to shake hers.

“You should be protective,” she held out the bag, placing it in his hand, “for the baby.”

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, handing it to Beth, the young blonde teenager.

“I’m Y/N,” she said finally.

“Rick,” Rick said, tapping his chest. He held an air of authority. Round blue eyes, pale skin, and wavy brown hair. 

Beth introduced herself as well.

“That looks like one of my horses,” Hershel noted.

“It is.” She answered, “it was running wild in the woods.”

“Are you hungry?” Hershel asked, “we can offer you something to eat.”

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to impose. Rick continued to look her over suspiciously.

“Come on,” Daryl said, “get some grub. Y’all look like you ain’t eaten in days.”

She followed him into the prison.

Rick exchanged looks with Hershel, who raised his eyebrows.

Y/N looked around curiously as they entered cell block C. Glenn and Maggie stood up.

“Who’s this?”

“Name’s Y/N. She helped me get stuff for Little Ass Kicker,” Daryl stated. Maggie mixed up a bottle of formula. Daryl took it from her and held the baby. As she started to drink, Daryl smiled, “There you go, little Ass Kicker.”

Beth handed her a bowl of macaroni.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, sitting down. She slurped it up quickly, “I probably should get goin’.” She walked along the dark hallway, and outside. As she mounted the horse, Daryl rushed out of the prison.

“Hey,” he said, “You leavin?”

She nodded, “not enough room.”

“There’s a whole damn cell block.” He remarked, grabbing the reins.

“I don’t belong… here.” She looked around.

“Don’t be stupid, ya don’t belong out there.”

She looked over her shoulder, toward the gate. The walkers were thick along the chain link. She was tired of running and fighting. She could use a little reprieve.

After much consideration, “You win. I’ll stay the night.”

When they went back in, Maggie came forward, introduced herself, and with a friendly smile thanked her for the baby stuff. As Y/N nodded, Maggie said, “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

She followed Maggie into the cell block.

“The last three down here are open, and all the ones on the top except one.”

Y/N went up the stairs looked in each cell, and settled on one. Maggie handed her a pillow and a blanket.

“It’s not much, but we’re trying to make this place habitable.”

She smiled at her, “Thank you.”

Maggie nodded, “if you need anything, please let me know.”

Y/N tinkered around in her cell, making up the bed the best she could, fluffing the pillow, and sliding out of her boots. She sat on the bed and stretched her tired feet.

“She’s quite the talker,” Hershel jokes.

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing,” Rick remarked.

Glenn laid Judith on his bunk while she slept, “do you think she’s safe? We don’t know anything about her.”

“If Daryl vouches for her, she’s okay with me,” Rick answered truthfully.

“Me too,” Hershel added.

Y/N came back down from upstairs.

 "We are so grateful for your help," Hershel repeated everyone's sentiments, "do you have any injuries that you need to have looked at? I've been elected as the house doctor. I'm really a veterinarian, but I do both."

"He saved my boy from dying. Got shot. Right near his heart," Rick remarked.

She looked at Rick with a surprise, "That's Carl, right?" she asked. He nodded.

"That's a miracle," she said, happy to hear something good for a change.

Rick nodded, "it is."

"How's your wife doing?" She asked looking from Rick to Hershel and back. Rick lowered his head, his eyes cast downward.

"She didn't survive the birth," he whispered before clearing his throat, "excuse me." He walked away.

"I'm sorry…" Y/N called after him, "Wow, I haven’t been here twenty-four hours and I've already insulted the man in charge."

"How do you know so much about us?" Glenn asked curiously. She blushed.

"I've been watching you guys a bit, trying to decide if I should fully introduce myself or not."

Hershel rubbed his stubbled chin, "so you are what Daryl was tracking day after day while we were on the road."

Sybil’s lips parted, "he was tracking me? While I was tracking you?"

Hershel pursed his lips nodding.

“Thank you for the offer to look at any injuries. Luckily I don’t have any,” she said, “I’m just going to take a little walk around the fence if that’s okay?”

Rick nodded, “Sure. Be careful out there.” She nodded, “I’ll make sure to be.” She walked down to where Carl and Carol now were.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she said to them. 

“I’m Carl, this is Carol.”

She smiled at them. Carol eyed her suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what to think of this one.

“How do you know Daryl?” Carol asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

She shrugged, “Met in the woods, and on the road a few times. I’m so sorry about your little girl.”

Carol was surprised at this comment, “Did you see her in the woods?”

Y/N shook her head, “Daryl was looking for her when I met him.”

Carol nodded and returned to the fence to stab walkers through the head. Tears stung her eyes. Six months later, it still hurts.

“Want help?” She asked. The dead ones were swarming that part of the fence.

Carol shook her head, “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“Okay…” She said, backing away from Carol to leave her be. Instead, she headed to a space in one of the fields inside the fence. She watched the sky darken overhead, laying back and staring up at the stars, spotting the big dipper, Ursa Major, the northern star, Cancer, and Leo. She heard footsteps behind her. Her hand flew instinctively to her knife, but when she saw it was Daryl, released her grip. Daryl sat down next to her, looking up at the stars. He lit a cigarette, and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. 

“How long you been out there?” he asked.

“Since the very beginning, you?”

“Same. Was out there campin’ when them dead bastards started springin’ up like damn mushrooms everywhere.”

She sighed, “Shit hit the fan in the city. It was like 9-11 all over again.”

He glanced at her, “New York?”

She nodded, “Was a firefighter.”

“Shit…” he said as she stood up, “c’mon, no need to be out here looking at them fuckin’ things.”  She turned with Daryl to head back up to the prison but checked the horse before they went in and locked the door.

Yawning, Y/N spoke, “I think I’m going to try to catch a few hours. Goodnight everyone.” The truth was she didn’t sleep much anymore since the fall of the world. Utters of goodnight resounded in the cell block. She returned to her cell,  draped a sheet over the door, and slid off her duster, draping it over the headboard above. She lifted her shirt, practically peeling it off. She took off her pants and stretched. Turning the faucet handle she was pleasantly surprised that it actually worked. She grabbed a rag from her bag, soaked it, and began wiping her body down, enjoying the cool water on her skin.

Daryl passed her door. It was slightly ajar. He happened to glance in and saw her bare back. It was covered with scarred welts. His mouth opened slightly. He knew those marks all too well. 

She heard the sound of a shoe scuffing on the floor just outside her door. She turned around, covering her breasts with her hands, a knife in her hand. Daryl averted his eyes. She quickly put on a white tank top, and black shorts, blushing profusely.

“Uh…Thank you, Daryl."

"For what?" he asked, his eyes still on the floor.

"For giving me a chance here. I probably was  on the road too long. I’ve forgotten what kindness was.”

He chewed his lip as she spoke.

“Well, goodnight."

He nodded, “Night.”

She closed the creaking door.

Chapter 5: The Passageways

Y/N had been at the prison with the group for just over a month. It didn’t take long for her to fit in. She became a trustworthy member of the group. She worked just as hard as everyone else, if not harder to prove her worth, carrying her own weight. She helped out with supply runs, cleaning cells, hunting for food, and anything else needed.

Judith was growing like a weed. Y/N enjoyed her time with the child. Playing with her, feeding, and bathing her became like second nature. Everyone marveled at how the baby took to nuzzling into her, smiling and cooing as she talked to the little one. She even made up stories to tell the baby and keep her engaged. Judith enjoyed Daryl’s voice when she heard it. She’d turn to him, she loved it when he had time to feed her the bottles of formula. His gravelly voice calmed her when she cried. 

Beth also loved being around Y/N. Even though she was quiet, and Beth talkative, Y/N never seemed to get bored with her. Maggie got jealous that Beth spent so much time with her, but Glenn would remind her that she was making an effort. Maggie spent all her time wrapped up in Glenn. 

There was a desire to expand space and use certain areas for other things like play rooms, a library, and potentially more residents. Glenn looked around for Y/N and finally spied her sitting in one of the unturned fields with Beth. She was blowing on a blade of grass while Beth sang to the roaming horse as it grazed.

“Hey Y/N, we need a fourth for clearing out some passageways. Are you in?” Glenn asked.

“Sure,” She answered, “give me a sec and I’ll be ready.”

She joined Rick, Glenn, and Daryl at one of the doorways leading into an uncleared section of the prison’s passageways. Everyone had their weapons and flashlights.

“We’re starting in Cellblock D,” Rick said, “we had some live prisoners in here, but none of them survived for very long.”

“Funny how they were such badasses in prison, but when it came to this new world, no clue,” Glenn added.

“They were real assholes,” Daryl grunted. The other men nodded in agreement.

“We move slowly, in a group, each taking one at a time,” Rick said, “keeping noise to a minimum. No guns.”

Y/N brandished two arm-length spears, scraping them gently along the floor, kicking up sparks.

“Woah, now that’s badass…” Glenn remarked, his mouth half open.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Daryl had taken inventory of everything she was carrying when he brought her inside, realizing he had never seen her fight with these spears. He originally thought maybe she used them for fishing. She wore three sheaths with knives, one on each hip, and one down near her boot. She had a gun holster under her right breast, near her ribs, holding a 9 mm revolver.

“She’s ready,” Rick said, looking at Daryl. Daryl pulled out both his knives, Glenn his machete, and Rick his knife. Glenn held up a flashlight, shining it here and there in search of the dead. Once they came upon a small group of them, they fanned out. Y/N stepped away from the others, for room to use her spears. She brought them to her sides, lifted them, and cut down two, taking them out at the knees first, and then through the head. Glenn and Rick exchanged glances of awe. Daryl was taking out two at a time. Rick snapped out of watcher mode and sprang into action. He and Glenn started working one at a time. Before they got to the next few, she already had them decimated.

“Okay… good, let’s move on,” Rick said.

“We need to burn them,” She said.

“After we clear the line, we’ll burn them,” Rick said, “that’s the best way. We drag ‘em outside and burn them in the basketball yard.”

“Good,” Y/N said, “good plan.”

They worked the passageway until they reached the laundry room. Daryl would take out two, and Y/N would take out two. Daryl threw a knife into a Walker’s head, and she speared one through the head. 

Rick and Glenn stood back now watching this competition.

Daryl glanced at her, seeing her knock two Walkers down and stab them through the heads with her hooks. He elbowed one to the floor, cut another one at the knees then proceeded to stab them through the eye sockets into the brains. There was one left. They eyed each other. Daryl pulled his crossbow, Y/N her bow, and both shot the Walker. One was at an angle through the jaw upwards, the other right between the eyes. It fell with a thud, the black brain matter leaking from its skull as it shattered on the cement. Both headed toward the laundry room. Daryl caught his breath and looked at her. She was just as ready.

“Hey,” he said in a guttural whisper, “we go in easy. One door at a time.”

She nodded, “I’ll get the door.” He moved for her to get a full swing on the door while Daryl prepared his knives and pointed with his chin. She slowly opened the door. He took a step forward and stabbed the first one and the one behind it. She pulled the door shut.

“How many?” She asked. He held up six fingers. She opened the door again, Daryl took out three, then they both moved into the room to take out the final three.

“All clear,” She said, turning to talk to Rick, but he wasn’t behind her. Instead, he was still in the passageway with Glenn, arms crossed, observing them both.

“Looks like you two got that done,” he said, “say, Glenn, they didn’t need us after all.” 

“Doesn’t seem that way,” Glenn chuckled.

Once they dragged the last of the walker’s bodies out to the pile, they lit them on fire. Y/N tied a bandana around her face. Daryl did the same.

“I can stay and keep an eye on them,” she offered, sliding her hooks into the straps on her back, “I’m sure you’ll want to check in on Judith.”

“Thank you,” Rick said, “you can find your way back to C?”

“Yeah, I think so. I have a pretty good sense of direction,” she answered. Rick nodded.

“Thanks for all your help today,” Glenn said, “I feel a little guilty that you two did all the work. I barely broke a sweat.”

Y/N smiled behind the bandana, “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” Daryl added, shrugging.

Rick and Glenn headed back to the door, “coming, Daryl?” Glenn asked.

“Naw, I’ll hang back with Y/N,” he said, “go on.”

Rick and Glenn exchanged looks, Glenn smiled as he did so, “Okay, see you guys later.”

Once the door closed, “Where’d you learn to use spears like that?”

Y/N rubbed her shoulder, “I worked with hooks at the fire station. There wasn’t much downtime, but when I had it, I would mess around with them. The guys used to make fun of me being so short, so I had to prove ‘em wrong. They’d made hooks, especially for me, my size. You see ‘em. Guess I just got good at them.”

Daryl held out his hand, “Can I see one?”

She nodded, unsheathing one, and handed it to him. He studied the blade, the hook. He lightly ran his thumb along the blade.

“Careful,” she said, “they’re sharp.”

His calloused thumb bled a little, “Can make ‘em sharper for you.”

“Got a grinder here?”

“Mhm. Found one in the utility room.”

“Fantastic.”

“Bow, spears, knives, guns… anythin’ you don’t know how to use?” He asked, marveling at her abilities.

“Crossbows,” she looked at him, smiling behind her bandana.

Daryl looked down at his crossbow, “maybe I can show you sometime.”

“That would be great.”

Daryl picked up a long metal pole and rotated what was left of the bodies.

They lowered their bandanas. Daryl offered her a cigarette. She politely declined.

“You could have a good thing here, you and your group,” she commented, kicking a loose skull back into the fire.

“Mhm. We could. You’re part o’ us now too.” Daryl peered over at her.

She wasn’t sure she felt that yet, but kept quiet, “Come on, let’s get back inside.”

He smooshed the remainder of his butt under a boot.

Chapter 6: All Along the Watchtower

Three Months Later

Hershel handed Rick some tomato seeds, “Now, you’ll want to space them out, Rick, two feet apart, in each neat row.”

Rick nodded, “I can do that.”

Daryl had been showing Y/N how to fight better with less straining of her body, saving energy. He’d ride her ass, get her riled up, and attack. She’d be out of breath and he’d go for her again. They’d shout at each other, go toe to toe, and then walk away. Yet, they’d meet up the following day and start all over again. Finally, Y/N became even more confident in the skills he taught her. Daryl and Y/N were working as a team as if a piece of poetry in motion. They slowly began growing closer due to their commonalities. They were rarely inseparable and worked like a fine-oiled machine

This morning, Y/N was on watch in the watchtower, giving Maggie and Glenn a break. She pulled an iPod from her pocket and plugged the buds into her ears. She cast her eyes around the exterior of the prison fence. She picked up her talkie, “Carol, dead ones grouped up on gates twelve and thirteen.”

“Okay, Carl and I will head down that way,” Carol answered. Y/N watched as they walked down and started spiking them through their heads.

“Hey,” Daryl finished his ascent from the stairs inside the tower.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Breakfast,” he handed her a bowl of oatmeal.

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled as she began to eat, “I never thought I would learn to love oatmeal so much.”

"Managed to steal extra brown sugar, I know you like that shit," he huffed as he sat down next to her. Daryl handed her a thermos of coffee and two mugs. She poured the mugs full and offered one to him.

They stood in comfortable silence, watching outside the fences, and any movement within the fence. They shared the binoculars. Daryl looked in her direction, studying her features, watching her hair shifting in the wind. She was small in stature, with small muscles on her arms and legs. He remembered seeing her topless; with her scarred back, and those rounded breasts. Daryl redirected his attention to the yard.

“You know about the pond fifteen minutes from here?” She asked, picking up the binoculars.

“Yeah. Found it ‘bout a week ‘fore you came. Why?”

“Wanna go fishing later?”

“Sure. Could use somethin’ different to eat,” he remarked. She smiled at him.

Chapter 6: Hooks and Knots

After guard duty, Y/N began to gather things for their trip and headed outside. She sat on an old rain barrel, unwrapping a fish line. “Be ready in a sec,” she told Daryl as he approached munching on an apple. She pulled out the fish hooks she’d nabbed on a scavenge and started tying two hooks on one string.

“Why two hooks?” He asked, “Never seen that ‘fore.”

She laid the length of the string out. “This hook goes over this hook backward. The barb catches the fish, and the upper hook holds it tight. Lose less fish that way.”

Daryl picked it up, twirling the string in his hands, “Does it work?”

She nodded. He shrugged and set up two strings the same way while she finished the last one. He stopped her when he noticed her method of tying knots.

“Try this,” he said, showing her a different type of knot, “holds better on the fish line.”

“Like this?” she asked.

“Naw,” he showed her again, hand over hand, “See?”

She nodded. They wrapped each line around a long stick.

Once they had everything together, the two climbed on Daryl’s motorcycle and sped down the road in a kick of dust.

Rick watched them leave, “There they go again.” He turned and smiled at Hershel with his eyebrow cocked.

“Mhm… there they go.” He repeated, “looks like Daryl’s found himself a girl.”

He and Hershel shared a chuckle.

Carol spoke up, “Don’t you find it strange that she’s been here for almost seven months, and we still know so little about her?”

Hershel looked at Rick, “she does have a point. I don’t even know where she comes from.”

Rick added, “I don’t think any of us do. Obviously, we can trust her.”

Carol nodded, “I agree, we can trust her. She’s proven herself time and time again. But is she hiding something?”

Maggie laid Judith down for a nap, “what do you think she could be hiding?”

“From what you all tell me, she’s great with weapons. Was she a cop? Or in the military? Why was she all alone out there?” Carol shared her questions with the group.

“I thought I heard something about firefighting,” Glenn shrugged.

“A firefighter with such weapon acumen?” Carol piped up.

Rick rubbed his stubbled chin in thought, “Maybe it’s time to find out. Not attack her, just ask her.”

Part Two

[basilepesso]

Bugs + Prostitution : the New "Left-Wing"(Looooool !) Tumblr Choices

Message of a few days ago (without answer yet) to Tumblr : Hello, it's again about the new posts' editor.

I have started back posting new images on my main Tumblr (and don't tell me to contact you from there, the account is linked to a mailbox which has a technical problem) after 2 months of reblogs because I didn't want to use this new editor (see our previous exchanges).

The new problem is that I want to post with titles in medium size and the rest small size. It's extremely hard, sometimes it functions sometimes not.

I spend 20 minutes making one post, easily double the normal time.

Please don't tell me that I don't do things well. Many people told you this new editor is problematic, even passing the arrow on something to highlight an item, or to copy-paste one, is not normal and you know it.

I'd like a solution for this size problem at least, and the easiest one is that we have the right to USE THE OLD EDITOR which was flawless. ---

Addendum of today 05/09/23 : and there is even more : EVERYTHING BUGS and it's unbelievable to launch a new toy - to replace a PERFECTLY FUNCTIONING ONE - without having made it functional. There is this, and there are the bitches on top of our dashboards, selling their fucking charms.

i know you need money. I know you wanna reverse - without telling that Basile Pesso had warned you ten times in public about the exact reason of this D'onofrio choice - the catastrophic Muslim-oriented policy on nudes implemented by D'onofrio almost five years ago, that almost made your - and therefore, our - ship sink like a Titanic of the web. You just chose prostitution. And artists will go away. BP.

[gbveryspecialguests]

[Gift giving part 2 electric Boogaloo]

[This time, there was no attempt at homemade gift wrapping - Matt's gift was just shoved into his mailbox with a note attached to it. This gift was....an attempt at a homemade sweater. A bad one but still an attempt.]

[The sweater had tons of holes in it from not understanding how to knit it correctly, and he seemed to have run out of string halfway because it abruptly goes from green to mustard yellow in a flash. There was neon red words on the sweater that said "best purpose ever" (Google gave the wrong spelling of person-)]

[The note was actually an old napkin with sloppily written text on it. This text goes as follows: "Hi Matt, I wanted 2 give this 2 you in person, but -" a small arrow would indicate it was time to turn the napkin around to read the rest - and what Matt would see on the back of the napkin could raise some eyebrows.]

["I have this strange feeling I'm being watched..."]

...

...

["Anyway yea happy holidays I have to go -Keith"]

That makes two of us…..

[everydayanewpage]

CHAPTER 3 — Page 5 of 16

📖 32 pages total so far

“It’s nice…” I say indifferently and he grins. 

“I suppose it is.”

“Why is it that my mother has sent me to this Mr. Armitage?” 

 “You’ll know soon enough.”

I scoff at him and shake my head. “Why wont anyone tell me what’s going on? I’m not a child…” 

“Central Park is just a few blocks over, perhaps we should make time to go in a future visit.”

I furrow my brow, but he just silently stares and nods for me to finish my salad. I take a few bites and glance back out the window, trying to decide if I like this…Gavin. He’s very different from the people back in Minnesota, but does that matter to me? I chance a sideways glance at him and he smiles softly back. He pays our bill and I thank him even though he waves my gratitude away.

After we leave the tangled streets of the city, the roads stretch out and then wrap around hills, lakes, and countryside. The traffic fades and Gavin accelerates, he’s silently focused on the road ahead and I watch as towns go by, spreading further away from each other as we drive north. 

“We’re in Connecticut now,” he says awhile later. Beautiful, lush forests encroach on either side of the road as we drive on, an hour passing already. 

After some time I notice a town sign. Welcome to Litchfield, established in 1719. And soon we pass houses that become larger and larger, older and older, but impeccably well kept since colonial times. 

Gavin pulls off of the main route and drives on an exceptionally windy narrow road. The R8 seems to enjoy the long curves and speeds into them effortlessly, hungrily. After a couple of miles, he turns up a gravel driveway marked with a dark green mailbox that has a small white arrow painted crudely on the door. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it, if I weren’t trying to take in every sight.

 An elegant grey flagstone craftsman manor sits perched and welcoming on a little hill, completely surrounded by thick woods except for an artfully landscaped front yard.

If you're ready to turn the page — the whole chapter's waiting on Patreon.

[aevummarket]

I'd like to purchase the following standard-issue weapons for Odysseus from EPIC: The Musical:

Recurve Bow (with arrows)

Spear

Sword

Dagger

Emblems are /emblems, stats are /stats, and today is 11/22. Thanks!

Special items have been delivered to your home and placed in a mailbox that wasn’t there yesterday. The box, and the items both have your name on them.

Standard Issue Weapons x4 300 150 Emblems             You enter the doors of THE EMBERLIGHT FORGE. The bell chimes to announce your arrival, and heat buffets your face as you step inside.             Along the back wall, and locked within glass cabinets are various weapons of all stripes and sizes, and your are greeted by the Forgekeeper. From the Forge, you can buy the following weapons. All are Steel-Tier and are NON-MAGICAL.

ORIGINAL EMBLEM BALANCE: 650 TRANSACTION: -600 Emblems (AEVUM ISLES ANNIVERSARY 50% OFF) CURRENT EMBLEM BALANCE: 50

— Mod Leillis  🌸

[star153]

Questions about MLP so I can redesign them EP.89

When spike returned in MLP G5, He and the other dragon mentioned magical types of fire dragons can use. Such as transformation fire, Which is turning lifeless objects into other lifeless object. A power Sparky has. Due to Spike’s fire being green, He has 1 more power concerted to his inner dragon fire. But what exactly is it? In the G4 series, Spike is shown to teleport letter either from hims or another individual like Twilight to who it was written for. And can magically receive them as well. But the letters he can receive reply’s from are reply’s to Twilight. Why not be magically sent to her instead? Was Spike asigned  To be some sort of living mailbox? Whatever it is, I would like to know this. what about Spike himself? I know since he’s a dragon he can use breathing to shoot fire from their mouths. Because they have wings on his back, He can fly literally.

He has that tail as a melee weapon concept I came up with and that weapon is hot as his fire.

Although a knife or sword can cut though, his skin is more durable than a pony or human and it makes him bullet proof.

He can run a little bit faster than a pony or human.

Is immune to burning.

  And has sharp teeth and claws.

I want to change Spike’s power abit. If his shots as simple fire blast like a blast from a Star Wars gun, he can use his feelings or will or something like that to control the speed and direction of that fireblast. Either to hit multiple targets, Or hit a moving target. These leaves him with a power he can use in battle in a similar way Darkside does with is Omega Beam or Yondo with his arrow. He can still use it to send letters, whether from him or Twilight. Because he can even have that fireblast be sent to a far away target. As in someone in like another narration of the world he’s on. But at a cost. Shooting a blast to such a far away target would reduce it to a light that doesn't even destroy anything, And the blast will fade out when near the target. All it can do is temporarily absorb some paper so it can be sent to the target because it will be unabsorbed when the blast expires. He can even temporarily change his firebreath power to this function so he can magically transport paper to a spot quite near him. And he can even magically transport papers to multiple targets at once. But at a limited number though. He can still destroy things with his guided fire blast. The target or multiple targets just need to be near enough, Like in the same Area as Spike. But need some more advance.

Should Spike in my redesign still be able to receive replys even if the letters are for Twilight and not him?

Why do letters come out of him in the G4 series?

What exactly is his power in the G4 series?

Does his message power in some way expand or gets more powerful when he returned in G5?

Does he have more things he can do with his fore when we saw him in G5 and should I put them in Spike’s arsenal of abilities?

Is “Location Fire” a good name for his unique inner fire?

What exactly should his “unique inner fire” be, and what can it enabled Spike to do?

Can you say something that can help me figure this all out? Please?

[warrenwoodhouse]

Chapter 3 - Kona Guide (Game Guides) (Guides)

Guide by @warrenwoodhouse

The General Store

Before leaving the store, collect the Empty Bottle from your truck. Leave the store and head south to the Lachances’ House. There, you’ll find the next crime scene. On the way to the house, if you pass the Frozen Fossilised Man, continue on this woodland trail to find Campfire 2, you’ll need a log, matches and a firestarter to light it.

Lachances’ House

Once you arrive at the back of house with the staircase and stones, head to the metal corrugated sheets to find a Magnet attached to it, then head to the front of the house to find some log piles and you can collect some logs if you need to before heading inside. Once inside the house, explore the crime scene. Here, you’ll find various notes about the Lachance’s but not much to go on in the investigation. Heading into the bathroom, you’ll find some items in the cupboards and you can fill your bottle at a tap to help with pain (green brain symbol in the invisible HUD, also visible in the pause menu, though). Once done, head back to the livingroom and set the stove on fire. Then look in the various cupboards in the living area. You’ll find a piece of Steak in the fridge. In the next room, you’ll find a Photo of the Store, turn the frame reveals the clue Bertrand Lachance, 1948 (Clue), this reveals the letter B for later on in the chapter. Head up the stairs and search the room. In the wardrobe you’ll find 10+ Polaroid Film. You’ll find the clue Gilles and Gisèle’s Wedding Photo (Clue) near the bed and you’ll also find the clue Cross (Clue) above the bed. Head back downstairs to the livingroom and take a photo of the Frozen Fossilised Woman (Clue) to unlock another clue, then approach the frozen woman to enter the dream realm. Enter the room next to the clock to find Gilles placing something secretly under the staircase, then head upstairs to see Gilles grabbing his rifle from the trunk. Head back downstairs to find the couple having an argument. Enter the bathroom to see Gisèle placing something secretly under the floorboards. Interacting with the floorboard reveals the clue Gisèle’s Diary (Clue) and this unlocks the “Frosty Relationship” trophy. Head back to the other room and interact with the wall panel to reveal a safe. It has two combination sections. The first one is the letter B, from the revealed photo frame earlier in the chapter. The other section is numbers, which are 7 3 9, like on the Necklace you found earlier. This reveals the clue Compromising Document (Clue). Leave the house to find a fire arrow in the post next to the reddish-orange trailer. Taking a photo of it adds the clue Fire Arrow (Clue). Head to the end of the driveway to find the clue inside the mailbox, the clue Letter from Gilles (Clue). This concludes the chapter.