#barrington tops

[travelella]

Barrington Tops, New South Wales, Australia

Jacques Bopp

#Barrington Tops #New South Wales #Australia #Oceania #AustraliaNature

[zoyawon]

Accommodation Barrington tops: Best features to look for

#barrington tops accommodation #barrington tops #accommodation

[pagepulse]

Navigating the Underground World of Residential Sewer and Drain Solutions in Montclair, NJ

Behind the serene facades and bustling streets of Montclair, New Jersey, lies an essential service network that ensures the peace and hygiene of local residents and businesses. The sanitation and plumbing infrastructure, particularly the intricate veins of drain and sewer systems, is what many consider an indistinctly vital yet underappreciated aspect of city life. However, for those who have experienced the inconvenience and sometimes disastrous effects of a malfunction in these systems, the importance becomes palpably clear.

In the heart of Montclair, the home to a diverse mix of properties that range from quaint historical houses to modern urban developments, the need for robust and effective sewer and drain services is universal. Local businesses, workers, and homeowners depend on a trustworthy network of plumbers and services to keep their operations running smoothly. The streets' age, which contributes to the rich historical tapestry, often means that underground infrastructures require a nuanced, experienced eye to maintain and repair.

Navigating the local top residential sewer and drain Montclair NJ is an essential and sometimes daunting task. With a multitude of service providers varying in services offered and quality, how does one select the best option for their needs? This comprehensive guide is designed to demystify the process and equip you with the knowledge to address your sewer and drain requirements expertly.

Local Challenges, Expert Solutions

Understanding the peculiar challenges of the local terrain and environment is the first step in selecting the best sewage and drainage solutions for your Montclair property. Factors like the age and material of the sewage system, along with the unique geological characteristics of the area, have a significant impact on maintenance and repair strategies.

Montclair's hilly landscape and regular rainfall can result in water flow challenges and localized flooding, especially in subterranean areas. Properties that have been standing for decades or even a century often have older, less efficient plumbing components that require specialized attention. Look for service providers who are not only well-versed in traditional plumbing but are also equipped to handle the idiosyncrasies of older systems and the demands of local topography.

The Importance of Maintenance

An adage that's particularly relevant to drain and sewer systems, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," holds especially true in Montclair. Routine maintenance of your plumbing is not just about avoiding inconveniences; it's about preserving the value of your property and ensuring the safety of your local environment.

Professional plumbers often recommend semiannual inspections to prevent clogs, leaks, and backflows. Regular maintenance can identify potential issues before they escalate into emergencies, which often leads to higher repair costs and property damage. In Montclair, where many homes and commercial buildings are historical landmarks, maintenance is key to preserving these structures for generations to come.

Emergency Preparedness

Even with the most diligent maintenance, emergencies can still occur. Montclair residents and business owners should have a clear plan in place for addressing sewage and drain-related emergencies. It starts with a reliable emergency service provider who can be on-site quickly and has the expertise to handle the situation efficiently, minimizing damage and restoring service promptly.

When selecting an emergency service, consider not only the response time but also the breadth of services offered. Do they have the necessary equipment for excavations or trenchless repairs? Are their technicians available 24/7? These are important questions to ask to ensure you’re prepared for any eventuality.

Sustainable Solutions

Environmental consciousness is a growing priority for many Montclair citizens and business owners. Ensuring the sustainability of your sewage and drainage systems not only reflects a commitment to the environment but can also result in long-term savings.

Today, technologies such as sustainable pipe materials, water-conserving fixtures, and smart monitoring systems are becoming more readily available. In particular, sewer and drain systems can be fitted with components that reduce water consumption and alert to leaks or inefficiencies, supporting a greener and cost-effective approach to plumbing.

The Human Element

Behind every drain and sewer service is a team of professionals. The human element in this industry is critical. Skilled plumbers are not only well-trained technically but also bring invaluable local knowledge and experience to the table.

Gauging the experience and customer service of a plumbing team is just as important as assessing their technical expertise. A contractor who values their customers, offers clear communication about services, and shows a commitment to the Montclair community is more likely to provide a comprehensive and satisfactory experience.

Community and Referrals

The Montclair community is known for its close-knit nature and its members' willingness to support local businesses. When in doubt, seek referrals from neighbors, co-workers, or friends. Word-of-mouth recommendations can give you valuable insights into the quality and reliability of a service provider.

Engaging with the local business community through platforms like the Montclair Chamber of Commerce can also yield recommendations and establish relationships with trusted vendors. Building a network of professionals that you can rely on not only benefits you but also fosters a community of support and mutual success.

Summary and Outlook

Sewer and drainage solutions are the unsung heroes of urban living, ensuring that the fundamental operations of a property are in order. In a diverse and historically rich community such as Montclair, NJ, these systems play an even more significant role, intertwined with the area's unique challenges and charm.

By staying informed, investing in maintenance, and choosing the right partners, residents, and businesses can fortify their properties against the threats of sewer and drain problems. Furthermore, by adopting sustainable practices and keeping the human element at the forefront, we’re not just ensuring operational efficiency — we're contributing to the health, sustainability, and character of our beloved Montclair. if you need a sever line jetting services jersey city NJ. 

For both seasoned locals and newcomers, the reliability of your sewer and drain solutions can make all the difference. Take the time to understand your options, engage with the community, and ensure that when the unexpected occurs, you're as prepared as possible. The subterranean world of Montclair's plumbing might not be glamorous, but with the right approach, it can certainly be a point of pride for all involved.

#plumbing services #boiler repair service #boiler repairs #repairing services #water heating repair #nj sewer cleaning service #plumbing hydro jet north bergen nj #boiler repair services #top residential sewer and drain montclair nj #sewer line jetting services jersey city nj #professional boiler installation contractor barrington nj #sewer video inspection service paterson nj

[jamessarah]

Attributes To Look For In Any Luxurious Spa Boutique Accommodations

Boutique hotels are typically smaller, more intimate and individually styled properties. It often focuses on luxury and personalized service. So if you are in Barrington Tops, it's time to enjoy the mystical beauty of scenic nature. So moving forward, let's see the features you can explore about the spa boutique rooms at Barrington Tops.

 Some standard features of boutique hotels include:

●     Unique and individualized design: Boutique hotels often feature distinctive and creative design elements, focusing on creating a unique and memorable experience for guests.

●     Personalized service: Boutique hotels often offer a higher level of customised service, with staff members trained to anticipate guests' needs and provide a personalised experience.

●     Attention to detail: From the decor to the amenities, boutique hotels pay close attention to details.

●     Local flavour: Many boutique hotels aim to provide a sense of place, incorporating local design elements, artwork, and cuisine to create a unique and authentic experience.

How does Riverwooddowns seem to be the best one when it comes to boutique rooms?

For families

Riverwood Downs offers a selection of motel-style rooms in its Boutique accommodation, catering to both couples and families. These rooms feature a charming timber cabin exterior and private ensuite facilities. Hence, guests can enjoy the open-air Kitchen BBQ facility set among the property's lawns and gardens.

Great amenities

For a truly indulgent experience, guests can book one of the Spa Boutique Rooms, which comes with a range of amenities, including a two-person corner spa, air conditioning, a queen bed, a bar fridge, and tea coffee-making facilities. These tastefully decorated rooms boast designer fabrics and open onto shady verandahs.

Stylish and comfortable

The Queen Boutique Rooms offer a comfortable and stylish option for families, with a queen bed and a set of bunk beds in a separate nook. These 4-star motel-style rooms also have a shower ensuite, air conditioning, bar fridge, tea and coffee-making facilities, phone, TV, and DVD. Guests can relax on the shady verandahs overlooking the lush gardens and lawns, with a maximum occupancy of 2 adults and two kids.

Final say

So these are some of the features you might look for in any Queen Boutique Rooms Barrington Tops. Also, opt for Pet-Friendly Accommodation NSW if you have an adorable pet.

Learn More

* How to find Family Accommodation?

* Checklist for Selecting a Perfect Family Holiday Resort

#Family Accommodation NSW #Barrington Tops cottages Barrington Top accommodation family friendly accommodation reviews #Family Holiday Resorts Australia #family accommodation NSW pet friendly caravan parks NSW family friendly accommodation reviews #couples’ accommodation NSW family holiday resorts Australia pet friendly accommodation NSW #Pet Friendly Accommodation #pet-friendly accommodation #pet friendly accommodation NSW #pet-friendly holiday #Holiday Homes Newcastle Pet Friendly Accommodation NSW

[mechaniccampbelltown]

Explore the Natural Beauty of Barrington Tops National Park in New South Wales

Are you looking for ways to escape to the great outdoors and discover the stunning wilderness of the beautiful place Barrington Top. Hike through lush forests, admire cascading waterfalls, and catch a glimpse of local wildlife on your next adventure. And that is possible only when you book your accommodation at the Barrington Tops NSW. So take a break and plunge into the wilderness.

#Barrington Tops NSW #Natural Beauty

[brotherdusk]

Endeavour Morse and the case of the disappearing Dean Martin song

Sway has always had one of my favourite openings of any Endeavour episode, mostly for the use of Sway by Dean Martin while the opening titles run. something about this romantic pop song being overlaid on top of the unfolding darkness and drama - and repeated multiple times throughout the episode to punctuate further tragedy - is so striking and really, really does it for me. by the time Huggins puts on that record for his final dance with Gloria, and Sway (the song) starts up, the opening chords are less of a fun bolero flourish and more a banshee shriek of horror to come.

so I was amazed to learn recently that the version of Sway (the episode) I've loved for ten years now... basically doesn't exist outside of the UK and Ireland? the Morse, Lewis, and Endeavour blog theorises that due to copyright restrictions, all overseas releases of the episode - including DVDs and the PBS Masterpiece version, which was later released on Amazon - replace Sway (the song) with a jazz instrumental piece composed by Barrington Pheloung. nothing but respect for Mr Pheloung's decades of work in defining Morse's sound as we know it today, but this replacement doesn't hold a candle to the original episode's vision.

(also, Sway (the song) is kind of hilariously load-bearing in that the episode title doesn't make a lot of sense without the song's appearance at key thematic moments, imo.)

anyway - after I made my initial post about this last week, a couple of people expressed interest in hearing the original episode's music, and after some digging I was able to find a copy ripped directly from ITV! enjoy the opening 3 minutes of Sway (the episode) as Russell Lewis intended:

#I've been thinking about making a supercut of all the times it appears in the episode and uploading it to youtube #but I don't know if the music would get it sniped immediately #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #dean martin #sway #shaun evans #roger allam #txt

[walker-bait-1973]

The Apple Orchard

A Daryl Dixon x Reader (Fem. Reader) Fanfiction

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Author's Notes: A pregnant woman was taken in by Hilltop. Right away she built a friendship with the crossbow-wielding archer, Daryl Dixon. They'd grown close while she went through the months, and after her son was born a month early, Daryl had taken a shine to the little bundle. Now the child, Hunter is 16 months & still behind on his benchmarks - the main one being talking. Maybe all it takes is a little extra lovin' to bring him out of his shell.

Master List

The rows of apple trees in the orchard were loaded with fruit. Y/N set Hunter down so that they could walk together.

“I think the grass is nearly taller than you!” Y/N smiled proudly down at her son. 16 months and he was walking. Y/N’s relationship had grown with Maggie. Her son Hershel made big impressions on Y/N’s child. He wanted to walk because Hershel was walking. Hunter wanted to keep up.

“Do you want to pick apples, Hunter? I can cut them into slices or make us some applesauce.”

Hunter, still not talking, smacked his lips together and sucked on his fingers. Slowly lifting him, she reached for the closest apple, twisting it off the branch. Wiping it on her pants to shine it up, she handed it to her son who licked it. She laughed, “silly boy. Good thing they’re organic.”

“Hey Y/N, Hunter, y’all pickin’ apples?” Daryl entered the lane with a picking basked filled.

“Daryl, hey,” she smiled up at him, “yeah, getting some fresh air.”

“He say anthin’ today?” He smoothed Hunter’s curly hair. She shook her head.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder, “he will…” his hand sliding down to hold hers. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, “listen to me Y/N,” he whispered, “he will talk. Probably already knows how. Just choosin’ his own time.”

She tightened her lips. Hunter held his hands out to Daryl grunting. Daryl smiled and stretched out his arms, “come on then lil’ man.” Y/N handed him over. He placed his lips against the small child’s cheek and blew raspberries on it. Hunter laughed, rubbing Daryl’s chin length hair. Daryl said, “can’t forget the other one.” Hunter turned his head and Daryl playfully attacked that one. Giggles were contagious. Y/N and Daryl chuckled while Daryl lifted him up to place him on his shoulders, “hold on, okay Hunter?” Hunter’s fingers went into Daryl’s hair, his tiny arms holding Daryl’s head. They were about to start walking, but Y/N bent to pick up the basket of apples.

“Naw, leave it there. I’ll get it after,” he remarked holding onto Hunter’s legs.

“Okay.”

The air was full of the smell of Autumn, dry leaves, apples. The Barrington house had a fire burning, which they could smell.

“Like your sweater,” Daryl commented nonchalantly. Y/N smiled, looking down at her emerald- green fuzzy sweater.

“Yeah?” She smiled demurely as she gauged him from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah… a lot.”

Y/N grinned, “thank you.”

Hunter nuzzled his face into Daryl’s hair before resting his cheek on the top of his head.

“Dada.” He closed his green eyes. Daryl stopped dead in his tracks. Shock surged through him. Y/N whirled around looking at her son, and then at Daryl. Daryl’s cheeks were bright pink.

“Uh…” he couldn’t think of what to say.

Y/N peered up at her son who was holding on so tenderly to Daryl, her eyes wetting. Her son had finally said his first word!

“Dada.”

“I… I ain’t your dada, Hunter,” Daryl finally spoke faintly. He looked at Y/N for assistance. She sputtered for an answer.

Pausing, Y/N’s head leaned slightly to one side, her heart thumping like a drum in her chest. A chord struck within her. Her feelings of friendship had grown into something deeper. Low in her stomach fluttering of little butterflies came to life.

Hunter grew fond of the man too. Daryl spent his free time walking over to talk to Hunter, playing with him, and holding him when they were outdoors. During meetings with Y/N or when they were in Maggie’s office, Hunter was often after Daryl to hold him. He liked sitting at the desk scribbling on a piece of old paper and listening to Daryl’s voice as he dozed.

 “Say mama, Hunter.”  Y/N tried to encourage him with soft instruction.

Hunter rubbed his cheek into Daryl’s hair, “dada.”

“What do I do, Y/N?” Daryl asked, his voice low.

“I’ll try to work on mama with him, like I have been.”

Daryl’s heart was swelling. He chewed his lower lip. Here was this sweet little boy who had so many cards already stacked against him, whose mother tugged at Daryl’s heartstrings calling him dada.

“I-I don’t know,” she confessed, “this isn’t something I thought… I didn’t think he’d… He- he sees you all the time, maybe he thinks…” she pointed between them, her cheeks burning bright.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This little boy had his heart not long after he first saw him. The more time he spent with him, the more he felt a part of his life. Hunter took to him quickly and would often snuggle into Daryl as if expressing the need for masculine love.

“I’ve heard,” she scrambled to fix the situation, “dada is easier to say than mama.”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow, where did ya hear that?”

“Maybe from other moms.”

Daryl scoffed. He lifted Hunter up, bringing him to the front of him. The little boy was reaching for Daryl’s hair fussing, “there’s no way you’re gonna say Daryl anytime soon, eh, Hunter?”

He brought him in for a little hug. Hunter grabbed some of his hair to rub along his face.

“He really thinks a lot of you, Daryl.” Y/N was confounded. What do you do in a situation like this? She reached for Daryl’s hand, “come on, let’s keep walking. Maybe he will settle down.”

“True.” His eyes locked on hers. He swallowed hard as his fingers entwined with hers. He tucked his free arm around the little boy as he started to doze.

“We gotta talk about this.”

“I know.”

“But he did speak,” Daryl smiled from ear to ear.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon

[celestialmilfs]

Feast

Character: Nadja of Antipaxos Word Count: 6,079 Warnings: Blood, Vampire-typical violence, death Rating: M (for violence -- no smut today) Description: Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue. -- There's no worse (or better) day to work a night shift than when Nadja of Antipaxos arrives in London. She is bound to be angry, and very, very hungry. A/N: Happy season 5 countdown!! Here’s a bit of Nadja to ease the wait.

The cigarette tastes bitter and stale as you take a drag and blow out a puff of smoke. You quit a year ago. And then again, two months later. One more time, at the end of June. It never did quite stick.

“You alright, mate?”

One of your co-workers, a man in his late fifties dressed in grimy company overalls and a worn blue cap comes to stand beside you. He seems to be enjoying his smoke significantly more than you.

You never did remember his name. Cal? Cap? Cam? It definitely started with a C.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just savoring it.” You gesture at the dirty midnight streets of Hackney. Nothing quite like working the nights to figure a new place out, to find the heart of it.

Someone pukes a few corners down, and you throw out the remaining half of your cigarette, no longer interested.

Cam laughs. “Nice night for sure. You been here long?”

“Arrived a month back.” You breathe in the stinging air, savoring the bite of Cam’s cigarette smoke.

“London’s all right.” Cam leans his hand over the paint can acting as an ashtray and flicks his cigarette. The burnt remains fall like little snowflakes. “It’s not like films or nothing, but it’s all right. Could be worse.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask him just as a man, presumably the same one who emptied his stomach just moments ago, stumbles into view and passes you by, careening first towards you, and then back into the opposing wall. You can smell the piss on him all the way from here. “What qualifies as worse?”

Cam coughs and smiles for the first time. His teeth are yellow, and one of them is chipped.

“Let’s just leave it at that, eh?” he says, drains the rest of his cigarette, and throws the remains into the can. He clears his throat wetly, and spits a ball of phlegm into the gutter.

“Time to go?” you ask. He nods quietly, and you follow him back inside.

The warehouse is massive compared to any you’d worked in before. Black splotches crawl from floor to ceiling in a mixture of shadows and spilled engine oil. Yellow support beams reach all the way to the top, stained and worn from holding the place up since the day it was built. The walls are solid concrete, save for the huge shutter doors that open into the chilly night like windows into a different dimension.

The place is bustling — people swarm it like bees loading and unloading, shouting for assistance or barking orders, driving heavy, wheezing trucks and whizzing by on forklifts. The noise is immense.

“There you are!” A gruff male voice calls a few feet away, muffled by the crowd. Your head whips in his direction as he pushes past a group of men with clipboards and hardhats.

Your boss, Tomas, is hard to forget — thick, wild eyebrows constantly bent in disappointment, gaunt cheeks covered in greying stubble, and the constant, pungent stench of sweat poorly disguised by cheap cologne. He’s huffing heavily by the time he reaches you. “Where the fuck have you been, eh?”

Sorry,” you say, tongue thick and dry in your mouth as you try to speak. “I didn’t know we’d already—”

“Bull-fucking-shit, I say.” His hands are for once out of his pockets, and he points his dirt-stained finger towards a Barrington Freight truck that had just entered the building. “Get to work or you’re out — both of you.”

Without another word, you scurry to the truck with Cam on your tail. Cam, who is entirely unbothered by getting chewed out by the boss. He digs something out of his teeth with his little finger and shakes his head as he approaches.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and pulls you out of the way as the truck’s rear doors swing open. He pats your shoulder, much like you imagine a father would. “He pulls that shit every time you take a break. You get used to it.”

You glance back at Tomas, currently busy shouting at a truck driver with so much force you can see spit all the way from here.

“Come on,” Cam says. He climbs inside the cargo space and then offers you a hand that you gratefully take.

Multiple hours pass by in chunks of wrapping and piling and driving and avoiding the wrathful eye of Tomas. It’s monotonous work, work that will remind you of its price the following morning when you roll out of bed only to realize that your back is permanently bent in the shape of an S. But it pays the bills. Parts of them, anyway.

The truck empties slowly, and it seems to be matching up with your lunch break quite nicely. You can’t say you look that forward to fifteen minutes in the front seat of your car with a sandwich and a water bottle, but it’s still a little bit of breathing room.

Just a little further.

There are two crates left, both of them shoddily thrown together and just a bit taller than you, and if you weren’t a little bit superstitious, you might have even said they look like coffins.

You go to push one of them towards the forklift, currently operated by Cam, but stop as soon as you’re close enough to put your hands on the fractured surface.

The edge of the lid is slightly open, the nails still trying to keep it shut completely bent out of shape. Some of them are missing altogether. A thin crack runs down from the corner of the lid and ends right in the middle.

“Hey, Cam?” You chance a quick glance at him, just to make sure his half-open eyes are looking at you. “What do we do about this?”

He doesn’t ask what this is, doesn’t say anything at all, and instead clambers into the truck, absentmindedly scratching at the bald patch hidden beneath his cap.

“Ah, shit,” he says and wipes his forehead. “We gotta check for damage, make sure the goods are still good. If everything’s okay we just seal it back up and let it find its owner like any other package. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You don’t know if he’s talking protocol or if he’s pulling this out of his ass to cover for you, but you appreciate it all the same. Cam looks around for a moment and then hops back out of the truck. He returns with a banged up crowbar, nicked and stained by countless doors and boxes. Maybe even a burglary, who knows.

He turns around, looks both ways, and closes the rear doors behind him.

“You got a light?” he asks, and you quickly fish your phone from your pocket to guide him with its flashlight.

Cam dips the crowbar under the lid of the strange crate and places his foot carefully at the other end.

“Cover your ears,” he says, and you do as you’re told.

The wood cracks as the lid breaks into two. You watch the broken piece ricochet off the wall and clatter to the floor, right by your feet.

“What the fuck?” Cam whispers. He takes a cautious step back, the crowbar held tightly in his hands, pointed toward the crate like a knife.

You frown from your position a few feet away. When he doesn’t say anything further, you approach him, steps loud and heavy, heart fluttering with curiosity and a healthy dose of fear. You’ve known Cam for all of five hours, but you get the feeling that he usually doesn’t rattle easily.

You look inside the crate, and breath runs from you like a pheasant in the burning woods.

A corpse. Inside an obsidian coffin with a broken lid lies a beautiful woman, perfectly preserved. Her nose is straight and sharp, and the curve of it leads down to thick lips, painted dark crimson. Her skin is dry and cracked around her knuckles, and there are splinters under her long nails. Black hair cascades down her shoulders onto her preposterously detailed dress — an incredibly well-kept antique by the looks of it. Early 19th century, maybe? If it weren’t for the dried mascara on her cheeks, she might as well be a porcelain doll, posed and painted to perfection.

“Do you mind?”

Something shuffles beneath the wood, and small childlike hands reach for the splintered edge. Some far off place in your brain wants to warn her to not touch it, but you’ve long since lost contact with your mouth.

A doll nearly identical to the dead woman crawls into sight, its face twisted in frustration.

“Well, what are you staring at?” it asks. “How about a little help?”

You scream and lose your footing as you try to back away. Pain flares in your spine as your back hits steel. Your phone falls from your hand but the light stays on to coldly illuminate the insanity in front of you. By your side, Cam is like a statue of stone, with the crowbar now pointed at the little doll.

Beneath it, the woman creaks to life. A thin layer of dust billows forth as her hand rises slowly, reaching for Cam. Cam, who’s offered her a helping hand in return.

You can’t look away. You’ve never been the type.

The woman’s fingers curl around Cam’s wrist and she snatches a grown man off his feet like he’s made of thin air. A snarl tears from her throat when she opens her mouth and crushes his throat between her jaws. He doesn’t even have time to scream before his neck snaps, the crack soft compared to the moist crunch of the woman’s teeth — fangs sinking into him. The second he is dead, she pulls her head back, and slowly, as if she’s savoring the feeling, she rips off a piece of flesh and suckles it, her cheeks hollowing, and then spits it across the cargo space. In a flash, she’s back at Cam’s neck to nuzzle the spraying arteries, the mangled flesh, the red bone – almost like in prayer, like this is a holy gift sent from the gods and the only thing she can do is accept.

She licks his exposed jugular, dips her jaw into the crevasse of his destroyed throat, and drinks.

Cam empties of fluid in seconds, and his husk of a body falls to the floor with a hollow thud.

The woman lets go with a thin gasp. She wipes her eyes, wipes her mouth. Her hair is soaked, as is her entire face, and she leaves a dripping trail as she climbs out of the crate, red handprints sharp against its pale wood.

She smacks her lips and coughs, mouth downturned in disgust.

“Oh, ugh,” she says. “Anemia.” She blows a raspberry and shakes her head. “Fuck me.”

“Been there, done that,” the doll says, its plastic face dyed a deep, dark red. “You made a hell of a mess, there.”

The woman turns to the doll and makes a face — apparently one of offense, because the doll flips her off in return.

“You try doing this shit,” the woman says, and kicks Cam’s body to emphasize her point. A twitch shakes you from head to toe. “I haven’t gone this hungry since I had to flee the country in 1857.”

The doll imitates her voice mockingly, and the woman curses potently in return. She grabs a bunch of her soaked hair and twists it; a small puddle of blood forms by Cam’s corpse.

“Wait,” the doll says. “What about that one?”

She points at you with a tiny pale hand, and all heat escapes your body. Your fingers feel like blocks of ice as you try to crawl toward the rear doors. Pressure builds in your throat and your mouth opens in an involuntary, instinctual scream of terror, but before a single squeak escapes, the woman rushes you at unprecedented speed and slams your back to the floor. Air explodes from your lungs, and if it wasn’t for the woman’s hand firmly over your mouth, you’d be left gasping.

“I’m not sure,” she says. You whimper and try to free yourself, but her grip is like iron. You can only watch her, desperate, like a pleading mouse in the claws of a hawk.

She purses her lips and looks at you like yesterday’s leftovers. “I’m still a little hungry. But I don’t know if I want to finish this one so quickly.”

A hoarse wail slips past your lips despite the woman’s best attempts at keeping you quiet.

“Let’s take it with us, then,” the doll says, flipping its hair. “I’m down for some fun.”

“Maybe.” The woman turns your head from side to side, appraising. She lowers her face to your neck and your pulse picks up. Your breath quickens. Panic makes lights up inside of you like a flash fire. The woman drags her nose up your neck and places a sloppy kiss on your jaw, as if your fear only enhances her hunt. “I could go for a little snack, still.”

Tears burn your eyes and fall down your temples. The woman catches one, brushes it into your skin and then puts the finger in her mouth, her tongue peeking out to savor your fear.

“Don’t worry, little morsel,” she says, and boops your nose with her manicured nail. “You’re going to a good cause.”

You try to shriek past her hand but her hold only grows stronger as she bends over you and, despite your thrashing limbs, your punches and kicks and scratching fingernails,  she plunges her teeth into the side of your neck.

It stings, sharp as a needle, and then the rest of her teeth dig in, like a vice lined with rows of broken glass. What follows is the strangest of sensations. You’ve had hickies from past lovers, even been bitten by your best friend’s niece, but it’s nothing like this feeling of being drained, emptied like pulling guts out of a fish.

Your fingers claw at her face out of pure instinct, nothing more. She swats you away like a fly and continues, uninterested in your distress.

Your flailing weakens when your limbs grow heavy, like they’ve been replaced with brick. The woman’s hair is in your face, thick and wet and suffocating, and the only thing you can see is neverending black, like staring into a dead void.

You begin to grow still, only twitching when the woman’s teeth dig deeper for just a few more drops.

Wood cracks behind you. The woman pulls back with a deep breath, heady and broken, and turns to look at the commotion along with you.

The other crate, the identical one; its lid is in shambles on the floor, and a man climbs out.

He is short, with a stubbled chin and a pale brown coat, stained with sweat. You smell something acrid as he comes closer, pushing his cracked glasses up his nose.

“H—Help,” you whine through a mouthful of blood. You can barely lift your arm to reach for him. “Please.”

The man looks at you, looks at the woman, and curses in Spanish.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says to the woman.

Darkness finally claims you.

—

You awaken, every muscle in your body sore and aching, in a beautifully decorated living room.

It is dimly lit with candles of wildly different shape and size, freely leaking wax onto the floor, the mantle of the fireplace and the coffee table. The walls are old and wooden, decorated with portraits of the people who must live here: a rich-looking family, blond except for the youngest son and the dog. Beside the paintings are thick curtains, their beautiful silk stapled shut to keep out the sun.

The sun.

How long has it been? What even happened?

You sit up with a groan, your head immediately protesting via a sharp blast of pain behind your eyes. The world flashes to white, then to black, and then finally fades back into view. Another pain bursts forth, this time on your neck, and you cover the spot with your hand, only to be met with a thick layer of bandaging.

You breathe in as deep as you can, and your throat burns, seethes like fire reduced to coals.

Thirsty.

So, so thirsty.

You swallow several times, but it brings forth the taste of vomit and inflames the pain in your mouth — in your teeth. Your canines ache like you’ve badly chipped them, but when you feel the tips with your tongue, they’re unharmed, if a little sore. And much sharper than you remember.

Something tickles the corner of your eye and you gently rub your lower eyelid. Whatever it is flakes off onto your finger. You blink away the spots in your vision and try to inspect the stain despite the dim lighting.

Blood. Long since dried, but impossible not to recognize.

You knead your whole cheek with the flesh of your palm and manage to scrape off a long stain that runs down from the corner of your eye to the top of your upper lip. Strangely, you can’t find the source of it. There’s no cut – you can’t even feel a bruise.

Something clatters in the distance, beyond a door to your right. You strain your ears for more, for footsteps or muffled words, but can’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.

As gently as you can, you set your feet down on the carpet, soft and plush, and probably worth more than your yearly salary. You test your legs, put a little bit of weight on both of them. A twinge of pain, an echo of severe strain, as if you’d just fought off an intense fever, but other than that, you manage to stand up fine with the assistance of a decorative floor lamp.

You place your palm against the wall, firm and steady, and take a step, just to test the waters. Though your knees wobble and every moment of it hurts, you manage to get moving.

The doorknob is old and made of brass. Your heart is in your throat as you turn it, only to meet no objection. It turns smooth as butter, and the door clicks open, inviting you further.

Beyond, you arrive into a dining room. A massive table stands in the middle of the room, laden with plates and trays of food, all of it half-eaten, like the occupants had stood and left in the middle of dinner. Their forks are still buried in potatoes and steak.

The smell is a crooked kind of heavenly. You know meat, remember it. Your uncle standing at the grill, turning sausages; shepherd’s pie right out of the oven; chicken wings, covered in barbecue sauce. But the smell is off, as if you’d forgotten the fine details of it and could only sense a hazy memory.

Your nose leads you to the spot at the head of the table, furthest from the door you entered. The veal on this plate is half-pink, the way you’d never eaten it.

You don’t need a fork or a knife. You take hold of the nearest chair for support, snatch the meat from the plate with your bare hands and take a bite.

It goes down quickly, and you expect the satisfaction of a meal well prepared, but instead your stomach cramps and you heave, overtaken by nausea. The meager morsel comes up to stain the hardwood floor along with a splash of stomach acid, burning your esophagus like molten magma.

You stare at the mess, brows furrowed and your mouth open, drool still dripping off your lower lip.

Thirst strikes you as if you’re stranded at sea and you pick up a glass, half-full of wine. Usually, it’s not your drink of choice, but at this point you would drink gasoline straight from the pump if you could.

Your fingers tremble and the glass is at your lips, but your stomach turns — enough for you to gag and let the glass slip from your hand to shatter against the floor.

The sound, at least, is satisfying.

Another door to your right opens. You try to hide behind the chair, but your vision fills with dark spots again, and you sway, eyes barely open as you stare at the man standing in the doorway.

It comes back, then. Maybe it’s his cracked glasses, or the smell of viscera enveloping him, but you remember nevertheless.

A late night shift.

A crate.

Cam.

Sick burns the back of your throat all over again as you remember his bloodied corpse on the floor of the truck, staring at you with pale blue eyes, red-rimmed and frightened.

You finally fall to your knees, unable to keep yourself standing a second longer.

The side of your neck burns, and this time you tear at the bandage until it shreds to pieces. There, right where you remember the woman’s cold lips, is a bumpy scar in the shape of her teeth. It’s not as rough as you imagined it would be.

“That’ll be gone in a week or two,” the man says, nonchalantly. “You’ll be good as new.”

He sounds almost derisive. Like you aren’t worth his time. Like you’re beneath him.

A growl rises from your throat, deep and guttural. The tremble in your larynx is simultaneously foreign, like suddenly breathing fire, and as natural as breathing.

“You,” you croak, your shaking finger pointing at his out-of-season sweater. He looks mildly amused, and not even vaguely threatened.

“Oh, boy,” he says.

You leap over the table, dishes and decorations alike crashing to the floor as you clear the room in one single jump without an inch of wind-up. The man doesn’t even take a step back. You snarl and circle him, taking in his scent, the sweet ambrosia staining his plastic apron.

“Where am I?” you ask him. “What did you do to me?”

“I just wanted to take a bath,” he mutters to himself in a voice that should be far too quiet for you to hear. He reaches for his pocket slowly. Whatever weapon he has, you will not give him the chance to draw it.

You leap again with the full strength of your weakened legs, and hurtle right into the wall with a sharp crack as the man dances out of your way like water. He pulls a string of beads out of his pocket — to strangle you, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. He won’t live long enough to lift his arms.

You curl your fingers, claws at the ready, and soar towards him again with a hiss. He dodges, an infuriating smirk on his lips – one that makes you want to break his nose. He slaps something into your back: cold metal that instantly turns searing. You shriek, your hands flying to cover the injury. Your knees buckle, and you bang your forehead into the corner of the table as you go down.

The man comes to stand in front of you and lets the beads dangle by his knees. There’s a beautiful cross between the rosary beads. He must have stabbed you with it — but there’s no blood to prove it.

You pull your hand away from the wound, only to find no wound at all. Your fingers brush the bumpy ridges of a burn scar that’s already beginning to fade.

You look up at the man, confused.

“What’s happening to me?” you ask him. In return, he looks at you like you're an animal too fragile to put down. A chick that got under his skin before he could lop the head off. The man rubs his temple and pockets the rosary.

“Come on,” he says, and puts his hand around your arm.

“What?”

He painfully lifts you to your feet, and you growl in protest.

The man rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

You’re shown through a variety of rooms: a library, a sitting room, a music room, and then up the stairs and through a long, dark hall lit with more candles. Every curtain in the house has been drawn, and some of the windows are covered with newspaper.

You arrive at a door that’s identical to all the other ones: dark, wooden, and with an ornate brass handle. It’s the smell that’s different; sweet and rich and delicious, and it makes you fidget in anticipation as the man fixes his glasses on his nose and knocks twice, his knuckles sharp against the wood. The sound feels like an ice pick driven through your skull, hammered a good two inches in with each rap.

Muffled groans slip past the door, but no one answers. The man knocks again with a bothered sigh. When no one turns up, he opens it himself.

“Nadja?” he says, annoyed.

Your jaw falls open at the sight on the other side.

On the floor are three bodies, mangled and dried up like raisins. A middle-aged man, tall and lanky, by the upended desk and its former contents. Another man, shorter and stockier, spread on the stained satin couch. A woman, no older than twenty, in front of the massive bookshelf by the farthest wall.

In the middle of the twisted formation is the woman, the one who murdered Cam.

Nadja.

Her face is buried in another victim, a woman in her forties with red hair and a ripped safety-vest. Her glasses fall off her nose as you watch.

The man next to you takes a look at your face and scoffs. “Well, we couldn’t leave witnesses, could we?”

You wait for horror, for nausea and fright and all the things that come with seeing real dead people strewn on the floor of someone’s personal library.

It never comes, though. None of it.

You don’t faint in shock. You don’t scream. You barely feel grief as a thick, pungent veil overwhelms you, like the perfumed kiss of a lover pressed to your forehead. The corners of your lips lift, and you feel a little laugh bubbling in your throat, just like after two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

Nadja finally notices you two, and rolls her eyes. With a smack she releases the woman on her lap, who drops to the floor and begins to bleed freely into the ornate rug. It feels like a waste. You want to cup your hands beneath the tooth marks on her neck to save what you can.

“What the fuck, Guillermo?” Nadja says.

Guillermo points at you. “This guy finally woke up.”

Nadja licks her teeth, digging at a bit of skin stuck between her incisors. “Why is it my problem?”

“You’re the sire.” His voice is deadpan, like he’s stating the obvious. “You deal with it. I have my hands full with the shit you pulled back at the warehouse.”

Nadja groans like there’s a knife caught between her ribs. You wait silently, lost in the strange haze caused by the smell – and the faint taste – of the room. Nadja worries at her teeth for one more moment and then finally gets up.

“Fine. But just the basics.”

You feel her stare at you, but you can’t take your eyes off the woman slowly bleeding to death in the middle of the room. The burning in your throat grows stronger, brighter, and butterflies take off in your belly when Nadja comes closer and brings the smell of death with her.

She snaps her fingers in front of your face, and you return to your body. She sighs.

“You’re hungry, dumb-dumb.” She grabs the collar of your shirt to drag you into the room. The smell intensifies and you can’t help drawing in a breath so deep you feel your lungs might burst. Nadja stops and turns to Guillermo, who is still standing in the doorway. “What the fuck are you still here for?”

Guillermo looks like he wants to say something along the lines of fuck you and your mother too, but instead he offers Nadja a smile that doesn’t even remotely reach his eyes and closes the door.

“Good.” Nadja lets go of you and you stumble, still unsteady on your feet. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“What?” you ask her through the smell invading the rest of your senses. The burnt orange light from the candles fades into a vivid maroon, casting the room into pulsing shadows, the strongest of which keeps pulling you towards the syrupy fragrance stuck to the woman discarded by Nadja.

Nadja laughs, and you marvel at the sound. It’s harsh, like a swarm of bees or the screech of a cat.

“Weak in the knees? Little human tummy all upset? Feel like someone put you in one of those blendy things and drank you and shit you out?”

You tick every box on her list, slightly perturbed as to how she knew each one. She then looks at the drained bodies at your feet, specifically at the woman still gurgling only a foot and a half away from you.

“Thirsty?” she asks with a honeyed voice.

You nod, too much and too fast, and regret it immediately when lightning strikes behind your eyelids.

“I thought so,” Nadja says and walks to the dying woman. She drags her to you by her arms, and her pained moans sound like sirens beckoning you into the dark depths of the sea. Nadja appraises you for a moment, takes careful inventory of your clothes, your hair, and then purses her lips. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Some semblance of fear finally seeps into you, and you watch Nadja carefully, measuring the distance between you. “No.”

“Shame. You look like you’d be good at it.”

Nadja crouches and grabs the woman’s chin to turn her head and expose the neck. It isn’t like in the movies, with two tiny round holes to mark the canines. The woman’s skin is rough and torn where Nadja’s jaws were locked before, both rows of teeth firmly sunk into the flesh. She’s beginning to empty; the tide of blood grows slower on her neck and her wet gasps for air are fewer and far between. Based on the gently rueful expression on her face, she knows the end is near as well.

It twists the tight coil of panic in your gut.

She’s going to waste.

Nadja rises to her feet with a grunt.

“I’ll help you, but only because you’re cute and it’s your first time,” she says. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply weakly through your trance. Nadja’s hands encircle yours and she presses her thumbs into your palms to pull you down to your knees with her.

Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest, with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue.

Nadja takes your hand and places it behind the woman’s neck, slick with blood.

“Hold on tight,” she says and waits as you tangle your fingers into the woman’s hair. “The first time is the most intense — you’ll need the support. Don’t be afraid to break a few bones.”

Your mouth opens. The woman’s scent hits you like a mirror shattering, and you take a shuddering breath as you bend yourself over her. She coughs and wheezes, blood splashing from her lips, and she looks straight at you. Her eyes are the same shade of green as the calathea on your windowsill.

Nadja sighs. “Look, she’s going to die anyway,” she says. “Make use of her or don’t. I don’t mind a bit of dessert.”

But you can’t move. The woman is staring at you like a drowning mutt, and under her severe watch you can’t make yourself take the leap.

Nadja slides herself behind you and presses into your back, her whalebone corset pronounced against your thin, sweat-soaked shirt. The beads of her dress prick at you, but her breast is soft on your shoulder blade.

She grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head down. You inhale slowly, let the enticing scent of iron, of cypress and cherries reach the back of your mouth, and nuzzle the woman’s neck. Nadja’s fingers curl tighter against your scalp, and you finally feast.

The taste is inexplicable. Exquisite beyond your wildest hunger-ridden dreams. It reminds you of a hot summer day, at dusk when the sun has set but the air is still so humid you can feel it move on your skin; of the first autumn evening, when you get to dig candles from the back of your kitchen cabinet and put them by the window; of a winter morning spent indoors with your friends, bundled up by the radiator with a cup of coffee that’s too bitter to drink.

It is relief. It is frenzy. It is peace of mind. It is hysteria.

The accursed burning in your throat ebbs at last, and you hear yourself laughing around the human flesh in your mouth. Something tears, splits, and you move deeper in search of more, more; you bite, you suckle, you drink like it’s your last day on earth until your lips are wrapped around an empty, sunken shell devoid of life, and more importantly, of sustenance.

You finally let go, gasping for air as the woman’s body falls from your hands and onto the floor, her head thumping as it hits the carpet. You lick the remains from your fingers, tongue dipping under the nail so you don’t miss a single drop.

Nadja’s hand untangles from your hair, and her head falls on your shoulder.

“Good, right?” she asks with a sigh. “I still remember my first time. The 1600’s were something else.” She cranes her neck to see your face and slips her arm around you to wipe something off your cheek. Her fingertip comes away bloody, and you open your mouth, but she quickly dips it between her own lips instead. She laughs, softer and more languid this time, and shakes her head. “Someone’s eager. But you’re lucky — this one was the best of the batch.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. She looks at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“So you do have manners.” She huffs another laugh, and runs her eyes down your face slowly, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your chin. “Feel any better?”

“Yes.” The churning growl in your belly has been sated and replaced with a soft, heavy weight, a warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of your fingers. Your head has been filled with cotton and you have trouble keeping your eyes open anymore. “Warm. Good.”

Nadja smiles, wide enough for the tips of her fangs to peek from under her lip. “Sleepy?”

You nod, leaning too hard into the movement, and find yourself approaching the floor at an alarming rate. Nadja’s arm tightens around you, and she pulls you back until you’re off your knees and sagging against her instead. Engulfed by her sea of hair and the abundant layers of her dress, you wait for a reprimand with bated breath, but she lets you lie right where you are without a word. When you make the effort to look up, you’re met with her face, curiously watching you with a small and devious smile. Drops of blood are coagulating on her eyelashes, glittering like gemstones under the light.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, drawing your thumb slowly across her cheekbone. Nadja’s smile widens into a mischievous grin.

“I knew you’d be good at murder,” she says. “A little messy, but first kill is always like that. We’ll fine-tune your technique later.”

You finally let that champagne-laugh bubble over and it spills from your mouth like birdsong, bright and borderline hysteric. Nadja joins your laughter, and you both fall over to the squishy, bloodied carpet.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you float in the euphoria of feeling truly satisfied for the first time in your life.

"We're going to have so much fun," Nadja whispers. She brushes her hair off your face and kisses the curve of your jaw.

In the strong hold of her arms you let yourself sink into oblivion. Your dreams are filled with the sting of her knife-sharp teeth at your neck.

#Nadja/Reader #Nadja x Reader #Nadja of Antipaxos #Reader #Nadja #WWDITS

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Lifestyles of the rich and sometimes famous. Look at this over-the-top 2001 one abode in South Barrington, Illinois. It has 5bd  7.5ba & they’re asking $2.995M.

Come into the vast entrance. I still say you need a ride-on floor polisher for this much tile.

Arches and columns are everywhere. Here are a few chairs placed her w/a coffee table so you can look at the patio.

Next is the dining area on a raised platform. 

Like the 2-tone cabinetry in the kitchen. 

There’s also a large everyday dining area.

I would call this a living room. Nice fireplace, smaller cozier space.

Nice home office. Love the ceiling.

Guest powder room. 

Here’s a game room with a bar.

The main bd has some ceiling, doesn’t it?

The en-suite is a little weird divided into 3 cells.

Child’s pirate-themed bd.

Huge ground floor area. I don’t know what you’d do with this, since there’s so many other spaces for entertaining and lounging.

This is a rec room with a kitchenette.

Home gym.

Home theater.

Very nice gardens.

An oval pool.

3 acres of treed land surround the home. 

https://www.redfin.com/IL/South-Barrington/34-W-Penny-Rd-60010/home/13903584

#mansions #houses #house tours #home tour

[vintagestagehotties]

Hot Vintage Stage Actress Round 1

Lillian Russell: Lady Teazle in Lady Teazle (1904 Broadway); Henrietta Barrington in Wildfire (1908 Broadway); Laura Curtis in The Widow's Might (1909 Broadway)

Ethel Barrymore: Nora Helmer in A Doll's House (1905 Broadway); Rose Trelawny in Trelawny of the Wells (1911 Broadway); Rose Bernd in Rose Bernd (1922 Broadway); Juliet in Romeo and Juliet (1922 Broadway); Ophelia in Hamlet (1925 Broadway); Constance Middleton in The Constant Wife (1926 Broadway); Marie-Louise in L'Aiglon (1934 Broadway)

Propaganda under the cut

Lillian Russell:

Ethel Barrymore:

Literally referred to as “The First Lady of the American Theatre,” Ethel is hands-down my favorite of all the Barrymores (no offense to her grand-niece Drew), and a certified icon. She has a breathtakingly beautiful portrait in the National Portrait Gallery of her as Madame Trentoni in Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines, the show that would make her a star. When adoring audiences kept demanding more and more curtain calls after every performance and she said “That's all there is—there isn't any more!" it became a catchphrase found all over the 1930s. She was a strong union member and instrumental in the Equity strikes of 1919, even when it cost her relationships with important Broadway producers like George M. Cohan. She had a Broadway theater named after her when she was still alive (and still actively working!), and it still bears her name nearly 100 years later. A star of her wattage is rare indeed, and on top of her myriad accomplishments, she’s really fucking hot!!! A young Ethel is beautiful, an older Ethel is dignified, the woman has PRESENCE and a knowledge in her eyes, and there’s a smidge of play dancing underneath her surface. Vote for a genuine Legend of the American Theatre, vote for Ethel Barrymore

#vintagestagehotties #vintagestagepoll #vintage tournament #vintage poll #lillian russell #ethel barrymore #ladies round 1 #vintage ladies

[ningauinerd]

A collection of possum species from my June 2023 roadtrip through NSW, the ACT and south-east Queensland

Krefft's Glider (Petaurus notatus) - Black Mountain Nature Reserve, ACT

Common Brushtail Possum (Trichosurus vulpecula) - Cotter Campground, ACT

Broad-toed Feathertail Glider (Acrobates frontalis) - Warrumbungle National Park, NSW

Short-eared Brushtail Possum (Trichosurus caninus) - Lamington National Park, QLD

Southern Greater Glider (Petauroides volans) - Barrington Tops National Park, NSW

Common Ringtail Possum (Pseudocheirus peregrinus) - Myall Lakes National Park, NSW

Yellow-bellied Glider (Petaurus australis) - Murramarang National Park, NSW

Sugar Glider (Petaurus breviceps) - Murramarang National Park, NSW

#australian wildlife #wildlife #wildlife photography #mammals #marsupial #marsupials #possum #possums #glider #gliders #mammalwatching #my stuff

[ddixons-angel]

Marshmallows & Fluff

Fanfic Advent Calendar 2022 Day 17 - Daryl Dixon

Hi guys! So it’s my turn for the 2022 Advent Calendar and I present this super short piece, I have to admit, it was hard to get back into writing and since I took a (unintentional) break over the year, this is probably lacking but I hope you still enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts, love you all for continuing to support my writing! 

Prompt - “You don’t like marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Why do you hate love?”

Reader shares her hot chocolate with Daryl as they reminisce about the old world during the holidays.

Hilltop - Season 9

(I know the gif is not at all the right era but it’s the perfect expression for this, I swear!)

Winter has always been your favorite time of year. You loved how the snowflakes danced in the wind, covering the ground in a mystic sheet of white. How the festive lights of red and green reflected off the ground, spreading the joy of the holidays to anyone who laid their eyes on them. Even though the modern world had ended and no one put up any festive decor, it didn’t take away your absolutely favorite thing about this season: being able to cuddle with your favorite person by the fire. 

Your body shivered slightly as you were hit by the icy breeze once you stepped outside the Barrington House, it didn’t matter that you had a cozy blanket wrapped around you or a cup of hot chocolate in your hands. Regardless of the cold, a warm smile spreads on your lips as you look towards the stables, the faint glow of light from the second story draws you to it like a moth to a flame. 

“Can’t believe you’re able to sleep out here, it’s so cold,” you say as you reach the top of the stairs of the second story of the stable. 

Daryl turns to look at you at the sound of your voice and a side smile pulls at his lips, “Dog likes it up here.”

You chuckle at his words as you walk towards him and Dog and sit beside Daryl, “you’re gonna get yourself sick if you stay out here for too long.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine, got my poncho ‘n’ Dog,” he says then after a purposeful pause, “an’ you.”

“You also have hot chocolate,” you say, trying to not give him the satisfaction of making you blush, you give him the cup of hot chocolate to which he takes with a chuckle, “sorry there’s not marshmallows though.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs, “never liked ‘em anyway.”

You gawk at him in disbelief at his words, speechless. Daryl catches your look just before taking a sip and he blinks in confusion at your expression.

“Wha’?” 

“You don’t like marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Why do you hate love?” you ask, there was a hint of genuine concern in your voice.

“I don’ hate love I jus’ never really had ‘em, ain’t no big deal,” he says, shrugging again.

You pout at him, “you never had marshmallows?” 

“Had em’ once when I was a kid, came home one day ‘n’ there was a bag of ‘em sittin’ on the table, I don’ even know where they came from bu’ I took it an’ ate ‘em,” Daryl tells you.

“You ate a full bag of marshmallows?” you ask, amused by his childhood story, you continue when he nods, “and you somehow still don’t like them?”

“I got sick after eatin’ ‘em,” he defends.

“Of course you did! You ate a full bag of marshmallows all in one go!” you say, your tone was one of amusement rather than scolding, then you look at him seriously, “I have to ask, were they the little ones or the big, fluffy ones?”

“The big ones,” he replies, then eyes you playfully when you start giggling, “ya laughin’ at me?”

You try to contain your giggles as you speak, “I’m sorry, but the image of you as a kid stuffing your face with huge fluffy marshmallows is too cute.”

Daryl scoffs and rolls his eyes then finally takes a sip of hot chocolate, he looks down at the cup in his hand, pondering something. You study the thoughtful look on his face then scoot closer to him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as you snuggle close to him.

“Next time we’re out on a run, I’m gonna be on the lookout for marshmallows so you know the joy of having them in your hot chocolate,” you tell him.

Daryl chuckles and wraps his arm around you under the blanket, pulling you closer. It was his way of telling you that you appreciated the gesture. It seemed as though Dog felt that he was left out of the cuddlefest since he got up from his spot and wedged himself in between the two of you, making you and Daryl laugh. 

“A’right, we’ll get ya some too,” Daryl says as gives him a few pats on the head. 

---

Like I said, super short but still fluffy! Please let me know what you all thought!

Taglist | Click here to be added/removed

@soraitmnt​ | @lilythemadqueen​ | @jodiereedus22​ | @molethemollie​ | @m-7770 | @kissofvenom922​

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #TWD #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Fanfic #Daryl Dixon X Reader #Daryl Dixon & Reader #Daryl Dixon/Reader

[zoyawon]

Accommodation Barrington tops: Best features to look for 

Newcastle, one of the most treasured tourist places, is adored for its exquisite beauty and eye-catching scenarios. No doubt, it’s a perfect destination for enjoying the holiday with family and friends. But of course its not just the place that gives you the picturesque vibe but at the same time, the accommodation does play a key role. You can plan your stay at the accommodation Barrington Tops. Here, the holiday homes are designed to make you experience the best convenience and comfort. So, let’s find out the features at once. 

Spending memorable time in the marvelous interiors 

When planning a family-friendly outing, you should focus on the accommodation Barrington tops. They provide families with ample cozy rooms to bond and spend memorable hours with each other. Besides that the holiday Homes Newcastle even boasts of the dining areas which are generously designed where you can chill, relax even if you have children and pet they can play along easily. 

Some zones are particularly kid-centric and playful

Travelling with kids means looking for Barrington Tops Accommodation, which is highly equipped with modern amenities. Most importantly, they should have dedicated zones for kids to play and engage in childproofing activities. Now you should check these features as this will give them a home feel vibe even when you are spending holidays. 

Inbuilt kitchen equipped with homely featured amenities

Have you ever tried to prepare your meal even when you are on holiday? If not, this time, you can do so in holiday homes in New Castle, as they will let you explore the delightful kitchens with all amenities equipped as per your needs. No doubt that instils a sense of togetherness.

Outdoor spaces are for relaxation and playing safely 

The best accommodation Barrington tops makes it a point that there should be a particular outdoor area where families or friends can relax. However, nestled along the scenic mountains, it is an eye soothing treat. Children and even pets feel safe to play in the extended outdoor part. Even you can spend time in the garden watching this bewitching beauty of Newcastle. 

The scenic attractions are pretty family-friendly 

Location of the Barrington Accommodation matters, especially for families who are always eager to discover something new. Therefore, when you search for family-friendly holiday homes in Newcastle, make sure that the hotels are in a strategic position with adjacent family-friendly beaches, parks, and other scenic attractions. This proximity will ensure families can easily access various activities designed for all ages. And that, in return, minimizes the travel hassle.

Various Entertainment options are offered to the guests 

Now when you are planning to spend your holiday in Newcastle, make sure the accommodation you have booked offers you the best in-hotel accommodation facility for all age groups. It should have facilities like gaming consoles, DVDs, and board games where families or friends can stay tuned and enjoy their leisure hours. 

Final say  So the above said are some of the features that you should look for in accommodation Barrington tops. Make sure that you pick all these features and sort out the best stay for you.

Learn more:

How does accommodation Barrington tops offer serenity

Why boutique couples accommodations NSW is famous?

#barrington tops #barrington tops accommodation #accommodation

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || The Hilltop Colony

Previous

They had ran into another problem on their way to Jesus's community, the RV got stuck in the mud, the tyre spun as Rick revved the engine to get out.

"Damn it." He cursed. "A storm must've passed through. We're stuck."

Jesus stood from his seat, looking out the windshield.

"No worries. We're here." He patted Ricks arm.

When they had opened the door of the RV, the ground was coated in mud, the RV was sat in a large wet puddle.

Natalia hesitated, before stepping down.

Daryl held out his hand to her, which she took, as she got down from the steps, and onto the slippery ground.

She hadn't let go of his hand though, instead intwined her fingers in his.

He looked at the others before looking at her.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled.

"What I want." She smiled at him.

He was embarrassed that people had caught onto them, and now she was displaying PDA, he didn't like it, he felt awkward, but the thought never occurred to Daryl to just pull away.

He scoffed, as he gripped her hand, walking in front of her only slightly.

They had stopped in front of a wall made out of tree trunks.

"That's us." Jesus said. "That's the Hilltop."

The group of 12 walked towards the community.

"Stop right there." A man called.

Daryl and Natalia both ripped their hands apart, raising their guns, so had the other members of their group.

"Woah." Jesus put his hands up.

"You gonna make us?" Daryl asked the two men on the perch's of the wall, in front of a steel door.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" One of them asked.

"Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt." Jesus told him, he then turned to the group. "Look, sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons. Then we'll open the gates." Cal said.

"How about you come down here and get them with your big sticks." Natalia challenged.

"Gentleman, look, we vouch for these people, all right? They saved us out there." The doctor said.

"Lower the spears." Jesus told them.

"Look, I'm not taking any chances." Rick stepped towards Jesus. "Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No." Jesus turned to talk to him. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. Look, we ran out of ammo months ago."

"Brave to admit that to strangers." Natalia told him.

"I like you people." He shrugged. "I trust you. Trust us."

Rick thought about it for a moment, then gestured for them to lower their weapons.

"Open the gates, Cal." Jesus told him.

He did as told.

The metal squeaked loudly as it was opened.

The first thing that came to Natalia's mind when she saw The Hilltop, was that it was beautiful.

A large house sat in the middle of the grounds, huts were around the place, being worked in, having their own stations, for food, black smith, washing, and other useful jobs.

Trailers lined the other wall, that must be where the people lived who didn't live in the house.

The place even had chickens, cows and crops.

"Hey, thanks again. Come see me whenever." The doctor told Glenn and Maggie, "I'm just over here in the medical trailer, okay?"

The couple smiled at him in appreciation.

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby." Jesus explained as the group looked around. "That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne asked.

"That's called the Barrington House." He pointed at the large house. "The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down." He pointed at the windows in the top part of the house. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security."

"If it used to be a museum, does it still have any of the exhibits or art?" Natalia asked him. "Just, that stuffs cool." She shrugged when the others looked at her.

"Come on." Jesus smirked at her. "I'll show you inside."

Natalia followed after him, quite excitedly, as the others hesitated.

If she trusted him, they knew they could, too.

He led them in, the place looked old and tidy.

Natalia made her way around the place, looking at the stuff, fascinated by it.

She used to love History.

One of her and her moms main bonding times were visiting art galleries and museums, her therapist had recommended it when their relationship was strained during her teen years.

"Good gracious. Ignatius." Abraham voiced the groups thoughts as they took the place in.

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms." Jesus explained.

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick asked.

"We plan to build. There's babies being born."

A door opened, a balding man with a beard and a punchable face, wearing a suit, emerged.

"Jesus." He greeted. "You're back. With guests."

Natalia hadn't missed how he trailed his eyes down the three women.

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here."

"I'm the boss." He gestured proudly.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community..."

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" He told them, cutting Rick off.

Gregory was an asshole.

"We're fine." Rick told him.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready." He then leaned in to whisper to Rick, keeping the others out.

"Yeah. Sure." Rick agreed to whatever he had said.

"Follow me." Jesus sighed, heading up stairs.

"I don't like him." Natalia told Rick as they followed.

"You ain't the only one." He murmured to her, he then patted Maggie's arm, gaining her attention as she waited up." "you clean up first. Then you talk to him."

"Why?" She asked.

"I shouldn't." Rick said. "And you gotta start doing these things. And I'm scared that If I sent Nat in there, she'd be the only one leaving it."

Natalia laughed at his comment.

"Well, he seems to know your name already." Maggie nodded at Natalia when she left Gregory's office, looking ticked off.

"Mine?" Natalia asked, pointing at herself.

"Kept calling me it, I'm honoured, but it suits you best." She smiled at her.

"Thanks, was given it at birth." She smiled. "But what did he say?"

The others waited to hear her answer as they sat around the hallway, in the gorgeous chairs.

She shook her head.

"The best answer I can give is, he's not interested, says we ain't got anything to give but bullets."

"We want to generate trade. Gregory does." Jesus joined the conversation. "But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

"Well, how's that?" Rick asked.

"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible."

"Yeah, well, we want things, too." Daryl spoke up.

"We need food. We came all this way, we're gonna get it."

"We're the reason you guys have that medicine, hell, I could've shot him as soon as I saw him, but I didn't" Natalia told the man.

"I will talk to him and we will work this out." Jesus pressed, hearing the threating tone in their voices. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand. Can you give me a few days?"

"We can." Michonne nodded.

"Yeah." Rick agreed.

A man came through the main door, catching their attention, as well as Gregory's as he came back out of his office.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"They're back." The man told him.

Gregory and Jesus walked out without saying a word, so of course the group followed.

Two men and a woman were walking towards them, the man in front was significantly tall, looking frustrated about something.

"Nathan, what happened to everybody else?" Gregory asked the man. "Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead." He put it bluntly.

"Negan?"

"Yeah."

"We had a deal."

"He said it wasn't enough." The other man told him. "Was the drop light?"

"No." Gregory answered, in an annoyed tone at being questioned.

"They still have Craig." The woman said.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you." Nathan stepped towards Gregory.

Natalia slowly pulled her gun out.

"So, tell me." Gregory replied.

The man placed his hand on the mans shoulder as he whispered "I'm sorry." Then he stabbed the man.

Rick and Michonne pulled the man away, as Jesus and Maggie helped Gregory.

Natalia stepped forward as the man fought against the couple.

"Get off of me! I had to!" He shouted.

Rick tackled him to the ground, pounding his fists into the mans face.

He was pulled away by the other man, who was then tackled by Abraham.

Rick went back for Nathan.

The man in the red jumper began strangling Abraham, managing to get the upper hand.

Daryl grabbed the mans arm, breaking it.

Then Natalia aimed her gun, shooting at the man in the red jumper, a bullet flew into his skull.

She then aimed at Nathan, who had managed to get on top of Rick.

"Hey!" Glenn shouted.

"Stay back! Anybody who tried to stop me is killing my brother!"

Natalia pulled the trigger, the mans blood splatted across Ricks face, coating his beard and neck.

Rick pushed the man off of him, standing up.

The people of Hilltop stared at them, the woman who had shot their people, and the man covered in their blood.

"What?" Rick asked at their stares.

The woman stepped towards Natalia, punching her in the face, knocking her down.

Michonne dropped the woman as Daryl helped Natalia up.

"Don't." Michonne pointed at the woman who hit her friend.

Rick pulled out his gun, aiming at the spearmen.

Cal had also ran over with a spear.

"Drop it now!" He shouted.

"Bitch." Natalia spat at the woman still on the floor, wiping her lip, where she had split it, the same cut from all that time ago.

Rick walked forwards aiming at the spearmen.

"I don't think I will."

"Everyone, this is over!" Jesus shouted, standing in the middle. "It's over. Ethan and Andy were our friends, but lets not pretend they were anything more than cowards who attacked us. They did this. And these people stopped them."

The woman cried over her friends, Daryl held on to Natalia tightly, stopping from getting her own back.

"What can I do?" Rick asked Jesus.

"Put the gun away." He replied. "You've done enough. You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

Dr Carson helped Gregory whilst Maggie assisted.

Daryl led Natalia away from the woman, her back to his chest, his arms were still around her as they walked towards Abraham, who was laying on his back, smiling at the blue sky.

"Hey, man. You good?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "I'm better than all right."

They waited in Gregory's office, until Jesus came in.

"Dr Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live."

"So, what happens now?" Michonne asked.

"Things like that don't usually happen here, but, uh, it's settled." Jesus said, awkwardly.

"We heard the name Negan." Rick stepped forward, his face was now blood free. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors. As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us... Rory. He was 16 years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation."

"What is he good at?" Natalia asked.

"Well, he's not the leader I would've chosen. But he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal." Maggie summarised.

"Half of everything. Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors."

"And what do you get in return?" Glenn asked.

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."

"Why not just kill them?" Daryl said.

"Yeah, how come you never fought back?" Natalia added.

"Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo."

"Well, how many people does Negan have?" Rick asked.

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as 20."

"Now, hold up. So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything?" Daryl piped up. "These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit."

"Well, how do you know?"

"Because we've come across guys like this before, and they're all dead." Natalia told him. "Bunch of pussies with scary weapons, that's all." She shrugged.

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ." Abraham shared. "Left them in pieces and puddles."

"You know, we'll do it." Daryl volunteered. "If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine, and one of them cows."

Daryl's authoritive tone was doing something to Natalia, she stared at him as he listed his demands, ready to follow him into anything if he kept talking like that.

"Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with." Rick shrugged.

"I'll take it to Gregory." He then left the room.

Once he came back, he had shared that Gregory wanted to talk to Maggie in his bedroom.

Natalia paced back and forth in front of the window, wondering what was going on at home at Alexandria, if Evie and Sully were safe.

She glared at the woman who had punched her, as the people of Hilltop burnt the bodies Natalia had dropped.

"Lemme see." Daryl stopped her from pacing.

She turned from the window, looking at him.

"See what?" She asked, her arms were folded across her chest.

Daryl grabbed the red rag from his back pocket, tilting her chin up, she stared at his face, startled by his current actions, he dabbed at her bottom lip with the cloth, it was still bleeding.

"Got you pretty good." He said, once the blood was wiped away, stuffing the rag back into his pocket.

"Should've killed her." Natalia pouted. "Dumb bitch."

"Nah, Michonne got her on her ass, an' you killed her old man and friend, think you're both pretty even."

"So, are we going to avoid this morning, and pretend it never happened?" Natalia asked, waiting for him to twist the knife.

"I was waiting for this shit show to end so we could get back." He told her, lowly, checking around them to see if anyone was there to listen in on their private conversation.

"Really?" She raised her brows, someone had gotten brave all of a sudden.

"What you did out there, reminded me..."

"Of what?"

"Why I have faith that not everything's doomed."

"I have a crush on you too, Dixon." She teased, holding his wrist, who's hand was still holding her face, turning her head slightly to kiss his palm.

"Shut up." He scoffed, but his hand that was holding her side, moved down to her lower back, the very low part of her back, as he kissed her forehead.

Maggie was successful in making the trade, half of everything.

As they loaded up the RV, Rick, Abraham and Daryl talked to the woman, Daryl thought it be best if Natalia helped Michonne.

"So, you and Daryl, when were you planning on sharing that?" Michonne pried.

"Maybe never." She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Did you guys have..."

"No, though we were close, I think. Glenn walked in."

"Really?" Michonne's eyes shot wide.

"Yes, we agreed to never talk about it again." Natalia shuddered.

"Look at us, guess we both lied." Michonne nudged her arm.

"You started it first. Thanks for sticking up for me against her." They looked over their shoulders at the woman talking to their men.

"Always." She clapped Natalia's hand, lacing their fingers together for a moment before getting back to work.

On the way back to Alexandria, Natalia was sat next to Daryl, her hand was on his knee as she leaned against him.

Glenn and Maggie had passed their first baby scan picture to Michonne, who smiled at it, then at the couple, she then passed it to Daryl, Natalia pulled his hand down, so she could see as well, when she looked up to see him squinting trying to find what he was supposed to be looking at, she gently pointed at the baby.

"There." She muttered under her breath. "That's the baby."

He nodded, then reached over Natalia's head, passing it to Abraham.

"You scared?" Natalia asked Maggie.

"Of what?"

"Well, it's not gonna be as fun getting it out as it was getting it up there, your-" She made a hole with her hands.

"Alright, let's not scare her." Michonne cut her off.

"What, I was just saying." She rolled her eyes, placing her hand back on Daryl's leg as she looked out the windshield.

It was the next day by the time they got back to Alexandria.

Natalia had fallen asleep beside Daryl, tucked under his arm, looking quite the pair, there was moments he wanted to push her away when the stares got too heavy from their friends, but he couldn't bring himself to it.

Daryl shook her as they drove through the gates.

"We're home." He told her.

"Mhm." She nodded, sitting up, his way of waking her up was a lot nicer than a certain six year old, who thought jumping on her over the covers and shouting was a good tactic.

Aaron and Sasha met Rick at the drivers side window when he came to a stop.

"Get Olivia" He told them. "She should inventory what we have. We'll meet her at the pantry."

"You have food?" Sasha asked.

"Yeah. Enough for another month." Michonne answered when her and Natalia climbed out the RV. Natalia noticed Michonne's weird behaviour, that she wasn't happy about something.

"I need everybody in the church in an hour." Rick continued.

"What is it?"

"We'll talk about it."

He then started the RV, driving towards the inventory.

"Carol, hey, where's-"

"Both at the house, best behaviour, even got some work done, though Evie's been missing you."

"Okay, great, thank you." Natalia smiled at her before running for the Grimes and co house.

Evie ran down the porch steps as Natalia neared it, jumping into her arms.

"Natty! You're home." She cheered as Natalia squeezed her tightly, spinning around.

"Hey, sweet girl" Natalia smiled largely as Sully jumped at her legs, "Hey, boy, I missed you too."

"I missed you so, so, so much!" Evie exaggerated when Natalia set her down, bending down so she could scratch Sully's neck, which he largely appreciated.

"And I missed you so, so, so much more! What've you been up to? Did you have a fun sleepover?"

"Yeah, Carl and Enid let me read their comics, but every time something scary happened, they would flip the pages so I didn't see it, and he let me play with Judith, and I made cookies with Carol, and I did schoolwork and I helped Denice, one of the builders got a cut, and guess what? I helped him!" She was out of breath by the time she finished.

"Oh, so you had way more fun than me" Natalia chuckled.

"Where's Daryl?" She asked, looking for him.

"He's sorting out the food we just brought home, there's some good stuff, he'll see you later, but Rick's called a meeting in the next hour, are you going to be able to keep yourself distracted until it's over? I'll come right after."

"Do you have to?" Evie pouted.

"I'm afraid so, I hate meetings" Natalia pouted as well.

"Okay, I'm a big girl, I'll wait."

"That's my girl. I love you." Natalia high fived her.

"I love you, too. We can take Sully on a walk until the meeting, right?"

"Sure we can." She stood up, accepting Evie's hand that she held up for her to hold as they set sail to walk along the streets of Alexandria.

Natalia was sat next to Michonne in the church, as the whole of Alexandria gathered inside it, listening to what Rick had to say.

"And we work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We're getting food, eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they're not just giving it away." Rick started. "These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would've found us just like those wolves did, just like Jesus did. They woulda killed someone or some of us. And then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. Its how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

No one had said anything for the moment, letting what Rick said, sink in.

Morgan than stood up.

Natalia rolled her eyes to oblivion as everyone turned around to hear what he had to say.

"You're sure we can do it?" He asked. "We can beat them?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us, yes, I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell them that."

"Well, they don't compromise." Rick tried.

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviours, we give up our advantage, our safety. No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive." Rick explained.

"Where there's life, there's possibility." Morgan tried.

"Of them hitting us."

Natalia agreed with Rick all the way, but she suspected others didn't.

"We're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this."

"Yet." Natalia stood up. "We're not trapped in this yet. These are bad people, they don't get to live the life they're living, right now. I have family here that I have to protect, and taking out them, before they can take out us, is doing that. It's what we have to do, we've already lost too much, as a community, we can't afford any more."

"Morgan... Natalia's right. They always come back."

"Come back when they're dead, too."

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before." Rick said.

"I'm not talking about the walkers."

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviours? Talk to them first."

Aaron then stood up.

"What happened here, we won't let that happen again. I won't." He nodded in agreement with Rick, then sat back down.

"Looks like it's settled." Rick decided. "We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we live. We kill them all. We don't all have to kill. But if people are gonna stay here... They do have to accept it." Rick then left the church, ending the meeting.

Later that night, Glenn, Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Daryl, Natalia, Jesus and the woman from Hilltop mapped out the Saviours place.

"Describe it." Rick told her as she drew.

"Rectangular building, big satellites on it." She said.

"Any windows?"

"I don't remember any." She looked up at Natalia. "I didn't go in there as much as Ethan and Andy, but they're dead, now."

"Get over it, and draw." Natalia pointed at the paper.

She scoffed before going back to the map.

"I think they made it so there's only one way in." She continued.

"Guards outside?"

"Yeah, two of them, at least."

"And you don't know how many people they have?" Michonne asked.

"No." She thought on it for a moment. "Uh, I mean, no. I saw a place where they stored food. It wasn't anything grand, so..."

"You've been inside?"

"Yeah. They made us load in supplies one time."

"Hmm. What do you remember?" Glenn asked, setting down a new piece of paper.

She drew the direction of the inside, that she could think of.

"And you didn't see any other rooms?" Maggie asked.

"No, it's a big place. Like I said, I didn't see it as well as the others had. This is the hallway I saw." she pointed at it on her drawing. "There is more."

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Michonne pointed.

"Jesus. We brought a couple spears for them. Two of the Saviours took them down this hallway. Now, they must've done something with them, because they didn't come back with them."

"My moneys on the table for that being where the Armoury is." Natalia pointed at the arrow she drew.

"Okay." She sighed, adding it.

"We get in there, secure the armoury, that's how we end it." Glenn said.

"That's how Carol ended it here." Maggie shared.

"But we don't know if they have an armoury or where it even is."

"We have an idea." Natalia shrugged.

"We've done more with less." Daryl added.

"We go in at night while they're sleeping." Rick decided.

"The guards won't be sleeping." She told them. "Like I said, I think there's only one way in and there's no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them."

"We don't need to." Rick reminded. "They're going to open it for us, let us walk right in. They want Gregory's head, right? We're gonna give it to them."

"You coming round, tonight?" Natalia asked Daryl as they left the second meeting of the day, it was dark.

"Like, for dinner?" He asked.

"Well, yeah, obviously, but for the night, stay over." She hinted as they walked towards hers and Evie's house.

He swallowed before looking at her.

"You don't have to, but y'know... if you want to, the offers there." She looked around, trying to hide any disappointment that might be on her face.

"Nah, nah I do, but, what about Evie?"

"Oh, Rick already said she could stay over at yours and Sully stayed with her to keep her company, because we're leaving early tomorrow, don't want to have to get her up in the morning just to take her over there anyway, Carl's gonna watch her and Judith whilst we're... out. So it'll just be me, all alone, by myself, lonesome."

Next

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #carl grimes #carol peletier #daryl fanfiction #glenn rhee #michonne #rick grimes #daryl dixon x reader #daryldixonalonetwd #darylxnatalia #daryl x you #twd daryl x y/n

[jamessarah]

How to find Family Accommodation?

Going on vacations with family is exciting and rejuvenating. Amidst the chaos, everyone needs a much-needed break to enjoy holidays and trips with their loved ones. Planning a trip for so many people is daunting. You have to consider myriad things. There is a. Which location to visit? Where to stay? How to go? What facilities do you need? And much more.

If you plan to visit NSW with family, find accommodation with great amenities and pet-friendly services. Riverwood Downs is a family holiday resort with 4-star boutique rooms. Customers will get special deals for families.

Finding family accommodation is difficult when you have myriad options available. Everyone has individualistic needs, and based on them; you have to find the one.

This blog highlights the tips that help you find the family accommodation NSW. Let’s look into the tips.

1.       Check online

The Internet is the best place to find a hotel for family vacations. They give you several options, such as pet-friendly accommodation in NSW, hotels with camping grounds near Barrington Tops, kids-friendly stays and more. You have to type your requirement in the search bar, and you will get the one.

Moreover, there are many guidebooks available for family travel to specific locations.

2.       Choose a kid-friendly stay

If you have kids, all you have to do is to choose an accommodation that is kids friendly. It’s because kids need things for their enjoyment and to play. They need parks, swimming pools, and camping grounds to enjoy and have fun.

3.       Consider the Dining Options

Find an accommodation with a restaurant so that whole family can enjoy the delicious food after travelling to nearby locations in the area.

Riverwood Downs has a restaurant bar and garden courtyard with delicious food. You can relax and enjoy a few drinks with your loved ones.

4.       Go for Family-friendly Services

Hotels generally offer exceptional facilities to customers who come with their families. If you wish to spend quality time with your spouse, check whether the hotel has babysitting services.

Many hotels provide amenities to kids so that they can enjoy their vacations. Family spas are also becoming increasingly common and popular in hotels. RiverWood Downs provides a unique variety of accommodation ranging from 4 Star Spa and Queen Boutique Rooms.

These are the ways you can adopt to find a family accommodation NSW.

Learn More

* How to choose the Right Family Accommodation NSW?

* Understand the rules and requirements of reputed pet-friendly accommodation

#pet-friendly accommodation #Monkerai #group accommodation #Pet Friendly Accommodation #pet friendly accommodation NSW #Group Holiday Accommodation NSW #Group Accommodation NSW #Group Holiday Accommodation #Camping Grounds Near Barrington Tops #barrington tops accommodation #Barrington Tops cottages Barrington Top accommodation family friendly accommodation reviews #Barrington Tops cottages #Barrington Tops National Park Accommodation #Caravan Parks near Barrington Tops

[medinainternational]

(Motif-Radio) REGGAE PON TOP # 9 2024 TRACK LISTING:

SINGLES: BARRINGTON LEVY- PRISON OVAL DUB KAZAYAH- READY FI DI ROAD EESAH- BEHOLD THE CONQUERING LION ZION HEAD & MACKA B- PRAISE TO JAH MOSIAH- BLACK LIVITY KABAKA PYRAMID- START MY DAY HEZRON- NATURAL WOMAN JAH LIL- ABOVE WATER EXCO LEVI- STRIVE WITH ME EXCO LEVI- WHITE SQUALL L.A.B.- CASSANOVA DA FLAME- PHYLLIS DILLION TRIBUTE

RIDDIMS: NATURAL VIBES RIDDIM MEDINA DUBPLATES FIGHT AGAIN RIDDIM

DANCEHALL: ROSHAWNY BAD G & GOVANA- DEH SUH CAPLETON & AFAZ- NATURAL CAN'T STOP MAESTRO DON FT. D-YANI- TEASE MOSIAH- EQUALITY AWESOME SAUCE RIDDIM PURE POWER & STYLO G- N.H.S. NUH REGULAR RIDDIM CHRONIC LAW- ONE DAY EYE GEN- ROCKAWAY

ROOTS/DUBWISE/LOVERS ROCK: EXCO LEVI- ONE LIFE DUKE OF ROOTS- CROSS THE RUBICON PROTOJE- LEGEND LEGEND GINJAH- BETTER WAY MR. EASY & VAZASHA PETERS- SUFFERING EESAH- PUSH ON SKYGRASS & MYKAL ROSE- SENSI DONOVAN KINGJAY- SEE AND BLIND PERFECT GIDDIMANI- SAVE JAH CHILDREN KEN BOOTH- GREEN GROW THE RASHES O! MURDER DEM RIDDIM DENNIS BROWN- LIFE GOES IN CIRCLES

#SoundCloud #music #Motif-Radio #Dancehall #LOVERS ROCK #ROOTS REGGAE #FADDA MEDINA