#been thinking a lot about postal recently

[martyryo]

Dudes from maths notes is all I can offer for now 😵‍💫

[ghastmaskzombie]

there's a bit in pratchett's going postal where someone accuses the protagonist of indirectly causing 2.338 statistical deaths. recently it’s made me wonder, did pterry ever think about the lives he saved, himself? the people pulled out of the dark by his writing, in the same kind of fractions and possibilities? the people who survived by kindness that was only offered because he made each of us a little bit better?

he saved a piece of my life. without discworld, i would have been a little less likely to have made it this far. we talk about how he’s not really dead while his name’s still spoken, and a lot of the time we reference that same book when we do. but he’s alive in so much more than that. there's a bit of his voice in every breath i take, because i don’t know for certain i’d be taking it if not for him.

and i think... don’t we all have that power? maybe the world would be a better place if we all understood that one well-placed kindness is all it takes to save a piece of a life.

[clazaries]

Just a Neighbour Thing

(MarcSpector! x f!reader)

Summary: Your neighbour Marc Spector is a pain in your ass. Until he saves your life. w/c: 3.9k Warnings: a lil bit of violence but nothing too graphic. Fluff! a/n: I'll be posting a masterlist soon because I think I've got about three or four fics out now and a few to come!

Marc Spector is an elusive character. A man of very few words and an enigmatic personality - not that you know him well enough to judge his character - but from the rare occasions where your paths crossed in your apartment building, it can be summed up with a small smile from you and a smouldering glare from him. Often aloof, the opportunity to get to know him better as a neighbour never seems to present itself and it leaves you struggling to understand who’s to blame. It’s obvious personal defects are the cause; but his or yours? 

There’s been many occasions where you’ve had to confront his brick-wall disposition, mostly due to the fact that his ringer on the main lobby doesn’t work, so naturally people go for the next best option which is to press the ringer directly below it: yours. You deliberately leave his mail to accumulate at your door until it becomes an unavoidable mound of tax letters, local advertisements and rent notifications and only then do you brave the trip to the apartment above to deliver his post. 

It’s always the same. You knock on the door in a rhythmic pattern that’s become yours. Within seconds he answers the door with the same cold expression, wordlessly takes his mail no matter how hard you try to start up a conversation and before long, you’re staring face to face with the shabby wooden surface of his door. The only thing that changes with each encounter are the clothes that he wears. Different but fairly relative to his style. Purely functional and never dressed for any occasion.

You didn’t mind it for a while. There was some satisfaction and fulfilment to be found while doing your neighbourly duties and despite the fact that there was every possibility he wouldn’t do it for you, you weren’t someone who held a grudge or felt like they had ever been owed a favour. But the mailman had happened upon you on a very bad day and you didn’t feel like accepting his parcel. You had recently been made redundant after the company you worked for did a reshuffling of working positions and yours wasn’t to be included in the new phase they had turned over. So you wallowed at home, watched numerous brain-rotting films, ate a load of junk food and drank lots of wine. 

It was nothing personal towards the mailman when he chapped on your door and demanded a signature for Marc’s parcel, but you couldn’t pretend to be the ‘lovely-neighbour-from-downstairs’ any longer. 

“This is for 8B upstairs. Says there.”

“I know. I can read,” the mailman grumbles, “but I tried knocking on his door but there wasn’t an answer. The parcel needs to be left with someone and you’re the nominated designee.” 

“Can’t you just leave it with another neighbour?” 

“No, says it needs to be left with you.” 

You look at the large rectangular box and consider it. Aside from Marc’s address scribbled on the top, the box is littered with numerous stamps from various international postal services, few you recognize. It looks to be well travelled and handled with very little care yet there’s nothing to suggest what’s inside. With a sigh, you take it from the mailman. It could be important, especially if it’s gone through so many countries to get here and the fact that you would be to blame if it got stolen or damaged. “Fine, I’ll take it.” 

The mailman looks to his feet where a growing pile of letters addressed to Marc starts to spill over into the threshold of your apartment, judgement washing over his features. “Do you…do you normally take all of his mail as well?” 

“Do me a favour? If you ever see the guy from 8B, tell him to come collect his fucking mail.” 

There’s a part of you that feels slightly bad for the mailman when you slammed the door in his face, but then you remember that if Marc stopped being so fucking immature about answering his own door to receive his mail, then you wouldn’t need to feel bad about anything. You leave the parcel sitting on your hallway table, waiting for the day Marc grows some responsibility and asks you for it. 

~~~~

When you placed the parcel on the hallway table, you didn’t expect that it would be sitting there for over a week collecting dust, nor did you expect the curiosity of what’s inside to completely consume you. You walked past it every time you left or entered your apartment. It was in the corner of your eye every time you sat in the living room. It practically radiated temptation every time you took notice of it, screamed at you like it was begging to be opened and you had to force your grubby hands to keep still and not reach for it. But you so desperately wanted to know what was inside. Why was it so conspicuous? Why has it suddenly become the most interesting thing in your apartment?

Perhaps Marc was testing you, sending you a little something of no importance to experiment with your curiosity and test whether or not he could trust to leave you with his personal belongings like he does with his letters. That’s certainly what it felt like by the turn of day eight of the parcel being there and you simply refused to be a rat in his experiment. 

That determination lasted for two whole days before it started to truly pester you. It was starting to get in the way and it felt as though it was getting impossibly bigger and bigger. On day nine you were ready to break it, smash it against every wall, rip every piece of cardboard that keeps it together and deliver it in that state to Marc yourself. From your sofa you stood, eyeing the parcel as if it was taunting you and with adrenaline thrumming through your veins, you stomped towards it. Hands outstretched, you were ready to throw it in any direction but something stopped you at the very last second. Something peculiar and completely out of the ordinary. You halted just centimetres out of reach from the parcel, centimetres out of reach from your door where you could hear the whispers of two or three men right outside. You could see the moulds of their bodies through the peephole. 

“Look, I’m telling you he lives here-”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. All his mail is sitting here. It’s definitely the right apartment. The parcel is in there.” 

The parcel. They’re here for the parcel. 

“C’mon let’s get this over with. He’ll be back soon. Where’s the crowbar?” 

In the very few heart-stopping, crucial seconds you have before anything happens, you quickly banish all hysteria and muster all rationality and flip over the keyless lock and quietly shuffle away from the door with the parcel in hand. You estimate you have about 15 seconds before they make any headway of getting into your apartment, not enough time for you to hide, but enough time to hide Marc’s parcel. After all, that’s what they are here for. With your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes scan over every nook and cranny of your apartment, quickly assessing each spot based on how likely the intruders are to find it and with the seconds dwindling into single digits, you make a snappy, slightly reckless decision. There’s a ledge just outside your kitchen window where you occasionally leave out some seeds for the birds and you think it’s just low enough that the parcel won’t be seen from the window. It’s risky but you’re running out of time, you have to move. 

Scrambling over counter tops and at the sacrifice of knocking over a few utensils, you manage to wrestle the window open and precariously place the box on the window ledge. It’s risky. The ledge isn’t wide and it’s windy, but whatever is in the parcel is just heavy enough that it stays rooted to the spot. 

Pulling back, your hand grazes the handle of a kitchen knife which, now that the intruders have made their way into your apartment, seems like a good idea to have. 

They round the corner into your living room and immediately start looking for the parcel, noticing you only a few seconds into their search. You point the knife in their direction standing courageously but your wavering breath tells a different story.

The three of them turn towards you from where they stand, and given their expressions, they are just as shocked to see you here than you are to see them. You weren’t supposed to be a variable in their plan. They were supposed to be burglarizing Marc’s empty apartment. Not yours. 

The two taller brown-haired men have similar features and builds, almost identical and you begin to wonder if they are twins. Brothers at the very least. But it’s the ageing stout man standing where the living room and kitchen divide who stares you down. He’s dressed smartly in a tweed suit with a golden pocket watch hanging from his waist coat, the type of man who doesn't like to get his hands dirty, because of course, that job belongs to the bulky twins behind him. This is a man who loves to watch it as it happens. He’s more business than manual labour. 

His facial features morph from shock to something sinister, his lips twisting into a smile that’s as greasy as the hair on his head as if the cruellest of ideas just crossed his mind. 

“I didn’t know Marc had a girlfriend,” he sneers. 

“He doesn’t,” you snarl, aiming the knife directly at him with two hands. “He doesn’t even live here either.”

“Oh, so his mail just gets delivered here on a daily basis?” The man hovers over to your coffee table and picks up multiple letters addressed to Marc, the ones that were delivered last week and remained there because of your stubborn nature. 

Okay, not off to a great start. “He doesn’t live here.”

He grins but it falls flat a split second later. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now where is he?”

“I don’t know because he doesn’t live here.”

“Bullshit. Where. Is. He?”  

“Not here. I’m not afraid to use this knife.”

“Oh, not from there you won’t. Let me help you with that.” The man crosses the space between you in three long strides until you’re pressed flat against the counter and the point of the knife grazes the tip of his waist coat. The audacity of this man is staggering. “Save yourself the hassle and tell me where Marc is.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where he is! Now get the fuck out of my apartment. Whatever it is you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“And have you call the cops on us? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out to grab you, and he almost does, but with your quick reflex swinging the knife around, you knick the palm of his hand. The man stumbles backwards with a pained yelp, watching the blood seep from his hand and drip onto your kitchen tiles, enraged that you would even do such a thing. Despite your heart racing and the slightly dizzy feeling of adrenaline raging through your veins, you stand strong, holding the knife even higher in warning. 

“You bitch. Boys!” He shouts and the two brothers come running to his side, sizing you up. “Tie her up. We’re not leaving without that package and I’m certain she knows where it is.” 

It was easy enough to defend yourself against this puny man with a knife, but against two brutes who manhandle you as if you are lamb for slaughter, you don’t stand a chance. Relentless, you squirm and wriggle and fight to get out of their grasp, and while you had accepted that you were fighting a losing battle, there’s still some pride to be had about how hard you made it for them. Rather than tying you up unscathed, Thing 1 ties your hands with a bloody, swollen nose and Thing 2 ties your ankle with a forming black eye and a bruise developing on his ribs. 

With you strapped to the chair, they stuff a gag in your mouth to dim your screams while they scramble to ransack your apartment, turning it upside down to find the fucking parcel Marc left you with. After 15 minutes passes by, your home is a riot; furniture broken, plates, mugs and bowls smashed, everything you own on the floor. 

“Boss, it ain’t here. We’re searched everywhere.”

“It has to be!” The stout man shouts, eyes glaring at you enraged. He crouches down, fiery ageing eyes level with yours. He rips the gag out of your mouth and presents a new threat. A razor sharp knife, gleaning in the light as he holds it directly in front of your face. “For the last time. Where is the parcel?!” 

“I am telling you. I don’t know,” you spit, trying with all your might to sound as convincing as possible. “I don’t know what parcel you’re talking about. I don’t know where Marc is--I don’t even know the guy! And he sure as shit doesn’t live here. And if any of you had half a brain to actually read the letters will realise that his address is the floor above me. He never answers his fucking door and that’s why I have all his mess at my door.” 

The guy jabs the point of his knife underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. A nauseous feeling stirs in your stomach, raising your body temperature and conjuring a little bead of sweat to drip from your hairline. Your teeth clamp down onto the inner lining of your cheek, hoping, praying, pleading for someone to burst through your door and save you.

You can’t see anything change within the man in front of you, not taking your word for gospel and the more frustrated he becomes, the more danger faces you. Temperament rising, the man grunts and knicks the skin of your chin, splicing the skin open. “Argh, fuck!” 

“Marc might not live here, but we know the parcel was delivered! And if you do end up with all his mail then it should be here. Now stop lying to me, you little bitch, and tell me where the fucking parcel is or you are going end up with a lot worse than a cut to your chin.” 

You watch in horror as he presses the edge of the knife over your wrist tied to the armrest of the chair and no amount of squirming can break the ties. Fuck, please tell me that I’m not going to lose a limb over a fucking parcel…

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes, your brave facade failing. You’re absolutely terrified

“I’ll give you some context then. That parcel contains something I want, an ancient Egyptian artefact that contains unimaginable power and would bring me a lot of wealth, and Marc Spector has no business taking it from me--” So that’s Marc’s surname. “And unless you want to keep your thieving hands, you’ll tell me where it is.” 

As he begins to press the knife’s sharp edge down onto your skin, you start to consider the depravity of the situation, the truth finding its way to your lips. There’s nothing more you want than for this to all be over, to be wrapped up warm and safe in your bed but you can’t shake the arrogance of this guy and his stooges, busting in here like he is entitled to, making a mess of your home, harming you, all to take something that was clearly meant for Marc, all because he thought it would be better with him than with Marc. 

No. Fuck that.

“I. Don’t. Know.” A glob of saliva gathers on your tongue and you spit it into the face of your capture, because if your words can’t send the message, hopefully that will. 

“You should believe her, by the way.” A voice emerges from behind you and simultaneously, all three men turn towards your front door in stupor. You try to twist your head over your shoulder as far as you can to catch a glance but he’s just out of your sight, however you don’t need to wait long before you get confirmation of who is standing at your door. 

“Marc Spector,” your captur states. “Finally.”

“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my neighbour’s apartment?”

“For the very same reason why you’re here, Marc. The parcel. Our parcel. The one you stole.” 

Marc snickers. Having gone so long without seeing what a smile looks like on his face, you’re itching to turn around and see him, but you only get as far as Thing 2 who stands with your back to you, blocking your view. “Torturing women for information? Tsk, tsk, that’s a little beneath your remit Donald, is it not? You’re wasting your time. I have the parcel locked up in storage.” An obvious lie, but not obvious enough to them. “She’s got nothing to do with it. In fact, I don’t even know her.” 

“I don’t care who I have to go through to get what is mine, whether it’s her or you, I will have it by the time the day is up. Boys!”

“Your mistake.”

In the space of a second, the three men in front of you disappear and you’re left to stare at the vast emptiness of your white walls as chaos erupts behind you. Grunts and groans of pain are spliced in between the sounds of punches and kicks being thrown, furniture breaking, bones crunching and bodies thumping to the ground, all of which you try to drown out by hunching your shoulders over your ears and closing your eyes. 

After suspenseful minutes of fighting, it’s clear one man stands victorious. Who? You don’t know. Aside from worrying about what kind of state of your apartment would be left in, you have no idea who you’ve been left in the apartment with and the likelihood of Marc succeeding against three men is slim and the anticipation is killing you.

At last, when a fully mummified figure with white glowing eyes kneels in front of you, you’re taken aback. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” His hand comes to tilt your head gently, inspecting the small cut to your chin with a small tut.

“...Marc?”

The mask that covers his face dissipates to reveal the Marc you recognise, looking more worried than you had ever thought he was capable of. He begins to make quick work of your bounds, easily ripping through them with a single fingertip where all the strength in your arms couldn’t. 

“What the…”

“It’s a lot to explain. I promise, I’ll explain later. Are you hurt? Are you alright? They didn’t do anything terrible to you, did they? Fuck. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry-”

“Marc, hey, I’m okay. Just a little shaken up I think.” Now free, you come to stand in front of Marc who, weirdly enough, seems to don this mummified Egyptian regalia as a suit of armour. You remember this ‘Donald’ guy mentioning something about an ancient Egyptian artefact and you assume it has to be related to whatever Marc is wearing. You even try to mention it, but you can’t seem to get a word in with Marc fussing over your safety and blaming himself for any harm that Donald and his men have caused you as he gently dabs the blood away from your chin. After futile attempts, you decide to leave it be, marvelling over the new Marc as he carefully handles you with care despite having treated you with such indifference up until a few minutes ago. 

Donald and his two bodyguards lie unconscious (...or dead?) on your apartment floor and you look over them with satisfaction, Marc’s unparalleled strength no match for them. Marc quietly lingers behind you, observing them over your shoulder with a similar resolve until he notices the complete disarray surrounding them. 

“Sorry about the mess.” 

You chuckle lightheartedly. “I’m just glad you came when you did. They got what they deserved.”

“Look,” he pulls you away from them to lock eyes, sincerity twinkling in his irises, “I really am sorry. I thought I was careful enough to not get anyone involved in my mess, but I guess I was wrong.” 

You crunch your eyebrows together, recollecting every instance of Marc giving you the cold shoulder. You always thought he was just an unfriendly neighbour, someone who had no interest in anyone but himself, who viewed everyone as an inconvenience. But it was his safeguard, his way of not letting anyone he knew or cared about come into harm. “So you being an asshole was on purpose?” 

“Completely. It was nothing personal.”

“I see,” you sigh, but with a gentle bump of shoulders, you add “I could’ve helped you, you know. You just needed to ask.” 

He shakes his head dejectedly. “It would’ve been too much of a risk.” 

“More of a risk than not asking me? I still got caught up in the crossfire anyway, if I had known why, or at least expected it, I could’ve been better prepared. I don’t need to know what trouble you got yourself into or what shady business you run, but I’m not just your neighbour, I could’ve been a friend if you had allowed me.” 

“It had never worked out for me in the past. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.” 

“Okay, I get it. You’re forgiven. But Marc? A word of advice for the future? Just answer your fucking mail then maybe, just maybe, I won’t need to be dragged into all of this again, yeah? They thought you lived here.” You pick up a handful of unopened letters addressed to him and bluntly shove them against his chest with an appointed look and smirk. 

He reciprocates the smile with less enthusiasm and turns his attention to your door. “Speaking of, I’ve got a very important parcel I need to track down. I actually have no idea where it is. I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

“About that.” You don’t say another word as you lead him to your kitchen window, awkwardly mounting your counter to reach for the parcel lying just outside your window. As soon as you bring it into view, Marc’s face lights up like you’ve never seen before. 

“You had it?! This whole time?! I heard you tell them you didn’t have it!” 

“I’ve had it for weeks, actually. Those clowns didn’t exactly take the quiet approach when breaking into my flat so I knew what they were here for. I just had enough time to hide it before they came in. And I can be quite the convincing liar when I need to be.” 

Marc quickly discards the parcel, throwing it onto the kitchen counter before throwing his arms around you, knocking the air out of you and squeezing tightly like his life depended on it. “You…are an angel. I can’t thank you enough.”

The two of you embrace for longer than what’s normal between two neighbours, partly in Marc’s resounding appreciation and partly because it feels nice. 

“In all honesty, I was two seconds from opening the parcel myself. The curiosity was killing me.” Marc’s laughter shakes his body, his warmth slowly leaving you as he draws back. 

“I can show you if you want. I figure you’ll be needing a place to stay while we get your apartment cleaned up. It’s the least I can offer for all the trouble I’ve put you through.” 

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

[box-off]

Hey guys, as much as I HATE internet drama and personally have a lot of stuff to worry about in real life instead of wasting my time here, discussing WHATEVER. I have to come here and talk about this.

First of all, I personally LOVE postal. All of the games, I own merch of it, I own the games, I even own the movie. I drew and will draw a lot of stuff about the game. I enjoy playing it, I enjoy creating for it, I just like it. And when I came around here I was pretty excited, there were a lot of people who share my interests and there still are BUT there's a bit of a problem.

I haven't been posting much stuff related to the games, mostly because I just didn't have time and I do other stuff that is not always related. And while I was away I kinda started noticing a bit of a shift in the fandom, maybe it's just me watching it from the perspective of someone who doesn't interact with it that much by now, but damn it does feel strange.

I'm going to dedicate this post to my dear @mayonnara, and if you want to see their point of view on this, please go check their recent posts.

True crime. True crime is interesting, if you think about it well enough, all human history is true crime but there's a bit difference between "Wow, this story is interesting, I wonder how that happened" and "Wow, those guys are hot and thanks to that we'll dismiss what they did, which is, killing people". You guys??? Are dumb. Sorry to say it, but don't put people who are genuinely interested in just crimes that happened and idiots who worship killers. I don't like when people worship real life people in general, but come on, those people specifically?? Why not go for Hitler straight away? He killed more people! Go to a fucking cult if you need to worship weird people so bad.

On other hand, you're not welcomed in the Postal community. When you enter any of the games the first thing you see is.... drum roll... A DISCLAIMER. That says what? "No violence in real life", "violence should stay in video games", and hey, did we all forget what is one of the reasons postal redux doesn't end the same way postal 1997 ends? Guys... sorry to tell you this... The devs DO NOT like people like you.

Reminds me a lot of how some smart-ass decided to make an edgy joke about a worker from RWS who had a really serious health problem. The game might be edgy, the RWS made it that way, yes. But I doesn't mean they enjoy you dumb fucking idiots who think that what is normal in a fictional world is okay in real life. Sick and twisted all you want, but have some dignity, keep your bullshit to yourself

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Pretty little letters 2

Dbf Negan x fem reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, dad finding out about relationship, some angst, obviously not canon at all, smut in this chapter, p in v, unprotected sex, both reader and Negan are consent king and queen. So yeah 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.1K (sorry another long one)

This is two of two chapters in this mini series.

_______________________________________

Waking up the next morning was a task in itself, your head was pounding, and the light filtering in from the cheap motel curtains was making things worse. You looked over at the wall clock 9:00am, pulling yourself up with a groan you headed for the shower, once in you began lathering yourself with soap to remove the stale alcohol smell. God last night was a blur, a few flashbacks start filling your mind, you remember sitting with a few women who invited you to their booth for some drinks, and you remember leaving before they dragged you onto the dance floor.

As the warm water spray roused you more you remember staggering home and passing out, ‘could have been way worse’ you think to yourself. After brushing your teeth and packing up your room, you grab your phone and car keys and make your way into town to find somewhere to eat. Maybe a good breakfast will help, although luckily your head hurts more than you felt nauseous.

Walking into a cute little diner you sit down and ask the waitress for pancakes, whilst waiting for your breakfast you pulled out your notebook and pen, deciding it was the perfect time to write your letters, it’s been a while since you’d written properly to your dad, and after your conversation with him last night you felt guilty. Thinking back on the phone calls of last night though your stomach drops, Negan and his date, argh! Surely he won’t go? He really didn’t seem that keen on it, you needed to put it out of your mind today, just be in the moment of the day! So you write your dad a little letter explaining where your off to next, before moving on to Negan's.

Hey Negan,

I’m currently sat in a cute little 50s style diner, I’m hoping breakfast cures this hangover a bit.

Maybe I had a little too much fun last night, though sitting with the middle aged women having a girls night seemed to be the right call, as I made it back to my room in one piece!

I’m going to head through New Mexico today on my way to LA, planing some stops on the way though. Going to stop in Arizona and see the Grand Canyon, I’ve always wanted to see it, maybe visit my best friend Gemma who lives in Tucson now, her and her husband have recently bought a puppy so I’m gonna be right in there!!

I hope you and dad are doing well this week, I miss you both a lot today, and please make sure dad doesn’t burn the garden shed down with his BBQ this weekend!

With love

Y/N

Xxx

On your way back to the car, you post the letters in the postal box on the sidewalk. The warm breeze kisses your skin as you walk, leaving goosebumps in its wake, it’s a beautiful day and you take pleasure in the little things that morning. Birds chirping, children laughing in the streets, a man who is dancing down the road with his headphones blaring out classic rock, not a care in his mind as to who may be watching.

Once back in your car you set your sat nav for a small town in the Gila National Forest, New Mexico and hit start, you’ll see how far you can get in a day, as you’re excited to get to Arizona. Whilst turning up your music you hear your phone buzz, ‘I’ll get that later you think’ eager to get going this morning, you have a long drive ahead of you.

_______________________________________

The flight had been awful, he was squished between a screaming child and a sweaty bald man, who felt it appropriate to tell Negan his life story. So once he had stepped through customs he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, good god he thought that was hell, but at least he will be with you in just shy of an hour, checking his watch he checked the time 8:30am he had time.

Once he secured a taxi he gave the man the motels address and counted the minutes down, he couldn’t wait to pull you into his arms and tell you he felt the same, that there’s no way he’s going to go on this date, that the only women he wants is you. Checking his watch again 9:35am and only 10 minutes until he’s at the motel, he ran over in his mind again everything he needed to tell you, he hasn’t ever declared love to someone before and he wants it to be perfect. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, he’s so nervous and he doesn’t know why? It’s you! He’s never been nervous around you.

“Here we are sir, Eunice south motel”, “Thank you” Negan answers, handing the man his money before grabbing his bags out the trunk, once the cab had left he made his way over to the reception, entering he found a young lad at the desk, he must have been 19 at the very oldest. “Hello sir, welcome to Eunice south motel, are you checking in?” He reads it out like a scripted monologue that’s ingrained into his brain. “Hello there, I’m wandering if you can help me, see I’m looking for a young woman, she checked in yesterday. She’s called y/n y/l/n, she is about this tall ‘Gestures with hand’ and she has h/c hair.” Negan asks.

“Oh yes! I do know who you mean, she was in room 27” the boy answers.

“What do you mean was?” Negan asks.

“Yeah well she checked out this morning, about 20 minutes ago actually, you just missed her” the boy nervously answers again.

Panic sets it, your gone how can you be gone already!

“Did she say where she was going at all?” Negan asks.

“Said something about finding some breakfast in town”

“Ok thanks” Negan responds before rushing out and calling another cab, hoping he can find you before you drive off. He tries calling your phone but it goes straight to voicemail. “Shit!” He mutters before deciding it was quicker to jog into town than wait for the cab to arrive. Hauling his backpack and duffle on to his shoulders he starts a steady jog into town.

Once he arrives he notices a 50s diner, that would be the exact kind of place you would go he thinks. Upon entering he asks the waitress if she has seen you, “Yes I’ve seen a girl matching that description, how do I know you’re not a pervert chasing her though hmm?” The waitress sneered, reluctantly Negan fished his phone out of his pocket, showing the waitress his Lock Screen, it was a photo of you and him, his arm looped around your shoulders pulling you in close, big grins on both your faces.

Negan was loosing time and patience, “Please have you seen her?” He asks once more. “Yeah I saw her she left about ten minutes ago, she left this accidentally” the waitress mentions, handing him your debit card. “Shit” he mumbles again, “She isn’t going to get far without that” he sighs. “Ok thank you I’ll see if I can track her down” he says as he leaves, your card in hand.

_______________________________________

You’re singing along without a care in the world, your phone is still buzzing in your pocket. You will check it once you stop for gas, you’d need to stop soon looking at the dash it’s saying there’s only 80 miles left.

Spotting one ahead you pull in, pulling out your purse when you notice it, your card is gone “Fuck!” You call out to no one. Luckily you noticed before you put gas in, pulling out your phone you notice you have 5 missed calls from Negan, that’s odd he doesn’t usually call that many times knowing you’re busy. You’ll have to call him back later you have bigger things to deal with right now, walking into the shop part you ask if they take Apple Pay, to which they state no. Groaning you go back out to your car, pulling it forward and out of the way of the pumps.

What are you going to do now?

You call your dad but he doesn’t answer, probably busy with work, you could call Negan back see what he could do, but he’s the other side of the country, there’s no way he could help. Sighing you close your eyes and groan, did you even have enough fuel to go back to the diner, that must be where you left it. But it’s 100 miles back and you only have 80 at a push! Checking google, there’s a town with your bank in ahead you could get a new card issued, that’s only 70 miles away, cutting it close but it’s the best option you had.

Searching your glove box for your phone charger you came across a scrunched up ball, pulling it out you found it was a $20 dollar bill and a $10 dollar bill. “Yes!” You cheer, that can definitely get enough gas to get me to the next town, once your car was filled as much as you could afford you set off once more.

Little did you know Negan was frantically trying to catch you up, now in another cab following the route that he was praying you took.

_______________________________________

You’d had success at the bank, another card would be ready for you to collect in the morning. They had also given you a cash withdrawal to pay for your motel tonight, all in all things weren’t too bad. You'd found a nice motel close by making it easy to walk over first thing, so with everything sorted you settled in your room for the evening.

Maybe you could find somewhere for dinner? You weren’t all that hungry though, you’d had a hell of a day and really you just wanted to rest. You’d spoken to your dad and assured him you’d sorted it, when he said he would leave now and come get you, you’d had to laugh though, he’d do anything to have you back earlier.

Laying yourself back on the beds itchy covers, you close your eyes, a nap may do you good.

Meanwhile Negan was going out of his mind, where were you! The cab driver was loosing his patience too, telling him to pick a motel and call someone else in the morning. He was just about to give up hope when he spotted your car in a motel carpark. “Stop! There! That’s her car!” He shouted, tears now filling his eyes from sheer relief! “Thank god for that” the cab driver muttered, Negan grabbed his bags with urgency, paid the driver and shot over to your car. That was definitely your number plate! He looked into the room behind the car, there you were, asleep on the bed safe and sound.

He gathered up all his courage before knocking on your door.

You shot up from the loud knock, it was heavy and urgent. You slowly shuffled to the door, as quietly as you could muster and peaked through the peep hole. Negan??? It was Negan, you grabbed the handle and swung the door open.

There he stood right in your doorway, with a face you couldn’t quite read, you usher him in closing the door “Negan what are you doing here? Not that it’s not good to see you! This is the best surprise ever! It’s just I’m confused why are you……..” your rambling was cut off by him flying forwards and smushing his lips against yours in a searing kiss, his hands found your cheeks as he pulled your body into his, after recovering from the shock, you threw your arms around his neck pulling him in even closer.

“I love you” kiss “So much” kiss “So Fucking Damn Much!” He punctuates between fierce kisses, you’re now struggling to stand upright, your legs buckling as so much emotion fills you, this is everything you’ve ever wanted. “I love you too Negan, so so much” you mumble against his swollen lips. He smiles against your mouth “I know, I got your text” you're confused now “My text?” You ask, “The one you sent me last night before you fell asleep” he mentions, now staring down at your beautiful face, memories start flooding back! You did text him, you told him not to go on the date and that you loved him.

Gasping your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh my goodness” you shake your head in embarrassment. “You were drunk weren’t you” he laughs, “Yeah a bit” you mumble still feeling incredibly flushed. “Hey” he moves your chin up to face him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I feel the same about you doll, I flew here! Chased you down in the back of a cab until I found you, god I sound like a stalker now don’t I?” He laughs, “No” you shake your head in disagreement, “I think it’s incredibly romantic, I’m so happy you found me!”, “Me too beautiful, me too” he agrees placing is forehead against yours.

“Oh I almost forgot! You left this at the diner” he mentions, handing you your debit card. “Oh ” you giggle, “I have already cancelled and replaced it, I’m collecting the new one in the morning.” You explain. “Hmm well maybe look after that one better” he laughs, you nod in agreement, before bringing your lips back to his in another passionate kiss.

Pulling him against you, you run your hands through his hair, slightly tugging the strands causing him to let out a low moan. Smirking at his reaction you do it again, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth in tandem. “Careful sweetheart, you’re going to start something you can’t finish” he groans, “Who says I don’t have every intention in finishing it!” You tease. He growls picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, before crawling over you and attaching his lips to yours once more.

You slowly start running your hand under his shirt exploring the planes of his toned chest, you can feel his heart thump under your fingertips, the rhythmic drumming grounding you, he is really here, this is really happening. “I love you” you blurt out once again, he smiles against your throat, “I love you too beautiful”. Moving your hand back down you tug at the hem of his shirt, “Are you sure sweetheart?” He asks, watching your features for any hesitation, “I’m sure Negan, you’re all I’ve ever wanted” you admit.

“Ok baby girl” he offers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before shuffling back to stand up. He smiles down at you as he pulls his shirt off, you sit upright tugging your sleep shirt over your head leaving your top half bare, before bringing yourself onto your knees. “You’re so gorgeous sweetheart” he admires as his eyes run over the exposed parts of your body.

You run both hands over his chest again, the look of love and admiration on his face as he watches you, brings up a mix of strong emotions. You’ve never felt so loved or so wanted in your life, the few college boys you’d been with before never took their time like this, they never made you feel this special and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Cupping your face in his large hands he pulls you in for another slow kiss, sweeping his tongue against your lips seeking entrance, which you grant happily, deepening the kiss. You move your hands downwards, fingers playing with his belt buckle, hesitating you break the kiss and look up at him, meeting his warm hazel eyes.

“Go on baby, I’m all yours” he whispers, that was all the confirmation you needed, you make quick work of his belt and jean buttons, before pulling them down his legs, he steps out of the offending material kicking it to the side. You lay back against the sheets lifting your hips, encouraging him to do the same to you. His fingers hook under your sleep shorts and panties before pulling them both off in one swoop, leaving you completely naked.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed he tugs sharply on your ankles, pulling them up and over his shoulders, bringing your soaked heat to his face. “This ok baby girl?” He asks, “Yes!” You reply pleadingly, lifting your hips a little as you speak, feeling like if he didn’t touch you soon you’d combust. “So needy baby” he teases, running his forefinger through your slit.

He groans when he feels just how wet you already are, “Shit baby, this all for me?” You whimper nodding frantically, “Negan please” you beg, becoming needier by the minute. He gives your inner thigh a playful nip before licking a firm stroke through your folds, you throw your head back with a breathy moan, fingers finding purchase in his hair.

He sets a steady pace, alternating between licking and suckling at your clit. He quickly learns what you like, as he starts working you open with his fingers, angling them upwards and reaching that spot that makes you see stars. “Fuck Negan I’m gonna come” you cry, reaching your peak fast. He works you through your high before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss to your hip bone.

As your catching your breath he pulls his boxers off and rejoins you on the bed, once more hovering over you. “Still sure baby?” He asks again, letting some self doubt fill his mind, he’s still unsure as to how someone as beautiful, young and brilliant as you, would want an old man like himself. “Yes, I told you, you’re all I’ve ever wanted Negan, please I want you” you answer, rolling your hips into his seeking that friction you so desperately needed. “Fuck baby girl, ok” he moans, taking himself in his hand he rubs the blunt end of his cock through your folds, before notching it at your entrance and sinking forward.

As your hips meet flush against one another you both let out deep moans, getting lost in the feeling of each other. “Shit baby you feel so good” he groans, “God I’ve thought about this for so long, I’ve needed you so much, can’t believe you’re now mine” he rambles, slowly thrusting in and out of your tight heat. “Fuck baby girl say it! Tell me you’re mine!” He begs, “I’m all yours Negan, fuck I’ve always been yours” you cry as you start meeting his thrusts.

The room is filled with the sounds of soft moans and broken gasps, you grab his shoulders pulling him in as close as you can, “Faster! Please go faster” you plead, moving your hips harder against his, he indulges you picking up speed, his movements becoming more frantic. “So close, don’t stop” you whine as the familiar feeling in your core builds, Negan moves his hand between your bodies rubbing your clit, causing your whines to grow louder, “That’s it baby girl let go for me” he encourages you, throwing your head back you give in to it coming hard, white hot pleasure cursing through you.

“Fuck! There you go baby, shit I’m close where do you want it” he asks, “Inside” you gasp another orgasm building, “I want it inside me” you affirm. His thrusts become rougher, rhythm becoming sloppy as he reaches his high stilling against you as he comes. You reach your high simultaneously, grasping onto him for dear life as you repeat his name like a mantra.

When your heart rates steady and the fog clears he looks down at you, removing a sweaty lock from your face, “you’re going to be the death of me, you know that baby girl?” You grin up at him, “Yeah but what a way to go huh?” You reply, he huffs out a laugh, “Yeah” he agrees, nuzzling in against your throat, “Let’s get cleaned up yeah?” He asks, “Yeah ok”.

Cuddled up in bed, drifting off in each others arms your heart felt so full. “I love you” you whisper before falling into a dreamless sleep.

_______________________________________

The next morning starts in a rather frantic rush, it was amazing to wake up beside the man you love, but you had a lot to get through. You’d managed though to go to the bank, collect your new card, grab breakfast together and pack up your room in just over an hour, leaving you feeling quite accomplished.

Walking out from your now vacant motel room Negan asks “So baby are you driving or am I?” You grin at him teasingly, “Oh you most certainly can drive! I want to relax. I’ve loved every minute of this trip, but it’s been heavy going” you admit. “You’ve got it sweet cheeks, today you can be my passenger princess” he proposes. You giggle at his comment as you enter the car, “So where too baby girl?” He asks, “Well I was heading towards Tucson to see Gemma and her new puppy” you mention, “Ok we will make our way there then, did you want to get it up on the sat nav?” He suggests. “But will you really want to come with me to see her?” You ask nerves settling in.

“Of course I do baby, I want to meet your friends, if you don’t want me to come with you, I can drop you off and collect you later?” He offered, “No I’d like to bring you with me, I guess I just got into my head” you sigh, “Hey sweetheart look at me” he says lifting your chin up to meet his gaze, “I am in this for the long haul baby, I don’t throw I love you around pointlessly, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you beautiful. So that means meeting your friends, your family and we do need to tell your dad.” He explains.

Your face falls at the mention of telling your dad, you would need to tell him, you couldn’t start a life with Negan and not tell your dad, and you knew Negan wouldn’t want to keep anything from him. The thought though terrified you, what if your dad can’t except it? What if he hits Negan?, shouts at you both? Refuses to talk to you? Fear sinks in your gut as you think of all the consequences.

“Hey darlin’ let’s not worry about it right now, but in the next week we need to tell him, yeah it may not go as well as we hope, but I can’t live without you, so we will have to make him see won’t we?” He asks, and he’s right, you cannot live without him either! You want the whole lot with Negan, a home together, marriage, maybe a dog? “Yeah ok your right we do need to tell him, just not today. Let us just live in this bubble another day?” You ask, “Yeah ok sweetheart” he smiles, before putting the car into drive and heading out to the highway.

_______________________________________

You’d reached Tucson by 2pm and after giving Gemma a quick call from an hour out, she’d told you she was home and excited to see you. Pulling up outside the address she gave you, your nerves were replaced by excitement of seeing your best friend again. As you got out of the car her front door was thrown open as she bolted out to meet you! “Y/N!!! Oh my god it’s so good to see you!” She gushes throwing her arms around you in a fierce hug, one you returned effortlessly. “I know!! It’s been too long! How are you? And where is this cute puppy I’ve heard so much about?” You ask excitedly.

“Oh he’s inside with Alex!! Gosh, I haven’t seen you since my wedding day home in Virgina! How’s your dad? Oh and your Nan? Are they well? We have so much to catch up on!!!” She rambles out without so much as a breath. You laugh at her antics, “Dad and Nan are both well yeah” you return. She looks up from you then and clocks Negan behind you, “And who is this?” She asks teasingly, grinning like a Cheshire Cat! You step back grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, “This is Negan” you answer, recognition flashes on her face, “As in the Negan? Your dads best friend? The one you’ve been in love with for years?” She whispers into your ear, he hears though, laughing at her very loud whisper.

“That would be me, but I’m lucky enough to be her partner now” Negan replies, you smile at him and then back at Gemma “Sooo puppy?” You ask again, Gemma giggles “I swear you’re more excited to meet the dog than see me!!” She laughs, “Well yeah?” You offer smiling.

The afternoon was great, you and Gemma sit on her kitchen floor playing with the puppy, while Alex and Negan talk about guy stuff and you can’t help but smile at how easily he gets on with everyone around him, despite being a couple of decades older than you all. It all feels so effortless, and you can’t help but feel excited for your future together.

Once alone Gemma asks you “So you haven’t told your dad yet?”, “No not yet, it’s only been a couple of days that it’s been official you know? I wanted to live in this happy bubble before my dad bursts it. I know he won’t be happy” you sigh, “Well if you two were this obvious before, then I think he already knows, or is at least waiting for it to happen.” She offers, “What do you mean?” You ask confused. “Y/N, you look at each other like the other hung the moon in the sky, you are obviously very much in love, and that didn’t happen over night. I’m telling you he knows something, your dad isn’t a stupid man. I think he’d be more upset if you kept it from him now it’s happened, than the actual happening of it, if that makes sense babe?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. I just worry because I can’t loose him you know?” You sigh, “I know and you won’t, you’re an adult remember? He can’t stop you both being together” she offers giving you a playful nudge, you nod at her giving a small smile. You are still worried though about how this will all go. Just then the men walk back into the room breaking your train of thought, “You’ll both stay for dinner yeah?” Alex offers, “Yeah that would be lovely thank you” you smile.

The journey to the motel that night was quiet, you were deep in thought and Negan didn’t want to pry and make you uncomfortable, he ran a gentle, comforting hand over your thigh. “We need to tell him” you blurt out, “My dad I mean, we need to tell him, Gemma is right, he’d be more upset about us not telling him than anything else” you offer, he gives a deep sigh glancing at you “Yeah I think she’s right too, when did you want to do it baby?” He asks.

“Tonight” you declare, “The longer we leave it the worse it will be” you decide. “Ok baby girl.” He agrees. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shitting it, but it needed to happen, he couldn’t have a life with you in secret.

_______________________________________

It’s been an hour now, an hour you’ve been sat in the motel room. Well Negan is sat, watching you from his spot on the bed, as you pace back and forth the room clutching your phone. “Sweetheart, just call him it will be ok, I’m right here.” He comforts, grasping your hand as you try and pace past him again.

“Ok ok” you give a deep sigh before calling your dads cell phone. “Hey kiddo! It’s been a couple of days, everything ok?” You dad asks, “Yeah dad I’m fine, actually I’m really good. I’m in Tucson I’ve just got back from seeing Gemma” you mention, “Oh that’s great honey, how is she it’s been a year since her wedding!” Your dad answers, “Yeah she’s good, her and Alex have a new puppy, he’s super cute” you say, “Aww that’s good, you spent the day playing with him then?” He asks, “Yeah that, and just catching up you know?” You reply, “Yes I know well how you two get when you are catching up” he laughs.

“So I have something I need to tell you” you say biting your nails nervously, “Ok kiddo? You ok?” He asks, “Yeah like I said I’m really good ummm, Negan’s here with me” you say, “Negan is with you? What as in right now?” Your dad asks and you can hear the confusion in his voice, “Yeah as in right now, here in my motel room with me” you say nervously, “Hey Mike” Negan speaks up, confirming he was in fact with you.

“Negan’s with you in Tucson? In your motel room with you? Why is he there with you? How is he there, he was here just a couple of days ago.” Your dad asks his voice becoming more frustrated while he tries to put together what is going on. “Yeah he flew out to me a couple of nights ago dad” you respond, you know you are beating around the bush, buying time but the anxiety is overfilling now.

“Put him on the phone Y/N!” Your dad demands, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea dad, just talk to me” you deflect, but Negan hands out his hand for your phone, reluctantly you hand it over to him. “Hey Mike it’s me” Negan answers, “Do you want to tell me why you are in a motel room in Arizona with my daughter Negan, because I am really struggling to understand this.” Your dad asks angrily, “Well it’s a long story, but in short she admitted her feelings to me so I flew to her to tell her I felt the same way” Negan answered, trying to keep as calm as possible.

“Feelings? What feelings Negan?” He was definitely confused, his mind not quite catching up with everything, or wanting to ignore what he already knows. “I love your daughter Mike, I have for a very long time, and I think deep down you’ve known this a while too” Negan replies, “Well I knew you two were close, and I had suspicions, but I never really put much thought into it. She’s young enough to be your daughter Negan!” Your dad shouts, “I know that, I know the age gap isn’t ideal Mike but I love your daughter very much. This isn’t some fling I want to assure you of that, I’ve never felt this way before. I want a life with your daughter, a home together, the whole nine yards.” Negan explains calmly hoping to make your dad understand.

“I’m going to need some time to come to terms with this….. I need to go” beeep, the phone line goes dead and you look down at Negan worriedly. “Come here baby girl, it’s going to be ok, he’ll come around” he says pulling you into his arms. “He just needs some time, we did the right thing not keeping it from him” he continues, kissing the side of your head.

Later that night while Negan is softly snoring behind you, you lay awake worrying. Your phone buzzing tears you from your thoughts, it’s a message from your dad.

Hey kiddo

I have to know how long has this been going on really? Xx

Hey dad

We were being honest, it’s been just over 24 hours, we couldn’t keep it from you. Although we hid our feelings from each other for years this is very new. I love him too though Daddy, I can’t live without him now, and you know he’s a good man, he won’t hurt me. I don’t expect you to understand it, I just hope you can come to except it.

Xx

Hey kiddo

Thank you for telling me from the start, I’m glad you don’t ever keep things from me. And I can appreciate how hard that was to do, I need some time ok? But I love you that will never change ok? Xx

Ok dad, love you too xx

_______________________________________

You both spent another two weeks travelling, you saw the Grand Canyon and it literally blew you away, but that niggling feeling in your heart kept twinging “We need to head home Negan, I need to see him and fix this, I haven’t heard from him in weeks” you say, “Ok sweetheart, let’s go home” he agreed, he hated seeing you so churned up.

Arriving back in Connecticut felt weird, seeing the familiar streets pass by in a blur, as you head to your home street. Pulling up in your drive you notice your dads truck is there, signalling he was home. Negan gives your leg a gentle squeeze “Come on baby, let’s sort this out yeah?” He asks, “Yeah” you sigh exiting the car.

Entering your house you take in its familiarity, you let that in itself comfort you. Taking Negan’s hand in yours you make your way through to the kitchen, you notice your dad in the garden mowing the lawn, no wonder he hasn’t come greet you.

You tap loudly on the window causing him to snap his head up, emotion filling his features when he sees it’s you. He kicks off the mower and rushes inside, you let go of Negan’s hand and throw your arms around your dad. “What are you doing home kiddo? Not that I’m not happy to have you home! It’s just your not due back for months” he asks, “I couldn’t be away with everything up in the air dad, I had to come home and see you.” You admit.

Your dad looks over your shoulder at Negan and then back at you before giving you a small nod, “Yeah ok let’s sort this” he sighs motioning for everyone to head into your living room.

“So I’ve had some time to think it through, and I guess I did always notice something between you both. I guess I just hoped I was wrong” your dad starts, his confession causing Negan to wince, “But you are both my favourite people on this god forsaken Earth, and I do want you to both be happy. So I will except it, but I can’t say I understand it” he offers.

You go to speak but your dad cuts you off “I also know that you won’t listen to anything I say y/n so there’s no point going there. It’s not like I can stop two adults from being together. But if you ever hurt her Negan I swear to god” he threatens, “Absolutely man, I’d expect no less” Negan agrees. “Ok then, come here kiddo” he offers pulling you into another hug. Then he turns to Negan shakes his hand and gives him an awkward side hug, “I’m trusting you ok buddy, with the most important thing in my life, you understand that?” Your dad asks, “Yeah I know, I can promise you I will love and cherish her for every day I have left” Negan affirms.

Your dad gives him a nod, “Ok then guys it’s Friday night, so pizza and a board game?” Your dad offers, “Sounds perfect dad” you smile, snuggling into Negan on the sofa,

Just like that everything was right again, you were home with your boys eating pizza and fighting over monopoly, everything was as it should be.

Taglist

@lanadelnegan @lunajay33 @akah565

[sil3ntfr34k]

(I’ve been losing my fucking mind recently)

All Postal Dudes Thoughs

Postal 1 Dude is so fucking scared all the time. Like he hardly ever has truly quiet moments where he’s completely relaxed. Champ does help here and there with his anxiety, but an unknowing dog can only do so much.

To keep up with the timeline of Postal 1 Dude and Postal 2 Dude having champ, The original Champ with Postal 1 Dude is the father of Postal 2 Champ. Postal 2 Champs actual name is Champ Jr., but Postal 2 Dude just calls him Champ bc he forgets about the Jr. part😔

The Postal Dudes have not bought their Champs a toy in years bc they know Champ will just tear it apart in milliseconds. Instead, they just find random dog toys outside (steal them from backyards) or a stray ball to give to Champ. They don’t even clean it off or anything, they just give it to him as it

Postal Dudes don’t like video games, but they still appreciate the arcade. They don’t spend a lot of time there, but they’ll play games for at least 10 minutes before getting bored again.

All Postal Dudes have some form of schizophrenia. Postal 1 dude is the worst of them all, having delusional thoughts, hearing quiet whispering voices, seeing strange objects or movement just out the corner of his eye, and having extreme social anxiety with paranoia. Postal 2 Dude has the potential to be as bad as Postal 1 Dude, but they come more in episodes than having them present all the time. Postal 2 Dude is also able to go into public without worry unlike Postal 1 Dude, yet the paranoia will still hit. Postal 4 Dude has it the ‘easiest’, only having quiet distance voices and small amounts of social anxiety, but he’s able to control it the best. (I don’t know enough about postal 3 or postal brain damaged I’m thorry 😔)

All Postal Dudes had a very small phase where they liked to dress up Champ. For like a week, Champ had a mini wardrobe of jackets, shirts, hats, and even sunglasses. Champ actually didn’t mind it, he was just happy to be included. If you knew the Postal Dudes during this phase, you could walk into the front yard and Champ would greet you in a very nice shirt with a small pair of sunglasses and a hat.

All Postal Dudes have vocal stims. Postal 1s is small bird chirps, Postal 2s is “WakaWaka” (Pac-Man), and Postal 4 is “Boomshakalaka”. They are all old if you couldn’t tell…

(All I can think of rn, very small 😔)

[velandvithestarlightgullwings]

To the Pro-Palestine Protestors...

So, I've noticed that everyone has been so angry in regards to Gaza and looking at people voting for Kamala (never Trump btw) and excuse them every which way of being Zionist, colonizers, and how people don't care about Gaza.

In all honesty, I think people are missing the forest from the trees. Americans of all sides of the political left spectrum live in a place of privilege. And to be more specific, white lefties and liberals' live in a place of privilege.

When you bring up Gaza and voting, you hear a lot of white liberals crying "How can you vote for "Killer" Kamala? I'm not voting! I'm voting third party! They have to earn my vote! BLUE MAGA! BlueAnon!" Not aware that many people are scared about where the country they were born and raised are going through.

Many people have just "woken" up to the devastation that was caused from Trump's presidency after refusing to vote/voting third party in 2016. From getting rid of RvW by forcing through two Supreme Court Justices, removing Affirmative action, actively targeting trans people with horrible laws, trying to control women's bodies, targeting protections for Climate Change, the rise of incels culture (ask South Korea how bad that's going for them), the gutting of the Postal service, book burning, the gutting of pandemic response (right before COVID), turning D.E.I into the latest dog whistle. People are finally understanding the damage don't want to lose any more, especially with Project 2025 on the horizon if he wins again.

And a lot of these things often hurt minorities to a crippling degree and will hurt them if Trump wins again.

Because of this, when Kamala stepped in when Biden stepped down, people threw their weight behind her because they don't want to live in a world where Trump wins again.

On the flipside, you have Palestine.

The Israel-Palestine conflict has been ongoing for 75 years now, with the recent attack by Hamas inflaming things to a full on genocide for the Palestinian people by local colonizers, Israel, led by Benjamin "I have to fight so I don't go to prison for crimes" Netanyahu.

Many aren't aware that during Trump's four years of horror, he actually caused October 7th to happen. On December 6, 2017, President Trump formally recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and moved the American embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.

In the age of the internet, people are more connected than ever to the plights of those around the world, Ukraine being one, Congo another, and Palestine, which the latter eclipsing the first two.

Israel's anger over October 7th, which many Israeli's compare to 9-11, caused them to lash out at the many innocent people of Palestine. Because of Biden's lackluster response to trying to quell the continuing of a 75 year old issue, many have taken to the streets in protest of the conditions and indignities that Palestinians have gone through.

With the threat of another Trump presidency brushing up against Palestine supporters, its caused a divide with many pointing fingers.

As a black woman, who is engaged to another woman and has a trans brother, I am deeply aware of what a Trump presidency can do and the harms that have come from it and what will come from it. I've posted plenty of articles, both writing by myself, along with those from reputable sources, going over what we can expect if Trump wins while also showing my support for Palestine and her people. I've done protests, I've donated and I do the best I can to uplift their voices.

With that said, I've recently realized that the Pro-Palestine movement has been invaded by influencers, bad faith actors, those that believe in accelerationism, and those that are deep in the Antisemitism sauce. Vultures, essentially, and what was a just case has morphed into a case that would rather see the United States and those who live there perish so that Palestine can stay alive.

So when you have a group that doesn't want their rights being taken away just after realizing how bad it's become because of one party vs a group who are protesting the rights of another, things will get a little hard.

Here's a little story.

My grandparents was part of the Civil Rights movement with my Grandfather quickly going to Vietnam in the short time they overlapped. I've heard the horror stories from them for years.

How they were beaten, hosed, bitten by dogs, called all sorts of slurs, spat on, just the absolute worse that humanity can offer. Not to mention the many lives that were lost around them.

But, because of their sacrifices, and the sacrifices of those around them, they were able to succeed in their mission and now we have civil rights for not just black people, but for all people in the united states.

Black people are aware of what our elders had to fight for and when my grandparents, people who are on the last years of their lives, heard the rhetoric Trump and his party were saying, they were horrified. It took them back to that turbulent period in their lives.

I remember shortly before Biden stepped down, my grandmother busting into tears, asking how this country could elect a monster like Trump and how he could even be in the position he is now where he could win and how all they fought for was about to be ripped from them.

I argued in the defense of Palestine, but my grandfather asked me a question. "What good is trying to fill a cup from your cup when your cup is empty?"

It was at that time I realized that despite Gaza going through the trauma and pain they were going through, I couldn't just withhold my vote because of my feelings. Because he was right. America, whether people disagree or not, influences the world. We've seen it with Civil Rights, we've seen it with Gay Marriage, we've seen it with MAGA. we do, everyone else shortly follows. It's why a lot of people despise the United States.

We're the stone and the rest of the world is the water. We cause ripples with everything that we do. and if we allow ourselves to fall to Facisim, the rest of the world will follow suit. You may think it's arrogant, but it's not. It's a factual observation of the world.

As I mentioned before, black people know what is at risk. All of us aren't voting for Kamala because she's black or because of the "Vibes." For some, that may play a part, but for the majority, we do it because we know what is at risk if Trump wins and we know who will be first to feel his dictatorship.

As much as I hate to say it, white LGB people can always return back to the closet. They are white first, and their orientation second. It would hurt them deeply to do it, especially after living free for years, but they can always hid who they are. Trans people and minorities, not so much.

We have to protect ourselves and a lot of people on the Pro-Palestine side are upset by this fact. Maya, a known pro-palestine supporter and Palestine herself, came out with two videos.

Basically calling black people (especially black woman) colonizers and to let ourselves die to uphold Palestine. She resorted to bigotry and in turn, spat in the face of many of us who not only was down with the cause, but also used our voices to defend it.

I use this as an example because this is what many of the protestors want for the American people as a whole who are terrified for the rights they are losing by telling them not to vote or vote third party.

"To hell with your worries and fears risk of losing everything wanting to save yourself! What about them?! Both sides are evil! This is 1st world problem! River to the s-"

Stop.

So many people live in a place of privilege thinking that what happened to Germany can't happen here so they feel that they can sit it out or actively hurt the only way people can fight back against Trump and his RNC rule but they literally aren't paying attention.

Every day, the RNC and the Supreme Court Trump set empowered are stripping away our rights.

I'm not saying not to care.

Protest for Gaza, donate to their causes, uplift them every chance that you can get. Because Israel is doing evil and is actively committing genocide and colonization on a group that they have hurt for so many years.

But you can't condemn people wanting and needing to protect themselves as well. Especially when you have someone who is promising to become a dictator day one. Not voting or voting third party is not an option. If we start toa grassroots option for someone third party the second the election ends, then show up four years later, then we might have a shot. But until then, we only have two choices.

Kamala.

Trump.

They are the two that will sitting as president when the election is over. and there is only one choice in order to protect ourselves.

Because Trump is in record wanting to give police immunity. He is on record wanting to deport pro-Palestinian protestors and protestors of any kind.

He already even tried a Muslim ban.

This man is evil and this is our only shot to defeat him.

Make the right choice.

I posted two videos that TL:DR my thoughts on things by two beautiful women. At least watch those.

[deth-of-a-junkie]

i have a lot of postal dude headcanons, so ive split them up.

so heres my postal 1 dude headcanons

p1 dude has a special interest on the jets and weaponry used in ww2 and the vietnam war, but also the U.S military as a whole. he specifically likes to collect vintage U.S military memorabilia and propaganda. he can go on for hours about the faults of the government and government greed and corruption, he hates the system. he also knows a lot about JFK assassination theories and will go on for hours about them.

oh yeah. postal 1 dude is autistic.

he also has a spin on guns. he knows them all by name and loves to learn about different manufacturers and how each one are built. he knows how to deconstruct them and put them back together. he even has some guns he's made himself. legal? probably not. he doesnt care.

p1 dude also prefers reading in books for information instead of searching the web for them, so amongst the mess of his house is just piles upon piles of books.

p1 dude also is great at poetry. he loves writing too, which is why i think he started his diaries.

he also loves drawing! he loves going out and drawing scenery the most, he also likes drawing nude figures. he finds the human body to be interesting.

p1 dude is religious. im divided on if i see him as someone whos spiritually aligned closer to catholics (though i wouldnt call him a straight up catholic, he doesn't like the church.) or pagen.

talking about pagen dude, correct me if im wrong, i dont know much about pagenism (but ive been trying to learn more as of recent), but he specifically worships greek gods. out of the gods, his favorite is ares.

he hangs around poostall dude a lot. they arent really friends, they're kinda opposites of each other, but poostall looks up to him as a mentor in philosophy among other things.

he used to be active in his local punk scene when he was younger. he has a lot of cds and tapes of obscure bands that almost no one has heard of.

he loves metal more then anything though, and he also has a large collection of horror films (all on vhs, a few of dvd. he doesnt have his dvd player plugged in so he only uses it if he has too. also refused to buy blueray. if its the only option he burns it onto a disk himself.).

his favorite genres of metal are melodic death metal and prog metal. i would also say dsbm but i feel like thats too corny. he loves opeth. also death.

he's non-speaking most of the time by choice. the older he's gotten the more he started to isolate himself, and he usually chooses to ignore people when theyre talking and not respond at all, mainly just people who ask for directions and stuff on the street he'll just ignore. he just doesnt feel the need too, he likes to stay invisible.

talking about that, he hates leaving his house. it used to be because of anxiety but it slowly became due to his other mental health issues getting worse, especially his fear of everyone being out to get him/everyone else being demons/whatever your interpretation of his reasonings behind postal 1 is.

3 in one shampoo. also uses hand soap to shave instead of shaving cream. also uses hand soap to wash his face...

he needs glasses. his sunglasses also has his normal prescription lenses in them, his eyes are sensitive to light so he chose to make them sunglasses too (i believe this is possible. if its not, well it is now). he also has a 2nd pair that are just normal glasses, he uses them only to read or when he's walking around his house at night. (this is totally not me self reflecting with the realization that i just found out i need glasses..../s)

I DONT KNOW HOW I FORGOT TO MENTION but also has a special interest on nuclear disasters, nuclear power plants, and radiation. theyre not separate theyre all apart of one fixation that branches off the core idea of nuclear power. like he cant have one without the other. if that makes sense.

also uses he/they. he doesnt out right say it, he doesnt use social media so its not like, in a bio or anything. he just naturally picked it up. will also accept she being used to refer to himself, but is not something he states publicly or asks people to do. he was surrounded by the queer community growing up as most of his highschool friends were apart of the community so he just one day realized he wasnt opposed to it being used in reference to himself.

he is an ASSHOLE. he used to be more considerate in his youth but the older he got the grumpier he got. he is SCARY when he insults someone. like he will have an entire ass speech of him just degrading someone until they literally have nothing left to say for themselves.

doesnt get angry though. he's calm when hes upset and frustrated, or will straight up just make fun of and make harsh jokes about the situation (i mean that like. if he gets into a disagreement with someone on the street he will laugh at them and mock them by teasing them. thats what i mean.)

[eyrieofsynapses]

good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.

y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.

I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.

I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?

when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?

that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:

what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?

it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.

and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.

there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.

[cadere-art]

Is your worldbuilding based off an already created work? (I have a feeling it's not but I'm not great at recognizing fandoms)

Also I want to know more about the worlds referred to in the species descriptions you've posted. Are we talking planets? Realms? Continents? How does travel happen?

All my work is original! I think it's cool that fandom spaces exist but I've never been a big fandom person myself.

I have, mainly, three settings I'm working on, from most recent to oldest: Ostbaye Moon is a sci-fi setting I'm occasionally working on with my husband for a TTRPG project which may or may not eventually come to life. I haven't really posted about it here and I'm not actively working on it at the moment. This setting is set on an habitable moon of a gas giant which is coveted by different alien factions who want to exploit, inhabit, protect it and more. This setting has several planets and stuff implied but is centered on that moon. This setting has some sort of FTL and wormhole tech but it is somewhat unimportant to it.

Pigeon Aéropostale, which I've been posting about recently, is a story set in the fantasy setting of the Endworld / Le Terminal. The Endworld is a planet or a dimension which has a one-way connection to a few other worlds, including ours. When a lot of things die in a small time/space region, there's a chance that at the moment of their death, they will find themselves alive and intact in the Endworld. No one has ever returned to one of the origin worlds from the Endworld - most people in the Endworld were born there, descendants from people who, at some point in the past, materialized from a tragedy in their origin world. The Endworld is planet-sized (whether this is constant or the Endworld is expending is a source of in-world debate), but the story mostly happens in Iscea (Iscée), a country rolling into industrial revolution at full steam in which Sébastie Jayde, illegitimate daughter of a trading magnate, is trying to build the first postal airline out of aviation's first hiccups.

Uanlikri, my oldest (and biggest) setting, is a fantasy setting with no magic whatsoever that I would personally rather describe as a bronze-age sci-fi. There's a lot of anthropological intent to Uanlikri. Uanlikri is one of the continents of the antiole world - the one with the dinosaur guys (there may or may not be antioles in Endworld as well - there were, when I was working on it 10 years ago, but now that I'm working on it again I'm not sure I want to keep them in. Time will tell). Uanlikri is a large continent, slightly smaller than Africa. There are other continents on this planet, but for the sake of my sanity, I'm not touching them except to the extent where people there have active relations with peoples on Uanlikri. Travel on Uanlikri is mostly by foot or by boat. Most of my work on Uanlikri is centered in the Basin region, which I haven't really posted much about because I've been busy working on my "Peoples of Uanlikri" vignettes for the peoples of the South, but suffices to say that the Basin region is a mediterannean-ish theater of empires hitting eachother and themselves on the head over centuries. The Basin region of Uanlikri is home to two stories I hope to write someday, both about the fall of the Namitan Empire, a large polity in the North of the Basin: The Flight of the Winged Serpent, which recounts the life and death of the last Emperor of Namitie, and Empire's Wake, which takes place in the vassal state of the Protectorate of Ranai as the Empire crumbles into civil war after the death of the last Emperor.

[hals-homo-blog]

⚠️Pinned Post Under Construction⚠️

About

Heyyyy I am Hal. I'm 23, Bigender, He/Him > She/Her. I am an Animator, Illustrator and Writer, though I haven't been making a lot of finished pieces at this tough spot in my life. I always keep trying tho ^^.

I am an adult, and there is gonna be 18+ Adult content on here. I have the #suggestive tag for people who don't wanna see that, and I Highly Discourage any minors from following me. If you're gonna follow me anyway, block the tag. If I catch minors liking/reblogging adult stuff off my page, yer gettin' blocked, pal. Sorry.

Headmates, tags, DNI and Headcanon Submission Info below the cut :3c

DNI - The usual stuff, haters, any kind if -ist or -phobic (not fear obv but prejudice, lol) Anti-endo and proship

Headmates

☆ Vincent (Yeah, that one) Vincent Afton, my beloved husband, I made him On Accident. I've been messin' with him for like, 7 or 8 years now, but I only recently found out he was his own person up in my head there.

Gordon Freeman (Freeman's Mind)

Postal 3 Dude (Postal 3) OUGh this is the newest one, he's literally So Silly. The Grinning Sniler...

Tags

Hal Art - My art Hal Talk - Thoughts nobody asked for Hal Answer - Answers to asks Halcore - what it says on the box Hal's Bookshelf - Stuff for me to read Hal's Homo Headcanons - If people send me prompts, I'll do Headcanons and stuff =w= Suggestive - Minors pls block this tag or just don’t follow me 🙏 /lh  🛒 - shit I wanna buy at some point MY HUSBAND - Vincent posts THE POOKIE - Freemind posts LULU - Alucard posts ROWOBOT - Swerve posts The Sniling Grinner - Postal 3 Dude posts PeePaw - Postal 4 Dude posts

These are all just ship tags Hal x Vincent Hal x Gordon / HalMind Halcyon x Alucard / Halucard Rod x Dude

HEADCANON SUBMISSION THING

Uhhhhhh idk anything this is UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Characters I think I could do

P2 Dude P3 Dude P4 Dude? Maybe? Vincent Afton, he's my hubby so prolly not shipping him around =w=

Gordon Freeman - Freeman's Mind

[nathantheauthor]

I'm excited to get into the post I'm going to drop as I finish it, take a while, but the next major information post isn't a character exploration... But, design concepts! The four main designs for the characters throughout the Revver era of the Ripper Inc story. But as I put that on the back burner, this post is about mythology and the international branches. It's not going to be that detailed. Just kind of a teaser for some of the stuff going on with them and some of the conceptual ideas, and some of the crossover elements of the universe.

For those who are just seeing this, the main concept of Ripper Inc in this giant crossover fanfic sandbox is a company that reforms monsters and serial killers, or even just gives people a job. Austin time they hunt down other serial killers and monsters, but sometimes they're hired security, birthday party attractions, etc. They're technically morally good, they'll do anything they're paid to do, but a lot of them do have very questionable backgrounds and needed the mental help program offers. Of course, most of the following examples don't fit that criteria, as they were approached due to already being morally all right, most of them at least. The main idea of the organization is to rehabilitate killers and monsters by turning their violent tendencies on to other killers and monsters all while giving them psychological help they need.

But, before we get into the lot of their members, I think we should introduce....

BRANCH DIRECTORS (PART 1)!

Because this whole postal focus on just the briefest summary of the directors.

Mary-San!

Starting with Japan's very Phone Call From Mary. This is one that's very much done for both the colony of it and because of the terrifying practicality. For those unfamiliar with the urban legend, Mary-San, or Phone Call From Mary is a Japanese ghost story about a haunted doll and phone challenge rolled into one. As per the legend, if you call her first you will get a series of phone calls from Mary-San, each one her announcing herself in a location you had recently been to until finally It All leads up to "Hi, this is Mary-San, I'm calling from behind you." Her height may make her a comedic choice for a largely yokai branch, but she is the perfect tracker, equipped with only a phone call she is a master strategist and can locate anyone.

I am also very much playing with the backstory of her mythology, with the very reason she originally joined Ripper Inc being the promise of finding her original owner, who by the point she enters the story is already a very old woman. By the time the promise is fulfilled, it's a visit to the grave of the woman, with the rest of her branch and her own boss there to comfort and support her.

Sun Wukong!

Also hailing from Asia comes the Chinese branch director, The Monkey King himself. I'm not going to get into how I'm handling gods and all that in this post, but I will say that I'm leaving him very much the trickster gremlin that he is. In fact, inspired by a friend's Fate portrayal, I've elected not to give him a set design outside his origins. Wukong instead will shift and use the designs of adaptations and depictions of him, or characters inspired from him. Meaning he could look anything like Lego Wukong to Son Goku.

The Victorious Fighting Buddha's reason for joining repairing is a mixture of responsibility calling to him and the simple fact that he finds the concept and idea to be absolutely fun, the idea of HIM being the leader of a company branch is hilarious. How could he say no? It is an evolution of some of his themes, he may still be a trickster, but knowing their ultimate mission he takes the job rather seriously, often he can't help but recall The Journey To The West when working with his crew.

Annora Petrova!

For the Russian Branch director, I know a lot of you old school Creepypasta fans might recognize this name, she is an underrated classic. I say Russian branch, however they do more cover the collection of countries around that area (minus China). I do have an explanation for why she's around, given I actually haven't rewritten anything about her story!

In this reinterpretation she has become the Slavic spirit of folklore... A Rusulka, this is due to a character I won't spoil editing her wiki and once more altering the course of her story. She's now come to be the director for this large branch of Ripper ink and works closely with / shares resources with Wukong. Everyday she has the temptation to check her wiki, to see what it has to say about her. To see what isn't about her newfound fame.

Brianna Grianne!

Hopping on over to Ireland, we meet the first OC director! Brianna is a fey, one that outright goes against the will of her people and instead uses her fae powers to aid and give people what they need. It's very notable in her wording, never does directly ask for something, avoiding fae deals.

She much rather live and be part of the human world than amongst her less benevolent kin, finding the world of mankind to be much more intriguing and hospitable.

Nero Claudius!

Who better to lead the Roma- Italian branch than this resurrected Roman Emperor? They were all seriousness, it is very much they're fully resurrected Nero's way of still serving and protecting her country, finding herself having to figure her life out after the events of Point Breaker's closing act.

She's very much the same Red Saber we all know and love, however, she is a composite variant, and very much a living Nero, so she's got quite the legs up on her Fate canon counterpart.

Cameron Bryce!

I haven't tagged this SCP for nothing! Turning our attention over to Scotland, I introduced the next OC director, Cameron Bryce, a former Global Occult Legion squad leader.

After a cold winter night in his youth his life was forever changed, finding himself scooped up by the GOC to hunt down anomalies with deadly precision... But ultimately he hated the job and jumped at the offer for the directoral position. Working with and meeting people who will actually see tomorrow, with more competency, and power, than his GOC squad. He's generally really chill, one of the most laid-back people you'll ever meet.

Camille Noemie!

The French director, and Dame Blanche (White Lady), she's very much a spectral figure trying to do her best for her community, alongside other legends from france, and their few serial killers capable of joining, they're one of the smaller branches, but they make do!

Camille is a very friendly woman, merely using her afterlife to help her community and work through her regrets from life. She's merely trying her best, and she'll do everything in her power to help.

Now, stay tuned for part two tomorrow, featuring the directors for the branches in Canada, Germany, Britain, Korea, Australia, and more!

[cluemily]

For anyone having issues getting their Life Series merch still, there's a big message in Scar's Discord about it and what steps to take if you've still not received it.

Text version below cut:

Hi everyone!

If you are on this thread it's likely you ordered some Life Merch and it's taking its sweet time to get to you. In an effort to be as transparent as possible, I am going to personally write about the issues that have occurred behind the scenes and the options you have.

First of all, I want to say and enormous thank you for the overwhelming support on this merch drop and my sincere apologies about the delays and handling of the issues and my delay in writing something like this. I've never has to handle issues like this before so it's a bit of a new one for me.

The company we used are a small family run business using products made in the USA. There was a huge amount of orders made before the 5th of November cut-off, but should have been doable - Unfortunately there was a 3 week delay on getting the stock in to embroider on, and since most orders included hoodies, that pushed back an already tight production. This is why many Christmas delivery orders were not met on time and instead were up to 3 weeks late, overwhelming demand meets time constraints. The biggest mistake here on their part was not being good with communication about the situation. I myself ended up writing Christmas cards and emails to parents who were a Christmas present short (It was quite stressful). I have a lot of personal guilt about the missed Christmas orders, as creators we live and die by these promises and I was disappointed that a proportion of orders (It wasn't all of them by any means) didn't meet the deadline. It truly was out of my hands though.

Post-Christmas, the catch up continued on getting orders out and reports of support emails being unanswered started to pile up. I can't speak for the company's support team but I am so sorry that these emails went unanswered, that is incredibly frustrating. I am assured now that there are people answering emails within 24 hours. I got a few sent to my business email, and passed those along to be dealt with, which they were.

The most recent issue is actually one that is affecting most people now as the pre-Christmas order date orders have all been sent out, but as some people have reported have been stuck on "Label created" and no shipping tracking has progressed. It seems that orders (Specifically sent on the 13th January) have not been scanned properly by the postal service and seem to be in postal Limbo with no signs of moving.

So, after talking extensively with GlassEmbroidery, here is what to do:

"I ordered after the 5th of November and my order hasn't shipped"

Don't worry - your order is being worked on and is on track to be shipped this month. With all the orders made after November the 5th, they were always going to be due around this time in Q1.

"I ordered before the cut off and my order hasn't been shipped"

I am SO sorry that this has happened. If you can email Glassembroidery@gmail.com directly with your order number, I have been assured that it will be handled as a matter of priority.

"My shipment has been dispatched, but it's stuck on "Label generated" (most likely happened if your order was sent on 13th January)

These are the orders that seem to have been mishandled by the postal service. If nothing has arrived after 2+ weeks, a new package will have to be sent to you and the company will file insurance on the original. This is really frustrating, but again the only thing to do will be to check your tracking and if you are affected, email Glassembroidery@gmail.com directly with your order number and they will get another sent out priority.

"I don't want my order anymore."

I totally understand, and don't blame you if this is something you want to do. Please email support and request a refund on your order, no questions asked.

I think that's everything and hopefully provides everyone with enough info on the issues we had and ongoing issues with delivery.

As a final note I can only apologise one last time for the lack of communication and the delays, but please be assured that all orders will be fulfilled and when you get them I hope that you love them!

Grian

[rurukatt]

Letters to Tacitus Kilgore

Just a couple of letters Sophia sent to Arthur while she spent some time away from the gang. I did these as a little writing practice since I don’t really have the energy for much more. Enjoy~

[October 1894]

Dear Arthur,

It has been a while since I wrote a letter to anyone, and as always, I find myself not knowing what to say. So much has happened and yet barely anything worth mentioning comes to mind when I try to write.

I am doing well. The room I'm renting is nice (unlike the owner of the house, but that's a story for another time), and they're giving me a lot of work at the doctor's office, which I don't mind at all. It helps me keep my mind off things. The old doctor is a real gentleman, his son… He's insufferable, Arthur. Talks a lot and thinks himself more knowledgeable than his father, but he doesn't even know what he's talking about most of the time. The only person he's able to impress is himself, but that seems to be enough for him.

I had hoped my time with you all would be longer, but nevertheless I am grateful for what I got and I miss you every day. You, most of all, but sometimes I miss Hosea even more. Please give him my regards and thanks. Were it not for him, I wouldn't have this opportunity right now.

Yours fondly, Sophia Ashe

* 

[November 1894]

Dear Arthur,

We had our first snow yesterday. It was a wonderful sight to wake up to, although the heavy snowfall made it difficult to get into town in time. I hope the weather is treating you well, wherever you are.

The snow also means I cannot take Sunflower for her usual morning rides anymore. I can clearly see she hasn’t been well, and now that the roads are too slippery, I don’t want to risk an injury on top of that. It pains me to see her like this, but I’m resolved to nurse her back to health. I cannot and will not lose this horse, Arthur, she’s everything to me. I promised I’d take good care of her when you gave her to me, and I intend to honor my word, even if it means sleepless nights and empty pockets.

Aside from this, I’m fine, and I hope you are as well. Please forgive me for sharing my troubles with you, I do not want you to worry about me when you doubtless have more pressing matters to attend to.

Please take care.

Sincerely yours, Sophia Ashe

* 

[January 1895]

Dear Arthur,

I wish you and everyone in the camp a very Happy New Year!

I hope you’re well. Life here isn’t too exciting, I can’t say much has changed since I sent my last letter, except for this growing sense of loneliness. One of the girls I’m working with, Annie, is getting married soon and will be moving to another town. We’ve been getting along so well, and of course I’m happy for her and wishing her the best, but at the same time it fills me with sorrow because I will be left alone once again.

At least the days are getting longer. Inspired by you, I have taken up drawing again recently and while my artistic abilities are not on par with yours, it’s helping me get through this melancholic time of the year. I have also decided to expand my horizons and got myself an easel and some other supplies for painting, hopefully I’ll be able to put them to use soon. Enclosed are some of the newest additions of my little gallery, I hope they bring you at least a little joy. I miss seeing your smile.

Sincerely yours, Sophia

* 

[February 1895]

My dear Arthur,

I must apologize for my delayed letter, work consumes most of my time these days and I rarely find the time to put my thoughts on the paper in a manner that’s worth reading.

Annie got married and moved away with her husband, and here I am, on my own again. Oh, what I would do to have people I can trust around me. I miss you more and more every day and I wish I heard anything from you or was given even a small sign that you’re still alive. All this silence has left me doubting the effectiveness of postal services, but it may as well be something else, I am not sure. At least this is what I keep telling myself.

I pray for your safety every day and I will not stop praying until I know all is well with you.

Your sincere friend, Sophia

P.S. Sunflower is getting better. She’s starting to resemble her old self and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder.

* 

[March 1895]

My dearest Arthur,

Spring has come again, and with it, the longest winter of my life is finally over – just as I hope my time in this town is drawing to a close.

I rode out with Sunflower a couple days ago to see the first flowers in the woods. Words can hardly express what a wonderful feeling it is to witness life spring forth once more, to cherish these things that seem so mundane… the gentle breeze, the little green buds on the branches, the dewdrops on the grass. Few people can appreciate that, and I am constantly reminded that you are one of them. I would give anything to have you here by my side and watch you fill your journal with pictures of all of those small wonders nature has to offer.

My heart is aching in ways I never thought possible. The fates of my previous letters are unknown to me and I doubt you will receive this one either, yet I’m still choosing to make a fool of myself for one last time and tell you this: you will always be in my heart. Even though sometimes it felt like I was throwing myself against a stone wall, the man I saw through the cracks made up for everything. I want you to know that your friendship meant the world to me. It still does, and I regret not telling you sooner.

I keep holding out hope that I will see you again one day, whenever you decide to find your way back to me.

Forever yours, Sophia

* 

* 

* 

[writingbecauserealitysucks]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Spoilers

So, I have been thinking about some of the books I have read recently, and one of my favs is Perks of Being a Wallflower. I watched the movie and read the book in the same day, so safe to say I loved it through and through though I was skeptical at first, I am extremely thankful I finished it.

So as for this book I have a question as well as a theory.

In the beginning Charlie, our main character is writing a letter to a person anonymously. Never once in the book was there a part where the author or main character said or named who he was writing to. It was always "Dear Friend."

So as far as I understand, the entire book is letters to a random old classmate who he found the postal address to and began writing letters to them as a way to vent. But who is this mystery character? Like it feels like such an important part of the story, yet we never find out who it is.

My theory is, and this is only based on one letter at the end of the book, but I believe that the author was trying to subtly write letters to his audience.

The story is quite obviously a coming-of-age book where the author's purpose in writing it was to help his readers. There was a lot of great one liners on advice, as well as the story itself is about maturing and the things that come with growing up.

It would stand to reason then that the author was intending for the letters to be written as addressed to the reader.

I'm not talking about the audience as an overarching idea but a single reader. The one who is immersed in the book they are currently reading. I think it could be that the author wanted for each person that read his book to feel like they were a part of the story. You are put in the shoes of an unnamed person who we have very little info about and so only you can decide on who they really are, the only thing you know is that you are reading a bunch of letters, (like the person that is receiving them. )

The last letter though I can't remember exactly why, but it really gave me the impression that this was true but if you all have any of thoughts to weigh in on this I would love to know.

But regardless of all of that I loved this book and I think there is a lot of great life lessons in it. This is one of my only books I would recommend to anyone no matter what. Just because of the sheer amount of wisdom the story contained.

[saskiasabri]

Brooo im so sorry about these cringe trolls and instigators trying to start shit with you guys over petty stuff because they've been stuck with their own grudges that they can't fix. But at the same time there are A LOT of minors in the Postal fandom who are filled teenage angst and drama is going to sprout like weeds. And as a minor myself i admit Postal's themes in the franchise aren't exactly kid-friendly either. Oops! 💀💀💀

Sadly even the most fit and organized fandoms aren't free from drama, but from someone who has recently got into newer fandom spaces myself, less shit seems to resurface when people are just simply treated better. Out in the open or behind closed doors.

Sometimes amends can't always be met and people aren't very forgiving, trusting or kind by default, and that's fine. But I believe everyone can be shown their intentions are not always ill when we come together as a community and prove that not everyone is only after themselves. You guys are obviously trying your best online and irl and I hate to go anon like this but I too wanna start 2024 with no drama because that's what destroys a good community. 🙌🙌🙌

Sorry if my message tone sounds rude at some points. English is not my first But I just wanted to spread some positivity for once after so much happened in 2023. There's already a lot of evil in this world and the best we can do is be kind to one another with no strings attached.

❤🧡💛

thank you for ur concern and understanding the situation ❤❤❤ yea it sucks when fandoms can't be free from drama and it always happens. but y'know, it'll be fine as long as u don't get involved to it if it has nothing to do with u. i think minors in the Postal fandom can enjoy the game all they want as long as they're careful around other fans cuz there always will be those who will cause problems and say shit like "minors are annoying trying to be in adult spaces" or smth like that which pisses me off a lot cuz if they're enjoying the content then let them be, but if anything from the game offends them then that's their problem and they should know Postal isn't really for kids and the game already gave a warning in pop-up(?) screen before playing. it's best for them not to get into it, suggesting them to think first or else they'll start causing a scene. (the game itself is not really offensive, well to me atleast.) anyways, we're just doing our job as rws server staff, if anything happens then we'll take care of it if reported. we may not respond to random messages cuz we're mostly busy focusing on important stuff or we're just not in the mood. we do care for other members, we'll help as best as we could. we may not get to help much when it comes to real life personal problems, we're not professionals so they should know that.

(also thank you so much for the positivity, i hope everything in 2024 goes better for u and others who are reading this 💖💖💖)