Btw Sam’s Blurry Wife In The Background Of The Finale Is Eileen!! Eric Kripke Told Me Himself!!!

Mallow Flowers (1)

Malva sylvestris: Mallow carries many symbolic meanings that overlap, including romantic interest, healing, and survival in tough conditions.

(a/n) This is my first TWD fic but I've been watching the series for a while :) This post will also continue into a series, thankyou so much for reading and any feedback is appreciated (a/n end)

You don't know how long it had been since the world fell apart, days? weeks? months? It didn't matter, all you could focus on was the burning in your feet and shins, and the painful cramp in your ribs. The sun beamed down through the trees, what was once a beautiful green canopy you could find solace in, now obstacles as you ran through the woods, forcing yourself to keep going against your body's will. In some desperate attempt to ignore its pleas your mind went to anything it could, and that was the cause of the world’s fall. You had never been religious but you thought if there was a god, he had one fucked up sense of humor to bring the dead back to life. Though as if he heard you, an unearthed root caught your worn down sneakers and sent you tumbling head first down a hill. 

Finally your body came to a stop, more bruised than before, a stinging cut adorning the bridge of your nose, you're pretty sure it's broken. A groan left your lungs and you shifted to get up, but you were barely able to lift your hands more than a few inches off the muddy soil. Muddy… OH MY GOD. Mud, the sign that there was a stream in reach. As soon as the promise of water reached your cloudy mind, so did the scratchy feeling in your mouth and throat, that small stream suddenly became your goal, a life line to reach for. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Hand gripping the earth, slightly pushing your body up slowly, following the rhythm of your now caught breath. It was agonizing, not the physical pain, but the sound of running water, that couldn't be more than ten feet away, but was miles out of reach. Though you were never one to give up, not when you were little, not when your teenage self thought being happy was impossible, and definitely not now, not when your life depended on it when your life depended on it.

“Dad this is impossible, can't we just stop for today?” 

The wooden bow clutched that had fired arrows anywhere but the red not in the middle of the target. You knew it was possible to let go of that string and had the sharpened tip make a bullseye. You've seen it done many times, even by the tall man next to you, but in your hands it felt like you were destined to fail.

“It ain't impossible y/n, you just need practice more, if you give up now y'all know if the next arrow you shoot i'll be the one to hit that target”

His eyes met yours, and they held the same look they did whenever you tried to give up, the encouragement and strictness that kept you trying.

You hadn't hit a bullseye that day, but you went out the next and the next until that red dot no longer seemed like a threat, but an achievable target you had learned to concur. 

Each movement felt like dragging a weight behind you, the overexertion, sleep deprivation, and over all malnourishment was catching up. You didn't know you had crossed what felt like the Oregon trail to the stream until the cuts on your hands stung slightly at the cool liquid. It didn't take long for you to dunk your face into it, all reasonable thought gone as you scooped water into your mouth with your hands, stomach hurting from the odd feeling of not being completely empty. Laying back to face the sky you felt as though for the first time since the end, you weren't completely fucked. You knew you weren't safe, not with the dead walking, but that didn't stop your lead heavy eyelids from betraying you and falling closed.

Dreams have meanings, hell theres books about it. But you didn't quite know what a dream about a crossbow wielding man carrying you away from the stream you passed out is supposed to symbolize. Maybe he was sometime of guardian angel here to bring you to the afterlife? Who knows, if he is, at least your guardian angel's handsome

Fun fact of the post: I just got broken up with (^-^)

'not dishwasher safe' don't care i'm crazy. i'd put the holy grail in that thing

one of the many reasons Fleabag is so heartbreaking and relatable is because no one ever chose her. Not her family. Not her lovers. Not her supposed “soulmate”. The one person that picked her died. She was no one’s choice or option, not even to herself. The way we can feel her loneliness through the screen is enough to make me collapse into a mess of tears on the ground and shake uncontrollably

hey everyone its april fools. but dont worry i dont have anything planned. just going to sit here and...

I LIED !!!! GET PRANKED

POST BELOW ME GET FUCKING WET

How it feels to listen to take me out by franz ferdinand

Five More Minutes

Daryl x Gn!Reader Drabble

The sun streamed through the shades covering you two from the outside world and illuminated the face of the man next to you. He was still sleeping, but you knew he would be up soon as the sun was just emerging from the horizon. His arm had found you in the night and was now draped across your middle, holding you in the embrace you have found comfort in so many times.

Quiet moments where hard to come by in the apocalypse, so you cherished these few minutes of peace in you and Daryl's shared before starting the day.

The subtle rise and fall of his chest and his closed eyes was the calmest you ever saw him, and you tried to memorize every detail of his face in these minutes before life started up again.

Soon enough the urge to let him sleep was over run by the urge to touch him, and your hand moved from its position next to you and traveled his dark umber locks, pushing a few messy strands away from his face. Daryls nose twitched at the movement and his fingers tightened around your side, almost reassuring himself you where actually there before he blearily opened his eyes. As soon as he did his eyes closed again in a yawn.

"Morning sleeping beauty" You chided.

Daryl grumbled slightly but you could see the ghost of a smile hinting at his lips.

"Mornin'" His gravely voice was quiet, still weighed down by sleep. Arms stretching as he made a move to get up for the day his hand leaves your side and you frowed.

"Can't we just stay in bed a little longer?" You knew you both had jobs and duties to attend to, but you couldn't help yourself from wanting just five more minutes in bed with Daryl. After a second of silence he let his body fall back onto the bed next to you.

"If someone's pissed I's late to the council meeting m' blamin' you" He draped his arm around you again and you gladly cuddled into the comfort of his chest.

"Fair trade"

Sorry for getting physically ill over insane and pathetic queer men it will be happening so many more times

oh I see. it was the crime of wanting. that's why I deserve it.

sorry man im all booked

what fucking hell dimension are y’all blogging from