#anyway being taken out to camp in the bed of a pickup truck is like. haha. one of my dark twisted evil romantic fantasies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersandmaw · 5 years

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Male hermit crab mer x reader (nsfw). Mermay story #3

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Eep, sorry it's a bit later than I wanted, and it's technically not May any more, but I got sick, and I'm still writing those last few hand-written stories for you.

This story got a great reaction from my Patreon supporters, and he’s been a subject of discussion over on my Patreon discord server too! I’m really excited to introduce him to you folks now too!

***

To say that you’d needed money was an understatement.

You’d quit your job at the supermarket because of your arsehole manager, and your bank account was down to single digits as the start of the summer rolled by. You realised you had to do something before you starved to death and couldn’t make your rent. As if by divine providence, your eye caught an advertisement in the window of the local newsagent’s as you went to buy a pint of milk on evening.

Yours was one of the parts of the city that was less populated by humans and more by non-humans, and as such, you’d become a familiar face to the minotaur who ran the shop. With a soft smile, he watched you staring wistfully at the advert on the back of the door, and when you’d not moved for a good few minutes, he said in his big, deep, gentle voice, “You thinking of doing it?”

“Hmm? Oh…” you said, startling and glancing round at him before letting your eyes return to the poster.

With a picture of a wide sandy beach, the “Starfall Springs’ Summer Kids’ Activities Camp” was advertised in bold colours, promising ‘activities and games for all abilities, treasure hunts, learn to swim, surf, snorkel, and even ride, play a variety of games, music, and take part in story telling, basic survival and outdoor education courses, and art classes’.

“I’m not a kid,” you snorted playfully, and the minotaur laughed.

He flicked his white ear and said, “If you’re looking to get involved though, my cousin is running one of the outdoor classes and he’s one of the organisers. He said they’re kind of understaffed this year.”

“Oh man,” you groaned. “I could use the money, for sure, but I can’t teach swimming or bug hunting or whatever…”

“You could take the art classes, or just help out with some of the other activities?” he suggested. “I actually did it a couple of years ago, and it was really fun. They focus a lot on breaking down barriers between the species, and trying to get everyone involved. I think you’d be great at it. Let me give you my cousin’s number…”

He scribbled down a phone number and the name ‘Dane’, and handed it to you on a scrap of paper.

“Thanks,” you said, gratitude swelling inside you, and no small degree of hope.

With the final pay cheque that came in from your former job just in time, you payed your rent for the month and bought a ticket to Starfall Springs. You’d negotiated free accommodation in conversation with Dane, by agreeing to take on two more activities than would be normally expected of an employee. He actually agreed to pay you for the additional activities, so you were more than willing to do it. Dane seemed like a nice guy too, and he said he’d meet you at the train station and drive you over to the camp.

When you got there, you found a huge, white minotaur with a traditional ring through his black nose, wearing a baggy t-shirt and baggy football shorts, his massive hooves clopping noisily on the concrete of the station as he stepped forward to help you with your bag.

“Here, let me,” he grinned, holding out his other hand for you to shake it. “I’m Dane,” he added.

You introduced yourself and thanked him for his help.

“No problem!” he laughed, shouldering your massive sports bag as if it weighed nothing at all, and leading you out towards the station exit where a huge pickup truck waited in the sunny parking lot beyond. He set your bag down in the bed of the truck and opened the passenger door for you to climb in. “I need to do some food shopping on our way back; I hope you don’t mind? I thought maybe you could pick some stuff up for the week too…”

You nodded and settled in as he fired up the truck and drove from the station on the outskirts of the old town towards the centre. He explained where things were and pointed out some landmarks, and before you knew it, he’d pulled to a halt in the little car park at the back of the grocery store in the centre.

You followed the massive minotaur inside, his shock of thick, ice-white hair gleaming in the mid-afternoon sun, and the moment the quaint little bell above the door dinged at your entrance, he waved merrily at the gnoll behind the counter.

“Hiya, Sorrel,” he called and she beamed him a toothy grin. To your surprise, he introduced you as well, and added, “We managed to get ourselves another helper down at the beach camp.”

“Oh brilliant!” she said. “I’ll be bringing Ginger over for her first day tomorrow. She can’t wait to get involved in the sports, and honestly, the little scamp is climbing up the walls… I can’t wait for you lot to tire her out for me!”

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little knot of apprehension starting to form in your gut. You'd never done anything quite like this before, but you were pretty confident you would do alright. How hard could it be after all?

You knew that the camp provided lunch every day, but you’d have to get your own breakfast and supper, so you stocked up, and when you were both done, you and Dane headed over to the coast.

A gasp of awe and surprise left you as the pickup rumbled down the track and turned the corner to reveal the wide, sandy beach stretching out for miles before the softly lapping waves just kissed it at the shore. The tide was out, and wading birds dabbled at the far off tide line.

“Holy…” you breathed, and Dane chuckled.

The camp’s headquarters were set back from the beach itself, and it appeared to have been the old coastguards’ station before it had been converted into the activity centre. Not far off was a ramshackle old beach hut, rather larger than you were used to and painted in faded pastel colours which looked like the paint had seen one too many winters before being refreshed.

Outside the hut was the most remarkable merfolk creature you’d ever seen.

With a large, vivid orange shell that shimmered like mother of pearl, was what appeared to be ostensibly a hermit crab, except that he had the torso of a human man. His skin was pale, his body slim, and his hair was a brilliant, flaming red, tied up in a scruffy bun with sections flopping about in the stiff breeze that blew in off the distant sea. He seemed absorbed in the humble task of hanging shirts up to dry on a little washing line which was attached at one end to his wooden shack and at the other to a small pole driven into the sand a short distance away.

“Ah!” the white minotaur chuckled as he parked up and saw you staring at the hermit crab mer with astonishment written clear across your face. “That’d be Leo. He’s the camp organiser, and the one who started it all off five years ago.” Dane continued to watch your face and laughed again. “Never seen an arthropodal mer, I take it,” he snorted.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t. I didn’t even know that they existed… I mean… that’s really cool?”

“I’ll tell him you think he’s cool,” Dane said as he hopped out and closed the door. “He’ll love that.”

“Oh god, don’t embarrass me on my first day here…”

Dane’s booming laughter made the merman look up and tilt his head curiously to one side.

You saw as he turned that he had two pairs of rather chunky, armoured, articulated legs which supported most of the weight of his shell, and two larger, clawed legs which he used to propel himself forward. In the same way that a drider’s upper body began at the hips, so the ‘arthropodal’ crab-like mer’s human torso rose from the hips to reveal a lean upper body that made you want to bite your lip and look away. Or maybe just keep staring.

He waved and a broad, almost goofy grin split across his face. “Hey!” he called towards the pair of you.

“Alright?” Dane bellowed at him across the distance.

Leo nodded and then turned his gaze to you.

“You wanna go meet him now while I take the stuff into the house?” Dane asked, already with his huge hands around the handles of about six grocery bags.

“Um… sure?” you said.

Trotting down the little boardwalk path through the narrow, grassy dune, you felt a bit silly, but the movement burned off most of the adrenaline and by the time you’d reached him, you felt pretty confident. “Hi,” you said as he turned to face you, and you realised as he did that actually he was quite tall.

He stuck out his hand and grinned, revealing little dimples in his pale, immensely freckled cheeks, and, craning your neck up, you shook his hand. “I’m Leo,” he said. “You must be the extra helper that Dane said he’d managed to rustle up from the city?”

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly tacking your name on the end.

Leo released his grip on you, and at that moment, his hair came loose from the bun and blew right across his face. The hair-tie fell to the sand a little way away, and as he swept his hair back off his sharply handsome face, you both bent to pick it up at the same time.

And inevitably, you cracked heads.

At the impact, you toppled backwards onto the hard sand, and he yipped in embarrassment, darting forwards. “Oh gosh!” he gasped. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Here…” and he held out his hand to you again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

As you laughed it off, rubbing your forehead, you looked up at him and saw that his pale skin had flushed a dark red, and that his rich brown eyes were shining almost to the point of tears. “It’s fine,” you said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Let’s hope I’m less clumsy tomorrow,” he said. “I wouldn’t count on it though,” he added. “Ugh. Anyway, I should let you get settled in and stuff… you know.” The blush darkened even further, and you had to chuckle.

“Sure, ok. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, deciding to cut the poor guy some slack. For what was essentially an armoured tank on legs, he seemed surprisingly awkward and shy.

He nodded and as you walked away and turned to glance back once you hit the sand dune, you saw him smack his own forehead with the palm of his hand and shake his head, muttering, “Idiot!”

You pursed your lips and suppressed a good-hearted snicker, heading into the former coastguards’ headquarters to unpack and start thinking about some supper.

Next day saw the arrival of the first groups of children, and before they got there, all the staff for the camp assembled over breakfast to talk through the last minute details which required attention.

You would be helping in the first week of activities with the children who wanted to learn to ride, and the four centaurs who had volunteered their services for the project told you what they’d need from you. As it turned out, they wouldn’t need much, just help with tacking them up and getting the kids sorted at the start and end of the hour long lesson. You’d be needed to put out cones and poles for them to walk around or over, but other than that, you got to sit on the side and watch for a while.

After that, you would be heading over to help Leo with some of the treasure hunt and beach activities.

Your first morning passed in a whirl of activity, but luckily none of the children fell off the centaurs, and you made a particular friendship with a very cheeky and very tiny Shetland centaur named Sinnavo. She pushed her bushy blonde hair out of her face at the end of the class, once her rider had dismounted and headed over to her next session, and hissed, “Bloody hell; that human was a right little shit!”

“So much for improving inter-species relations…” you muttered out of the corner of your mouth and she snorted in delight, pawing the ground.

“Yeah, right? Anyway, that’s me done for the day. Enjoy your afternoon, my lovely! And do me a favour?”

“Sure?”

“Count how many times Crabcakes over there blushes, will you?”

“‘Crabcakes?’” you asked, eyebrows skyrocketing as you followed her gaze to the hermit crab mer who was currently corralling children of all races and species into a tight bunch so he could explain the rules of the treasure hunt.

The tiny, sassy little centaur grinned. “Well, it was that or ‘Leonardo da Pinchy, but he really hates that one.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, stifling laughter behind your hand as Leo looked up at you, a clipboard in his hands and a suddenly suspicious look on his handsome face.

As you said your goodbyes to her and headed over, he pouted. “She called me Crabcakes, didn’t she?”

“Maybe?”

Blush one.

He rolled his beautiful eyes. “She knows I hate that, but I call her ‘Haystack Hair’, so I guess we’re even.”

“Does none of the species here get along?” you asked, only half joking, and he laughed.

“She’s been helping out with the Summer Camp since the very beginning, and she’s one of my dearest friends. Don’t worry. It’s… It’s just this ongoing thing we have. Ignore it. And… please don’t call me Crabcakes.”

You crossed your fingers over your heart, and the grin you got from him in response was enough to stall its regular rhythm.

The more time you spent with him, the more fun you seemed to have.

As he worked with the much younger children, he became bubbly and animated, and all his awkward nerves seemed to melt away. It was a delight to watch him working with them, encouraging them, emboldening them, and making them laugh with his silly expressions and goofy behaviour. He was always supportive and attentive, but he brooked no nonsense either. The group you had towards the end of the week had a gnoll with cerebral palsy and a young lizardfolk child who needed a special beach wheelchair, but he made sure they were included in every activity, and from the looks on their faces as he took his time with them, you knew they were having the time of their lives.

Human children and half-bloods, avians and felines, orcs and werewolves, disabled or not, were all allowed to be themselves, and for the most part, everyone got along. It was amazing, and you’d never seen or heard of the likes back in the city, and it gave you a thrill that seemed to set the marrow of your bones alight every time you woke in the morning and got ready for a new day.

You had Friday afternoon off, and as the last of the children left, one writhing and screaming and begging to be allowed to stay for the next week, you saw Leo stagger slightly where he stood on the beach.

Frowning, you stood and went down to meet him. “You ok?” you asked.

He laughed nervously. His cheeks were now a little sunburnt, and you'd lost count of the blushes by Tuesday morning, but you thought he looked a little pale underneath the pinkish tinge. “I… I feel a bit squiffy, that’s all… I’m good. I think… I think I might need to eat something though. Or drink.”

“Too much sun? Maybe drink first then eat?” you suggested. “You stay put and I’ll grab you a lemonade and one of those seaweed and fish snacks.”

His answering smile was so sweet that you almost reached up and kissed him, but you stopped yourself in time. You didn’t know him all that well, despite hanging out almost every lunchtime. At the end of the day he was always the last one packing up and the last one to go home, but when he did, that was it. He seemed intensely private and quiet, valuing his alone time as much as the time he spent entertaining the kids in the Summer Camp.

And you admired that about him. He knew when he had reached his limits and, shy and retiring though he was, he was not afraid to say that he needed to head off and recharge. To your relief, the other camp staff respected that too, and wished him a goodnight, but you secretly wished each time that he’d stay for just a little longer, so that you could see him out of the context of the camp’s structure.

Returning with the drink and snack, you found that he’d made his way a little further down the sandy beach towards the shore, his shell leaving a deep furrow in the hard sand as it dragged behind him. You wondered suddenly if it was particularly burdensome for him.

“Leo?” you called and he stopped, just with his pointed, crablike toes dipped in the shallowest of the calm waves.

He turned, the wind tugging playfully at his auburn hair, and your feet faltered. He was beautiful, in an androgynous, fairytale kind of way. “Thank you,” he said, taking the bottle from you and draining half of it in one go. He looked at the snack and said in a slightly vague voice, “My favourite…”

You grinned. “I noticed you always pick them at lunch time,” you admitted.

He smiled and said, “Thank you. I’m… I’m…” and then he tailed off with a sigh, turning to look back at the sea without finishing his sentence.

“Leo?” you asked after a long pause.

With his crab legs as they were at the moment, he towered over you at maybe seven or even eight feet tall, and the only part of him that you could reach was the ‘shoulder’ of his crab’s body where it joined his human torso. He was wearing a plain red t-shirt that day and the breeze made it ripple softly, revealing the pale skin of his upper half every now and again.

As you touched him, he jumped slightly, and then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m… I’m not very good with people…”

“I think you’re amazing,” you blurted. “I mean, you’re so good with all the kids and stuff, and they all loved the activities you organise…”

His smile was sad this time, and it made something crack inside you to see it on his handsome face which, until the end of the week’s activities, had so frequently been illuminated with his brilliant, happy laugh.

Leo swallowed nervously, turning the wrapped snack over in his hands without opening it, toying with it as if maybe you’d forget about him if he stayed like that long enough. Eventually, however, he huffed a shy laugh and said, “I mean… outside of that. I ‘get’ kids. I know how to make them happy. I know what to say to them. They’re simple. It’s the adults I don’t understand. I get…” he tucked his long hair behind his freckled ear and flushed. “I get nervous. I say stupid things…” He shot you a look and added, “I crack heads with them…”

You had to laugh, and at the sound of it, the nerves seemed to dissipate a little. “I think you’re doing just fine, Leo. And you get me, anyway. Although I’ve always been told I’m a bit of a child still…” you added playfully.

He laughed. “Thank you.”

“Listen, I know you tend to keep to yourself in the evenings, but are you coming to the barbecue tonight? Dane said it’s gonna be on the beach…”

Leo looked at you and licked his lips. “Are you going?”

You nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll come for a bit.”

Impulsively, you reached and took his hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before letting go and turning away. “Looking forward to it then,” you said as you left him in the waves to recharge a bit.

The torches which Dane had stuck into the sand flickered and blazed in the wind, and the tide, which had crept up the beach as the evening had slunk in, formed a beautiful backdrop to the party. The other camp staff were all there, from the centaurs to the drider and werewolf who had taken the outdoor and wildlife activities, to the naga who had led the more arty classes, and, lastly, Leo arrived just as the food was deemed ready.

He snuck in at the edge of the group and touched your shoulder lightly.

“Hey, you made it!” you grinned, and he nodded bashfully.

“Leo!” the naga yelled, raising his beer over the flickering flames in the pit at the centre of the ring of eclectic stools and stumps for sitting on.

“Hey,” Leo mumbled, and then to you he hissed, “Any second now, someone is going to make a ‘coming out of his shell’ comment, I bet you.”

“What do you bet me?” you countered playfully, and Leo blinked.

“What?”

“What are the stakes?”

“Uh…”

You chuckled and said quickly, “Ok, if someone says it, I’ll come for a walk with you along the beach to get you away from everyone. How does that sound?”

Before he could respond, the werewolf on the far side howled, “Look who's come out of his shell for the evening!”

And you and Leo burst out laughing, much to everyone’s surprise.

“You’re on,” Leo said. “Let me grab some food first, ok?”

You watched the strange way he moved, his heavy claws tugging his body and shell forwards, and a million questions burned in your mind: what did his body look like inside the shell? Did he ever leave his shell? Did he spend more time in the sea than on land normally? Did he have gills to breathe like other mer, or could he hold his breath like a selkie for ages? Where did he get a shell that big from?

You were still pondering your questions when he returned with a fish finger sandwich in one hand, and he cocked his head curiously in the way that he had which reminded you of a little puppy. “Everything alright?” he asked.

“I…” you faltered, and now it was your turn to be awkward. “I was just thinking, I guess…”

He snorted, the gesture accompanied by a lopsided smirk, and he said, “You’ll have to share some of those thoughts on our little walk, I suppose. Do you want to go now?”

“You don’t mind eating and walking at the same time?”

“Nope,” he said.

And without really excusing yourself from the milling group of other camp staff, the two of you headed down the beach together.

“So…” he said after a little while of walking in silence while he ate. “What got you so curious?”

“Oh…” you said. “I… I guess… I mean… I’ve lived in the city most of my life and while my two best friends are actually non-human, I… I’ve never actually met a merfolk before this week.”

He looked down at you and shrugged. “Makes sense. And you’ve got questions, right?”

“Yeah…” you muttered. “But I don’t know what’s, like, rude to ask or not.”

To your surprise, he barked a laugh, tossing his head back so that his long red hair fell down his back and caught in the wind. “Ask away. You can’t be more awkward than me, or even some of the kids for that matter. Unless it’s about my junk, I’ve probably heard it before from the kids.”

“Oh my god,” you blushed. “No, it’s not… I mean… I hadn’t thought about…” But you definitely had…

He raised an eyebrow at you, and in that moment you saw a whole new side to him. Mercifully, however, he let it lie.

You began your tirade of questions, and it turned out that his body under the shell was soft. Since his kind used the shells as protection, he had no need for armour plating like he had on his legs. Sometimes he did leave the shell, but mostly he had no need to.

When it came to asking about time spent on land or in the sea, he smiled wistfully. “I love the land,” he said. “Well, I mean, I love the beach. I’ve never actually been into town or anything.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “You try dragging this shell up the cliff path and see how far you get… and I’m not going without it…”

“Naked, you mean,” you laughed, and despite the way the moonlight washed most of the colour away, you could see the blush very clearly.

You paused, nearing a pile of rocks at the furthest end of the crescent shaped beach, and picked up a tiny cockle shell, rinsing the sand out in the water. Leo watched you and when you turned to look up at him, he frowned slightly, curiously.

“Where do you get your shells from?” you asked, turning the tiny shell over in your hand. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen one like yours before…”

He smiled. “There are some big creatures out there,” he said, staring at the blackness of the water, the tips of the waves silvered by moonlight.

“Yours matches your hair and your legs,” you said, eyeing the orange of his armour plating.

Leo’s flush was so deep that you almost felt the heat of it radiating out from his cheeks, and he turned away.

“What?” you said.

“It’s… Nothing…” he mumbled.

“No, go on,” you insisted. “If I said something wrong, you should tell me…”

“You didn’t,” he said, still looking away, the curtain of his hair half hiding his face. “It’s…”

“It’s what? Is it super personal to comment on someone’s shell? Is that it?”

He nodded.

“Ah. Well,” you breezed, “I do like it. I can’t hide that I think it’s beautiful, and it suits you, so… yeah.”

Leo turned back to face you and you saw something glinting in his eyes. “I’ve never met a human quite like you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. “Good. Well, it’s bad for me because it makes me even more of a klutz, and I… oh dammit,” he hissed as his cheeks continued to blaze.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his hand as it hung limply at his side. “I like that you’re so easy to read. Your reactions are honest, and that’s… refreshing, you know? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He brought his other hand up to his face and rubbed briefly at his eyes.

“What’s really bothering you?” you asked after a moment.

Again, he chuffed an awkward laugh and dropped his hand and turned to look at you, eyes gleaming. “I don’t… I don’t know how wise this is.”

“‘This’?”

He tilted his head knowingly, and your stomach lurched.

“I like you. A lot,” he said, voice thick. “And I’m scared that it’s not appropriate or something. And… I don’t have a clue what I'm doing. My kind are rare enough, so I hardly see someone of my own species to interact with on this level, let alone a human. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You squeezed the hand that you were still holding and said, “It’s ok.” Plunging guilt and disappointment filled your chest though. You’d not realised quite how much you’d come to like him in this first week until then, and the Summer Camp still went on for another two. “Why don’t we just… hang out over the next couple of weeks? And at the end, if we want to take it somewhere, maybe we can explore that then. But if we decide not to, then we don’t have to. I can go back to the city, and that’ll be that.”

You didn’t miss the way his fingers clenched suddenly at that, but he nodded.

The next two weeks were honestly torture. By the middle of that second week of the three that made up the entirety of the summer camp, you were convinced that you really, really liked him. He kept looking at you after the classes were over; he came to almost every evening meal now; and he found every excuse to touch you - even just the briefest and most chaste of touches - whenever he could.

Dane didn't miss a trick either, and he hauled you off to one side at the end of the second week of camp and gave you what was probably your first ‘Talk’ ever. “Look,” he said. “I don’t mean to be a dick, but Leo is one of my best friends. If you fuck around with him and hurt him, I swear to god, it will not end well for you.”

“Whoa,” you said, taking a step back away from the enormous minotaur. “Dane…”

He stared you down, but seemed to realise he’d overstepped. He let out a puffing breath and sighed. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t actually, you know, hurt you. It’s just that Leo is… he’s kind of innocent, you know? He’s never had a partner that I know of. This summer camp is literally his whole life, and what he does in the winter months is a mystery. He just disappears and comes back with the spring.”

“Really?”

Dane nodded.

“He must be so lonely.” You looked into the minotaur’s dark eyes and said, “Dane, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. We talked about it on that first Friday actually, and we decided to put our feelings - whatever they are - on hold til the end of camp. Then we’ll see how things are.”

Dane nodded slowly, and the matter seemed closed, though he still kept an eye on the pair of you from a distance.

The celebration of the end of the first of the summer camp sessions - there was a week’s gap in between the first and the second one to let the staff recover, restock on things and prepare for the next session - saw you and Leo seated by the fire, closer than any other folks were.

His shell was huge, and it made for the perfect leaning post. You rested your weight against it, and sighed happily, drinking deeply from the little plastic tumbler in your hand.

“You alright?” he asked, looking down at you. His long, red hair slid over his pale shoulders and he looked even more beautiful than ever as he gazed down at you.

“More than,” you grinned. “You?”

The handsome merman sighed, and you caught a distinct tinge of sadness in his warm eyes.

“Leo?”

He sighed expansively. “I… uh… Do you want to go for a walk?”

You pouted thoughtfully. “Sure,” you said, smiling and began levering yourself upright with the help of his curling shell. “I need to walk some of that amazing food down.”

He smiled in agreement and held his hand out to help you up. His skin was cool and his palm smooth. You tried not to take too much notice.

No one really commented on your leaving together, but Dane cast you a severe look that was definitely a warning shot across the bows, but you smiled and nodded sagely, and he backed off with a shy and apologetic smile. You tried to take it as a good sign that Leo had such good friends looking out for him.

The two of you made your way down the beach, Leo dragging his shell behind him, and eventually you blurted, “Isn’t that heavy?”

“Hmm?”

“Your shell?”

“Oh,” he blushed. “I mean… I actually found a pretty light one…”

“Do you ever leave it?”

“Rarely,” he hedged. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you smiled pointedly, and he blushed. “Have I asked something very personal again?”

With a playful smile, he nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Leo paused, the hiss and breath of the water on the sand beyond forming a quiet backdrop to your conversation. “As I told you before, you can ask me anything at all. I don’t mind.”

“Alright then,” you said, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “Since we’re technically not working tonight, and there are no more activities til next week, can I kiss you now?”

His breath caught and his chest heaved once. He was only wearing the loose-fitting t-shirt of the summer camp uniform, and it hung baggily over his shoulders, revealing the chiselled lines of his pale, freckled collarbones. “Yes,” he breathed, adding hastily, “But not here.”

He took you by the hand and led you towards the rocks that formed a breakwater not far from the retreating tide. Showing his strength in a way he’d not yet done, he put his hands on your waist and heaved you up onto a smooth, dry boulder so that you were at the same height as him. He kissed you then, with all the reverence and hesitation you’d expected from the shy merman.

His hands found their way to your hair, while your own landed at his waist and his body inched closer to yours. After a few moments, he pulled back, breathless, eyes glinting in the dark, and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve never… I mean… not for a human… gods…”

“Leo?” you asked, risking a glance down his body.

A moment or two later, he abandoned his shell in one swift movement, revealing a slender, curling tail and a bright red, ridged cock that was already weeping and fully erect. “I want you…” he rasped.

You nodded, and he exhaled in relief, shuddering violently as your nails raked eager, red lines down his pale torso. He gently removed your clothes, reverence still in every touch, until you were lying naked on the smooth boulder, and he parted his lips and stared hungrily at your bare, beautiful body. His hands traced the contours of your sides and hips, working their way up your torso, pinching your pebbling nipples until you arched your back and groaned with pleasure.

A sudden pressure around your ankles made you gasp, and you opened your eyes to find his crab’s claws closing around the ankle joint, locking you in place as he reared up and brought his cock between your thighs. The slick heat of it made you buck wildly, and he moaned as he began to fuck the space between your legs. His head bowed forwards, his long red hair trailing along your torso in tantalisingly soft tendrils, and his breath began to come in ragged draws the faster he worked his hips.

He lost himself in the feel of your body against his own.

“You’re perfect,” he gasped, grabbing you by the shoulders and hoisting you into the air.

He supported you all the while he continued to thrust upwards between your thighs, thick and hot and slick, and you gasped and cried out at the sensation. His claws were still clamped like cuffs around your ankles, keeping your legs tightly together as he rutted into you, thrust after thrust, gaining momentum until he began to shiver and pant wildly.

“I’m…” he warned before suddenly his whole body tensed and he began to spasm, thick ropes of come spilling between your thighs, slicking your skin with hot release as he came over you, his body rearing up with pleasure and his arms holding you tightly to his chest.

“Leo…” you gasped as his wild, clenching orgasm began to recede and he lowered you down onto the rock with shaky arms.

You leaned back and he followed you as if drawn by a magnet, draping himself along your aching body as the aftershocks of his release shook him to the core. His cock wept and drooled still across your thighs, twitching and spasming, and your legs were covered in him.

Eventually he looked up at you and pressed his hands against your hips to push himself unsteadily upright. “Are you ok?” he rasped, his legs spreading wide, struggling to hold himself upright.

“Yeah…” you said, looking ostentatiously between your legs. “But you’re now one ahead of me…”

Catching his breath, Leo smiled. “Can’t have that,” he said, and he licked his lips before lowering his face between your legs. “Here…”

And the moment the heat of his mouth closed over you, you were lost to the sensations of him; the sounds, the feel, the pleasure of him.

It wasn’t long before you too were howling your release to the empty night sky above.

---

I really hope you enjoyed this one! I’m working really hard on finishing the rest of my Mermay stories. Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a reblogging it!

And definitely don’t forget to check out some incredibly gorgeous artwork of Leo by the immensely talented @ilustrariane

---

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

___________________________

#merman #exophilia #mermay #hermit crab mer #merman x reader #gender neutral reader

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 5 years

Text

Unforgettable Memories ( Daryl Dixon x Reader )

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister. You used to be in the military and have enough PTSD to last a lifetime. With Shane’s help you created the quarry camp and came across the Dixon brother’s in the woods. You bought them back to camp, but after that everything changed and you were still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Rick’s Sister!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings),

Chapter 21-

By the time the sun began to rise the following morning, Daryl was still sitting beside you. You knew he dozed off for a few hours when you told him to get some sleep, but he woke up not long after and insisted for you to sleep, but you couldn't. Not after what happened last night. So you and Daryl stayed on top of the RV together and kept watch.

Everyone was up and walking around camp earlier than you had ever seen them, but it was probably because nobody got much sleep anyway. Shane had apparently burnt Randall's body last night so at least you didn't have to worry about dealing with him which you were glad of, but him and Andrea had also buried Dale during night, so you held a funeral for him that morning.

Rick said a few words, saying how we needed to honour Dale by putting aside our differences and coming together, and he was right. If the group had any chance of making it, of growing and becoming better, that was exactly what you needed to do.

A few others in the group said a few words, shared a few memories back from the quarry about Dale which sparked a few sad laughs and smiles. After the funeral you all made your way back to camp, but before you had a chance to talk to Rick about making the camp safer, Hershel, Maggie and Beth approached your group, saying that your group could move into the house.

"It'll be tight, don't worry about that. With the swamp hardening, the creek drying up and 50 head of cattle on the property we might as well be ringing the dinner bell. We should've moved you in a while ago." Hershel explained, looking between you and Rick as you both nodded gratefully at the older man.

"Alright, let's move the vehicles near each of the of the house doors, facing out toward the road." Rick instructed pointing to the farmhouse and all the vehicles that were parked around area. "We'll build a lookout in the windmill, another in the barn loft. That should give us sightlines both sides of the property." Rick added and you nodded in agreement. The RV was a good watch point, but you couldn't see everything, there were blind spots where walkers could easily get through undetected.

"Hershel, with your permission I'd like to take a group out and secure your fences. They seem pretty good, but I want to double check and maybe reinforce them if need be." You suggested, glancing over at the older man. It was still his property after all, but you knew he was starting to warm up to your group.

"That is fine by me. We have fencing equipment in the shed, take what you need. I'll stock the basement with food and water, enough that we can all survive there a few days if need be." Hershel replied and you smiled at the man liking his thinking as he walked off back towards the farmhouse leaving you guys in camp.

"We'll have a group build the lookout in the windmill first, that will take the most work, the lookout in the barn won't need much done to it. Y/N will take a group around the property to secure the fences. T-Dog, you can take watch duty on the RV for the time being until the other lookouts are ready to use. The others can start moving our gear inside the house." Rick instructed, looking around the at the group.

"Alright, you heard the man. I'll start the lookout in the windmill, Andrea you can help me." Shane spoke up, glancing over at the blonde girl causing you to grin at Shane who not so subtly gave you the bird as he adjusted one of the buttons on his shirt and you rolled your eyes at him.

"I'll go with Y/N." Daryl added causing Shane to send you the exact same grin you gave him only seconds before as you rolled your eyes at his childish behaviour and flipped him off and you could tell Rick was trying not to laugh at the two of you.

"We're gonna need more to help with the fencing, Glenn, you in?" You asked, looking over at him as he nodded in agreement before Carl spoke up.

"I want to help too." He said, walking over to the group of you as you looked over at Rick. It was his call whether Carl came out with you or not, but Rick just nodded in agreement causing Carl to fist bump the air in excitement.

"Sweet, let's get started then." You responded as you began walking over to the blue pickup truck, followed by Daryl and Glenn. Daryl climbed in the drivers seat, not wanting you to irritate your injured hand any more, so you jumped into the bed of the truck with Carl while Glenn sat in the passenger seat.

You went via the shed first, filling the back of the truck up with iron droppers, a couple rolls of barbed and straight wire. You grabbed a few tins of metal staples to hammer into the wooden fence posts to keep any new wire secure, along with a couple tool boxes which you hoped had anything you might need inside.

You decided to start on the far side of the farm and work your way back towards the main area, which meant you and Carl should get comfy in the bed of the truck for the next 10 minutes as you drove to the far side of the farm. You leant your back against the window of the cab as you stared out at the trail of dust the truck was leaving behind as Daryl drove, Carl sitting right beside you.

"Did you kill him? Randall?" Carl suddenly asked, just loud enough for you to hear over the old trucks engine. You glanced over at Carl who was staring at you in curiously and you sighed. You should have seen this question coming.

"Yes. I shot him, it was quick and painless. But, that doesn't mean killing people is the right thing to do, it's not. You know that right?" You asked and to your relief Carl nodded straight away. "It was the only way to keep the group safe, I didn't have a choice. But, you don't ever kill someone unless they are going to kill you and it is your last option. And you don't ever draw your gun on someone unless you plan on actually pulling the trigger."

"I know. Shane told me most of that when he was teaching me how to shoot." Carl replied causing you to smile, glad that Shane didn't just teach him how to safely operate a gun, he also taught Carl about the right and wrongs and it seemed Carl was a fast learner.

"But, you won't have to worry about anything like that for a long time. You have a whole group of people who will always be here, your father, Shane, Daryl, me and we'll deal with any bad people that come our way, just like we did with Randall." You reassured and Carl nodded.

"This is going to be a good place for my baby brother or sister to grow up in." He commented proudly as he looked up at you with bright eyes and you nodded in agreement unable to stop the smile forming on your lips because he was right. This was going to be a damn good place for the group to settle down in and good place for Lori, Rick and Shane to raise the baby.

You spent majority of the afternoon out with Daryl, Glenn and Carl fixing the fences. It was nice being out in Hershel's fields with the three of them, Glenn was still down about Dale so you kept trying to make him laugh and keep his mind distracted as you fenced and it seemed to work.

"You two make a really good couple, you know that?" Glenn suddenly said as you began loading the fencing equipment back up into the truck as the sun slowly began to set in the distance.

You glanced over at Daryl who seemed to be trying to ignore the other man as he focused on putting the hammer and nails back into the toolbox, but you didn't miss the slight blush of his cheeks as he did so.

"You're both strong and independent. Neither of you take shit from anyone, seriously if you guys had a kid, he or she would be badass." Glenn added causing you to chuckle.

"Says you. Look at you and Maggie, you guys are like the perfect couple and if you have kids in the future, they would be so adorable." You responded, closing the tailgate of the truck, not really knowing how to respond to what he just said so you tried turning to conversation back to him which seemed to work as Glenn and Carl both laughed.

"Ya done with whatever the hell this conversation is 'bout?" Daryl asked in amusement, turning back towards the three of you, a hint of a smirk forming on his lips and you chuckled, but nodded.

"Relax, Dixon. We all know Shane and Andrea will have a kid before anyone. Those two can't keep their hands off each other." You responded causing Carl to make a fake throwing up noise.

"Ew." Your nephew muttered in disgust and that was all it took before you, Daryl and Glenn burst out laughing. It was probably the first time you had ever seen Daryl generally laugh at something, he looked so happy as he grabbed Glenn's shoulder when the guy nearly fell over from laughing and you couldn't stop the smile spreading across your lips as you watched them. "Grownups are gross."

"Can't argue with that, kiddo. C'mon, hopefully tea's ready by the time we get back." You said breathlessly from laughing so much as you all began piling back into the truck. You and Carl in the bed of the truck again before Daryl started the engine and you all drove back to the farmhouse.

To your surprise all the tents had been taken down and the only thing that remained from your camp was the ashes from the campfire. Everything else was all packed up and when you walked through the front door to the farmhouse it was clear where everything went.

The Greene's lounge room had been turned into the new camp. Pillows, blankets, sleeping bags and mattresses were all spread out across the lounge room floor.

You glanced around the room, spotting your military bag and blankets sitting on one of the mattress along with Daryl's bag and you rolled your eyes knowing Maggie must have made sure your gear was put together on the same mattress.

"Well this looks cosy." Glenn commented as the four of you stood by the entrance of the lounge room taking it all in.

"If anyone snores they're gettin' a pillow to the face." Daryl muttered causing Carl to laugh as he said something about Shane being a loud snorer before he disappeared towards the kitchen where you could hear everyone else. Daryl threw his crossbow down on top of the mattress and you did the same with assault rifle as Daryl suddenly grabbed your shoulder. "Ya alright with sharin' a bed like this?"

"As long as you don't use my pillow to throw at Shane when he's snoring in the middle of the night then, yes." You replied with a grin causing Daryl to snort as closed the distance between the two of you, his hands coming up and cupping your face as he stared into your Y/E/C eyes before pressing his lips to yours and you kissed him back.

"I know I said you guys make a good couple, but seriously get a room." Glenn commented in amusement as you and Daryl to both flipped him off as you continued to kiss causing Glenn to groan. "I'm so glad Maggie is letting me stay in her bedroom."

"I'm sure that's the only reason you're glad about that." You responded as you pulled away from Daryl and looked over at Glenn who's cheeks instantly began to blush causing you and Daryl to chuckle before the three of you made your way towards the kitchen.

You stood by the door for a second as you took everything in. Everyone was sitting around the large dinning table, another small card table was set up beside it where the people who couldn't fit at the main table were sitting.

"There's a few spare seats here." Maggie called out, spotting the three of you by the door as you all walked over to the small card table where three plates of food were waiting for you. You sat down between Maggie and Daryl and quickly began eating, only just realising how hungry you actually were.

"How's the lookout in the windmill coming along?" You asked between mouthfuls as you looked over at Shane and Andrea who were sitting beside each other at the dinning table.

You glanced around at the rest of your group, Rick sitting on the other side of Shane followed by Lori and Carl along with T-Dog, Hershel, Beth, Jimmy, Patricia and Carol... she still hasn't spoken to you at all and you didn't even need to talk to her to know that she blames you for the death of her baby girl. It was your fault, no matter what Daryl says, you knew it was your fault.

"Should be finished by tomorrow, then we'll start on the barn lookout." Andrea answered since Shane was too busy eating his food to answer the question. "How'd the fencing go?"

"Good, it should be enough to stop any stray walkers from pushing through the fences." You said and Rick and Hershel seemed happy with that answer as you all began talking about plans for the winter. Hershel told you guys about a section of pine trees on the outskirts of the farm that would make good firewood, pinewood burns slower and lasts longer which would be ideal for the winter.

"I left my hat in the shed when we were putting the fencing stuff away." Carl suddenly said and you rolled your eyes at your nephews forgetfulness, but before you could say that you'd go with him to get the Sheriffs hat, Rick's already standing and the two of them headed off to retrieve the hat that has lasted longer than you ever thought it would.

The rest of you continued talking about future plans between eating the food that Lori, Patricia and Carol had apparently made. It wasn't much just pieces of chicken and some vegetables, but it was more than what you've had in a long time and after working all day it was damn delicious and by the way Daryl and Glenn had quickly scoffed down their meals they agreed as well.

"What's taking them so long?" Lori suddenly questioned 10 minutes later as she began picking up the cutlery off the table while T-Dog and Jimmy started washing the dishes.

"It's Rick and Carl. They probably got distracted with something stupid, I'll go find them." You replied, standing up from your chair as you handed your empty plate to Lori before you walked out the dinning room towards the front door.

You opened the door and looked out towards the shed to see if you could spot your brother and nephew, glad that it was still a full moon so you could easily, but that wasn't what you spotted.

"Holy shit." You gasped, taking in the herd of walkers that were heading towards the barn and house.

You quickly raced back inside to find everyone still standing around the dinning room, but when they heard you run back they all instantly stopped their conversations and looked over at you in confusion until they saw the look on your face.

"There's a herd coming. Shane, get the guns. Patricia, kill the lights." You quickly instructed, not waiting for anyone to respond as you rushed into the lounge room grabbing your backpack. You threw it over your shoulders knowing you had spare clips for your assault rifle inside before grabbing your rifle and Daryl's crossbow as you rushed back outside onto the front porch.

Daryl was suddenly beside you and you quickly handed the crossbow to him. "Maybe they're just passing, like the herd on the highway. Should we just go inside?" Glenn asked and you glanced over your shoulder to find most the group standing behind you on the porch staring at the herd in shock.

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know 'bout. Herd that size will rip the house down." Daryl responded as your eyes quickly scanned the area trying to find any sign of Rick or Carl, but all you could see were the walkers.

"I thought you said you guys secured the fences." Andrea commented from somewhere behind you, panic evident in her voice.

"I said it was enough to stop any stray walkers from pushing through, not a whole damn herd." You responded as you tried to do a head count of the walkers. Fuck, there were so many.

Shane quickly rushed through the front door with the bag of guns as he dropped it on the ground behind you as him and Maggie began handing out the various shotguns and rifles to everyone, but Daryl shook his head.

"I got the number, it's no use." He muttered nodding towards the herd.

"You can go if you want." Hershel spoke up as he began loading rounds into one of the shotguns.

"Rick and Carl are out there somewhere. I'm not leaving without my boys." Lori stated in panic and you nodded in agreement.

"I'm not going anywhere without them. We have guns and we have cars. We kill as many as we can and use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm." You instructed, checking the magazine inside your rifle relieved that it was full.

"You serious?" T-Dog questioned in disbelief and you glanced over at Hershel waiting for his call.

"This is my farm. I'll die here." He responded and you nodded. Well, this was going to be one hell of a fight.

"I was born a soldier, might as well die like one too." You responded, sliding the magazine back into your assault rifle as you looked over at Daryl and Shane waiting to see what they wanted to do.

"Alright, it's as good a night as any." Daryl responded, loading his crossbow as he jumped down over the railing of the porch, but you chose to take the stairs not wanting to screw your bad knee up again.

"Two people in each car, one drives the other shoots. We leave one of the cars here for you girls and you take it and go if we can't stop the herd, understood?" Shane instructed, glancing back towards Lori, Carol, Patricia and Beth who were standing by Hershel and on the porch and they all nodded in agreement as you all began running towards the cars.

Glenn and Maggie took one, Andrea and T-Dog took the other leaving you, Shane and Daryl as you stood by the vehicles.

"I'll take the bike, I can ride 'n shoot at the same time." He stated, pulling out his handgun and checking the clip before tucking it back through his belt.

"Shoot from a distance. You don't have the walls of a car to protect you from the dead, be careful." You said, unable to hide the fear in your tone as you leant over Daryl, pulling him into a hug as he mounted his bike and he instantly hugged you back.

"Ya be careful too, alright?" He asked as you pulled away, his worried eyes locking with yours and you nodded.

"Always am, Dixon. I'll see you when this over." You responded, giving him a reassuring smile before you jogged off back towards the blue pickup truck, noticing Shane was already in the drivers seat as you opened the passenger side door, throwing your backpack inside before climbing in.

"You good to shoot with your hand?" Shane questioned as he put the truck into gear and took off down the dirt road towards the gate that lead to field by the barn.

"Yep, just keep the walkers on my side of the car and I'll take them down." You responded, rolling down window because of course Shane picked the one car without electric windows.

Flicking the safety off you pressed the butt of your rifle against your shoulder as you leant the gun over your wrist brace since you couldn't exactly hold with it your hand to stabilise it. You used your good hand to hold the handle, your finger hovered over the trigger as you lined up the first walker and squeezed it.

"The barn's on fire!" Shane yelled above the gunfire, vehicle engines and walkers causing your head to snap around towards the barn to find that it in fact was on fire and seemed to be drawing some of the walkers towards it.

"That had to be Rick and Carl." You replied before turning your attention back towards the walkers as you continued firing bullet after bullet, making sure every shot was to the head as Shane continued steering the truck around the outside of the herd.

You could see the other two cars driving around on the other side of the field along with Daryl on his motorcycle, who was parked outside the fence and firing at the walkers. Someone had obviously climbed inside the RV, who you suspected was Jimmy and to your relief he drove over to the barn where you could see two figures standing on the roof, Rick and Carl.

"We're not making a dent and they've already busted through the fence and are heading to the house as well." You observed, flicking the empty magazine out as Shane swung the truck around and began driving back that way as you quickly grabbed a full magazine from your bag between you legs, your hands were shaking but you easily reloaded the rifle. You've done this a thousand times before back in Afghanistan, okay not exactly like this because there weren't any walkers then. But you had been in enough fire fights to know how to calm your body and focus on the mission instead of just freaking the fuck out even though that was all you were doing on the inside.

"If any of you can hear me, get back to the house to pick up the women and Hershel and get the hell out of here. There's too many!" Shane shouted through the CV radio in the truck. You had no idea if the other cars had a handheld radio or not. You knew the RV did, but you hoped like hell Maggie's and T-Dog's vehicles did as well and hoped they happened to be on the same station.

You continued firing at the walkers relieved when you saw T-Dog's truck driving back towards the house to pick up the others, but you couldn't see where Maggie's car or Daryl’s motorcycle was through the herd of walkers. Shit.

"Everyone, get off the farm! Get off the farm now!" Shane yelled through the CV as you spotted the taillights of Maggie's car disappearing off in the distance, clearly having heard what Shane just said through the radio.

You focused back on the walkers firing off rounds into the herd even though there was no way you'd be able to shoot them all, there was just too many.

"We do one lap around the property, make sure everyone's gone and then we get the fuck out of here." Shane instructed and you didn't bother to respond as you continued firing at the walkers out your window as Shane turned the truck around and began heading towards the burning barn.

You kept your eye out for Rick and Carl, but you were pretty sure you saw them make a run for the red car by the farmhouse a few minutes ago. You were almost certain they were safe, but like hell you weren't going to double check.

"Shit!" Shane suddenly yelled as he drove around the corner past the barn and you did not like the tone in his voice as your head quickly snapped around to the front window to find a thick group of walkers right in front of you. Oh shit.

"Turn!" You screamed, dropping your rifle as you grabbed the handle on the roof above you to brace yourself. Shane quickly spun the wheel to try and avoid the walkers, but with the speed he was going and how sharp he turned, the truck flipped.

- NEXT CHAPTER

A/N- Link in my bio for Masterlist. I will reblog with My Daryl Dixon Tag List, if you want to be added just comment below.

Another cliff-hanger, my bad. But, hopefully I can post another chapter this weekend for you guys, but life is just so hectic atm so I can't make any promises.

There has been a lot of cannon-divergence in this fic and there is going to be even more in the remaining chapters, but also, I just wanted to warn you guys now, the next few chapters will have very limited Daryl in them, but I promise it will be worth it, so please bare with me because the ending to this fic is honestly one of my favourites.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, but until next time, stay safe everyone and have a great day.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd #Norman Reedus #Rick Grimes #Shane Walsh

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losille2000 · 4 years

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Hoot and Howl, Chapter 2

TITLE: Hoot and Howl CHAPTER NUMBER: 2/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 CHARACTERS: Actor!Chris Evans/OFC GENRE: Paranormal Romance (more on the magical realism side?) FIC SUMMARY: Chris goes on a camping trip to calm the noisy anxiety in his head, but it ends up leading him into his own messed up version of a Disney movie. When he said he wanted to be a Disney prince as a boy, this was absolutely not what he meant. Especially considering that the princess is also, well… about that… RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: Nothing. AUTHORS NOTES: Thanks to everyone for being awesome with the first chapter back. Enjoy this one. The OFC’s name is pronounced Nay-shaw.

Previous Chapter - Also available on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 2

Nascha stood over the bubbling concoction in her cauldron, closing her eyes to the steam rising and curling pleasantly around her chin and cheeks. She’d spent too much time outside in the forest last night, and her skin still felt tight from the cold weather. The soothing warmth was just what her body needed, though it was not enough to rejuvenate the stores of energy she had depleted during the exercise. She only hoped she could make it until the end of the month and her next scheduled volunteer visit to Boston. Falling off the wagon now was not an option. Not without a suitable replacement for her extremely specific needs.

A disgusted teenaged voice filled Nascha’s head then, drowning out her nagging thoughts. I hope you know I hate when you make that, Nae.

Nascha chuckled and glanced back at the fluffy feline lounging on the cat tree across the kitchen. The cat momentarily paused from painstakingly grooming her luxurious white fur—long enough to glare in accusation at the chuckling person.

It smells like dog breath, the voice continued.

“Well, yours smells like old tuna,” Nascha reminded, “so you have no place to talk.”

Ugh, whatever.

Ash loved her bored and disgusted teenaged one-liners. The cat could give any teenaged human a run for their money in that department, but there were certainly times when Nascha wished other people could hear it, too, just to understand the pain associated with listening to it all the time. Not that anyone would ever believe what they were hearing. They were more likely to check themselves into an institution than believe that it was possible for a cat to talk back to them. But cats did talk back. All animals did. They understood human languages just fine. The trouble was that Great Spirit had taken away the ability for the animals to respond in kind because of a terrible indiscretion long, long ago.

Or so the story went.

It didn’t really matter to her, because she still heard it. She heard all of it. The squirrels, the birds, the lizards and snakes… she heard them. This was her curse.

Nascha placed the large wooden spoon she’d been using into the ceramic holder on the stovetop, thinking once again how nice it was to have modern conveniences like electricity and gas to power her needs and keep a constant heat on her work. The ancient medicine woman who taught her this recipe while she’d still been living on the reservation had refused to cook it anywhere else but in a cauldron over an open fire. Maybe it ultimately changed the efficacy of the potion, not using the inherent energy of an open flame to create it, but Nascha was a modern witch. Modern witches innovated. After all, innovation was the only way she’d been able to survive off the reservation that had hidden her—and hurt her—for so long. She was pretty damn good at it all by now.

A soft electronic chime drew Nascha’s attention away from her thoughts. She reached for her cell phone on the opposite counter as a notification alert popped up on the screen. The motion sensor on her front door had detected some type of movement. Clicking over to the video capture, she saw an old beat up pickup barreling down the driveway at a speed almost too high to take the curve into the clearing where her house sat. She didn’t recognize the vehicle, but whoever was driving clearly had an emergent purpose.

She watched a moment longer as a very hairy and muddy man jumped out of the truck, reached inside, and withdrew a dog. Well, that explained the rushing in on a Sunday afternoon.

“Where’s Smoke?” Nascha asked Ash.

How should I know? Ash said.

“Will you please find him?”

Ash rolled over onto her back. If she had the ability to roll her eyes, she would have done that, too. He’s probably watching Star Wars again. Nerd.

“I have to sit with this for another minute or two,” Nascha said, motioning to the pot. She did not want to waste the ingredients she’d used by overcooking it. Getting the same ingredients would require a visit to a grocery store or the local occult shop; store-bought ingredients never adequately replaced those she picked herself during her nightly exercises. “Please go see what’s wrong.”

I hate going out there, Ash responded. Humans are all idiots.

“Ash…”

The cat stood up and stretched languidly, clearly unconcerned, like a senator at an impeachment trial.

Nascha grabbed the cat—carefully, of course—and set her on the ground. “I would like to remind you of our deal. I agree to feed you, catch small rodents for you, and let you sleep in a warm bed. In return you occasionally help me out around the clinic.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ash said, flicking her tail unhappily, but walking toward the door into the hallway. And if I don’t, you’ll turn me into a human. Blech.

“And don’t you forget it!” Nascha called as the door swung shut, even though Ash knew it to be an empty threat. No one, magical or not, could change another creature into something else unless they were born with the genetic ability to do that. Ash was as feline as they came, and she would stay that way until she used all her nine lives.

Nascha returned to her cauldron, but in her argument with Ash, she’d neglected it too long. It was now splitting and congealing into a gelatinous black goo giving off a putrid smell, not unlike a dog’s breath with periodontal disease. Just like Ash had said. She sighed heavily. “Well, so much for that.”

She grumbled to herself and pulled the cauldron off the heat to cool down before she could clean it out and start over. Smoke finally appeared in a feathery flurry, landing on his perch.

There’s a guy outside with a dog, Smoke intoned, but then made a chirping noise not native to an African Grey.

Nascha looked at him, “I thought you were watching a movie?”

Smoke bobbed his head and clicked his tongue before speaking aloud, “Alexa turn TV off.”

The house became more silent and Nascha looked at her other housemate. “Go tell them to wait. Ash is already out there.”

Was it wise to send her out? Smoke asked.

Nascha shrugged. “I’ll be right there.”

Smoke, who was quite a bit more dutiful than Ash, unless his favorite TV shows were on, immediately soared out of the room to take care of business. Nascha washed her hands and checked her appearance in a tiny mirror before she reached the door that led into the surgery suite. Ash sat there flicking her tail, annoyed and waiting to give a report.

“So?”

The idiot was attacked by a bear. Name’s Dodger.

“Thanks.” Nascha frowned, reaching for the waiting room door. A bear? Hardly looked like a bear attack from the video image. But he wasn’t the first patient to exaggerate how he’d been injured, and he wasn’t going to be the last. “Stay close in case I need you.”

Ash jumped onto the chair in the corner of the room and lifted her own paw to lick lightly. She didn’t care. And honestly, Ash wasn’t going to be much help anyway. Only the bipedal assistant that worked for Nascha Monday through Friday would be any help— seeing as it was Sunday, Nascha worked with what she had. Because she was innovative… not just as a witch, but as a veterinarian. Still, this emergency would be the first true test of her weekend “help.” She didn’t get a lot of emergencies out here in the middle of nowhere.

Nascha breathed in deeply and let it out as she opened the door to survey the situation before her. She swept her attention to the pathetic looking brown and white dog, the bloody rag around his paw, and the human male who looked completely beside himself. By way of introduction, she said, “I’m so sorry! I was in the middle of something that couldn’t be put down.”

The hairy, mud-caked man looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place him. Even so, his spirit gave the room a frenetic energy like a geyser bubbling and about to blow. Everyone knew it was about to happen, could sense it, but it was the sickening anxiety and bated breath before the eruption that bothered her. She’d never felt it to this degree.

“My dog, he—”

She swooped into action, flicking her eyes down to Dodger. She hummed and reached for him. “Let me take him back and have a look.”

“Can’t I go back?” The man asked, reluctantly handing the dog over to her.

She cradled the dog to her chest; Dodger didn’t struggle as she spoke softly. “It’ll be okay, Dodger.”

Dodger looked up at her as he snuggled into her arms and said in the most delightful old-time Southern drawl, How y’all know my name?

“You look as white as a ghost,” Nascha said then to the man, ignoring the canine’s drawling voice. She got it. This dog very clearly meant a lot to the guy, but she had procedures. And her procedures included not giving someone a reason to call an institution when she started talking to animals. “You need to sit down and calm down. You’re not going to be any help to your dog or to me if you’re freaking us both out during an exam. Let me look at the injury and stop any active bleeding. Then we’ll talk.”

Nascha did not wait for approval and swept back into the surgery where she set Dodger down on the metal exam table. “Dodger, what’s your human’s name?”

Chris, he responded, big brown eyes meeting hers. Y’all really understand me, don’t ya?

She chuckled. “Yes, I do. Now. Were you really attacked by a bear?”

Dodger whined and shifted just enough to hold out his injured paw. It was terrible, Doc. He was fixin’ for a fight.

Nascha carefully unwrapped Dodger’s paw to find that the bleeding had stopped, and under all the mud, a long laceration across the side of the paw consistent with a tear of some kind originating from his dewclaw… but definitely not from a bear fang or claw. “If a bear had done this, you would have lost your paw.”

I’m tellin’ y’all. A huge brown one!

“Do I need to ask Chris?”

Dodger whined again. After some hesitation, he looked away and moaned forlornly. Fine! A fish jumped and smacked me in the face. I fell.

Nascha laughed. “And?”

I dunno. It happened when I fell off the rock into the river.

“Alright,” Nascha said. “Do you think it’s safe to call your human in?”

Nah, I reckon he’s ‘bout as useful as a screen door on a submarine right now.

She couldn’t hold in her laughter at his expression. How had a Southern dog gotten all the way up here to Massachusetts? His owner did not have the same slow drawl. In fact, he’d sounded distinctly Bostonian in the few words they’d exchanged in the waiting room. “How about I get it all cleaned up and stapled, then call him in?”

How can y’all understand me?

Nascha did not have time to explain the ins and outs of her abilities. Though this wound was not life threatening, it did need attention sooner rather than later. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Um… excuse me?”

Both she and Dodger froze, turning their attention to the doorway. The door remained closed, but judging from the voice, he was directly on the other side of it. “Yes?”

“May I please see my dog?”

Nascha exchanged a look with Dodger, who then laid back on the table, resigned to not getting an answer right away. “If you promise not to pass out.”

“I can handle a little blood,” he remarked as he stepped into the room.

She noticed, quite suddenly, that he took up a lot of physical space. More than she had realized out in the waiting room. He wasn’t overly tall, but at least six foot, he was taller than her. His shoulders were broad and sturdy. And he was a mess, covered in blood, mud and likely freezing. His brain, however, had not really noticed that last bit because he was so worried about his dog; she could still feel the turbulent energy rolling off him. He was in shock, or pretty near to it; now it was a matter of two patients, rather than one.

“The good news is that he’s fine,” she said. “Bad news is that I need to do major clean up and staple his leg.”

“Nothing broken? He’ll be okay?”

She nodded. “He tore his skin, mostly. Once I get it cleaned up, I’ll have a better picture of everything, but it otherwise seems fine. I can do a radiograph if you would like to make sure nothing’s broken. But from palpating it, I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. And Dodger didn’t complain.”

The man’s whole demeanor deflated. He crumpled onto the bench beside Ash, who had been as silent as a dormouse through the whole process. “Thank god. I thought—”

“I am also worried about you,” Nascha added, coming around the table to crouch down in front of him. She set a comforting hand on one of his he had rested on his knees, but instantly regretted the decision. Touching humans was always a risk for her. This was different, though. A different she couldn’t quite fathom. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” she replied, securing her hold on him. He turned his palm up, grasping her fingers like they were a tether to reality. She noted that his were mostly soft hands—office worker hands—but there was a degree of roughness there that suggested he might have hobbies that took him away from a desk. His fingers were long, the nails bitten but not to the extent that they were horrible to look at. As a matter of fact, they looked like very pleasing hands and she had the brief irrational thought that they probably took great care of whomever he loved.

She’d held a lot of hands in her time, but most of those were gnarled and old, at the end of their journey when their owners asked her for assistance. His, in contrast, were vital. Alive. There was nothing sick or dying about him. Freezing cold from the elements, yes, but strong and alive, nonetheless.

Nascha wanted to hold on longer, not least of all because she now felt his frenzied energy oozing into her skin and up her arm, curling and mixing with what was left from her last trip to Boston.

It had been too long since she’d fed. The exercise in the woods last night had taken too much out of what little she had left. And he… he was potent.

She wanted to moan in delight as his energy began to fill the empty voids within her, but clamped her lips shut at the last second.

That would have been embarrassing.

The man released a shuddering breath and laugh-groaned when he looked down at himself, the tension releasing from his broad shoulders. Slowly, he turned his attention up to hers. Soft blue-gray eyes with the longest eyelashes blinked back at her. They were the kindest blue eyes she’d ever beheld. “I am a little cold.”

She finally succeeded in pulling her hand out of his, severing the connection, reluctant to let go. It would have been so easy to hold on for longer. The consequences of that, though? She shuddered at the thought. She’d made a promise to herself a long time ago to never take without asking—or being asked—first. Technically, she’d already broken it.

“How about a blanket, a fire, and some coffee? That is, if you feel comfortable enough sitting in my living room while I work on Dodger.”

Never mind that she did not feel comfortable with his intrusion. Having someone around meant she had to watch what she said and what she did. It was a mental load she wasn’t prepared to handle. Still, the words had come tumbling freely from her lips. She silently hoped he would decline and instead go back to the regular waiting room.

He surprised her by saying, “I would love it.”

Nascha eased back up to her full height, doing a quick mental survey of her living quarters. Had she left anything out from her work earlier that would be too difficult to explain? The cauldron was definitely an issue, but it was close enough to Halloween. She could explain it away as experimenting on something for decorations or a Haunted House or something, though she never decorated for the holiday because she didn’t celebrate it.

“Good. Let me put Dodger in a kennel and I’ll get you set up,” she finally said as she turned back to the dog.

Dodger yipped at her. I don’t need to be put away.

Nascha shook her head. “You’ll be fine for a little while, Dodger.”

No, I will not.

“He’s fine,” the man, Chris, said through a shaky laugh. “He hides out in his kennel back home when he wants to get away from me.”

Yankee traitor, Dodger mumbled.

“Does he want to, uh, get away from you a lot?” Nascha asked by way of conversation.

She began to scoop the canine back into her arms, but Chris held out a hand to stop her. “I can carry him.”

Nascha picked up Dodger anyway. “I’m stronger than I look…follow me.”

She pushed her way out of the exam room and into the back work area of her home. The previous owner—also a veterinarian—had built this addition on long ago to house his country practice. It consisted of one exam room, one clean room for surgeries, and a small lab equipped for only the most basic of pathology tests. The stainless-steel kennels lined one wall of the lab.

“You have a nice little setup back here,” he said.

“Thanks,” she replied, not elaborating. She could say that the previous owner had given it to her as a gift, but then she’d have to explain why he had given it to her. And that would be impossible to explain without scaring the shit out of anyone. Even though Dodger’s owner had calmed down considerably since she had held his hand and siphoned off his frenzy, she did not want to create another problem that would bring the anxiety back.

She couldn’t be trusted to hold his hand again. Next time, she might not be able to let go.

Nascha turned her thoughts to the heavy animal in her arms. She cooed softly at Dodger as she placed the dog inside a clean kennel on top of a thin cushion. On top of him, she wrapped a large towel to help him conserve some warmth before she could get back. Dodger accepted her kindness by licking her wrist and letting out a heaving sigh. He didn’t say anything else.

“You’re sure he’ll be fine?” Chris asked as she closed the door.

“In two weeks, you won’t even know there was a problem,” she said. “Except for the hair that will still be growing back.”

“Okay,” he breathed out.

Nascha gave him a small smile that she hoped was comforting and set her hand on his back, in the middle of his flannel-covered shoulders. It was a familiar move she wouldn’t normally have made, but he seemed appreciative of it. Maybe she was, too, now that she could feel the hard sinew beneath the damp flannel covering his torso. Office worker hands or not, the man clearly did many physical things with his body.

“How about we get you warm now?” she asked.

He nodded and shivered. It was enough of an answer for her, as she motioned for him to follow her down the hallway toward the living portion of the house.

#chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #rpf #hoot and howl

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txladyj-blog · 4 years

Text

This Time Around - Chapter 15

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx by request of @txladyj-blog

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 23/?

With the help of Deanna and Michonne, Rick devised a guard and runs roster that seemed to run like a well-oiled machine on a weekly rotating basis. Those with similar skills were paired up with each other and assigned specific duties and tasks outside the walls. Having hunting, tracking and Walker fighting skills, Jess found herself paired up with Daryl at least once a week when he wasn’t out recruiting. It was a result that had left her with mixed feelings. When she was around him, she would cycle between pure irritation and an icy attitude and playful mocking while trying to hide the fact that underneath it all and no matter how difficult she could sometimes present as, she did enjoy spending time with him. Sometimes, it was like it used to be back at the quarry when they joked and Daryl tried and failed to hide his small smiles. Those moments were changing things and Jess’s guard was very gradually lowering but for the most part, she was confusing and standoffish.

Daryl never gave up his efforts to chip away at Jess’s defiance. He could see it glimmering through when she threw shade at him and giggled when he screwed something up. He let her simmer at him and tolerated her moods because she was there, the old Jess, shoved into the dark and repressed but she was most certainly still present and he wanted nothing more than to see her again.

Glenn’s idea of gathering more military grade supplies and armour to match Jess's meant Rick tasked Daryl and Jess with visiting an abandoned military outpost used as a safe zone at the start of the turn. Upon scouting the area himself, he reported back that the ground was scattered with dead soldiers wearing all manner of useful clothing and the inside of the fences may well contain medication or weapons if it hadn’t already been picked clean. Both Jess and Daryl agreed without question and Deanna threw Jess the keys to a pickup truck.

“I’m driving” Jess announced as she flung open the truck’s door in the wispy rain. Her hood was up and her mask obscured her face. Daryl carried his crossbow by the stirrup and rolled his eyes in plain view of Jess, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. We both know you can’t drive stick.” She told him.

“I'm a redneck, course I can drive stick” He mumbled, climbing up into the passenger side and depositing his crossbow on the back seat.

“You almost burned the gearbox out and gave me whiplash the last time. Stick to what you’re good at. Y’know, hunting, smoking and looking angry as shit all the time.” She turned the key and brought the engine to life, switching up the windscreen wipers to a low pace. Dust was smeared across the glass before it was finally washed away by the rain.

“Fine one to talk.” He rasped, slouching down in his seat and thudding his boots up on the dash.

“Excuse me?” She questioned.

“You. Always lookin’ at me like ya gonna cloud up n’ rain on me.” He braced himself for what would undoubtedly be a barrage of fury at his observation of her mostly angry demeanor. But he was waiting for something that never came and eventually, he glanced to his side to see her staring at him over the edge of her mask.

“I’m sorry” She whispered seriously.

Stunned, Daryl sat up slightly and tried not to appear so baffled. He scanned the area outside the truck, seeing people milling past, heading out to their daily jobs. He was glad no one could see them due to the partially fogged up windows.

“Uh...It’s OK.” He informed her. And it was. He mostly understood her reasons for wanting to keep a safe distance emotionally and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt her again. But he couldn’t say he was altogether comfortable with it. “C’mon, let’s go.”

= = = = =

The military camp was a temporary one, only designed to be erected in case of severe emergencies. The fences were broken down and the tents inside had been raised, leaving only empty bullet casings and blood decorating the asphalt. But Rick had been right, the sheer number of dead soldiers, even those reanimated as Walkers would provide them with ample armor if they were ever in a position of needing to defend themselves and the town against an onslaught of some kind.

Daryl slinked through a gap in the fence and scurried, with his body low from the back of one tent to another until he reached what appeared to be a tank. The open area in the middle of the camp was crawling with Walkers, at least a dozen, probably more, He didn’t have time to count as he scaled the side of the armored vehicle and signaled with one hand for Jess to follow. The rain had only grown stronger the further away from Alexandria they travelled and the temperature was dropping rapidly as the day crept on. He rarely felt the cold but wished he’d brought his leather jacket with him this time, his bare arms somewhat impractical for a cold, wet supply run.

Jess wasn’t complaining, she followed the trail of the arms she so admired, winding around the bodies on the ground, the canvas structures and the bloody patches when she finally reached the tank. Daryl reached down to her, helping her climb up the metal and they both took up positions beside one another and surveyed the amount of work they had to put in.

“Gonna have to get rid of most of these Walkers.” Daryl suggested. “See that, over there?” He raised an arm, pointing at a tent that was full of black storage cases. “We can’t leave without checkin’ that out.”

“Yeah, it has potential. My dad and brother used to use those cases.” She mused, remembering the many different houses she’d lived in as an army brat, all the camo, the gear, the medals, running around with a bunch of boys playing ball as a child. Those were the days.

Daryl readied his crossbow and shifted, getting comfortable.

“Wait” Jess said. He peered sideways at her.

“You take the left; I’ll take the right. First one to clear their section, wins.” She grinned as she slipped her bow over her head and nocked an arrow.

“Wins what?” He asked.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Glory, I guess.”

“I like glory.” He stated.

“You do?”

“Yeah”

“That’s a shame ‘cause you’re gonna lose!” She cried, firing off an arrow and dropping the nearest Walker on her side.

Daryl rapidly began to take down the corpses, one by one with meticulous precision and Jess had to admit she was still impressed by his accuracy with a crossbow. Even his reload took mere seconds which was one thing she thought may give her the advantage. Her arm began to ache after she dropped the tenth Walker on her side and she paused to count how many Daryl had left to take down. There were a lot more than she’d initially thought, especially when she counted twelve eliminated Walkers on her opponents’ side with three more being taken down. She turned back to her targets, four left.

He’s got this.

In the blink of an eye, Daryl’s side was empty and Jess was still aiming and shooting, now with only two Walkers left. Daryl floored one while she successfully dropped the other and slowly turned her head to face him, her lip curled in disgust.

“I hope you choke on your glory.” She growled.

“Tastes real sweet. You should try it some day.” He remarked in response with a smug smile.

Jess slid down the tanks front and jumped down onto the ground, closely followed by Daryl. They stepped over the bodies and shoved some aside from the entrance of the tent. Jess flipped open one of the black boxes and Daryl saw her face light up.

“Looks like we’re both getting some glory.” She grinned as she held up a heavy combat vest.

The rest of the boxes were brimming with combat clothing and their find had put them both in a decent mood, Jess’s being more evident than Daryl’s, who was much more stoic in general anyway. But he enjoyed her gentle mockery of him as they loaded up the back of the truck with boxes and tore any armor from the dead people that littered the camp. Daryl was pleased to have Jess’s smart comments and continuous chatter as a backdrop to such a monstrous and stomach-churning task.

= = = = =

When they had gathered everything that they could fit onto the flatbed, they covered it with a tarp and Jess embarked on the long drive back to Alexandria. After only a few minutes on the road, Daryl suggested they pull over and check out the woodlands for animals to hunt. When Jess disagreed, he managed to talk her into it by promising only an hour and if they didn’t have any decent tracks to follow, they could return to the truck.

She pulled into a small clearing in the trees and killed the engine before following Daryl into the darkening woods. Neither of them spoke as they trundled along as quietly as possible. Walkers were nowhere to be seen and Jess thought that to be a saving grace. When Daryl stopped to inspect some tracks in the mud, they were soon setting off in pursuit of what he thought could be a sizeable hog.

A fast-moving stream seemed to appear from nowhere up ahead and Daryl held up a hand, halting her behind him. She had to admit to herself that her heart wasn’t in it and she just wanted to return to her fairground home and collapse into bed, but the thought of hog for dinner wasn’t an altogether bad one. He moved forwards until they were both stood at the edge of the stream. The water was murky, mud kicked up from the bottom as though something had recently ran through it. The rain meant the streams banks were coated in thick, clay-like mud.

“Must have gone through the stream. Tracks have gone.” Daryl mused.

“Bye bye, Bacon.” Jess sighed. “C’mon, lets go back.”

The sound of engines raging towards them caused Jess to still and her mouth to drop open.

How have vehicles got this far into the woods?!

She didn’t have time to think before Daryl’s arms locked around her waist and she was thrown down into the water and out of the view of the five motorcycles that appeared from the thick dullness of the woods on the other side of the water. Jess gawped up at Daryl from where she sat in the water, panic evident on her face. He was peering over the top of the bank, over the grass and witnessing a group of men heading straight for them. All heavily armed.

He dove at her, ripping her bow from her body and throwing it under the water with his crossbow before dragging her down and under a nearby tree roots. The bank underneath stepped up slightly into a ledge that was wide enough to fit the width of her body. She didn’t struggle, in fact, she just let him manhandle her into the tiny space and stared at him in shock when he scooped up handfuls of mud and smeared it all over her arms, legs and torso. Then, he set to work on himself, covering as much skin as he could and ensuring that they were both the same color as the muddy stream. He ducked under the roots and lowered himself on top of her just as the men neared and began to settle down, talking and jeering at one another.

Daryl’s body was pinning her to the sodden ground. Water dripped from his hair onto her face but she kept completely still, save for her breathing which was now jagged and shaky. He looked at her face, noticing it was completely clean in contrast to the rest of her and may as well have had a flashlight beam shining on it. He slowly moved a hand up from the mud and gently wiped the brown gloop over her cheeks and forehead in a strange display of what would otherwise be mistaken for affection. She could only stare up at him.

“Shh.” He hushed.

= = = = = =

It felt like hours. It may have been hours because night had fallen and the cold was biting at her bones. Daryl was fighting to hold himself over Jess without crushing her and his arms were trembling with the tension. They could hear the men building a fire and throwing insults at one another. Occasionally they would laugh about someone they’d killed which sent a shiver through Jess’s spine that wasn’t caused by the cold. Her only view was the stream trickling past beside her and Daryl's eyes above her and the more she looked at him the more she thought that even in this situation, at risk of being killed and covered in shit and mud, he was still gorgeous to her. Having him pushed against her had created undeniable sexual tension and neither of them knew what to do about it.

“You alright?” He asked in a barely-there whisper. A short nod was what followed and he could see she was about to say something from her eyes darting around, from his face to the water beside them.

“This is kind of…awkward.”

She felt his body jolt momentarily from the short huff that escaped him. His arms were locking hers to her sides to keep her level on the tiny ledge and when his hair dropped into her face again, he flicked his head slightly to dislodge the sodden strands, failing in his efforts and giving up. He hadn’t been this physically close to a woman in years, his whole body pressed against her and his face inches from hers. He could feel the curves of her chest and waist and her hips were level with his. When his outside leg slipped from the muddy ledge, she bent her knee at his thigh to provide him with some extra stability. It wasn’t awkward to him at first, merely a matter of survival and needs must, but now she’d mentioned it and she was cocooned under him and his mind was kicked into overdrive.

Uuuggh, Damn friction. Think of somethin’ else.

“Ya just had to mention that, didn’t ya?” He complained in a quiet growl

“Sorry.” She croaked.

The crackling of a fire could be heard up on the grass and the smell of smoke wafted down the stream’s banks and tickled Jess’s nostrils along with the delightful smell of cooking meat. Her stomach growled and vibrated and Daryl furrowed his brow at her as if he’d felt her stomach rumble and that she shouldn’t be thinking about food at a time like that.

One of them men was on his feet and wandering around, the crunching of the leaves under his boots getting louder and quieter and then louder again and it told them he was circling the group, possibly setting up tents or sorting supplies. Their conversation became more concerning as time went on and soon, they were discussing how many more women they needed to start re-populating the earth.

“He said not to come back unless we had one. We can’t go back empty handed.” One man said.

“Our supplies are runnin’ low. Can’t stay out here much longer neither” another offered.

“Y’all heard the man! What he wants, he gets or we all suffer. He’s been in a bad mood since we swept that entire city and found a whole bunch of nothin’. So, we keep lookin’.” A louder and more authoritative man explained.

Jess automatically thought about the large group that encroached on the city while she was living in her apartment. Their Mad Max style vehicles and the woman in the cage, it all told her that the men that were just yards away from her could well be from the same group.

Daryl toyed with the idea of trying to slide his arms back up to Jess’s face and clamping his hands over her ears so she didn’t have to hear their savage and disgusting accounts of what they would do if they did have such a prize in their possession. He noticed her body trembling even more.

“Ya shakin’.” He whispered.

“F-freezing.” She mouthed.

He moved further over her, covering her entire body with his and it occurred to her that this was the closest she was ever likely to be with him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and push a hand into his dirty, wet hair and kiss him. She could see it in her imagination, what a wonderful sight it was, minus the mud. But it wasn’t the time and he wouldn’t want her to anyway. She decided to keep the image on reserve, a girl could dream.

“Cross ya arms in front of ya.” He told her, lifting his chest slightly to allow her room before settling his arms flush with her sides. It was far from comfortable for him in more ways than one and Jess could tell he would end up with a terrible neck ache if he stayed as he was.

“You can rest your head on my shoulder.” She offered. He hesitated, his blue eyes peering down into hers with apprehension. “You won’t be able to move for days if you stay like that.” She didn’t know if he’d heard her, he was just staring down at her and the darkness meant his face was now partially obscured, the light of the moon reflecting off the water was the only source of illumination. She didn’t want to repeat herself for fear of being heard by the depraved group of men in the clearing and so, she stayed quiet.

“K” he finally agreed. He gently turned his head to the side and lowered it onto her shoulder.

He did hear me. Oh my god. This feels so weird. And nice. He must be super uncomfortable.

“Relax, I can take your weight.” She informed him. His body became heavier but it was tolerable, warmer but more awkward as time rolled on. The men were eating and still swapping stories of people they’d killed. Jess held her breath every time it sounded like one of them was getting up and closing in on their hiding spot. Her arms were numb and her skin was wrinkled and she was almost certain Daryl could feel every churn of her stomach and the hammering of her heart.

Daryl didn’t envision being on top of anyone like this. It was a rare occurrence for him to think of anyone in a sexual manner, but with her underneath him it was difficult not to. He was desperately trying to focus on their escape route and not the pretty face and curves under his body. His sole aim had been to get her out of sight and disguised enough to keep her alive, his own fate meaning less than hers. So far he had prevailed and his plan had worked but they couldn’t stay much longer. He could only hope the men would sleep soon and he and Jess could slip out undetected. She wriggled under him and he lifted his head, checking her face in the faint moonlight.

Stay still. Please, stay still. Stop rubbin’ against me. Shit.

“Sorry. My ass is numb.” She uttered.

“Yeah? Well, my everythin’ is numb. Keep still.” He told her.

A short sigh followed a nod of acceptance from Jess and she rested her head to the side, watching the water as it trickled past in its tiny, mud filled waves.

“Hey, Bobby. Get ya lazy ass up and go on over yonder to that stream. We need us some water. Gonna have boil the shit out of it but it’ll have to do.” Came the voice of authority from the group.

Jess’s heart felt like it jumped up to her throat and Daryl jolted before his arms closed further into her sides, urging her not to move an inch. He heard her breathing increase as panic began to set in.

“It’s ok.” He soothed “I got this. It’s ok.”

Footsteps neared their location, along with tuneful whistling and intermittent mumbling about how they were all going to catch damn rabies from drinking that water but if Jack says it, then it must be so. Daryl shuffled up and brought his lips to her ear, his breath tickling at her neck.

“Whatever happens, stay here.”

She shook her head, “But, I can help.”

“No.” He grunted back.

“Daryl-”

“-Shut up n’ listen to me, girl.” He demanded “I don’t care what you say or how much ya argue with me. Ya heard what they said n’ there’s five of ‘em n two of us. I can’t let them see you. Ya female. I won’t have ‘em touchin’ you. So, please…Jess…just stay here.”

Daryl wasn’t sure if he meant it as an affectionate motion but it screamed tenderness and caring when he lifted himself onto one elbow and gently moved some of her hair from her face. She blinked at him and held her breath, wishing that they were anywhere else but tucked under the roots of a tree in the darkness and laying in a puddle of stinking mud.

“I won’t lose you...not again.” He added.

Emotion rushed to the surface inside Jess and her eyes turned watery, she had no way to hide it and was forced to accept that Daryl could probably see that she wanted to cry.

“OK.” She agreed “but, Daryl...?”

The footsteps were almost upon them.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t die”

She was sure she could sense his hand open at the side of her face as if he were about to caress her cheek but she couldn’t be sure, the darkness and her inability to take her eyes away from his face left her unable to decide. If he did, he stopped short of actually touching her and in the seconds that followed her thoughts were ripped away from his potentially romantic gesture and thrown towards the man that was crouched at the side of the stream, whistling and edging further towards the lip of the bank to fill the plastic bottle in his hand. He was a stones throw from them, a meter or so and Daryl was weighing up his options.

Jess almost squeaked in surprise when the man slipped from the edge and tumbled into the water, creating a loud splash. He swore loudly and sat up like toddler in a playpen, shaking his wet hair from his face and spitting out dirty water. Then, his head turned and he locked eyes with Daryl and Jess. The seconds that passed between him noticing them and his mouth opening to yell were more like minutes and slow-motion ones at that.

“HEY GU-”

He was cut off by Daryl throwing himself at him and barreling him back under the water. Jess shot up and crawled from the bank, ignoring Daryl’s instructions to stay put and grabbed her bow and his crossbow from under the water. When she took a glance at the other men up in the clearing, they were all too busy laughing to have noticed the noise of the fracas that was unfolding in the stream.

Daryl’s arms glistened in the moonlight as he clenched his jaw and held on to the man’s throat with all his might. His victims head was completely submerged, bubbles billowing up to the surface from his nose and mouth. A strained grunt escaped Daryl as he shoved down harder, wishing the man would just give up so they could escape. He avoided the kicking of his legs and the desperate clawing of the man’s hands on his chest and biceps and kept on, applying more and more pressure while covered in dark mud like a crazed swamp monster. Jess slung the crossbow over her shoulder and readied her bow, nocking an arrow and taking a rough aim, well aware that she could shoot Daryl in the wrist or hand under the water if she got it wrong. The mud from her face was trickling into her eyes and she tried to blink it away, blurring her vision more. She steadied her breathing and tried to focus and just when she was about to release the arrow, the man went limp. She looked on with wide eyes, knowing that Daryl had killed people but seeing him murder a man in front of her made it all the more real.

Daryl’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and despite the freezing temperatures, his brow was slick with sweat. He flickered his eyes up to her and sprang to his feet, keeping his body low he grabbed her wrist.

“C’mon, we gotta run ‘fore they find him.”

= = = = =

Climbing up the bank as quietly as humanly possible proved to be quite the task with nothing between them to obscure the vision of the men around the campfire. Daryl had to choose a moment and stick with it and when he did, he pulled on Jess’s arm so hard he almost flung her off of her feet and up to the woodland floor. She grabbed handfuls of leaves and twigs as she dragged herself up to start running and felt Daryl clamp a hand around her wrist once more. He ran as fast as he could and eventually let go when he saw that she could keep up with him without assistance.

Behind them, shouting could be heard by the stream. The men had discovered their dead friend and Jess didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when she hoped that he would turn in the water and kill them all. Her feet were squelching inside her boots as they hammered the dirty ground and leapt over fallen branches and logs. Although the paranoia and fear that swirled around in her head was telling her otherwise, the distance between her and Daryl and their pursuers was enough to provide them with precious seconds upon reaching their truck.

Daryl jumped into the driver’s seat and Jess didn’t bother to make a comment about him not being able to understand a gearbox. Instead, she simply clambered into the passenger’s side and yelled at him to drive. Ignoring her instance upon trying to burst his eardrums, he tried to focus and the truck jumped back once, then twice.

“Stop switching it up so much!” She cried “Put it in first, then switch it!”

“I am, dammit.” He snapped back.

She could see silhouetted figures charging towards them through the trees and flashlights darting about like a light show. Her heart was pounding in her head.

“They’re coming, Daryl. Move the damn truck” she muttered, now rooted to the spot with fear. “We need to move. We need to go or they’re going to turn me into a baby machine. Let’s go. Come on, move it.”

“I know! Just shut up!” he spat, seemingly making the trucks gears grind with everything he tried.

“Trust me to get stuck with the one Redneck who can’t drive stick!” Jess suddenly yelled, trying to stand up in the tiny cab and shifting in front of him with her backside in his face. He sat back and held his hands up, not wanting to touch her without warning and make her even more mad.

“What the fuck are ya doin?!” He shouted back at her.

“Giving you a lap dance! What the hell do you think I’m doing?! Move your ass across to the other seat, I’m driving!” She shrieked at him.

“God sakes, girl!” He complained while he slid across the seats to the other side and made sure the doors were locked.

Jess put the truck in gear, switched to reverse and hit the gas. The truck shot backwards to the road where she spun the wheel and set off into the distance, leaving the furious men from the clearing jogging to a halt behind them. Daryl opened the glove box and retrieved a map, opening it up on the dash and switching on the overhead light.

“What d’ya think? Circle back or change direction?” He questioned. He knew she would understand what he meant. She was smart enough to know that they had to choose one of two options to be able to outrun them when they got back to their bikes and set off down the same road.

“Change direction.” She answered.

“Alright.” He agreed “Take a right at the end of this road and just keep drivin’, we’ll have to camp somewhere.”

Her face was drying tight with the mud that was caked over her skin and she remembered how softy Daryl had smeared it across her cheeks. Despite the vehicle starting to smell like animal faeces and stagnant water and the two of them looking like the creatures from the black lagoon, Jess couldn’t help but admit that she enjoyed the feeling of him protecting her and in particular, how gentle he had been when he pushed her hair from her face with a fingertip.

The movement of the truck meant that his body swayed subtly as he leaned against the window and sighed. Jess stole a few glances here and there when guilt struck her for yelling at him. The road ahead was sill and dark and rain lashed against the windscreen as the truck pummeled through it. She could see no other headlights or signs of other vehicles each time she checked the rear-view mirror and could only conclude that they’d managed to escape and that if they stayed on the road a little longer, they would be able to find somewhere safe to stop for the night. Another glimpse to her side saw Daryl peering out of his window into the blackness.

“Keep ya eyes on the road.” He ordered.

“I am” She argued.

“No, ya aint. Ya keep lookin’ at me. Can see ya in the reflection.”

Dammit. You’d have made a shitty spy.

In pure spite of his comment and to prove that she wasn’t going to plough into the non-existent oncoming traffic, she twisted her body to face him and glared right at him. He scoffed and shook his head at her stubbornness. Whatever she’d been doing in the months she was apart from him; she’d definitely developed a stubbornness and a sense of defiance that he didn’t detect in her before. Ignoring her almost childish gesture, he leaned forwards to check the map after spotting a road sign that meant they were at least three miles out from where they’d come across the dangerous group of men.

Deciding between them on the next steps to take, they opted to continue driving until they were well out of the way of any patrolling members of their group and Jess put her foot to the floor and sped the truck to the next intersection, where she headed for the highway.

After forty minutes, Daryl held a hand up and signaled for her to slow down, a street sign for ‘The Blue Moon Show lounge’ shot past and he told her to take the next left. Jess was tired and disinterested in arguing, she could have fallen asleep at the wheel if she had to drive any further and so the inviting idea of four walls and a roof was a much desired one.

Little did she know, ‘The Blue Moon’ was an off the highway strip bar nestled at the end of a dirt track and hidden rom the road. It provided them with a place to keep the truck and a roof over their heads for the night. They worked together to clear the building with Jess taking the main bar area and Daryl sweeping the rooms at the back. Five dead bodies were inside, one almost skeletal and the others so chewed up that it was impossible for them to be a threat. Jess put them down easily with her knife and Daryl dragged them out to the storage room.

When he returned to the bar, Jess had upturned two flashlights to light up the room and was noisily rummaging around behind the counter, lifting up bottles and squinting at the labels. She’d emptied the refrigerators and huffed and puffed like a train when she appeared to come up with nothing.

Daryl headed to the door and secured the inside lock, giving the doors a shake in their frames to ensure they were solid enough to protect them.

“For god sakes” he heard her hiss to herself.

“What’s up?” He asked

“All this liquid and there’s not one, single drop of water. I want to clean this crap off my skin.” She complained.

He joined her behind the bar and examined the top shelf above the optics where there was a line of branded vodka bottles that all appeared to be full. He reached up and slid one from the shelf, unscrewing the cap and smelling it.

“Use this” he suggested.

“Really? A vodka shower?” She commented, unimpressed.

“No, dumbass. It’s water. They fill the bottles with it to make ‘em look full. S’all for show”

She didn’t ask how he knew such information and he was glad of it. He’d spent most of his life tagging along with his father and Merle in bars and strip clubs and as a result tended to know a lot of the tricks of the trade. He wasn’t proud of it and hardly ever enjoyed it, although he kept that fact to himself, knowing better than to complain and that if he did, it was likely to get him nothing but a beating.

“Oh” She remarked with a degree of embarrassment “Well, OK. You’re going to have to leave the room or turn around or something. I need some privacy.”

“Check out back. These places usually have private rooms.” He suggested carelessly while rounding the bar and plonking down in a plush chair in front of the stage. Jess followed him and stopped at the start of the seating area. She raised her eyebrow at him. Now, she was going to ask.

“You spend a lot of time in titty bars before the turn, Daryl?” She smirked.

“No.” He mumbled, taking a quick swig from a half bottle of liquor he’d picked up from behind the bar. He hadn’t been drunk since the turn and had no intentions to either. He didn’t like who he was when he was drunk, so the bottle in his hand was only there to take the edge off after recent events “Not unless my brother dragged me to ‘em.”

“Right. Blame it on Merle. So, it wasn’t the breast implants and g-strings?” She grinned.

That damn smile. Stop it.

“You’re an ass, y’know that?” His comment was not only directed at her mockery of his knowledge of strip bars, it was also a veiled prod at her bright smile and the effect it had on him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to smile or not anymore.

“Yeah. I’m good with that.” She agreed as she headed for the double doors that led to the back rooms.

“’Sides, this ain't a titty bar. S’a show lounge” He called out, hearing her chuckle as she left the room.

Jess paced through a hallway full of framed pin up pictures and pushed open doors as she went. Finding a dressing room and the private rooms Daryl was so sure was in existence. She entered the first once where she was able to partially undress and wash some of the mud from her skin with a t-shirt she found screwed up and discarded on the red velvet couch. There were other clothes scattered about. The room boasted rather obvious CCTV cameras and she wonders how much one might pay for a dance in such a room.

Daryl took the opportunity to amble around the building and collect any supplies they might need. When he reached the hallway, he passed the partially open door to the room Jess occupied and found himself doing a double take. The glimpse of her bare skin and the clasp of a black bra through the crack in the door rendered him motionless and everything around him seemed to just drop away. Her back was to him as she gently wiped at her arms with the wet T-shirt. He knew he shouldn’t look and guilt raged through him but she was a vision, even from behind and with her skin sporting the cracked, jagged lines of dried mud. Her black hair swayed at her back in waves from being tied up into a braid. She dropped the t-shirt and lifted both hands, twisting her hair up on top of her head and fastening it with an elastic. He thought for a moment that he might have been dreaming at the sight of the curve of her waist, but it was real. So very real and all he could do was bite his lip and force himself to move on down the hall, giving Jess back the privacy that she deserved.

= = = = =

When she returned to the main area, she found him sitting on the floor of the stage at the bottom of the pole opening up two cans of pasta with his knife. Jess was relieved they always packed cans in the truck in case they got caught holed up somewhere with no food, much like the situation she found herself in at that moment. She was starving, the smell of the meat from the camp by the stream stirring her need to eat.

Daryl slid a can to her when she sat down cross-legged opposite him with the pole between them and looked around the room, craning her neck to observe the ceiling, the unused lighting rigs and the DJ booth. She mirrored him as he lifted his can to his lips and took big gulps of the gloopy pasta. Her stomach immediately began to settle with some sustenance and she was soon feeling a lot more human again.

“So, how much would you expect to pay for a private room in a place like this?” She wanted to know. The need to wind him up a little more mixing with her genuine curiosity from standing in the room and playing with the idea of what the business must have been like before the turn.

“A lot.” He grumbled.

“C’mon, I’m curious. What would happen in there?” She pressed

“Private dance. No clothes. Some dirty talk. No rush to the next guy with a wad of fifties. S’bout it.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she emptied the final remnant of the pasts into her mouth and chewed. When she was done, she thudded the can down beside her and narrowed her eyes at him.

“You ever done that?” She questioned

His expression changed as he looked up at her through his hair with a can of pasta gripped in his fist. At first, he was calm and willing to talk but her topic of choice was grating on him.

For someone who doesn’t wanna be too friendly she’s sure askin’ me a lot of shit.

“That what you think of me?” he wanted to know.

“Course not, you said Merle dragged you to places like this. So, I just wondered.” She shrugged as if it was nothing.

“Nah. I ain't. Not my thing.” He replied. Cutting the conversation short when he lit a smoke and fell silent. His face was downcast and Jess could tell he was tired too. Taking another person’s life was never an easy task, even in a ‘one or the other’ situation. Given no choice, Daryl had acted to save them both and Jess knew from personal experience that the vision of it doesn’t just go away.

“Are you alright?” She asked him.

“Yeah.” He replied thoughtfully. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was referring to and he appreciated her asking.

“What you did back there… keeping me safe…” she started with a quick glance up at him. He was watching her though his still damp hair. “…thank you. I’m not so good with people. I can fight walkers but when it comes to people, I’ve always managed to just stay out of sight. Terminus was the first time I put myself in full view of anyone still living for a long time. I panicked tonight.”

“I’d do it again tomorrow. Forget it.” Was his oxymoron of a reply. Simple but complex in a way only Daryl could create. He said very little but meant a world of things behind it. It was not lost on Jess; she knew exactly what he meant without having to dissect the sentence.

I’d kill a hundred people just to keep you safe.

“Sorry I almost crushed ya.” He mumbled as he picked at the frayed thread on the ankle of his boot.

“Oh, don’t worry. You didn’t. It’s fine. We had no choice.”

“Yeah. For sure. No choice.”

“Uh Huh. I mean, it wasn’t all bad…”

Stop talking, Jess.

“…you kept me warm. I hope I kept you warm. It was- it was OK. Was fine...”

Stop. Fucking. Talking.

“…it was nice. I mean, it wasn’t nice like that, uh…no. It was nice of you. I’m going to stop talking now”

He nibbled on his lower lip, a habit he used to stop himself from smiling but it was showing regardless, the corner of his mouth curling up. He didn’t know what she was trying to tell him or why she was suddenly so all over the place and full of nerves, but he did feel the intense, awkward nature of their experience under the trees roots in the stream and he couldn’t deny that if it had been anyone else but Jess, that awkwardness wouldn’t have been present at all. She was turning herself inside out as she picked at the cold can of pasta that had been discarded and brought back to her hands and he could practically see her cursing herself for talking too much. It was the most vulnerable he’d seen her since the quarry and in that moment, he was certain that the old Jess never really went away at all. Opting to change the subject and spare her the agony of mulling over her previous ramblings, he entertained his desire to find out more about why she left.

“Ya never told me exactly why ya bailed” he mentioned.

Unable to avoid his questions, with no one or nowhere to run to, she accepted she at least had to offer him some kind of explanation and after he’d murdered a man with his bare hands to keep her safe, it was the least she could do.

“A few reasons. I didn’t fit in. I was an outcast.”

Being made to actually say the reasons why she left wasn’t something she thought she’d have trouble with. Before it had all been written down in the confines of the pages in her journal. Now, having to voice her decision-making process was turning out to be harder than she thought.

“And I aint? I aint like them. You know that.” He countered.

“You belong with them. I didn’t.” She clarified.

She could tell her answer was nowhere near good enough for him and when he took a long pull of his smoke and sighed thoughtfully, she knew the conversation was far from over.

“That the real reason?” He pressed.

“You mean aside from hearing you say I meant nothing to you and the humiliation?” She quickly threw in.

“That was bullshit, Jess. Ya know I didn’t mean that.” He told her with no hesitation “N’ ya shouldn’t have let those bitches drive ya away like that.”

Hindsight had been a wonderful thing in the story of why Jess had left the camp. There were plenty of why’s and what ifs to contemplate when she thought back but perhaps the biggest one to her was; what if she’d stayed and asked him about what she’d heard? Would it have changed anything? In her heart she knew it probably wouldn’t have and that she still would have ended up departing at some point. She didn’t mean to dredge up the past and what she’d overheard yet again, in fact, she would rather have let it stay in the past and never be spoken of again. But it slipped out and now she knew she sounded bitter and resentful.

“Let me ask you something.” She said, shuffling forwards and holding on to the pole. She rested her head on the back of her hand. “When we first spoke, you asked me exactly what I did in the group. I couldn’t answer you. What did I contribute? What was my role exactly? Carol, she cooked, cleaned everybody’s clothes and is actually really strategic and logical and apparently great with a rifle. Glenn was the go-to guy for runs, You and Merle were the hunters. What did I do?”

Daryl had no answer to offer. All he could do was stare at her and his simmering gaze would have made her knees weak had she been standing up.

“Exactly. So, it wasn’t just a decision I made for me. I made it for everybody else too. I was one less mouth to feed. I’m not sorry I left, Daryl. Look at me now, I’m so much better off for it. I can look after myself. I’m not just some chubby nerd anymore.” She explained.

“Stop it.” He snapped.

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

“Ain't the truth” he argued, stubbing out his smoke on the stage and flicking it behind him.

“Yes, it is! I buried my head in books and still wore collectible T-Shirts! That girl, she was a big, useless nerd. It’s been a long time since I was her.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“You don’t like the change?” She asked.

“Never said that.”

“I guess I always liked the idea of not being what everybody else expected me to be.” She mused.

“Ya doin’ a great job.”

“Your sarcasm is stifling.” She shot at him with an irritated look.

“There wasn’t nothin wrong with ya.” He affirmed.

“Funny, that’s not how I was made to feel.”

“Yeah? Well I was out trackin’ that girl every day for two weeks!” He threw at her with a raised voice. “Guess she was really listenin’ when I taught her how to track. Covered ‘em well.” He got to his feet and started to pace the stage, back and forth, outwardly riled and angered by his disagreement of her choices. But they were not his choices to make and she was not about to get into a debate over that.

Jess didn’t rise to his temper. She stayed in her spot by the pole and witnessed him gradually slow down as the minutes passed.

“I listened to everything you taught me. If you hadn’t taught me all the things you did, I wouldn’t be here now.” She offered as a kind of truce.

You’re mad at me. But you’re the reason I’m still alive. You kept me alive and you weren’t even there.

“Shouldn’t have taught ya nothin. Ya wouldn’t have left then.” He mumbled under his breath.

His admittance said more to Jess than she’d anticipated and she realized as she sat and studied his body language, expression and the things he was saying that she really had hurt him by leaving without a word. By leaving at all. It was now more obvious than ever that he didn’t mean a word of what he said to Merle. Until then, Jess had never dared to hope that she meant anything to anyone. But it was etched on Daryl’s face as plain as day.

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you” She whispered.

“Whatever” He grunted, jumping down from the stage and grabbing the liquor bottle from the seat he’d previously been resting in. He took a large gulp, winced and headed to the bar.

“Since you successfully managed to destroy that conversation, I’m going to find somewhere to sleep. Wake me in a couple hours and we’ll swap.” She declared.

“The fuck do you even want from me, huh?” He questioned out of nowhere. “Say ya don’t want nothin’ to do with nobody, live like a damn hermit, refuse to move to Alexandria. Ya let Abraham leer at ya like some two-dollar whore n ya blow so fuckin hot n’ cold with me I don’t know what the hell you want!”

In truth, Jess wasn’t sure what she wanted when she first revealed her identity to him. But after the events of the last 24 hours and all the days spent engaged in prodding mockery and sometimes meaningless conversations, she could conclude that trying to rebuild what they used to have was what she truly wanted. But it wasn’t that easy. She blinked slowly at him from the stage, standing just out of the beam of the flashlight and tried to ignore his scathing comments, purely born from his anger.

“It’s complicated.” She uttered. “I spent so long thinking you hated me. I don’t trust anybody.” He wanted to yell at her that he never hated her, that he cared about her more than even he knew and how much it killed him when she left.

“Ya said we’re as good as we’re gonna be. We’re doin’ better than that. You know we are” He commented. “Do you even wanna be friends like we were before? You n’ me?”

She jumped down from the stage and paused by the double doors with her hand flat on the surface. His apparent unwavering belief in their ability to rebuild their friendship was touching and something she wanted to believe with every piece of her heart. His words back at the stream echoed in her head.

"I won't lose you...not again."

“You and me” She echoed with a sad smile. “It’s a nice prospect…. I’m trying, Daryl.” She uttered before heading through the door and back to the private room she changed in. Before she could even think of such a heavy topic, she needed to invite the sweet embrace of sleep her heavy eyes and weary bones so craved.

= = = = =

Deanna was frantic when Daryl and Jess finally arrived back at Alexandria in the evening of the following day after enduring hours of tense silence. The route back was longer than expected due to how far out of the way Jess had driven them to avoid the eyes of the group of bikers from the woods. Once Jess explained to Alexandria’s leader what had happened and Daryl unloaded the boxes at the armory, Jess handed the keys back and crossed the street in pursuit of Aaron, who she’d spotted sitting on his front porch when she drove through the gate. Daryl noticed her striding past him and ran after her, catching her arm with his hand. She whirled around, mask and hood up and her eyes flashed with impatience.

“Sorry. ‘bout last night. I was an asshole.” He said, stepping closer and checking his surroundings. Night was falling and the streets were still occupied by patrols and children playing.

“It’s fine. I understand.” She said before trying to back up but he only followed her.

“I’ve never been good with feelings n' stuff. ‘Cept anger. Anger’s what I do.” He confessed.

“You don’t have to explain. Really. Thanks again for what you did - making sure I was safe. Goodnight” She nodded at him with another attempt to move away and this time she triumphed. Daryl stood at the side of the road, under a street light and watched her approach Eric and Aaron’s porch.

NEXT CHAPTER

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@lilred254

#daryl dixon #daryl #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

The Flame is Gone, The Fire Remains Ch. 4

Summary: Negan and Chuck have cemented their relationship and are proud parents of a new baby girl. Will they be able to balance their new found parenthood with keeping their community safe from the perils of the world?

Sequel to This Is How I Disappear

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, violence, blood, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

Chuck wakes up in Negan’s arms, just like she does most mornings. Though she was always a night owl and Negan was mostly an early riser, they’ve both adapted to go to bed and wake up at the same time, sort of in the middle.

She hums as Negan traces his fingers over her arm, apparently already awake. “Morning,” she whispers, her voice not exactly awake yet.

He brings his other arm around her and gives her a little squeeze. “Morning.”

She snuggles more into his chest. “Maddie awake?”

“Yeah. She’s fuckin’ babbling, but she hasn’t cried.”

“Must not be hungry yet,” Chuck comments then yawns. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

Not a few minutes later is there a knock on the door.

“ It’s Simon ,” comes from the other side.

“Shit,” Negan mutters. “Are we decent?” He lifts the blanket to look under it.

Chuck giggles and slaps his chest playfully. “Yes, we’re decent.” Before Maddie came, sleeping in any clothes was just inconvenient, since the clothes would be taken off at some point anyway. With a new baby, though, their sex lives aren’t quite as active. Not that they don’t make time for each other, because they definitely do. Just not last night.

“Come in,” Negan calls out as he steps out of bed in his underwear.

Simon enters, looking a little disheveled. He’s never been one to be up with the sun, but he’s really stepped up to more responsibility, being the one most people go to first to allow Negan to have more time with his family. “Sorry to wake you guys up. But, uh, we had a situation.”

As Simon speaks, Chuck moves to Maddie’s bassinet to check on her. She’s completely content to lay there, so Chuck doesn’t pick her up yet. She knows she’ll get hungry in about twenty minutes, anyway.

“What the fuck kinda situation?” Negan asks tensely.

Simon lets out a heavy breath. “All the guys that were attacked at the pickup the other day turned.”

“What?!” Negan reacts in shock. “What the fuck do you mean ‘turned’?!”

“Dead,” Simon explains. “Most of them turned durning the night. The others were close to it so they got put down.”

Chuck is shocked. They haven’t had any of the dead inside the fences since Dr. Carson unfortunately died. And that was months ago.

Negan seems just as shocked, too. He shakes his head for a moment before he speaks again. “I thought they got shot with BBs and darts and shit. What the fuck!”

Simon shrugs. “They did. We don’t know what the fuck happened. But... a few more got bit before they were put down.”

“Goddamnit.” Negan shakes his head then looks down. “How many?”

“We lost sixteen total,” Simon answers

Chuck gasps. “Oh my god.” She hates to hear that people have died needlessly.

Negan raises his gaze to Simon again. “How the fuck...” He lets out a huff. “How the fuck do you die from a goddamn BB gun?”

Simon shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything.

“What if they were poisoned?” Chuck blurts out.

Both men turn to look at her.

Chuck clarifies her statement. “There was that guy that got poisoned with ricin by a pellet fired from an air gun. What if there was something on the BBs and stuff that went into their system.”

Negan blinks a few times, seemingly thinking it over. Then, he looks up and covers his eyes. “Fuck.” He scrubs his hand down his face. “They were covered in biter blood.”

Simon’s face drops. “Shit. That’s fucked up, but...” he rubs his fingers over his mustache, “that makes sense. We know biter blood makes us sick, so I guess it makes sense someone would turn that into a weapon.”

Negan lets out a huff. “Call a meeting in an hour,” he says to Simon. “And talk to Rick. His people were in that fuckin’ ambush, too.”

Chuck’s head snaps up. “Oh my god. Uncle Aaron...”

“I’ll ask about him.” Simon nods then takes his leave.

Chuck watches Negan as he casts his eyes down again. “What are we gonna do?” she asks quietly.

Negan looks up to her. “We’re gonna find Eldritch and I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that motherfucker.” He walks over to Chuck and wraps her in his arms. “Don’t worry, baby girl.” He kisses her head. “I’m gonna end him.”

“I just don’t understand why he can’t stop. Why he doesn’t see that living together is better than... fighting. War.”

“He’s a fuckin’ psychopath. All he cares about is his own fuckin’ power.”

“We’re really lucky we didn’t have a full outbreak,” she mutters.

“I know,” he whispers into her hair.

“It could’ve all been over. We coulda been overrun.”

Negan pulls back to look Chuck in the face. “But we weren’t. Because my people know what to do. They’ve been trained what to do. I’m goddamn sure Eldritch was expecting this shit to decimate us, but we’re smart. He’s underestimated us at every fuckin’ turn and this time, it’s gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

——— Negan’s POV ———

I walk into my full fuckin’ meeting room without saying a word. When I sit down, Simon starts to talk.

“Rick lost thirty one. Aaron is fine. But I guess his husband is one of the thirty one.”

“Fuck,” mutter as I set Lucille down in front of me.

“Two more had to get an arm and a leg amputated.” Simon shrugs. “So they might not make it.”

Everyone is fuckin’ quiet for a moment. This shit sucks and everyone knows it.

Gavin leans forward. “We know it’s Eldritch?” he asks.

I nod. “Yup. It’s gotta be him. He sure as fuck left that note for me up north, so I think we can safely assume this shit has his stink all fuckin’ over it.”

Regina shakes her head. “How did you let him get away the first time?” She’s not looking at anyone, but I fuckin’ know she’s talking to me.

And it pisses me right off.

“That shit we did at his compound wasn’t a fucking precision assassination by design,” I bite back. “We blew shit up! Sent hundreds of fuckin’ biters in to do our fuckin’ bidding. Yeah, I thought we killed the fucker and I’m fuckin’ pissed that he’s still alive, but I wasn’t seeing you coming up with a better fuckin’ plan to infiltrate his shit to slit is fuckin’ throat, Regina .”

“I’m just saying-“ she starts, but I don’t let her finish.

“ I’m just saying that we wrecked. his. shit the first time! And this fuckin’ stunt he pulled proves that he’s scrambling. He can’t come at us with fuckin’ herds of dead cuz we’ve taken care of all of them in the immediate fuckin’ area. He can’t ram us with fuckin’ trucks cuz we came back from that assault with what was left of his goddamn fuel. And there sure as fuck ain’t enough out there for him to scavenge anymore. He’s coming at us with this covert shit, but it fuckin’ failed. He wanted us to get overrun, but we fuckin’ stopped it.”

“ Sixteen of our people are dead,” Regina spit out.

“And it coulda been a fuckin’ hundred !” I roar back with a slam of my fist. “I fuckin’ hate that a single goddamn soul under my watch was lost, but you ,” I point my finger right at her, “acting like all this shit coulda been easily prevented are completely fuckin’ wrong. And it gets us fuckin’ nowhere with what we are going to have to fuckin’ do to put that psycho fuckin’ dickweed down so he doesn’t fuck any more lives up!”

Everyone is quiet again. They know I’m fuckin’ pissed and that’s not a good fuckin’ thing.

Regina clears her throat. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says quietly, but not insincerely. She knows she fucked up. “I was close with a few of those guys.”

“I know,” I respond. “This shit sucks, but we’re gonna fuckin’ end it.” I sit back in my chair and take a deep breath. “We got that nerdy Alexandrian Eugene scrounging up some cameras for us. If we can get that shit to work, then we can get a heads up if people cross over into our fuckin’ territory.”

“Where are we thinking Eldritch is?” Simon asks.

Dwight jumps in. “There’s not a camp within our territory. We would’ve seen something on our patrols.”

“He set those Negan lookin’ biters loose up north,” Bill starts. “Could be up that way.”

I shake my head. “He’s not between Alexandria and The Kingdom. And any further north is DC, which is such a fuckin’ shit show, no one could live up there.”

Simon nods, too. “West and south are real fuckin’ rural. Barely any buildings for miles. I don’t think Eldritch is the kinda guy to rough it. But...” he shrugs, “maybe.”

I shake my head. “I bet he’s got numbers, though. That cowardly fuck wouldn’t attack unless he had the men to fight his fuckin’ battles for him. And living out in the woods with a few dozen or so people is pretty fuckin’ impossible now.”

“That leaves across the river,” Dwight says.

I nod. “Yup. Get some guys out to cover that bridge near Alexandria. That’s the easiest fuckin’ way to get over here. And get some guys out on scouting missions south and west, just in fuckin’ case.”

I get some nods.

“But I want to know if someone crosses that bridge. Because if they do, we’ll fuckin’ know that Eldritch’s base is across the river.”

“And then?” Dwight asks and everyone looks at me.

I chuckle low in my chest. “Then we find that fucker and make him fuckin’ pay for all this shit.”

——— ———

The next day, Negan enters his apartment and sits beside Chuck on the couch with a sigh. She had taken the news of her uncle Eric’s death a little hard, but she’s trying to put on a brave face. Especially for Aaron’s sake. She had ventured down to the radio room to talk to him and he was, understandably, a little bit of a mess.

One of the cats, Moe, immediately jumps up on Negan’s lap and lays down.

“You doing okay, baby girl?”

She looks up from her book. “Yeah. It sucks losing Uncle Eric.”

He runs his fingers down her cheek. “I know, sweetheart.”

“I wish I could have seen him more often.”

Negan nods. “He knew you loved him.”

She really hopes that’s true.

“Didn’t I say at some point that these cats weren’t fuckin’ allowed in here when Maddie was?” he comments, lightening the mood a little.

Chuck puts down the book she was reading. When she laid Maddie down for her nap, she decided to pick up a light mystery novel to pass the time and get her mind off of what happened. “They’re not bothering her. And it’s not like I’m letting them jump in her bed with her.”

“You know, most people are scared fuckin’ shitless if they think they’re disobeying a direct order from me,” he says with a smirk.

Chuck raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you order me now?”

He chuckles a little, but it turns into a sigh.

“What is it?” she asks, seeing that something is weighing on him.

Negan scrubs his hand down his face. “Just got off the radio with Ezekiel. Eldritch attacked them, too.”

“What?” she calls out in shock.

“Some people came up the their gates asking for fuckin’ refuge, I guess. They let them in and two days later, they fuckin’ turned. I guess they found syringes in their rooms filled with biter blood. Those crazy fuckers killed themselves just to wreak havoc.” He shakes his head.

“Did they lose anyone?”

“About twenty, I guess.”

“God,” she whispers in shock. “That’s so horrible.”

“Ezekiel’s on board now, obviously. There’s that, I guess. He says he’ll join the fight whole heartedly.”

“Why did Eldritch go after them ? They weren’t even involved in the attack in his compound.”

“Eldritch is fucking insane is my best guess. He has to be. With all of our groups banded together,” Negan shakes his head, “no fuckin’ way I would mess with us. But that egotistical fuck thinks he’s gonna take over shit here. I know the type. Probably a trust fund kid all his life and now that money is fuckin’ gone, power’s the only thing he wants.”

“He said as much,” Chuck admits.

“He did?”

She nods. She doesn’t like to talk about her time at Eldritch’s compound, so Negan doesn’t know a lot of the details. “He told me he moved down here from Baltimore because it was a free for all up there. Then when he saw you making a real community and adding Hilltop to it, he wanted to stop you from becoming even more powerful.” She looks down. “‘Power has to be absolute’ is what he said.”

Negan shakes his head. “I’ve never hated anything like I hate that motherfucker.”

Chuck leans into him, cuddling up to his side. “He’s a horrible man and he deserves it.”

He kisses her head. “After he’s gone, everything will go back to fuckin’ normal. I promise. We can watch Maddie get bigger. Hear her say ‘dada’ as her first word.”

Chuck giggles. “‘Dada’, huh? Not ‘Mama’.”

“Of course ‘Dada’.” He chuckles. “Her first steps are gonna be right over there.” He points to the empty area of his floor. “She’s gonna meet her first boyfriend at the age of twenty five.”

Chuck hits his chest. “Don’t wish that on her.”

“What?”

“I didn’t exactly have a boyfriend until I was twenty five and I can tell you, it made for a lonely teenage existence.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He kisses her head. “I don’t really know what to fuckin’ say to that because I sure as fuck don’t want to say I wish you had a bunch of boyfriends. But I don’t want to say I wish I had been messing around with you back then, either.”

Chuck laughs. “Yeah. That would have been a little illegal.”

“A lot illegal.”

“Wow, you really are a dirty old man,” she jokes.

“Watch it, little girl.”

She giggles, then gets somber. “I wouldn’t have changed anything, though,” Chuck replies quietly. “I wouldn’t have changed a single thing because I’m here with you now . And Maddie is here, too.”

Negan gives Chuck a sweet kiss. “All the shit I’ve been through... You and that little girl make it all worth it.”

Chuck smiles up at her husband. “Ditto.”

Negan laughs. “You can’t just ‘ditto’ that! That was heartfelt as shit!”

Chuck can’t help but laugh back at him.

——— Negan’s POV ———

A bunch of days later, I’m trying my fuckin’ hardest to understand this mulleted son of a bitch sitting in front of my desk as he tries to explain what he’s been doing all morning.

“...range is not ideal,” he drones on about the fuckin’ cameras he’s set up. “But given the fact that electronic security equipment was not a high priority for people to extract from buildings, especially in lieu of food, water, weaponry, supplies, and the like, we can find more cameras in basically every store and some of the statelier of homes. Then, of course, we can set up small manned stations along our borders using renewable energies such as solar panels or windmills to power our security equipment with said cameras. This could cut down on patrols and manpower in certain areas leading to better management of resources all around.”

“Sounds fuckin’ great,” I reply unenthusiastically. It’s not that I don’t want this shit, I do, but my mood has been fuckin’ sour for a while. Chuck’s still upset about her uncle fuckin’ dying and not being able to visit Aaron. Which sucks. But I can’t have her outside the fuckin’ gates. Especially now. And the longer it takes us to find Eldritch, the more pissed off I get at everything.

“Along with the cameras, I designed a rudimentary program to control the spotlights I have placed around your perimeter. They can be remotely turned on, or when they’re tripped by motion sensors, alert one of the men stationed in the security office by the gate.” He looks down a little. “I admit, my coding is a little underdeveloped, but it should get the job done.”

“Coding?” I remember Chuck telling me that’s what she did before all this shit blew up society. “My wife might be able to fuckin’ help out with that.” I look away from him and to the guard by my door. “Arat!” I call out.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get Chuck and Maddie out here. We’re going downstairs.”

Just a few minutes later, we’re all in the little room we have set up by the gate. (Arat is waiting outside. Just in case.) There are a bunch of monitors and a computer set up on the desk. Looks professional as fuck, actually.

“So you want me to make a program to control all the lights?” Chuck confirms as she sits in the chair.

“That is correct,” Eugene answers. “Coding is not my forte, though I did read a book about it.”

“I might be out of practice; it’s been a few years. I think I can use what you made as a jumping off point.”

She gets to work and, fuck, she’s a fast typer. Not that I know what the fuck she’s typing. Looks like gibberish to me. The whole time she’s typing away, I got my little princess in my arms, just bobbing her up and down and talking to her. When she starts to fuss, I know she’s hungry.

“Lunch break,” I call out then turn to Eugene. “Why don’t you go get us some food.”

“Oh, uh. Yes, sir,” he answers.

Once he leaves and we’re alone, I hand Maddie over to Chuck so she can do her thing.

As Chuck pulls up her shirt and situates Maddie on her chest, she lets out a little contented sigh. “I forgot how much I loved coding.”

“I can get you a computer upstairs.”

She giggles. “I would like that. Even if I’m just messing around. I could make some little games for Maddie when she’s older.” Chuck looks fuckin’ excited about that. “Or maybe we could actually start to use computers around here. Automate some stuff.”

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know shit about any of that shit.”

“Maybe I could make something for the points system. Make a network that people can look at so runners wouldn’t have to give out the daily tolls.”

I think it over. “That would be kinda fuckin’ awesome, actually.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “There are already hook ups in most of the rooms for the wires. This was a pretty modern factory before all this. I’m sure we can find a million computers out there, too.” She looks down at Maddie for a second, checking on her. “As long as we have the electricity, why not?”

“Shit yeah! You and Eugene can get that stuff all set up at some point.”

Before Maddie is completely finished, Eugene comes back in the room without knocking.

“What the fuck!” I call out and stand in front of Chuck to shield her from his view.

“Oh, god,” that mulleted fucker mutters with a look on his face like he’s about to piss his pants.

“It’s okay, Negan.” Chuck says from behind me. “I don’t care if he’s in here. Breastfeeding shouldn’t be embarrassing.”

“I don’t want him looking at your tits!” I say without turning back.

She lets out a huff. “He’s not-“

The man in question interrupts. “I am very uncomfortable, so I am going to de-ass this area. Call me when you’re done.” Eugene drops the trays of food on the table and leaves like the fuckin’ place is on fire.

When I turn around, Chuck is shaking her head. “What?” I ask.

“Breastfeeding shouldn’t be taboo.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ say it was taboo. I just don’t want people to see you with your titties out.”

She shakes her head again, but I just shrug.

A few hours later, we finally get everything done and the lights work fuckin’ fantastic. And the saviors on guard are excited as shit about this stuff.

“I am pleased as fuckin’ punch with this.” I call out. This seems like the first fuckin’ step to re-modernizing shit.”

As me and Chuck walk back upstairs, I look down at Maddie fast asleep in my arms.

“She’s tuckered the fuck out,” I comment.

“She’ll be up at dinner time,” Chuck says with a smirk and takes the little girl from me.

That reminds me. “Let me ask you something, Arat.”

She turns around a little as she walks in front of us. “Go ahead, sir.”

“If you had a fuckin’ baby, would you be okay to breastfeed it in front of men?” I know she’s gonna side with me, so Chuck will maybe see my point. “Like random fuckin’ men,” I tack on.

She shrugs. “I would feed my baby wherever. I wouldn’t give a shit who was around, sir.”

Shit. That didn’t go as planned. And Chuck knows it.

“See?” she calls up to me with a smug fuckin’ expression on her face.

“But you know men are are gonna fuckin’ ogle you.”

“That sounds like a man problem,” Arat throws back.

“Yeah,” Chuck agrees. “Like instead of keeping women locked up or covered, maybe men should just, I don’t know, not be creeps and keep their eyes in their sockets.”

“Men’s eyes just go to titties automatically,” I say. “We can’t fuckin’ help it. This guy knows.” I point to Fat Joey, who just happened to walk by right at that moment.

“Uh, what?” he asks, not having a fuckin’ clue what I was saying.

We all stop and I put my arm around him. “Titties,” I start. “You like ‘em, right?”

“Uh...” His eyes flick over the two women in my company, trying to gauge how to answer. Shit, I love fuckin’ with this kid. “Y-Yes, sir,” he finally gets out, though I can tell he’s not sure if that was the right thing to say. FYI, pretty much nothing is the right fuckin’ thing to say in this situation.

Chuck and Arat both roll their eyes. But I don’t care. I’m actually having fuckin’ fun right now.

I turn back to Fat Joey. “So, say... your significant other started to walk around topless. Would you think it would be overstepping to suggest that she cover up so motherfuckers wouldn’t eyeball her?”

“Breastfeeding isn’t walking around topless, Negan,” Chuck bites back immediately, but she’s not really fuckin’ angry. “And, anyway, what women are wearing or not wearing isn’t an excuse for men to act like dicks.”

I think for a second. She’s probably fuckin’ right. I guess I never thought about it like that.

“I-I agree with her, sir,” Fat Joey almost whispers. “I wouldn’t look at a woman feeding a baby like that.”

I stare at him. “Really?” I shake out my head and let go of him. “Alright, alright. You’ve enlightened me. I guess that’s a fuckin’ archaic way to see shit.”

“Exactly!” Chuck calls out.

Just then Maddie lets out this noise and we all look at her.

“Did she just fuckin’ laugh?” I move over to her and, sure enough, she’s got a huge fuckin’ smile on her face. Even though she smiles a lot, we’ve never heard her laugh yet.

Chuck’s whole face lights up. “Are you laughing at Mommy and Daddy?” she asks the little girl in her arms.

Maddie lets out another little laugh and I start to tickle her.

“My little laughing princess.” I make a face at her and she laughs even more.

Me, Chuck, Arat, and Fat Joey all stand around and make faces at my little girl like the fuckin’ idiots we are. But Maddie is having a good old fuckin’ time, laughing like it’s going outta fuckin’ style. After a few minutes, my fuckin’ cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

That little girl fuckin’ kills me. And it’s nice to get my fuckin’ mind off of shit for a minute.

——— ———

Another day, another rude awakening.

“ It’s Simon ,” the familiar unwanted greeting comes from the other side of Chuck and Negan’s bedroom door.

Negan lets out a groan. “Hang on, we’re fuckin’ naked,” he calls out. As he pulls up his boxers, Chuck throws on her robe and cinches the tie around her waist. Negan opens the door and lets Simon in.

“Hilltop was attacked,” Simon says simply.

Negan just looks at him for a second. “Attacked how?” he finally spits out.

“Guys broke in during the night and burned the crops.”

Negan lets out a heavy breath and scrubs a hand down his face. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

“No one’s hurt,” Simon quickly clarifies. “And they got the fires out. Half the crops are fuckin’ damaged, though.”

Negan pauses a second before he suddenly punches the wall, putting his fist right through the drywall. “Fuck!”

“Negan!” Chuck yells in shock, but her attention moves over to Maddie, who is now crying. “Shh,” she tries to soothe the baby as she picks her up and cradles her in her arms.

Simon puts his hand on Negan’s shoulder. “The Hillfolk said it’s still early enough in the season they can maybe plant some extra stuff to replace the shit we lost. Everything is going to be alright, brother.”

Negan looks up and meets Chuck’s gaze for a moment before looking at Maddie, who is still crying in her arms. “Fuck,” he mutters and walks over to them. “I’m fuckin’ sorry.” He bends down to kiss his daughter on the head.

“Are you okay?” Chuck whispers to Negan as Maddie finally calms down.

He looks down at his hand. “I’m fine.” He gently sets his forehead on Chuck’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” she responds. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Simon cuts back in. “There is a silver lining.”

Both Chuck and Negan look to him, waiting for him to elucidate.

“The men watching the bridge said they saw some guys cross from our side back into Maryland early this morning,” Simon explains.

Negan doesn’t say anything for a moment. “They didn’t fuckin’ see them come over in the first place?”

Simon shakes his head. “They must’ve been over here before we started to scope out the bridge. Maybe scoping shot out. But I’m sure those assholes were Eldritch’s men. And now we got some guys following them back home.”

Negan stares for a moment before his lips creep up in a slow grin. The sight almost scares Chuck, seeing such a cold expression on the face that she’s used to seeing so caring.

He lets out a low chuckle, almost snarl, before growling out, “Those fuckers just signed their death warrant.”

#the flame is gone the fire remains #negan #negan x oc #negan fanfiction #negan x ofc #negan x original female character #negans thirst squad #negan/original female character #negan / oc #negan / ofc #negan / original female character #writehavoc the flame is gone the fire remains #JDM #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead AU

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twdeadfanfic · 6 years

Text

Life at the end of the world: Pt.4

Summary: Your life as a zombie apocalypse survivor. It starts with the Reader settling into the camp at the quarry, before s1 and then follows the show events and storyline, more or less, but with the Reader in it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, violence, language.

Author’s note: Fourth part of my first twd fanfic, I’ve been itching to write something like this for a long while and I write it for fun, I don’t claim to be a writer so if you find you dislike this fic, please be kind and just stop reading. English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance. For the same reason, I can’t write character’s accents and things like that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. There’d be several parts to this.

"There you go.”

You smiled to Sophia, trying to hide how worried you were, as you passed her a half-empty box of cereal bars you had taken from the CDC. It brought you memories from the first time you met the girl and shared your chocolate bars with her.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She took one of the bars and gave the other one to Carl.

Carol smiled to you gratefully and passed you a can of beans she was dining in. Food was scarce and you all were sharing a couple of cans with each other.

“We should have taken all the food that asshole had,” Daryl said grumpily. “Now it’s ashes.”

“It’s not like we had much time...” You had taken the box of cereal bars, the closer food item you saw when Rick had told you to grab your things before Dr. Jenner closed the doors. Wherever you went, you were sure to be short of food.

You were hiding in a rather small warehouse at the outside of Atlanta. It had been almost clean of walkers and seemed the only more or less safe hiding place you had seen since driving out the CDC earlier that day. You had chained the door but still, you were taking turns keeping watch. In this world, you couldn’t be too careful.

There had been some talk about what to do, although most of you were feeling so down and hopeless you didn’t care much. Shane’s idea of going to Fort Benning seemed the only chance you still might have, although after the CDC you didn’t feel very hopeful about it.

“We must have hope...” Rick had tried to lift the group spirits and you had to admire him for it.

It had been decided that you’d go to Fort Benning at first light. You didn’t have much gas so you’d take the fewer vehicles possible, splitting the remaining fuel. You were almost sure that you’d have to say goodbye to your tiny, old, second-handed car. Not the most practical for traveling, even back before the world ended.

After securing the warehouse, Glenn, Rick, and Daryl had gone on a run, trying to find supplies for your travel. You all worried sick watching them go but it had to be done. You couldn’t go to Fort Benning or wherever you ended without any food. They had come back with some cans of food and bottles of water but they hadn’t managed to find any fuel as they had hoped, hence they had taken the decision of splitting the fuel you already had.

After dinning on the canned beans you went to the door to keep watch, letting T-Dog who was currently there have some rest. You saw the others starting to spread their sleeping bags here and there, standing close to each other.

“Y/N.” You looked up when you heard your name and saw Daryl standing next to you. “I’d forgotten I found this but Sophia said they are your favorite.” He passed you some chocolate bars of your favorite brand.

“Thank you!” You were taken aback, having thought you’d never eat one of those anymore. Sure, canned beans were more useful and nutritious, but your mouth was watering at the chocolate. Still, you bit your lip thinking about the kids and how much they loved them too. “You know what, give them to Sophia and Carl, but tell them not to eat them all in one go.”

Daryl took them back but threw one of the bars to you anyway. You smiled at him, opened the bar and split it in half, giving one part to Daryl. He frowned as if confused but took it. You took a bite of chocolate and closed your eyes, smiling in delight.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate how lucky we are to have cans of food, but this...,” you said, mouth full. “This is another level.”

Daryl snorted quietly with laughter but nodded, eating the other half of the bar and leaving you to keep watch.

You huddled in the blanket Carol had given you more for comfort than for cold, the evening was warm, and got ready for the long, lonely hours until your turn finished.

Halfway through the night, Shane got up to take your post so you could have some sleep before the sun went up. You got up and turned your back without a word but he stopped you.

“Ey, Y/N, wait.” Shane went to grab your arm but stopped when he saw you were turning to face him. “I...um...I’m sorry I was like that at the CDC. I was too drunk.”

You nodded, accepting his apologies but said nothing, heading towards your sleeping bag. You weren’t upset anymore about how he had been with you but you felt uneasy thinking what might have happened between him and Lori. Still, Shane’d been one of your first friends in the group and you felt strange being strained with him, but you couldn’t help it. You hoped things would get better eventually, though.

Next morning you weren’t the only one saying goodbye to their car in order to save gasoline. Actually, the only car your group took was Carol’s Cherokee, Rick, Lori, Carol and the kids all going on it. Daryl left his pickup in favor of his brother’s bike, which needed less gas.

“You don’t think it’s dangerous to go like that?” You asked him, genuinely worried at the lack of helmet or anything between his body and the walkers you might find on your way. You weren’t even that safe inside cars.

Daryl scoffed at you. “I’ve been riding since forever, it’s fine.”

“At least you’ll be less cramped than the rest of us.” You pointed at Carol’s car, already full and then made your way into the RV.

There was no discussion about taking Dale’s old RV, no matter the risk of it breaking down. You needed the space and it had room for all your things, not to mention a bathroom and a real, big bed. Dale, Glenn, T-Dog, Shane, Andrea and you were all in it and it felt a bit too cramped but you weren’t going to complain.

_______________________________________________________

You weren’t sure of how long you’d been travelling, you thought you weren’t even halfway but it was feeling eternal. The mood wasn’t the best, all mourning Jacquie, worried about what you’d discovered in the CDC and afraid of what you might find next.

You were bored out of your mind listening to Andrea and Shane’s talk about guns, you knew the basics already. You borrowed a book Glenn was reading but you weren’t even five pages into it when your group ran into trouble.

The road seemed to be blocked by cars and cars, but you didn’t have enough fuel to find a detour so Daryl zigzagged through the cars trying to find a way through. You watched him worriedly, hoping that there weren’t any walker inside a car that could grab him but as the RV followed him you only saw people really dead, seeming to have been like that for a long while, and you looked away quickly.

On top of everything, the RV decided to break down in such a moment, groaning as it halted into a stop, smoke rising from his hood.

“I said it, didn’t I say it...” Dale complained before starting to work on it.

The group decided to take advantage of such an eventful situation and you all went from car to car trying to scavenge something useful. Food, water, supplies, anything that you may need. You were short of everything.

The corpses inside the cars turned your stomach but you forced yourself to keep going, to be brave. By now you knew you needed it if you wanted to survive this world. You followed Carol and Lori, hand on the holster of your gun, scooping from car through car.

“Ed didn’t let me wear anything like this...” Carol said as she took a cute tank top from one of the cars. “We’re going to need clothes.” She excused herself when she saw the look Lori was giving her.

You felt a bit annoyed by Lori since you started your search she had been complaining about it. None of you wanted to do this but you had to, did she wanted you to go without food? And Carol was right, you barely had any spare clothes.

“It’ll look perfect on you, Carol, take it.” You gave her the brightest smile you could muster.

You all kept scavenging silently, finding some food items. Boxes of cereal bars and biscuits, cans and all the usual things like that, and you collected them next to the RV.

The gloomy mood of your group lifted a little when Shane found a truck full of big water containers.

“Were we short on water?” He announced before opening one and letting the water fall over his head.

You ran to the truck, laughing, and did the same, letting the fresh water pour over your hair and shaking your head, sending droplets everywhere.

“You look like a dog,” Shane told you, laughing.

You were smiling at him brightly before you knew what you were doing. You smiled faltered for a second but then returned to your face. You were glad the tension between you two was slowly ebbing away.

Of course, whenever something good happened to your group, something bad seemed to always have to happen too and Rick jumped off the RV roof to tell you walkers were getting close. You had barely any time to hide and you tried not to panic, not knowing what to do. You followed Rick and hid under a car, barely making it on time before walkers started to walk around.

You saw Carol and Lori under another and also Carl and Sophia, but you couldn’t see anyone else. You saw the legs of the walkers as they passed, more than you had ever seen together, like a true herd. Your heart was pounding so hard you were afraid the monsters were going to hear it, they were so close and you felt so exposed you felt you could just start crying, you were so scared...

Rick seemed to notice your panic because he gave you an encouraging look, nodding his head as if trying to say you everything was going to be alright. You nodded and closed your eyes, trying to breathe deep.

After what felt like an eternity the growls of the walkers seemed to go away, his footsteps walking away. You opened your eyes and looked around, you couldn’t see any rotten leg, it seemed all they had gone away but Rick held up his hand, telling you to wait.

Suddenly a walker appeared out of nowhere and you watched, terrified and helpless, as it fell down to the floor next to the car under which Sophia was hiding. The little girl cried out and tried to move away but the monsters crept under the car too.

Sophia got up and ran away from the car before any of you could do anything to help her, the monster being too close. You rolled out of under the car along with Rick in time to see her running towards the woods chased by two walkers, Rick jumping out off the road and running behind her, trying to get the walkers before they get her, all disappearing into the woods.

Carol tried to follow them, panicking but Lori held her in place exhorting her to wait for Rick to come back with Sophia.

“Ey, some help here!”

You heard Daryl’s voice and you turned around to see him making his way towards the RV, holding T-Dog’s forearm, which seemed to be bleeding.

“What happened?” You asked, walking to them and watching as Andrea and Glenn began cleaning T-Dog’s arm.

“Cut my forearm while trying to hide...” T-Dog grumbled weakly, grimacing.

“Ey, what’s going on?” Daryl frowned taking in your panicked face and seeing Carol crying at the side of the road, staring at the woods.

“Some walkers found Sophia and she ran to the woods.” You explained, following him as he quickly made his way towards where Carol and Lori were standing. “Rick had gone after them.”

“Shit...” He murmured.

“Rick’ll bring her back, we have to wait.” You said when he didn’t stop walking, afraid he was going to disappear into the woods too.

Daryl looked from the woods to you, then back to the woods, then to Carol and nodded, stopping, but soon he was anxiously pacing around. You were in anguish too but focused on comforting Carol.

When Rick came back Sophia wasn’t with him.

Carol began sobbing again, panic rushing through her but Rick began talking fast, trying to ease her fears. He had led the walkers away from Sophia and had let her hidden, telling her to ran back to the camp if he wasn’t back. If Sophia wasn’t there, then she must be still hidden.

This time, when Rick went back to look for Sophia, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn went with him, leaving you all there waiting anxiously. Shane and Glenn came back not much later, without Sophia.

“It’s fine, it’s fine people,” Shane told you before you started panicking. “Daryl and Rick can find Sophia without us so Glenn and I decided it was better to come back and start getting everything ready so we can leave as soon as they are back. Right, Glenn?”

Glenn nodded quickly but he seemed out of sorts and rushed towards the RV.

You knew Shane, knew he was trying to keep you busy so you wouldn’t panic about Sophia, so things wouldn’t get out of hand. Still, you welcomed the distraction and were eager to feel useful.

“Alright people, I want you to put together all the supplies we have found and try to see if you can find anything else,” Shane commanded. “Andrea, Y/N, I want you with me, we’re going to push those cars that have blocked the road.”

After you managed to unblock the road you went to check on Carol but heard Dale and Andrea having a heated argument. Apparently, Dale was refusing to give Andrea her gun back and when Andrea complained about it to Shane he agreed with Dale, taking you aback.

“I’m going to have to take yours too, Y/N.”

You gaped at him. You understood he didn’t want anyone without training to carry a gun, they could shoot in a bad moment and bring walkers to you when they heard the sound or they could even hurt one of your own, but you’d already proven you knew how to shoot. Maybe you couldn’t run and shoot at the same time, alright, but you’d shot down walkers back when they attacked the quarry!

Shane was begging you with his eyes not to cause a scene though, so you took the gun he had lent you, already feeling vulnerable and helpless and gave it to him harshly.

“Okay, it’s your anyway.” You grumbled, walking away, ignoring Shane when he called after you.

The sun was getting down when Rick and Daryl came back, once again without Sophia. Your heart was in your throat and you couldn’t imagine how Carol must be feeling, sobbing as she saw them approach without her daughter.

Rick explained that Sophia wasn’t where he left her but that they’d keep looking for her at first light, all you, trying to calm you all down without much success. Carol began panicking at the idea of Sophia staying the night alone in the woods. She was finding hard to breath and you held her, trying to help her stand up.

“There was no blood, lots of people get lost and they get back,” Daryl said, looking at Carol worriedly and trying to comfort her but Carol just began panicking more when she noticed the blood on his trousers.

None of you felt better when Rick and Daryl explained the blood was from a walker they cut open, making sure he hadn’t eaten Sophia. Your stomach turned but you tried your best to stay strong for Carol.

“How could just leave her out there to began with, how could you leave her.” Carol sobbed, blaming Rick. “She’s just a child...”

She ignored all Rick’s explanations and you couldn’t blame her. She was in shock, scared to death for her little girl who was alone in the woods at night, maybe with walkers out there. But still, you felt bad for Rick. He had done his best, had tried, was still trying, and you pat his shoulder when you walked past him as you all made your way back into the cars for the night.

There wasn’t much space to sleep inside the vehicles, so you were lucky you got to share the RV bed with Carol and Andrea.

Before getting into the RV you saw Daryl perched up on top of it, having taken the first turn of watch duty, and you made your way up.

“Ey...you really think Sophia is okay?” You asked as quietly as possible so the others wouldn’t hear you. “Please, be honest.” You begged, even though you were afraid of what he might say.

“Course she’s okay.” Daryl looked at you in disbelieve, seeming a bit annoyed. “Told Carol already, lots of people get lost and they get back.”

“Yeah...but the walkers...” You bit your lip hard, feeling dangerously close to tears.

“I saw no walkers but the one I cut open. The little girl is fine, we’ll find her.” Daryl insisted and he almost made you have hope. Maybe Sophia was alright, hidden somewhere. Maybe you’d find her tomorrow.

“Okay...okay, thanks.” You gave him a weak smile. “I’m gonna check on Carol.”

“Take care of her,” Dary whispered quietly, a worried frown on his face. You could see how much he actually cared about her and her little girl, more than you could have thought. It made you feel a bit better, somehow. Daryl would found Sophia.

“Yeah, she’s strong though, you told me right?” You replied, thinking he might be in need of some comfort too, even though for now he seemed to be the only one keeping the spirits high about the situation.

Once in bed, Carol kept crying and crying, unable to sleep and when Andrea got up, saying she needed some air, you saw she was crying too.

You stayed there though, you couldn’t get yourself to leave Carol like that, no matter how much her tears hurt you, how much it made you think about all the horrible things that could happen to Sophia, no matter Daryl’s words. You cuddled with Carol, letting her sob into your shoulder until she passed out, exhausted, a couple of hours before dawn, you falling asleep too almost immediately after her.

Next morning, while Daryl explained to the group the plan and route to follow in your search for Sophia, Shane gave you all weapons. No guns though. You got a decent sized knife, it wasn’t bad but you much preferred your gun. Still, it seemed Shane wasn’t going to give it to you back and if he did it’d probably just upset Andrea more.

She was still complaining about them having taken her gun and you could understand her but you didn’t want to start an argument about it, not now when you had a way more important task to focus on, so you took the knife without complaining.

All you were going to look for Sophia, besides Dale who stayed to repair the RV and T-Dog, whose wounded arm was being hard to heal and had left him weak.

Daryl guided you into the woods, at the head of your line and you all looked around anxiously, waiting for any trace of Sophia or any danger to show up.

For a while you found nothing but then you saw a tent standing a bit further ahead of the path. Getting closer, Carol called quietly for Sophia, but nothing happened. You all watched anxiously while Daryl got into the tent, but he exited it after less than a minute to announce there wasn’t any threat inside, neither any trace of Sophia. Only the corpse of someone who had ‘opted out’.

Suddenly the sound of bells filled the air and you all ran towards it until you reached a church. Shane pointed out the church didn’t have any steeple so the sound couldn’t come from it but Rick ignored him, running towards it, and you all followed him.

When you reached it, Rick opened the door of the building and you carefully stepped inside, discovering three walkers which were sitting down on the benches. They turned their evil faces towards you and got up, stumbling towards you, but Rick, Shane, and Daryl made quick work of them.

“Sophia! Sophia!” Rick called for her, refusing to accept she wasn’t there, but the little girl didn’t come.

“Ey, J.C” You heard Daryl murmur to the statue on the cross. “You taking requests?

You patted his arm in what you hoped was a reassuring gesture, trying not to show how disappointed you were at Sophia not been there, trying not to lose hope, and Daryl looked at you as if startled before relaxing and giving you a nod.

Shane was trying to explain to Rick again that the sound of the bells couldn’t come from there when suddenly the bells started ringing again. You all rushed outside, finding out that the sound came from some speakers and Glenn stopped it ripping off the wires.

It had been just a recording...

Carol went back inside the church, tears falling down her cheeks, the hope of Sophia having found refuge in the church gone.

“There can’t be many walkers out here, they’d have come following the sound,” Daryl told you before getting inside the church.

“That’s good...” You said weakly, following him inside.

No walkers had shown up so maybe there weren’t many around, maybe Sophia was safe and sound, hiding somewhere. You had to keep hoping.

You couldn’t help your tears hearing Carol talking quietly, blaming herself and begging god to get Sophia back to her safe.

“We have to find her...” You whispered to Daryl and he nodded quietly, chewing on his thumb.

Once outside the church, Shane and Rick seemed to be discussing something and Shane announced they had decided it was best to split, him and Rick, and also Carl who insisted on going with them, would keep searching for Sophia while you retreated, looking for her in the woods and then Daryl would lead you back to the road.

Rick felt uneasy about leaving Lori without a gun so he tried to give her his but she refused, not wanting to leave him defenseless, and you blinked in surprise when Daryl offered his own gun to Lori immediately.

Andrea scoffed and sure, it was not fair Lori had a gun and you couldn’t have yours but still, you were moved by Daryl gesture, it was something you hadn’t expected from the redneck you’d met at the quarry.

He seemed to be changing somehow since leaving that camp or maybe he was just starting to show his true self. You’d already caught glimpses of it in your talks, in his insistence on the search for Sophia, in how he cared for Carol and her little girl. Now you saw another as he selflessly lent his gun so Rick would stop worrying that much.

You followed Daryl as he guided you through the woods, looking for Sophia but finding nothing.

“So this is it, this is the whole thing...” Carol complained and you didn’t know what to say, how to comfort her. You understood he was frustrated and worried sick, but you were doing everything you could.

You let out a frustrated sigh when Andrea and Lori started to argue, you couldn’t lose time in things like that. Lori called Andrea out, offering the gun, saying she was tired of her dirty looks and then confronted Carol too, exhorting her to stop blaming Rick for everything when he was doing his best to find Sophia.

You understood both parts so you stepped away, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the argument. To your relief, they seemed to sort everything out quickly.

“Come on people,” Daryl rolled his eyes. “We still have a lot of ground to cover.”

You hadn’t gone far when you heard a gunshot and you all looked around startled, but it came from far away, from where Rick, Shane, and Carl had gone. Worry was clear in Loris’ eyes, it had been a single shot and they wouldn’t shot at a walker unless they had problems, but Daryl insisted you had to keep moving.

You walked behind Daryl but he stopped when he heard Andrea trying to comfort Carol.

“We’re all hoping with you, for all it’s worth.” The blonde was saying kindly to Carol.

“I tell you what’s worth, not a damn thing. It’s just a waste of time to be hoping and praying” Daryl interfered harshly. “We’re gonna locate that girl and she’s gonna be just fine. I’m the only one zen around here? Good lord.” He ended his rant, making you snort a laugh.

You all kept following him, trying to not lose hope as you kept finding no trace of the little girl.

“Let’s head back,” Lori said when the sun started to get down.

“We’ll pick it up again tomorrow?” Carol asked, eyes begging sadly.

“We’ll find her tomorrow.” Lori tried to reassure her.

You were so tired and so focused trying not to trip over any root or bump in the path that you didn’t notice Andrea had gone out of the path until you heard her screams. You all ran towards the screams, horrified when you find her struggling against a walker.

Daryl aimed his crossbow but before any of you could do anything a young woman in a horse appeared out of nowhere, knocking down the monster with a bat.

“Lori, Lori Grimes?” The woman asked, eyeing your group.

“I’m Lori.” Lori walked to her, looking as confused as all of you. Who was that girl, where did she come from, how did she knew Lori’s name?

“Rick sent me, you gotta come with me now!” The girl explained quickly.“There’s been an accident, Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive but you gotta come now!”

You gasped in horror and Lori went pale, rushing to the horse.

“Whoa, whoa, we don’t know this girl you can’t get on that horse!” Daryl exclaimed, trying to stop her but Lori ignored him and the two women rushed away on the horse before the young woman told you where to find her family farm.

You all stood there, too shocked to do anything for a moment but then Daryl rushed to help Andrea onto her feet.

“Shut up.” He growled at the walker, who was getting up again, shooting an arrow into his head.

As soon as you reached the road Dale rushed to you, bombarding you with questions and looking more and more shocked as Glenn told him about the girl who took Lori on her horse, saying Carl had been shot.

“And you let her?” Dale asked Daryl and you rolled your eyes. Daryl was your tracker and your leader on the search, nor your babysitter, Lori had taken her own decisions and besides, Daryl had tried to stop her.

“Get off my ass, old man.” He answered annoyed. “Rick sent her, she knew Lori’s name and Carl’s.”

You saw there was still palpable tension between Andrea and Dale as she ignored him while he asked her if it was her who he had heard screaming in the woods and getting flustered when Glenn explained she took down a walker.

“Andrea? You alright?” Dale insisted but she kept ignoring him, getting into the RV.

You sat down next to Carol and she rested her head on your shoulders, tears falling down her cheeks silently. Daryl looked at you both, frowning and biting his lip but said nothing. You were at loss of words too, not knowing how to comfort Carol, so you just rested your head against hers, trying to offer some silent comfort for a moment until you were forced to get up and make plans.

There was much to talk about and decisions to make.

@momc95 @jodiereedus22 @osweetdevilo @sapphire1727 @coffeebooksandfandom

I never thought anyone’d like to be tag in any of my stories so thank you! It means the world! <3

I hope you like this new chapter.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #daryl imagine #life at the end of the world #lew

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nettlestonenell · 7 years

Photo

Never forget, this is for @jammeke.

I have begun posting this to FictionPress. (It’s not caught up with all my postings here, yet)

Find the earlier bits here on my tumblr.

Part XIII - The Day Of

Toronto – some weeks later - Ada Covington pressed the accelerator down in her elder brother Roger’s pickup, trying to lose the cars, and several motorcycles’ worth of paparazzi, now in swift pursuit of her on the QEW.

Her eyes stung with tears she was doing her best to hold back, and prevent them from impeding her ability to drive, leaving her eyesight clear enough to show her that she hadn’t enough gas in the pickup’s dual tanks to evade them for long—certainly not enough to get back to the relative privacy of the farm without stopping to fill-up.

She could not stand the idea of pulling into a gas station only for them further mob her there.

She needed, and quickly, to find a restricted, non-public space they couldn’t follow her into, a friends’ house—not the law offices—she couldn’t stand being trapped in them for even ten minutes longer. But she knew no one in the city.

She sped past a billboard advertising the University, and had to correct herself. Yes, she winced, she did know someone.

Conrad Bierkut was not usually home at his townhouse this time of day, but circumstances had conspired for him to need a plumber, and so here he was, waiting.

When his bell rang, he had expected it to be said plumber. Not at all a very upset Ada Covington, her jacket pulled up over her head like a murder suspect trying to avoid the press.

“Ada!” he exclaimed, upon opening his front door. It had been some weeks since he had silently excused himself from her farm following the explosive (and seemingly intimate, or post-intimate) pictures of them running in the Sun tabloid. He had no false illusions that she had any wish to ever encounter him again, though their day in court was soon to arrive.

“Please,” she said, “please—I beg you—have me in, quick as you can—“

“Yes. Yes!” he agreed, moving to the side so she could dive into his short front hall.

“Are you—is everything alright?” he asked as he shut the door.

“Yes. No. I mean—of course not. Why else would I come here, without even trying to contact you for an invitation?"

Conrad restrained himself (not without feeling the unintentional humor in her question) from reminding her of him being in that self-same situation arriving at her farm one rainy night not so long ago.

"They’ve been at chasing me for almost an hour. I could think of nowhere else to go, and Roger’s truck needed gas. I—it’s outside. Probably not parked very well.”

Conrad looked out through his front door's Judas window to the street beyond. She was right. Roger's truck was not parked very well, but it was so large with its doubled rear tires and wide bed it was at least partially shielding his townhouse’s front from the photogs camped-out in the small neighborhood park located on the street’s opposite side.

Conrad shepherded Ada Covington through his short entry hall and into his front room. She noticed the wood blinds in the street-facing windows were all but closed. No one—no drone, even, could see in.

She collapsed into the nearest chair, still in her jacket.

“Can I get you something?” Conrad asked, not quite sure what to do next.

“Don’t let me keep you—from whatever you were at doing,” Ada said, looking like she was still teetering on miserable. “You needn’t treat me as company.”

“Oh, well…I was just,” he pointed up, “in my office.”

“Go on, then. I’ll be fine alone,” she told him, asking, “Do you have anything to read? Perhaps something to watch?” She looked about the room for such things.

“Well, I’ve—“ he pointed out several scholarly journals artistically strewn about here and there on end tables. “But no, no proper television. Why don’t you let me show you around for a moment, help you get your bearings before I leave you to…” he didn’t know what to call it, he lightly shrugged, “your solitude.” He was not so unobservant to think that she had come here actually looking to spend time with him.

Ada followed Conrad Bierkut through a tour of his modest townhouse. The majority of rooms of the 1920s-era now-renovated home looked like they belonged in a glossy mag that sang the praises of open floor plans and modern design.

Except the last room, which she had expected to be a bedroom--his bedroom, as the only other bedroom he had shown her housed but a just-shy-of-monastic-looking twin-sized bed, and she had taken that space for a guest bedroom.

But this last room was, in fact, his office, and it shared almost nothing in common with the house it sat within. Books were everywhere: stacked high upon any flat surface. Windowsill, fireplace mantel, floor, desktop, chair seat, bookshelf, sidetable, rolling box heater.

A very old-looking divan, its upholstery as dark as its wood frame, was relatively free of books, but draped in several older-looking quilts. Four hardcover books stacked under its left front leg (broken and missing) helped attempt to keep it level. A bed pillow at one end added to her impression that this was quite possibly where the master of the house did most of his sleeping.

The wood floors in here were not refinished, the wood trim unpainted, the furniture old and some pieces, like the divan, in rough repair. In the introducing of it, Professor Bierkut didn’t show any self-consciousness.

“You’ve no computer?” she asked, noticing its lack.

“Not here, no. Sometimes I bring home my laptop.”

“Sometimes?”

“It’s only good here for typing, anyway. I’m not wired for internet access.”

“Not wired?”

“No. I don’t pay for access.”

Ada stared. The entire farm had gone wireless (with only occasional outtages) three years ago.

“I’ve got my phone, if I really find I need it," Conrad tried to explain, himself as mystified at her flummoxed response to his confession, as she was to his confession. "I’ve got it at my university offices.” He struggled on to make sense of it to her, “My field—it’s a book-based field, really. That, and journals,” he shrugged. “I handwrite a lot of things.

“Of course you do,” he heard her say, and it raised something of a hackle within him he had not felt rise in a long time. Not since Julie.

“Why are you come here, Ada?” he asked, baldly and abruptly. Surely not just to devil me? he thought, to himself.

At his unusual-for-him biting response, Ada stopped short from where she had been walking away from him, ready to leave the room and return downstairs. “I made a bad decision,” she said.

“In coming here? I don’t think you did,” he said, the edge of his earlier annoyance only slightly receding in response to her honest answer. “Did you have anywhere else in the city to go?”

“No,” she confessed. “I needed somewhere I could be invited into a private home where they couldn’t follow me.”

“Then you made a good decision—the right decision.”

“No,” she again disagreed, and sat down (her action like one plunking down an over-heavy suitcase one has been carrying too long) on his top stair, without his inviting her to do so, her back now to the railing.

“I didn’t tell Roger, you know," she said, without contextualizing the remark to Conrad, "in the way you don’t tell people you love when you’re about to do something they won’t approve of. In the way you know you might not do it if you have to confront their disapproval. And I wanted to do it. I’ve wanted to do it forever, I think.”

“Do what?” Conrad asked, thoroughly confused, seating himself on the stair nearby her, their knees now almost touching, concerned that his continued standing might track as a position of judgment, a feeling he did not care for, no matter his momentary sniping.

Ada sighed. “I’ve been searching for my—for our--birth mother. This week the agency I'd hired told me they’d found her, and she was willing to meet me. So, I came to the city today to meet her for the first time. But I wasn’t at the agreed upon spot fifteen minutes, waiting, when they showed up. So many of them, snapping shots, yelling at me.”

She had not been looking at him as she said--as she confessed--any of this. She stared at the wall ahead of her, and occasionally to the ceiling. “And she didn’t come,” she concluded.

“They scared her off?” he asked, his own eyes never off what he could see of her face, now only in profile.

“I don’t know," she shook her head. "Maybe she was never coming. Maybe she lost her nerve before she saw them. I only know, if I’d have seen them, I’d have lost my nerve.” The final words of her sentence came out half-hushed, in the way coming-on tears can often bring about.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean to be so upset,” she said, tears starting as she spoke about the experience and she finally turned toward his face, so close beside her, but a step and riser below. “It’s just, you know, it’s your worst fear, that after all this time you’ll find them—the one who gave you up--and still-still they’ll turn away from you.”

Her tears were silent, and without sobs. She was very still. He thought maybe he would have preferred sobs.

“I’m sure she just got spooked, that’s all.”

“And then I think about—“ she stalled, and looked away from him. “I think about the baby,” she had never been one to speak so, “is this what’s in store for her? Dogged by photographers at every turn? Constantly reminded no one in her family wants her? Finding our two faces in newspaper archives—seeing all we wanted was to be well shot of the legal case, of her future? Believing she isn’t worth anything because the court system had to be called in to decide who, of the many people trying to avoid taking her on, is obligated to?”

Her eyes were again upon him. Their now-familiar blue swam in tears. Why did she do that? Turn toward him like he had the answer--a good answer--any answer?

He squinted. “Don’t talk like that. That’s not gonna happen," he felt worthless in this interaction, clumsily guiding someone through heartbreak, all platitudes and reassurances, and no wisdom. "Let’s get you downstairs, let’s call your family, let them know where you are, that you’ll be along home later. I can drive the truck and get it filled up.”

Her eyes were now straight on him, her confessional for the moment done. “It’s a stick.”

“O-ookay," he made the adjustment. "I can find someone to take the truck for a fill-up, and get you on your way.” He pulled out his phone.

She did nothing to conceal her worry. “Who are you calling?”

“Plumber,” he said.

“What?” a half-hysterical edge threatened to come into her tone.

“I’ve got a plumber coming," he said it like a throw-away line in a play, Ada thought. Like it was the most normal and routine thing in the world.

"Did you want some lunch?” he went on to ask, “I haven’t got much here—I’ll have him pick something up.”

“You can't seriously have invited someone into the house—while I’m here?” Hers was not a pleasant tone.

“No worries. He’s a friend. I’ve used him forever. He’s not gonna photograph us together for a quick buck. I trust him, one-hundred percent. He’ll gas up your truck for us, too. Promise,” Conrad said, and the smile he gave her she could hardly naysay.

The plumber came, and with him dinner for two, and ten gallons of fuel for Roger's truck. The paparazzi expended several hundred pictures each before assuring themselves he was no one important come to call on the couple dubbed The BabyMakers.

While the plumber fixed the pipes in question, Conrad fell to eating in his study, as was usually his way, hunkered over whatever text he was at presently dissecting. Ada avoided the second floor, the plumber worked. Hours passed.

When Conrad came down to the kitchen to settle up with the plumber, he found Ada taking something out of his rarely-used oven. "What's this?" he asked, curiously bemused.

"I thought, you know, as a sort of thank you, for the lunch and all," Ada said, taking what looked like fresh-baked bread out of a loaf pan Conrad, honestly, did not even know he owned. "One for you, one for your plumber."

"You--you're--baking down here? With what?"

"Oh, I found some things in your pantry."

"I can't imagine what," he said.

"The only truly fresh thing was yeast," she said.

"Yes, well, I had been mulling over trying out a thirteenth century brewing recipe for honey mead," he said, smiling with the recollection of yet another of his one-time plans eternally unfulfilled. "I had almost forgotten about that."

The aroma of the bread and whatever ingredients she had put it in was pungently alluring, almost heady. It was not a feeling he generally associated with this kitchen. He may have just eaten, but it worked to awaken what he had thought was his appeased appetite immediately. "Do you bake a lot?"

"What?" she asked, poking around for something to cool the loaves on. "No, I, I mean I do lots of things when I'm, when I'm--"

"Distressed?" he offered, not having forgotten the disastrous non-meeting with her birth mother.

"I usually play my viol, or knit. Sometimes I knit. But baking, you know, baking works, too."

"I clean," he confessed. "Lots of chemicals, scrubbing. Once, for a week I thought I tore my rotator cuff working on a stubborn tub ring. That was the week of my doctoral thesis presentation, which went only slightly better than the Battle of Monmouth."

"You'll have to tell me about that some time," she said, smiling, as though they might schedule another visit later in the week, or meet-up somewhere for drinks. Neither of which, of course, would they do. She did not specify if she meant the thesis presentation or the historical battle.

"I called home," she said. "Roger's rung some of his army buddies that live in the city. They're going to come by and, well, they won't come in. But they'll make sure the photographers keep their distance."

"Roger was in the Army?"

"Special forces."

"Right. Gina, too. It's where they met."

"Gina?"

"Of course! Have you see her arms?"

This question now had him smiling. "You'll be leaving, then?" he heard himself ask, "Since Tim brought you gas for your truck."

"It wouldn't start for him, though,” she told Conrad. “He tried it for me, you know, get it running and then I could run out of the house and be on my way. We both of us, Tim," she used the plumber's first name, "and I, have our suspicions."

"You think the guys camped out did something to keep it from running?"

She gave a light shrug. "Who wouldn't consider a little theft, a little vandalism when a million-dollar picture is almost in your grasp, just across the street?"

Conrad nodded. "You may well be right. Perhaps Roger's friends might ask them about it."

"I have every expectation that they will."

"You don't seem as upset as I would expect you to be," he hazarded saying, noting her lack of fury at the newest roadblock she had encountered into leaving him, and his home, and returning to the safety of her farm.

"To be honest, with you and with myself, I'm tired. To the bone. Could I stay? Please? I just--I don't feel ready to walk out that door into--everything."

"Of course," he said, "of course you can stay. I insist on it as a doctor," his small joke was rewarded by the slightest beginning of a snicker. "I've know just the thing for supper later. You've made the bread, I've got the cheese."

"Can we maybe, I mean, I'd just like to watch something. Take my mind off it all for a bit. But you don't--you don't have any way to do that, do you? I could bake more," she cast her eyes around his kitchen, knowing at this point she'd made use of just about anything that might be used. "I have to confess, your--magazines--"she referenced the academic journals lying about here and there, "well, I think I've gotten just about everything from them I could--without writing a term paper."

He nodded. "Give me a minute," he said, and disappeared back upstairs.

Shortly she heard furniture creaking and a stack of books falling over, before he came down the steps. He was holding a thirteen-inch CRT television that something told her was also going to be black-and-white. It had a built-in VCR.

She now recalled having seen it squirreled away in one of the corners of his office.

"Fooled ya," he said brightly, "I do own a TV!"

"I stand corrected," she replied, watching on, slightly amused, slightly horrified as he got down on the elegant, reclaimed hardwood floor of his modern, stylish front room and searched for a wall plug to plug it into.

He popped up, "there!" he said, claiming triumph as the elderly screen sizzled and fuzzed to life. "We'll have to...drag some pillows down here," he did the job himself, taking the couch apart into its pillows and strewing them on the floor in front of the tiny screen. "No, no," he told Ada, sounding as cheery as someone organizing an Easter Egg hunt, "wait right there. I'll be right back."

She waited. He returned, bounding down the stairs this time, and into the kitchen, where he came out with her bread and a sizeable cheese.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at the unfamiliar-to-her golden rind.

"It's a Boerenkaas," he said, no small amount of pride in his tone. "Helped make it myself."

"You're now a cheesemonger? As well as an aspiring brewer?"

There was no overlooking the pride in his voice as he spoke, nor the nostalgia. "Writing my last book, I was in the Netherlands," he said, "excellent country, fascinating agriculturally. I stayed for about a year on and off--I also traveled and lectured--with a family on their farm. They had about half a hundred red Friesians. They let me sit in on their cheesemaking--their farm is four centuries old--it literally sits on a dike--"

Ada didn't mean to be, but now she was smiling, too.

"--they were utterly committed to sustainable production, they make cheese every day."

"So, you speak Dutch?" she asked, already mostly knowing the answer.

"Not as well as I'd like," he said. "I'm better at reading Old Saxon texts than, say, being conversational."

"I suppose they were sorry to see you go?" Ada asked, imagining a dock-full of mournful Dutch girls weeping at the handsome American professor taking his leave.

"Maybe a little. Mostly I think the old couple were relived at not having to share my name with their neighbors."

"What?"

"Oh, I'll just let you Google that when you're back online," he said, half in throwaway line. "I found this. It's all I've got to watch."

He sat down the cheese, knife, and bread on the floor near the pillows and produced an old VHS clamshell case. "Bye Bye Birdie" proclaimed the movie poster facsimile on the cover.

"My mom, you know, I said. Musicals. I found this in her things after she passed. It's the only sort of movie I've got." He gave a shrug. Would she accept it as entertainment? Or tell him he had to be kidding?

"When was the last time you watched it?" she asked, gingerly taking the case from him.

"Oh, I dunno. Year or two, probably. Does it matter?"

"I'm just wondering," her eyebrows raised, and one of her eyes threatened a twinkle, "if the tape itself hasn't turned to dust."

"Only one way to find out," he answered with a smile. Taking the tape out, and feeding it to the machine.

Conrad found himself so engrossed with the film, and his personal nostalgia surrounding it (and one did have to watch very closely to follow it on the tiny monochrome screen), he was surprised to turn at one point fairly deep into the narrative and find that Ada had nodded off.

He had to force himself to turn back to the screen, his attention no longer fully with the film. He reminded himself that the woman that had shown up without fanfare on his step that day had little enough privacy, without him invading it when she had let her guard down.

Yet it was no easy thing to look away.

Ada was in and out. Perhaps it was the pillows so casually on the floor, perhaps the teeny black and white screen she found it so hard to see. Perhaps, simply, for the first time in a very long time she was in a spot where her exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she let it.

Half-dream, half-memory, she relived Garrett’s recent farewell. He’d been offered a job in the Pacific Northwest, head arborist. A job that before all of this the two of them had jointly dreamed of for him. His face showed her how happy, how hopeful it made him.

But she hadn’t managed to match his pleasure. She was suddenly far less certain she was ready or willing to leave the farm and travel west with him.

He mentioned Conrad Bierkut’s name.

She told him not to be ridiculous.

He looked sad.

“It’s not that I think you’re with him—“ he said, referring to the phony story the tabloids tried so hard to keep alive; that she and Conrad were now a couple. “It’s only, Ada, you’ve never seemed upset enough.”

There had been no argument. She wasn’t sure how, even, to argue such a point: not upset enough? She felt terribly upset all the time. All her anger, she thought it was apparent, wore the handsome face of Conrad Bierkut. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t pleasant to Professor Bierkut when he’d showed up at the farm. That she couldn’t share a laugh, or a conversation with him. Who else, after all, might understand even a fraction of this absurd and taking-over-everything situation she’d been unfairly thrust into?

If you don’t want to go with him, Mum had said, and he doesn’t want to stay here with you—there’s your answer, isn’t it? As to whether you two still love each other?

Garrett had left two days ago. He’d extended Ada an offer to join him. But he’d also said he didn’t honestly expect to see her, said that if she couldn’t decide to come within the next two weeks, she never would.

He was right, she thought. Two weeks was long enough for anyone to make up their mind about just about anything. But she didn’t need that long. A few years ago, yes, Garrett and that job in the PacNor had been among her dreams. But her dreams now were of the farm, her land, her business. She didn’t want to leave, and it appeared that this was a two-for-one decision: that she also, no longer wanted Garrett, who very much still did want to leave.

She awoke occasionally to volume fluctuations on the small screen. Several times she sneaked the opportunity to watch Conrad as he watched the screen. How his expressions tracked with the film the way a child’s might. Perhaps, as a child with his mother, his had also done.

A few moments at that, and she would nod off again.

Finally, she awoke to find Conrad Bierkut also asleep, the film still playing near the beginning, as the tape must have rewound and re-started.

She must have fallen over in her sleep, and him as well, for they both lay now face to face (though some distance apart, their feet at opposite ends of the room). She let herself examine his upside-down features as he slept (and thankfully did not snore. Oh! Had she snored?) ‘Never seemed upset enough’, she thought.

He was a nice person, Conrad Bierkut. The papers pairing her with him was annoying, the attention unwanted, inconvenient, but it wasn’t improbable, was it? That she, Ada, might to the mind of a reasonable person, be involved with an accomplished, kindly man such as Professor Conrad Bierkut?

I mean, the too-poor pantry would have to improve, she thought. The teensy monk-sized rack bed would have to be banished, and perhaps over time his backward attitude toward technology would get up to speed—or she would (in this wholly fictional future) come to find it endearing. But really, was it such an impossible thing to believe? To root for, even? He brought his tiny TV/VCR downstairs for her, didn’t he? And his mum’s film to watch? A person could be phenomenal on paper—book title in Dutch and all—and still be decent company, couldn’t they?

Before she had a chance to answer her half-asleep self, she fell fully asleep, without even the chance to contemplate what price such a photo of her and Conrad now, asleep together among pillows on his living room floor, might bring on the national tabloid market.

(next Part is the FINALE!)

#the babymakers #fake film meme #fake movie meme #romantic comedy #chris pine #stars as conrad #lucy griffiths #as Ada #this is the post that this day needs #things i have written that are not technically fanfiction

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traviswsoul · 7 years

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Day 7 Orcutt to Morro Bay This was the hardest day yet, not because it was a long day but because of the head wind that nearly pushed me over the edge. I departed Michelle's house at noon, which was a bad idea to stay so late but I got busy writing and didn't want to fall behind on that. That became compounded when I turned the wrong way down Clark St leaving town and went for a few miles inland. That is exactly the kind of lesson that I am learning on this trip, to not let stupid mistakes anger me. I always have and always will make mistakes, brain farts, that could ruin the day or the mood and drive me crazy. I can be prone to being too hard on myself and I hope to remove that from who I am, I know I'll never be perfect so why freak out when I'm not? To not be driven mad by the maddening. I figured out a route to continue on and not have to back track, the reason I went so far out of the way is I got so distracted by coasting down hill so effortlessly. I wasn't about to climb back up that hill. I imagine I added 10 miles or more to my day, which isn't that bad except for detouring through farm lands with insane head winds which were that bad! This is when I started cursing the wind, what a silly thing. It kept my general speed of about 15 mph to under 10, I was not doing well. I spend the first hour on the bike basically making no progress. Then it got even better (worst). I made it into a town, Santa Maria, and stopped at a classic truck stop for pancake breakfast which was fine. I then loaded up, except for securing my map bag, that also contains my passport and wallet, to the handle bars. It got left sitting loosely on top of the rear panniers. A few hundred yards from the truck stop it bounced itself off the bike and sat abandoned and lonesome in the middle of the road as I rode on for about another two to three miles before I went to lean onto my bars and rest that I realized something was missing. The only thing on my bike that if lost all was lost. I can't cross the border and make this trip successfully with no passport. My heart melted down into my clipped in shoes. That experience warranted a entirely different kind "oh shit" from than a wrong turn. I didn't even have a moment to be mad I simply went into panic mode, turned around and rode as hard as I could the wrong way down the road so I could see exactly where I had been. The clear plastic cover shimmered in the high sun from a block away and all was well, better than well, the opposite of disaster, this is the kind of things that make you believe in God. Not having experienced the roller coaster of emotion you might say "No it's not, all that happened was retracing my steps and finding what I lost, but when the stakes are that high, it sure feels like so much more. Faith is a funny thing, and made up of even funnier things. I'm going to write a sermon called lost and found faith one day and see if it can't get me kicked out of a church. The best truth starts as things that they'll throw you out of the church for! So all this craziness happened before I was back on the route even, making for quite a stressful day. The wind continued to work against me for most of it. After I rejoined the route in Guadalupe I had one of these spells I'm starting to recognize as a regular phenomenon on a trip like this. I black out stretches with in days. I think if nothing is especially interesting or stimulating and my body and mind are fatigued there's not a lot of energy to register vibrant memories, so I don't. I rode until I saw a logo of a hamburger man,which of course I remember, so I stopped and ate a "california burger," they call anything "california" if they put avocado on it, seams like a cheap trick to me but it's a thing. Refueled I was ready to go however the wind was still kicking my ass and I was worried about not making it before dark, well, that's the excuse I told my self to justify my next actions but the truth was I was fed up. I knew there would be days that sucked and I wouldn't want to go on, it happened the first time one week in. I saw some good ol boys loading into a pickup when I was pulling out and I asked them if they were headed north, told them I was behind schedule and could use a ride to the next town, luckily the were going south despite being confused about which was north and south at first. It blows my mind how many people I encounter on the coast who don't know their north from south, they certainly know which way the beach is but havn't put two and two together. Anyway I just fell back on my mantra to just keep pushing pedals and went on. Oceano, Grover, Pismo and Shell beaches were all quinticential California beach towns one after the other and they culminated with Avilia Hot Spring Camp site which I must return to. It, obviously has hot springs, had a hippy commune vibe but also appeared to have cabins that were tiny houses. There is a very strong possibility that when I get back to SD from this trip I will be building a tiny house so it took everything I had to not stop in there and check it out. After that I turned onto Ontario road, a frontage road along side the 101 nestled up against a big hill on the oceanside, effectively blocking the wind, I couldn't have been more grateful. Then I noticed the opportunity for a short cut by taking Los Osos Valley Road and cutting off going to San Luis Obispo, so I made up a little of the milage I added in the beginning. Too bad the trade off was one of the coolest town in all of the west coast for a bunch of miserable farm land, oh well, you can't have it, and I've had more than my share already in this life i'd say. By this point I was exhausted, I was still battling the wind, so when I turned off onto Turri Rd I had to go into full beast mode because I was starring at a big hill ahead of me and a giant cloud was blocking out the suns warmth above me. I was growling and huffing and yelling my way up this hill, I was rewarded for my show of determination with a juicy and curvaceous cruise down the back side where I saw rabbits, squirrels, and a big fox, plus that cool old windmill, I loved it. At the end it only got more beautiful, I was back at the coast and came upon a vast grassy river bed with several streams winding through it reflecting the light from the setting sun, and the ocean in the distance. I was in Morro Bay. I have been waiting several years to come here and visit skateboard legend Jack Smith, whom I'm humbled to call a friend. We met early on in my days starting push culture, in the memory of my spirit he gave me his blessing and was very encouraging. I started PC News by turning on my computer camera and reading the newsletter that he used to send out every monday, which was the precursor to the Skateboarders Journal Magazine he we later start. I loved it and I tried to share it with friends but I realized no one was reading that type of content anymore via email. It needed to be video so I hit record and that was the first episode. Immediately we sat Brian in that chair instead, I produced it and I could never tell that story without telling about Jack Smith and his influence. I am thrilled to be here, I was thrilled to see Jack, I was thrilled that when I got here my brother's letter from his realestate office was on the counter, it felt so nice to feel Brian's presence in that moment finally being in Jack's home where he was missed, and talked about with love. Jack's wife Kathy made an amazing chicken gnocchi soup for diner that night, I had seconds! Kathy is an angel and understands us guys being called to these big adventures (Jack has skated cross country 4 times since 1976) she has taken wonderful care of me and I've been full the whole time. She'll be retiring next year after 35 years of teaching, I'm really happy for her, she's delightful. I also enjoyed getting to visit with Dillon, Jack's son, who's smart and cool, has a great job, and is really fun to talk about skateboarding with. I'm taking a rest day here as well, I waited too long to be here to rush out right away. I rode electric skateboards to the Morro Bay skateboard museum with Jack, it's founder. We rode around the "volcanic cap," a huge rock called Morro Rock that jets out of the water 400 feet above Morro Bay. But thats another story.

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fatrat66 · 4 years

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Okay Now I’m Actually in the Middle of Nowhere

I think this may be the most remote place I have ever been in my life. The only other place that comes close is Svalbard, but we never ventured far out of the town there. I am currently over 100km south of Dawson City, in the absolute wilderness of the Yukon. There’s nothing but trees in every direction as far as the eye can see. Oh, and a few gold mines.

I’m staying for a couple of nights with Becky and Eric, who have got last-minute jobs here at the gold mine. Becky is driving a haul truck, which entails 12 hours of driving back and forth between the diggers and the sluice machine. Perhaps I'll make a separate post later to explain the basics of gold digging, based on the rudimentary knowledge that I have picked up over the last 24 hours. Eric meanwhile is a mechanical engineer, who fixes the machinery and trucks, diggers and various other pieces of industrial equipment that they have here which break down now and then.

The two of them are both from Quebec, so have come a long way to be here, living a life that brings a certain selection of words to mind: it’s rough, hard, crazy, liberating, isolated, and WILD. There’s a makeshift camp set up here, with a few temporary buildings for lodging, a simple kitchen and bathroom facilities, and a bunch of sheds scattered around for people like Eric to work in. The mine itself is a short way away and I can hear the distant thrum and clang of heavy machinery as they dig up the earth, searching for that precious metal.

Last night, Becky and Eric introduced me to the cook, an equally rough-and-tumble Quebec man who has been there, done that and decided to live out here for a while, and all 4 of us went for a drive in Eric’s pickup truck. I’m not exaggerating when I say this was the wildest drive I have ever experienced in my life.

Eric, being a mechanical engineer, has a love of cars and engines and he knows what they are capable of. He’s also a ridiculously talented driver. I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those rally driving experiences, where you pay a bloke to make you crap your pants in the front seat of a car as he tears down a muddy dirt road at ludicrous speeds, drifting around corners and hurling the vehicle over bumps and cracks that would surely destroy any “normal” city car. Let’s just say I don’t think any corporate rally experience in the world would be able to live up to the drive I had with Eric last night.

We drove for a further 100km deep into the rugged tree-lined hills of the Yukon south of Dawson, along dirt roads that only the most intrepid of gold diggers (and perhaps the occasional hunter) has ever been down. We passed by an old abandoned ambulance, now used as a secret hidey hole for other gold diggers. The guys stashed a few beers, some cannabis and 4 cigarettes inside the glove compartment, a gift for whoever next came along.

At one point, Eric and Becky pointed out an abandoned cabin in the woods, excitedly exclaiming that it probably belonged to an old prospector a hundred years ago, and the amount of effort it would have taken to bother to build so far out here was a sure indication that they must have struck a good pocket of gold. Otherwise, why bother building a cabin at all?

A few miles after this cabin, we reached our destination. It was literally the end of the road, which admittedly by this point, “road” is an optimistic definition. Their friend Michel, who I longed to meet, is a 68 year old gold digger, who apparently lives way out here by himself and is currently digging out his own personal mine. Sadly, it was a Friday night, and it happened to be the Friday of the month where he goes to town to spend a few days off. We must have missed him by just a couple of hours or so.

We hung around his cabin for a while anyway, and I excitedly checked out the diggers and equipment, which sat quiet and sleeping in the middle of a stream bed gully which is where he had been digging for the last few months. We also left a few more beers and an amusing note to say that we had stopped by. It was around 11:30, and the sky was just beginning to darken when we set off back and I was treated to another hair-raising rally adventure, this time in the dark and the rain, just to make things even more intense.

Sometime during all of this batshit insane driving, probably just after the 246th pothole we careened over, I remembered I had stashed my bags in the bed of the pickup truck (under the canopy). I wondered sadly whether my poor laptop will survive the ride, but fortunately my fears were unnecessary since here I am the morning after, typing up my blog. The laptop appears to be fine, and in fact, seems to be a bit cleaner, as all of the bumping and shaking dislodged a bunch of the dirt hiding under my keyboard. So all in all, the ride seems to have done both my laptop and myself a bit of good.

It’s impossible not to feel alive out here.

#gold mining #dawson #travel #driving #canada #yukon #wilderness

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themoneybuff-blog · 5 years

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A Loan Won't Solve Your Money Woes If You Don't Fix These 10 Issues First

Sometimes even the best-prepared households get knocked sideways, financially speaking. Illness, unemployment, divorce, a car accident that triggers a lawsuit these and other situations can quickly put a hurt on the budget. In such times a personal loan or one of several types of home equity loans can provide a little breathing room until you rebuild your finances. As noted, money woes are sometimes the result of plain old bad luck (illness, job loss). However, sometimes were our own worst enemies: We buy too much, we save too little, we plan not at all. You cant get ahead that way. And you cant keep borrowing your way out of trouble. A loan wont help you unless you fix the following issues. 1. Not having a budget The simplest way to wind up in debt is to spend without thinking. Stop, then, and think for a moment about what you would like to have happen five years from now: buying a home, starting a business, getting married, traveling? When you create a budget, youre not just allocating your dollars youre enabling your dreams. An easy way to do it is the 50/30/20 budget: Spend no more than 50% of your take-home pay on essentials, 30% on wants, and 20% on saving (including retirement planning and an emergency fund). Plenty of budgeting apps exist as well (some are even free). 2. Not tracking spending You cant plug budget leaks unless you know where they are. Track your spending for a month, using pen and paper or a budgeting app. The cumulative effect could be eye-opening. For example, a relatives ex-husband was shocked shocked! to realize that spending $8 a day on fast food added up to $240 a month. His wife had made more money than he did, and their commingled finances made it easy for him to swipe a card and think no more of it. Heres hoping that your own habits arent quite that clueless. But even those of us who think were doing pretty well could be surprised by the cumulative impact of certain habits: beef jerky and a soda every time we pay for gasoline, daily iTunes downloads, $20 a week on scratch tickets. Add up the opportunity cost of those non-essentials, and ask yourself if you could do better. (Spoiler alert: You probably can.) 3. Keeping up with the Joneses Just because next-door neighbor bought the priciest riding mower on the market doesnt mean you have to ditch your trusty Snapper. When your coworker talks about all the activities her kid participates in, you dont have to sign your own tots up for horseback riding and soccer camp. You should not let other people determine your clothing, dcor, automobile, or anything else. Its no ones business that you bought a fixer-upper, that you drive your car until the wheels fall off, that your idea of nightlife is to read a new library book once the kids are in bed. Remember: The Joneses may be up to their hairlines in debt. They might be focused on keeping up, too with the minimum payments, that is. 4. Wanting your kids to have things you didnt Theres nothing wrong with this! Except when there is. Obviously you want your children to be well-fed, reasonably well-dressed, and housed comfortably. You might also want to give them treats and opportunities you never had, such as vacation trips, a big allowance, loads of extracurricular activities, and fully funded education plans. But dont let this noble impulse bust your budget. Just because your kid wants snowboarding lessons, a new smartphone every year, and a car of their own at age 16 doesnt mean you have to give these things. Staying out of debt and funding your retirement should take precedence over granting every whim. At the very least they should have some skin in the game: doing additional chores to help save up for a big-ticket item, say, or mowing lawns or babysitting for extra pocket money. Besides, we arent doing our kids any favors when we give them everything they want. Setting the bar too high now could mean setting them up for problems later on. Specifically, when they move out on their own theyll want to keep living in the style to which we have accustomed them and if their salaries dont allow for that, theyll wind up in debt. 5. Automatic upgrades Whats wrong with your old smartphone or car or whatever? If you bought it relatively recently and it still works, whats with the rush to replace? If you get the newest phone as soon as it comes out, or trade in your vehicle every few years, or replace anything else before it really needs replacing, ask yourself why. Because your co-workers do? Because some commercial made you want a new car? Because you dont know why, but you really, really want to anyway? Think about the opportunity cost of that cash. Then think about the way you want to live, and whether or not you want other people making decisions about your money. 6. Shopping mindlessly If you dont need anything, stay out of the mall. Going shopping with friends puts you in a position to find something you suddenly cant live without, or something that looks so cute on you or would be so cool in your house or so useful in the garage. Except that you were doing just fine without that item until you saw it. Ditto online shopping: Dont cruise your favorite retailers websites unless you have a specific reason to do so. Better yet, undo the one-click function and remove stored credit card info from all sites where youve shopped in the past. Bonus frugal points if you change your online passwords to something that has personal significance, such as WeDDingDAy8192020, or 19YEarsLEftonMORTgage, or EARLYretire2028 these little reminders of where your dollars could be going instead might help you from overbuying. 7. Always buying retail Why automatically pay full price? Instead of heading straight to the shopping center when you need (or want) something, consider these options instead: Thrift shops: Some are junky, but others are great. Its like a treasure hunt. (Pro tip: Find out if there are senior discounts or other special deals. For example, a secondhand store my daughter likes offers 50 percent off every Monday.)Consignment stores: Like thrift shops, except theyre more discriminating about whats accepted.Flash sales: While online shopping should be approached with caution, sometimes a sale really is too good to pass up. Hold yourself to limits, though: Just because those slacks are a great deal doesnt mean you need to buy a pair in every color.OfferUp, LetGo, Craigslist: Sometimes people want (or need) to get rid of furniture, tools, bikes or automobiles without the hassle of a yard sale. Caution is required, but you can get some darned good deals this way.Newspaper classified ads: Yes, really. A guy I know recently bought a pickup truck (necessary for his job) from a newspaper ad, spending many thousands less than he would have paid at a dealership.Freecyle: You might be surprised at whats being given away, no strings attached. Ive seen beautiful furniture, clothing, bicycles, toys, books, and other useful stuff offered up.Yard sales: Another treasure hunt. Ive seen items still in the shrink-wrap at these sales. Its a great place to buy baby stuff, including newborn-sized clothing that seems never to have been worn.Buy Nothing Facebook groups: Last month my partner and I just picked up an almost-new Weber grill. Some of the other things Ive seen lately: baby stuff, solid wood table, sewing machine, board games, computer desk, cookware, and tons of childrens clothes. All of it is free.8. Overdoing it on special occasions Are holidays and birthdays completely over the top? Maybe its time to tone it down. When they become extravaganzas of gift-giving, we cheapen the meaning and also set the bar higher and higher. A kid who gets tons of presents is unlikely to appreciate each one fully and more to the point, he develops a sense of entitlement. As for birthday parties, when did they start resembling mini-coronations? Even one-year-olds are having party rooms reserved, decorations put up, and gift registries established. Really? Think of all the money thats spent and quickly forgotten. Now think what those dollars could have done for a childs education fund or your own retirement. Celebrate joyously, but celebrate sensibly. 9. Overbuying for grandchildren While waiting in line at a crafts store, I met a woman who developed the bad habit of having small gifts waiting for her granddaughters whenever they visited and they visited a lot. The woman was fretting visibly as she looked over the items in the stores dollar section. What do you buy for someone who already has everything? she asked me. After hearing her story, I felt very sad not just for her but also for the kids. A visit to grandmas house had become an exercise in acquisition. The first thing they do upon crossing the threshold is to ask what theyre getting. (Does anyone else find that quite sad?) Expectations are made, not born. If youve gotten into the habit of treats and more treats, scale back. Replace them with activities and gifts of time. The kids who are used to getting stuff will gradually become used to not getting stuff and when occasionally you do treat them, it will mean a lot more. Again, the money you save could go toward their education funds or toward shoring up your own budget. You cant finance retirement. 10. Giving more than you can afford Charity is a noble impulse. But giving to the American Red Cross or the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals should be done after youve taken care of business. Specifically, after youve built an emergency fund, started saving for retirement, and taken care of any consumer debt. Put on your own oxygen mask first, financially speaking. Award-winning journalist and veteran personal finance writerDonna Freedmanis the author of Your Playbook for Tough Times: Living Large on Small Change, for the Short Term or the Long Haul and Your Playbook for Tough Times, Vol. 2: Needs AND Wants Edition. Read more: https://www.thesimpledollar.com/loans/blog/a-loan-wont-solve-your-money-woes-if-you-dont-fix-these-10-financial-issues-first/

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dcnativegal · 6 years

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I miss protesting

The First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States says, “Congress shall make no law …abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

On Saturday, March 24, 2018, hundreds of thousands of people gathered to protest the ridiculous ease with which people in the United States can acquire guns, including assault weapons who’s only purpose is to kill as many humans as possible as efficiently as possible.

I watched live video of the “March for Our Lives” that took place in D.C., which was the largest ‘assembly’ in the world that day. The Washington Post tallied more than 300 separate rallies against gun violence in February in the United States alone, and there were protests around the world. In D.C., it was a huge gathering, and the debate will never be settled as to whether it was the largest ever, or whether the Women’s March in 2017 was larger, or whether Obama’s first Inauguration crowd wins the prize. The National Park Service stopped trying to count protesters years ago, so it’s subjective anyway. But it doesn’t matter. The “March for Our Lives” got plenty of press. If the march encouraged everyone who is eligible to vote to actually VOTE, then there’s hope for a progressive wave in this country. As the picture below shows, HOPE is at the center of a protest march.

The District of Columbia may be the location of the most political protests, rallies and marches on our planet. I practiced my right to ‘peaceably assemble’ I don’t know how many times over the 56 years I lived in DC. Several each year, times 50 plus years is over 100 rallies.

My first memory of a march was around 1968. My family was living in an apartment in Adams Morgan, and in the same block was my best friend, Annie Harris. She and I were in the third grade at Oyster Elementary, across the Duke Ellington Bridge over Rock Creek Park. Her mother was what my mother would call a hippy. What I remember is that Annie and I went on a ‘picnic’ with Ms. Harris, and we got to say a bad word along with a whole bunch of other people: HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!! I had no idea where it was we all were refusing to go to but goshdarnit, we were NOT going. I remember the crowd, the yelling, and my father’s face when I got home and told him what we were yelling. Chagrin doesn’t begin to cover it. Let’s just say my dad was VERY conservative.

The anti-war marches of the late 60s and early 70s helped to stop the Vietnam War. The civil rights movement certainly pressured President Johnson to get moving on voting rights and many other legislative corrections to systemic racism.

I have a clearer memory of marching down 16th Street. It was 1976 and I was 16. We were protesting the lack of voting representation for DC citizens in the US Congress. D.C. at that time had more people than 10 states. I used to be able to rattle them off: Montana, Wyoming, both Dakotas, Vermont, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Delaware. I can’t remember the other two. I don’t remember where we were heading to: probably to the public park in front of the White House since it’s at the end of 16th Street NW. What I know for sure is that it wasn’t fair then and it isn’t fair now that 50 states get at least two senators and a representative, and the residents of the District of Columbia get one lively but vote-less delegate.

The 50th anniversary of the uprising following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr just passed. There’s an article in the Washington Post about how restrained the police were during the looting of stores. There were two deaths caused by law enforcement, one or both accidental. The other 11 deaths came from fire. The Southern racist who chaired the District Committee demanded to know why the police did not shoot the looters on sight. Basically, the police chief stated that lives were more important than loot.

From the roof of our apartment building on Mintwood Place, we could see the glow of fire to the east.

I didn’t discover St. Stephen & the Incarnation Episcopal Church until 1976, and when I did, I stayed for 40 years. On April 4, 1968, the church became a safe haven during the riots, since it was one long block from the epicenter of fire and looting on 14th Street. Parishioners welcomed their neighbors with cups of water, and a place to rest. You can hear some of the history of this radical hospitality on this video: https://www.facebook.com/ijpoole/videos/10156322731554712/

The protests following Dr. King’s assassination were not peaceful. They were a violent catharsis. What was looted felt like a wee bit of reparations; but the looting also harmed the Black community, sadly.

One good thing came out of the more than 300 protests that spontaneously arose in the grief and rage following Dr. King’s assassination: The Fair Housing Act. It had been stalled and filibustered.

Law enforcement in DC is far from perfect. Even so, decades of mostly orderly and nonviolent protest, since before the Poor People’s March with Martin Luther King in 1963, taught the police officers how to host a protest safely, closing streets, leaving passageways for ambulances, and generally staying calm and protective, rather than antagonistic.

Since the Vietnam protests, there have been marches for women, for choice, for safety from gun violence. Marches for gay people, and for marriage equality. There are also marches organized for conservative causes, including the well-attended March for Life that takes place every January on the anniversary of the Supreme Court decision, Roe v. Wade, which legalized abortion nationally.

On one of my birthdays, we went to a small but spirited Black Lives Matter protest, and I had my sign: White Silence = Violence. My children were with me. The gathering started with speeches in Lafayette Square, across from the White House, and walked along Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Capitol. It must have been 2015, because when we got to the Trump Hotel, we booed. I peeled off at Chinatown on 7th Street and waved my children onward. They are pros at demonstrating, my daughter especially. She knows to write the name of the legal services attorney on her arm in sharpie in case she gets arrested.

I understand that the protests which erupted all over the world the day after #45’s inauguration included Klamath Falls. A group of about 200 mostly women walked along a bridge near downtown with their handmade signs. Apparently, a pickup truck burning oil went back and forth, spewing exhaust at the marchers, who’s spirits were undampened. Inhalers probably came in handy.

The Inauguration of Barack Obama, in January 2009, took place on a bitter cold day, at least for DC: in the 20s. My girlfriend at the time and I bundled up, stuffed juice boxes and granola bars in our pockets, wore two socks on each foot, and plenty of layers. We were able to take a bus out of our northeast neighborhood to the area around Chinatown and walk the rest of the way to the National Mall. We made it through crowds of joyful Democrats, including regal black women in full length fur coats. Only their best finery would do on such an occasion. We perched on the east side of the Washington Monument, and watched Barack Obama on an enormous jumbotron take the oath and make a speech.

He told us: “To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history, but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.”

The man was prescient.

In 1980, my friends and I were so young. Old enough to drive and enlist in war. Too young to buy beer. Privileged to attend an elite liberal arts college that was SO liberal, it had an active Young Socialist Alliance during the McCarthy era. We were earnest. We had taken classes in non-violent civil disobedience and trained well to remain non-violent. We were 6 students, cutting class to drive a rented van to Washington DC.

It was late April. We drove from snowy winter in northern Ohio, to vibrant flowering trees rooted in emerald velvet. We arrived and set up camp in the decrepit mansion on Park Road that I later moved in to when I lost my job and had nowhere else to live in 2012. This house was built in 1906, has three full stories and a huge yard. Our crew filled up all the extra beds. We somehow were fed; I don’t remember if we went shopping, or if Ruth Holly, a very generous woman and the mother of an old boyfriend, simply fed us. We were lucky and well cared for.

On the morning of the protest, we drove to the Pentagon in our van. I remember assembling on the steps in front of one of the many entrances. We were joined by hundreds of other earnest mostly-white young people. We held hands and blocked the entrance so that workers couldn’t use it to go inside and work. I can’t remember whether we sang or stood quietly. I do remember it all went pretty fast. We were arrested one by one, with plastic handcuffs on our wrists behind our backs.

I remember that feeling of being handcuffed, and suddenly, not being in control of what I did. I followed orders. The police were professional, efficient, and nonchalant. All in a day’s work.

Off to the Arlington Police Station we went. We were processed and fingerprinted. We’d agreed: we would plead Nolo Contendere, meaning “No contest” – there is no question that we’d blocked the entrance to the Pentagon. We were doing it to symbolically shut it down. In reality, we inconvenienced a few hundred workers who were just doing their jobs. Our lofty goal was to end the arms race, the risk of mutually assured destruction. Forty years later, the risk remains.

We were allowed one phone call. I called my father at work. I told him I was fine, I’d be in jail for a couple of days and then out again. He said, between clenched teeth: “That’s fine, Janie, but don’t call me at work.” Oops. He worked at the Central Intelligence Agency at the time.

We females were herded into a gymnasium. I remember the awful fluorescent lights which were kept on all night. We were given a pillow and a thin blanket. For dinner, I said I was a vegetarian, so I was given Wonder bread with American cheese. I also remember going to the bathroom in a stall with no door and a corrections officer watching. It was a terrible feeling, being in jail. And I knew I’d be out soon. I’m glad I had that taste of incarceration. It is a deep loss of freedom I felt so very briefly.

Sentenced to 48 hours, most of us were out in one day, except for two of us who decided to plead not guilty. They were both held for five days, and then dismissed. That was a close call. We were renegade college students, but we didn’t want to flunk out this semester, for goodness’ sake. Blissful privilege, we enjoyed. We also learned about nonviolent civil disobedience and incarceration in an embodied way, which isn’t nothing. We learned by doing. Then returned to Oberlin Ohio where we learned by reading and listening and talking and writing.

When asked if I have ever been arrested, I can answer one of two ways: yes, once, in a peace protest. Or no. Since I gave them my name as Jane Doe, there are only my finger prints to call me out. A curious legacy of my idealistic college-age self.

In 2018, I read in the Washington Post: “One in five Americans have protested in the streets or participated in political rallies since the beginning of 2016. Of those, 19 percent said they had never before joined a march or a political gathering.” It goes on to share the results of a national poll:

The poll offers a rare snapshot of how public activism has changed in the 50 years since large street protests and rallies last dominated the political landscape. Back in the turbulent Vietnam War era, college students were the face of protests. Today, many activists are older, white, well-educated and wealthy, the findings show.

A significant number — 44 percent — are 50 or older, and 36 percent earn more than $100,000 a year. Far more are Democrats than Republicans. An equal percentage are men and women. An outsize share live in the suburbs.

The Post-Kaiser poll is the most extensive study of rallygoers and protesters in more than a decade and one of the first attempts to quantify how many Americans are motivated by Trump to join these increasingly frequent political events.”

Nineteen per cent are rallying for conservative causes, or to support President #45.

The poll also shows that the people who rally are also much more likely to vote, or so they say. The proof of this will be in the blue, red, or purple pudding come November 2018. And November 2020.

There was once a Greek playwright, Aristophanes, who created a character named Lysistrata. Her brilliant idea was to get the women of Athens to refuse sex with their husbands until a treaty for peace has been signed. That would have been a highly effect form of protest, no? In the play, it works. What wars would we like to stop, now?

If every resident of DC stopped paying federal taxes in protest, maybe the federal government would grant its 700,000 residents some representation in Congress.

There is a heartbreaking story in the New York Times about a group of Afghanis who hope to promote peace by going on a hunger strike. They are directing their energies at the Taliban. Afghanistan is a country where imperialists go to fail to conquer (see, Soviet Union occupation 1973-1980, per https://history.state.gov/milestones/1977-1980/soviet-invasion-afghanistan, not to mention the United States’ war there since 2002.) But the suffering right now is very real regardless of painful history:

“Within 24 hours of a recent suicide bombing in Helmand Province, which added at least 14 names to the long list of the dead in a bitterly contested corner of Afghanistan, a group of local activists began a sit-in at the site of the carnage.

In their moment of anger and sorrow, they asked not for revenge, but for peace.

Over the following days, mothers and fathers of victims came to pour out their hearts and to support the protest, in a tent pitched near the field in the provincial capital,… where last week a suicide bomber drove a car full of explosives into a crowd leaving a wrestling match. Emboldened, the protest organizers announced a “long march” to bring the message of peace to the Taliban, who control much of the province…

“On both sides, in every mosque, there is a funeral. Why is this? It’s because of our silence,” said Sarwar Ghafar, a local school principal. “Oh silent people, if you don’t break your silence you will remain a slave, remain a slave.

“Many of Mr. Ghafar’s comments were addressed toward the Taliban, disappointed at their rejection of the peace march…

“Qais Hashimi, another of the organizers, was crouched on the floor, wailing… “You have ruined life. Isn’t the taking of life up to God? Who are you to be taking lives? You kill yourself and you take 20 lives with you. I will just kill myself, a sacrifice for this country,” Mr. Hashimi said. “Our blood is finished, our tears have dried. We will not say another word. We will not eat.” https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/29/world/asia/afghan-helmand-hunger-strike.html

On a more hopeful note, let us recall the Madres de Plaza de Mayo, a group of Argentine mothers whose loved ones "disappeared" during a military dictatorship supported by the United States. Starting around 1976, they walked in a circle silently, carrying pictures of their children, at the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires, in front of presidential palace, at great personal risk. Over the decades since the mothers bore witness to their grief, and to the injustice, the dictatorship ended, many children were reunited with their biological family through DNA testing, and a political movement for justice continues to this day. To watch the U2 song about the Mothers of the Disappeared, check this out: Bono welcomes some of the mothers to the stage. https://youtu.be/KuFMoWV1cns

I will continue to believe that it is non-violent civil disobedience that is the best path toward justice and liberation. The medium IS the message. The ends do NOT justify the means. Mahatma Gandhi liberated India from British colonial rule using nonviolence. Martin Luther King, Jr. made enormous progress for African American civil rights in the United States using nonviolence. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa started in 1994 as the white minority passed leadership to the newly freed Nelson Mandela, assuaging the fears of white people, and giving black Africans a place to air their grievances and receive some small measure of closure.

The activist organization MoveOn.org has organized protests to occur within 24 hours of an event that President #45 just might resort to: the firing of Special Counsel Robert Meuller. Mr. Meuller is leading the investigation into possible collusion between #45 and Russia during the presidential campaign. Apparently, 800+ are already planned as “No One is Above the Law” rallies. There are protest sites in Fort Rock (90 minutes from Paisley), Bend (2 hours and 15 minutes or so), and Klamath Falls (2 ½ hours.) It depends on the day of the week and where I am but I hope to drive to one of those spots and join the forces. Hm, maybe I should make a sign so I’m prepared…

One of my acquaintances here is a very smart person, and this person has told me in no uncertain terms that carrying a sign in a public gathering is not going to happen. And I wonder. It is partly an introvert thing. But I also think this person might change their mind if, say, someone they loved dearly were part of a movement that needed support, and needed that support right here in Lake County. Maybe then? Or maybe, since I’m used to this marching-around-with-signs business, I might carry the sign in honor of this person and their loved one.

I’m willing.

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themoneybuff-blog · 5 years

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A Loan Won't Solve Your Money Woes If You Don't Fix These 10 Issues First

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