#Claimer

[insidecroydon]

University business incubator is forced to quit Croydon

CROYDON IN CRISIS: Successful start-up hub that has generated £28m of investment in borough in 10 years is being forced out because of conversion of landmark office building into flats. EXCLUSIVE by STEVEN DOWNES ‘Heavy hearts’: Richard Seifert’s No1 Croydon building has been the landmark home of Sussex Innovation for 10 years Sussex Innovation, the business “incubator” run by the University of…

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; panty sniffing; allusions to r*pe

The end of the world was not really an ideal event for anyone, and while surely everyone thought their resulting situation was the worst imaginable, you were truly adamant in your belief that your life was the epitome of disastrous. You had been alone for years, having no one and nowhere to turn while cities crumbled and people died all around you. You had done the only logical thing you could. 

You ran.  

And you kept running. 

You stopped when the hunger pains became unbearable. You stopped when your bladder was so full that it might explode. You stopped when exhaustion was weighing heavily on your body. And you stopped when hiding became necessary. 

You had hidden from them. The group of men that were razing the building as they grabbed anything useful, including your bag. 

“Joe! Joe, look at these clothes!” One of the men grinned while sniffing your underwear. “It’s a woman.”

“And by the looks of it, she was here recently.” The older man—Joe, it seemed—noted while lifting one of the packs of crackers you had been in the middle of looting. You had thrown them down as you ran to hide—the location of the package directing them straight to your hiding place. “Come on out, now.”

Sighing, you uncurled yourself and lowered your legs out of the air duct, hopping down to straighten with your hands held up to show you weren’t armed. “Just take what you want and go.”

Joe gazed around with an abrupt burst of laughter that was echoed by the other men. “Oh, we will.” Stepping toward you, he arched a brow when you did nothing more than square your shoulders. “Woo, boys. This one’s gonna be fun to play with. Claimed.”

He reached for you suddenly, mid-step, his intentions unclear but no doubt nefarious. It didn’t matter. Snagging his wrist, you used his own momentum to not only evade him but to spin him back to face his men, their weapons already being drawn and aimed. 

You were faster. 

With his arm now twisted behind his back and pulled upward, you had strategically pulled your own handgun from the back of your jeans, the muzzle pressed against his temple. 

“Put ‘em down.” You spat. When no one made an effort to oblige, you pulled upwards on his trapped limb and ground the cold metal against his skin. 

“Do it, boys.” Joe’s calmness surprised you, but you were wise enough not to grant them a visible confirmation. “Listen, sweetheart. There’s a lot more of us than you. Those odds just don’t seem fair.”

“Fair to who?” You taunted. 

The man scoffed. “You sure do have some spunk, I’ll give ya that.” He tried to adjust his position but your grip only tightened. He was bigger, stronger, but your weapon gave you the advantage. “There’s only one ending here. Put down the gun, let me go. I’ll make sure they’re gentle.” You curled your lip in a disgusted snarl. “Or they’ll put a few bullets in you and we’ll have you anyway. Them’s your choices.”

Your head tilted, you feigned consideration of his “offer,” laughable as it was. “How about I shoot you, then them, one by one?”

“Lady, can’tcha see how many guns we got on you right now?” Another man chimed. 

“Oh, I see them.” You confirmed. “I also see that one has the safety on, three of you aren’t even holding them right, and all of you can’t stop looking at my tits long enough to even try for a decent shot.” Your laughter startled them, their smiles fading. “This guy’d be dead and I’d have a bullet in each of you before you could hit me with one.”

“Oh, yeah? I say you’re bluffin’.” 

The words had no more than left his lips before the shots rang out. A bullet directly between his eyes, one in each shoulder, and in each knee before he hit the ground. Joe scrambled away from you, his arm now free. You kept your composure, your stoicism schooled in place, practiced from a former life of abuse and difficult choices. 

“Anyone else wanna call my bluff?” You asked, a brow lifted in challenge. 

Joe was helped to his feet, rubbing his shoulder as soon as he was standing. He regarded you silently, the others shifting about nervously. 

“Whatcha want us to do, Joe?”

“Well,” he started, but you were quick to interject. 

“You can turn around and walk out those doors. You go your way and I go mine.” It wasn’t a request. The older man stared, incredulous, before his face broke into a grin and laughter bubbled out of him. 

“Or,” He contested. You rolled your eyes and ground your teeth. He was really starting to get on your nerves. “Way I see it, I’m down a man now since you took out ol’ Billy there.” He waved a lazy hand toward the body. “Why don’tcha just come with us?”

“I thought we established that I have no interest in being your fuck toy.” You hissed. 

“Not like that.” He motioned for the men to lower their weapons. “Join us. We take care of our own.” Wagging a finger at you, he started turning to walk out. “Think you might be a fine replacement.” The men parted to let him pass, his invitation left hanging in the air. “Let’s go, boys.”

“But, Joe, she—”

“Wait.” You called out, lowering your gun, only slightly. “Just—hold up.”

You weren’t the first to notice him, but you weren’t far behind the others, Joe at your side. The man was just sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the road, his head down, shoulders slumped. Defeated. A crossbow laid at his knee. 

He was a pretty one with an air of danger about him. Your time with Joe’s Claimers made you appreciate the rugged men you’d come across. They were always the most entertaining and fought the hardest against the men with which you traveled. The ones before, however, would always be spouting some cocky, desperate bullshit by now. 

This one hadn’t said a word or even moved beyond looking up at the individuals now surrounding him. You hung back, getting a feel for him and how to—even if you should—approach. Sometimes you were the bait, luring men and women into a false sense of security before the group would pounce. It was one of your many roles. 

You actually startled when the man punched Joe and grabbed the crossbow. He moved so fast. While Joe didn’t seem angry—even told the boys to stand down—he was still in the sights of the stranger’s weapon. 

Oh well. Their way didn’t work, so it was your turn. You weren’t about to let them kill one that you really wanted a chance to play with. 

“Wait!” You called, placing yourself between Joe and the business end of the weapon. You knew what to watch for, the eyes would always tell on them, but while in others, you had seen fear, intrigue, and sometimes even desire, this one only seemed to look at you with something akin to sadness. You took note and filed that away for later. “I know you don’t wanna kill me.”

“You don’t know nothin’.”

Oh. His voice was just as rugged as his appearance. “I know you won’t kill me.” You bravely—or stupidly—put your finger on the tip of the bolt. “Why don’t you put this down,—” you drew out the last word and tilted your head in request of his name. Your fingertip still rested against the bolt. 

The man hesitated, the wheels turning as he scrutinized you. You couldn’t help but be impressed. This was a man who could read people as well as you could. Luckily for you, you were a master at shielding your emotions. After a moment of tense silence, he lowered the crossbow. 

“Daryl.”

“Hi, Daryl. I’m Y/N.” 

Len used the butt of his rifle to drop Daryl at your feet, a wicked smile curving the corners of your mouth. 

“And I’m about to have so much fun.” Looking around at the others, they laughed while Harley reached for the crossbow. With a step forward, you placed a foot on Daryl’s hand and pointed at the weapon.

“Claimed.”

[twigg96]

Hi! Can you do daryl dixon x y/n where Daryl gets protective over y/n when a creepy guy won’t leave her alone no matter what she says so he punches him across the face, ending in like comforting fluff/ smut or both ❤️

Hello @dustbunniess!! This sounds like a great idea! I'm so so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you love so much has happened since you asked for this I'm just trying to get by.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus Era (Claimers Era)

Pronouns: You/Your, She/Her (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: The Claimers, Daryl with the Claimers, Attempted Sexual Assault, Crass behavior and language, Swearing, Physical Violence, Assault, Blood, Panic Attacks, Confusion, Delusion, Daryl becoming a literal savage, Abuse, Death, Beatings, Daryl reliving past traumas, Doing what you have to survive, Things happen off screen,

Summery: After the prison fell you were left alone in a world you felt was unfair and cruel. And who could blame you? Truly after all you'd been through? You changed from the person you were in the prison. But then... so did everyone else... When Daryl your boyfriend is the first to find you out in the world you see just how much things have changed with the new group he's in.

Separate Ways

It was when the prison went up in flames that you knew it was over. There was no going back. No redemption. The governor… in some sick twist of fate. Had won. Although your family had taken his life, and the lives of all his followers. You were all left to suffer, and after such a horrendous outbreak that you all had thought you defeated too… The difference was. This time you were completely on your own. No friendly face to turn to. No guiding hand to help you. Just you and the corpse you stabbed in the skull.

You had followed the screams out. So sure you were following Rick and Carl… but so soon you realized you were completely and utterly wrong. Trudging through the woods towards the highway you knew was your Emergency escape route you cursed your lack of preparation. No water, no food. You knew you had to act fast. Find shelter before the sun completely set for the night, find food before you starved... trudging through the thick forest you quickly found a path to follow. It had paid off to have followed your boyfriend on so many hunting expeditions and to help him on runs.

Coming to a stop you stilled your breath slowly scanning the wooded area around you. Nothing but trees and leaves surrounded you even though you had thought you heard the soft crackle of leaves, the snapping of a twig behind you. It wasn't loud and obnoxious. Something you've come to expect of walkers by now. Nor was it natural and fluid like the wildlife you had so greatly come to miss. It felt human. Large and concise. Hunting. Shivers ran down your spine. Bobbing and weaving through the tree line you darted back out onto the road that you had left in favor of the camouflage of the forest. Pulling your rifle you aimed blindly. Footsteps coming nearer. Louder. Like a bear charging it even growled. Placing your finger on the trigger you stepped back. "Stop!" You yelled.

A boy scrawny and pale came tumbling out of the brush. No older than Carl he looked up to you, his eyes wide and fearful he shivered in fear. Plastered in mud and blood you stared him down panting as the adrenaline left you both. Slowly he raised his hands high, shaking like a leaf he shook his head. "I-I'm so sorry." He whispered. One of the governor's, you realized. "I-It's my sister. She's hurt real bad... please..."

Glaring daggers at the teen you hissed through your teeth, stepping forward your weapon still raised and pointed directly between his eyes. "And why should I help you?" You growled. "She's all I got left." He whispered a tear running down his cheek. Hmm... at one time in life you would have felt pity. You would have run to his aid in a heartbeat. Now... Now however you scoffed at him. "Shoulda thought about that before you got yerself blown ta hell and back." You hiss lowering your gun. With wide eyes the boy watches in disbelief as you sling your pack off your back and rummage through it. "Y-you're just going to let her die?!" He screamed. "Pretty much sounds like you are kid." You growl, pulling out the last of your protein bars before slinging your bag back over your shoulder. "Standing there ain't doin' her no favors so I'd hop to it if I were you." You muttered taking a bite of your bar and walking down the road a stretch. Stomping on the ground like a toddler who didn't get his way the kid whined. "No I'm asking you for help!" He yelled. You wanted to turn and glare. You wanted to yell and scream. Hell you wanted to shoot him. But the growling and the thick rustling of leaves alerted you to the oncoming horde early. In his rage he must not had heard. Until they were right on top of him. You wondered briefly if his sister was among them.

Alone again you let the road take you where it will. across a bridge and through a town that was overrun with walkers. It was there you adopted a few walkers to help you navigate the thick hordes in the streets. Releasing them into the next life once you made it to the next side of town you sighed the tire marks in town leading to a hospital you'd rather not go near. So instead a set of train tracks that you crossed became your path. Instinctively you listened for trains. Your boots worn with wear stuck in the wood and on the nails. It was there you saw the first sign. "Go to Terminus." Your heart swelled. You didn't know where they were. How close they were. But you had to hope. Maybe. Possibly. They were safe.

Resting against a garage for the night you closed your eyes for what felt like a mere second. It most certainly wasn't hours... or so you had thought. Leaves and twigs had become your best friend in this world. The early indicator of something to come. But this time it was more. Loud. Uncaring if it was heard. Jumping awake you reached for your gun by your side but before you could grab it a large boot kicked it away. The large man standing before you sneered at you. "So she's awake." He laughed as you pressed yourself as far into the metal wall as possible. Three more men stepped out of the woods around you both. The laughed and jeered at you kicking at your feet as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "Bet she's good." One said. Another had the sheer audacity to grab a handful of your hair and sniff it. As you went to slap him another grabbed your hand the leader with the grey hair chuckled.

"Claimed."

Two voices chimed out at the exact same time. The leader's sleazy voice and another more familiar voice that made your chest hurt with expectancy. You had waited. Hoped. Dreamed. Hell you even dared to pray for the day to come again where you'd hear your love's sweet voice again. But not here. Not now. Not looking down the barrel of weapons pointed against you.

The leader turned. Glaring at the man who dared to oppose him. Stepping into the light of the moon Daryl looked... different. Changed. His eyes were distant and dark even in the night. "Daryl..." The leader hummed his scowl melting as he turned to the archer. Tutting slightly he shook his head snapping his fingers the other men moved in on you. Two men grabbed your upper arms, hauling you to your feet while the others grabbed your shit. "C'mon now..." He growled. Giving your boyfriend a look. "Ya know better by now than to try and just claim whatever ya want... specially if ya know I'm gonna claim it." He cooed circling Daryl menacingly.

You had expected Daryl to act. The Daryl you knew would have. He would never have stood there and took the shit these creeps were giving either of you... but this Daryl... this one you knew in passing but never truly met before... he bowed his head. He turned away. He simply murmured something low. Soft. Something you couldn't hear.

The leader nodded eyeing you. His expression morphing. From wolfish and greedy to concentrated and scanning. "A'ight..." He sighed running his hand through his hair. "You gonna let us teach him a lesson?!" One of the men currently bruising your arm screamed. The others rallied behind him. Cheering and jeering they whooped and hollered. The men holding you jerked you back and forth making you stumble back and forth between the two. There was silence and for a moment contemplation on the leader's face that made your heart race. "Search her... Daryl and I got business to discuss." He growled turning around he spun your boyfriend with him grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him into the woods.

They dumped the contents of your bag onto the ground. Screams of "Claimed" ripped through the air and you were certain you'd be overrun by a horde any moment. Ripped apart limb from limb by the dead you had survived for years because of a few fucking morons. When all of your supplies including the bag itself and your rifle and ammo were claimed... the men turned their eyes on you.

"Can't touch 'em til Boss gets back." One chimed in as a particularly greedy one stepped forward. "Yeah... but she got pockets don't she?." The man hummed placing his hands on your waist. The others whistled and hollered once more as you backed away as far as the other two would let you.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" You hissed, baring your teeth to the bastard. Nodding he chuckled following you he grabbed you once more this time burying his hands deep in your pockets, attempting to cop a feel. Rearing your head back you growled and head butted the man landing a blow directly onto his nose. The satisfying crunch it left and the blood that trickled down between your brows onto your cheeks like war paint was proof enough. "I told ya not ta fuckin' touch me!" You screamed.

"Hey!" You heard the leader scream from inside the barrier of the forest. Immerging from the shadows of the trees the leader stormed up to the group with Daryl following behind like a kicked puppy. The one you hit writhed on the ground holding his face he whine and whimpered as the others parted like the sea for the leader who grabbed you by the jaw getting close enough to smell the rancid canned food on his breath. "You really got some fuckin' nerve." He bit out. It took everything in you not to spit in is filthy fucking face.

Standing back up straight the man huffed glaring down at you a glint in his eye you didn't like. "Now boys... as you know Daryl and I both called dibs at the same time..." All eyes on you. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat ready to fight to your last breath. "Now Daryl has made me aware of something very important here... a rule. See he did... in fact... call dibs first. He called dibs Long LONG before he met us. This here... This is his wife."

Wife? You blinked but tried not to look too surprised. Daryl was locking eyes with you. A quiet desperation there only you could see. Keep the act up. Stay strong. You glanced between Daryl and the leader. You felt the man holding your right arm tighten his grip adding another fresh bruise to your bicep. "Bull shit." He growled, his hands slid down your arm to your wrist twisting it back and up painfully so that you yelped out in pain and doubled over. "I don't see a fuckin' ring on her finger!" He yelled.

You heard footsteps. Not one set but two approaching you. "He's right... no ring..." The leader spoke directly above you. His boots shufled to turn towards Daryl's. "But..." He spoke again his boots shifting again as you felt a new calloused hand take your left hand, the promise ring you bore sliding off your ring finger made you feel naked and cold. "You were looking at the wrong hand..." The leader said his voice low and cold. The man holding your right arm released his grip stumbling back. Sitting back up you twisted out of the other man's hands for a second before he took your wrist lightly.

The leader held your promise ring up examining it. Your initials were carved into the inside of the ring. Something Daryl had done himself with his knife back at the prison when he found a set having stolen the idea from Glenn of course. "Teach him a lesson boys." The man grunted out gesturing with his head to the man who shook his head and begged for his life. You stood stock still as the others circled him like sharks to the drops of blood that fell from his face. Even Daryl who's eyes went as dark as the night nodded to the command, picking up something from the ground.

Your vison blurred, all you could see was Daryl's back. Blood splattering. You heard the screaming. Jumping at the hand on your shoulder you looked to the man turning you away from it all. "I haven't properly introduced myself yet." He murmured watching you swipe pink tears from your cheeks. "I'm Joe. I'm the leader of this here group. The Claimers. We don't normally keep women long... They get passed around a bit and then... well we get bored and they end up roaming as one of the other biters." He chuckled eyeing you up. Hyperventalating you shook your head pulling away slightly when you felt his arm wrap around your waist. "Now now," He whispered in your ear. "You're a valued honorary memeber." He cooed but his expression became cold and dark. "That means... you work for what you keep. You start with shit. And half yer shit goes to Daryl. Like in any good marriage." He said menacingly, grabbing your wrist. "Oh and one last thing... I get to taste you one time... just part of the deal Daryl and I worked out to let you live."

Cut between confusion and pain you wondered if all the promises Daryl ever made to keep everyone safe were in vain. Who was he? Was he really the man you met back at the Quarry and fell in love with? No... Probably not... He was different. Changed. Evolved into something different. Looking over your finger as Joe slipped your ring back on your finger you felt sick to your stomach. This Daryl, dripping in another man's blood was animalistic. He was brutal and cold.

That night Joe told everyone to just bunk down in the garage. Safer. He said. You tried to clear your head of the mess of a human corpse outside the metallic walls. Following close behind the others you followed Daryl like a lost puppy. "Claimed" Echoed through the building as all the "good" spots were being taken. But Daryl just stood. He waited out in the open and waited with you by his side. Never once looking at you or acknowledging your existence. "Dar-" You tried to speak but was only ignored as he turned away once everyone went quiet. "Claimed." He yelled out when he found the most secluded spot in the garage behind a tarped tactor.

Pointing to the ground he looked around for a moment, waiting for your to sit on the ground. "Dar-" Shaking his head he knelt pulling a blanket from his bag he tossed it over you. "Here." He muttered. Not looking at you. Never looking at you. He stood and walked back out of the garage.

Even with the wool blanket you felt alone and cold. Even more so than when you were actually traveling alone. You hated it. This feeling of abandonment. Blinking back tears your glared at the ceiling wrapping yourself tight in your blanket you tried to fall asleep.

Hours passed. You hadn't slept. How could you with the men snoring like chainsaws all night. But the door opening and closing quietly didn't go unnoticed. Rolling over you turned to Daryl as he approached you slowly. Kicking his boots by your feet he laid down beside you. Lifting the blanket you welcomed him into the warm environment you created with time. You fully expected him to turn you away. To roll away and huff. But instead he scooted close. pulling the blanket over you both.

His arms were around you in a second. Finding tender blossoming bruises he burried his face in your neck. The wetness of his cheeks stained your dirty shirt. "Thought I lost you." He whispered. "Wasn't gonna let anyone take you... Not..." He went silent pulling you as tight as ever. Happiness and warmth swelled in you. Love and security. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed the top of his head, running your fingers through his wet hair.

Truth be told he still smelled like a wet dog. Musty and damp. But he washed off. Didn't stop you from feeling angry and betrayed. "Daryl... Why did you tell Joe..." You swallowed the doubt that still reigned suprieme and rampaged like a tornado in your mind. "Why did you tell him he could... have me?" There was a moment Daryl was silent. You thought he would lie. He would divert the situation. But instead he pushed himself up on his elbows and cocked a brow. "Never said that." He whispered. "Did that prick say that to ya? Say ya owed him somethin? "He whispered his eyes scanning you worriedly. You nodded slowly watching his reaction. Nodding Daryl hummed. "Ok."

Blinking you tried to read his face in the dark. "O-Ok?" You whispered. Nodding he lowered himself down to your ear. "Can't say out loud what I want to do ta the bastard. Someone could hear." He breathed. "Oh..." You tensed. You eyes instinctively scanning for threats but the dark felt claustrophobic and you wanted to simply run.

You were kicked awake early the next morning. You hadn't even realized you had fallen asleep. Another night of closing your eyes and suddenly jerking awake to danger feeling entirely unrested... Nothing new but you could never get used to it either. "Up an 'em, sweetheart." The man with greasy hair murmured. In the morning light you could see the shiner that was swelling half the man's face. A large cut ran down his forehead to his cheek that in the old world would have required stitches to keep it from scaring but now would just prove as a lesson to the man to listen better in Joe's twisted system. "Waistin' daylight..." He growled once more glaring at your boy- No. Your husband.

Daryl seemed to respond in kind. Huffing at the man he stood with a low painful groan. "Let's go." He murmured softly offering a hand to you.

You followed on Daryl's heels throughout the day like a duckling to their mother. Keeping your eyes on the wings on his back, you tried to stay strong and keep from physically acting on the men who treated you more like an object than a human. "Why you carryin' yer own bag when you got a bitch ta do it fer ya?" The rotund one called, chuckling as you moved to Daryl's left away from him. "No on would blame ya if ya went off and unwound on her for a bit... hell I'd even let the boys have a turn when I was done." One of the men with a beanie called out smirking at you from across the crick you had all stopped at to refill your canteens in. Holding your middle you glared at him. Daryl stood handing you your canteen. Reaching out you caressed his arm to sooth him. You were safe if he was here. He couldn't be if he was hurt or dead. He needed to act rashly.

"Shut up." He hissed despite it all. The Dixon temper was never one that could easily be quelled. When pushed down it only became more explosive. More dangerous. "What did you fucking say to us?" The three men rounded you. "We're just tryin' ta be friendly like." The greasy haired man that woke you growled. "Don't need no friends." Daryl growled stepping up to him. "Daryl." You whispered, reaching out to touch him but decided against it when you saw the crazed look in your husband's eye.

"Enough."

Joe's commanding voice ripped the fight apart before it could start. "Len, go fetch some firewood and scout the area. Got a feeling we could get lucky 'round here. Tony, go sharpen that damned blade of yours it couldn't cut butter if we had any for fuck's sake let alone take a biter down if we needed. Dan, fuck off with Len. Set up a perimiter. Daryl. Go hunting for dinner." Joe gave out orders like it was nothing. But your heart pounded in your chest and and nearly leaped into your throat when he met your throat reaching into his bag to grab something. You watched Daryl closely. Every muscle tense and primed to act in case Joe acted pulling something. His hand snaking to the pistol he had hidden at his back.

"Honey, I need ya ta wash our shit. Our clothes, specially our socks and boxers are really starting to get ripe and chafe us. I think you could handle that much... huh?" He purred walking up to you handing a small bundle of used men's socks and boxers. The smell was horrendous and made bile rise to your throat. You had to force yourself to breath the same way you would in a hot summer day around a horde of walkers to get by. "Ok..." You whimpered nodding. Freezing when you felt his hand on your shoulder you stood stock still. "And, sweetheart..." He hummed, his grip becoming incredibly painful his soft expression turning hard. "It's sir to you... Yes, sir. Say it." Whimpering you tried not to give into him. You didn't fall to your knees or bow as he desperately wanted you to. Instead you turned to glare at him your hair swirling around your, a single tear as his only satisfaction. "Sir, yes, sir." You growl stumbling as he pushed you forward into the water.

Hours passed by. Joe gave you meaningless task after meaningless task. Anything to see you in a compromising position. Scrub his boots. Wash his hair. Wash your hair. Sort their bags. Weave a basket. (Something you didn't know how to do and utterly failed in doing.) When he ran out of tasks to give you he made things up. Jump in place in front of him. He tried to make you bathe in the crick but when you threatened to cut his balls off he laughed and said it was a joke.

"Hey..." Len's voice cut through your newest meaningless task. picking up acorns while Joe watched. Looking over your shoulder you cocked a brow at the man that seemed far too excited to have just been told to fuck off for a few hours. "We found something." Dan muttered. Walking out of the woods with a string of rabbits Daryl glared hard at the ground. You'd seen him through the treeline throughout the course of the day. Taking aim at Joe at certain angles when he was certain the older man wasn't looking. But Joe always laughed or shook his head. "I know your watching Daryl. Go back to hunting." Or a promise of "I won't touch if you don't shoot."

"We found a camp!" Len cheered, pulling you from your thoughts. "A camp?" You breathed without thought. "Hell yeah girl." Joe murmured misreading your concern for excitment and curiousity. Or rather ignoring it completely as he slapped you hard on the back making you drop the acorns you gathered. "Come on let's show our newbie how it's done..." Joe said smiling so much like the devil that when you actually met him years later you'd never believe it.

The camp was small. It only housed two people. A man and a woman. The woman gathered baby supplies on a pink baby blanket before her. Brunette hair caught the wind just so that her face was concealed an you never truly saw her face. The man was undoubtedly in love with the woman. From the distance you hid you swore the couple were Glenn and Maggie. Your heart pounded deep in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and you had to stop the scream that threatened to rip through you.

"We flank from all sides." Joe whispered so low you could barely hear him over the ringing of your ears. "Daryl." He whispered, moving closer to the two of you as the others moved into position. "I want to actually see you in there this time. No late arrivals." He hummed nodding as Daryl grunted in response.

"C'mon." No.

"Darlin'... We need ta move." Daryl whispered. No, God please no.

Your entire body shook, your eyes wide as saucer plates. Moving forward in the brush you only stopped when you felt Daryl's hand on yours. Turning to Daryl fear in your eyes you shook your head. Not again.

Pulling you away into the denser brush as Joe began his speech to the couple you could just barely see the others moving in.

Your body jerked when the screams started. Pulling at Daryl's hand you sobbed hard. "Daryl!" You wailed only to be pulled back his hand covering your mouth so your sobs were muffled. "It ain't them." He whispered. Pulling you incredibly tight you felt him bury his face in the crook of your neck hot tears rolling down your collar bone mixing with your own. "It can't be them."

That night you all slept under the stars. Fire lit and as warm as you could be in the middle of fall you and Daryl were of the first to retire, finding a spot in the dirt to bed down you laid against a large tree your back pulled against him. Just like when you two started dating out on the road. His wool blanket provided enough warmth to the both of you that the ground didn't bother you. Even with the rocks and roots digging into your side.

Just as you started to nod off you jerked awake to the sound of sets of heavy drunken footsteps. Daryl's arm wrapped tight around your middle. pulling you close. The others had found liquor at the camp and indulged heavily in it. Only Daryl and Joe refused to touch it.

"Claimed!" One man screamed loud. Belligerent. The smell of booze stained the air and made your empty stomach turn. "Nuh-uh." Another hissed. "I already claimed that spot." Len... Daryl had told you to watch out for him. He had an issue with claiming what wasn't his. he'd claimed what little food Daryl could get out hunting while on patrol.

"Bull shit!" The other man, you assumed to be Ivan screamed back. "It's true!" You tried to tune them out, squeezing your eyes shut breathing slowly, hoping you and Daryl went unnoticed. But as the fight got worse and worse you couldn't help the way you physically jumped when Tony landed on the ground on his back near by the two of you. Covering your mouth Daryl pulled you tight against his body as the two men rolled onto the wool blanket then off again.

You couldn't sleep after that even if sleep found the two that fought just a few moments ago. Turning to Daryl you buried yourself deep in his chest. "What was the wife thing about?" You got the courage to ask when all was quiet and the snores of the men matched the previous night. Shaking his head Daryl laid back staring at the night sky. He was silent for a moment. Whether he was waiting for a break in the snoring or simply listening for any eave's droppers you'd never know. "Probably shoulda done it a long time ago... just..." His words fell off going silent. Sitting up you captured his eyes in yours. "I love you, Daryl." You whispered. "We'll find them... I promise." But he remained cold. His eyes dark, distant. "Get some sleep."

Time seemed to go in a blur after that. Days and nights melded together. Didn't matter which was which truly. You never felt rested. Your stomach never empty. Daryl attempted to feed you his portions. But as the lowest on the poll he got scraps as it was and you hated taking what he had.

You were tired and underfed when you found Rick, Michonne, and Carl. You had believed that they were just visions when you first saw them. Len held you by the arm. "Gotta make sure she gets in on the action with this one!" He yelled, jerking you around. Wide eyed and in disbelief you gapped like a fish. These people looked just like your family.

"Rick?" You managed. Silence. Joe turned to you his eyes questioning before he gripped you hard. Jerking away you tried to free yourself from his grasp. "Hey! Let her go!" Michonne screamed from the grasp of another man. "Don't you fuckin' touch her!" Carl cried. You nearly wailed out and fell to your knees in pure bliss and euphoria. Hearing their voices. Knowing for a fact they were real. But you were on the ground before you could act. Your face to the pavement you groaned as a boot ground against the back of your skull holding you there. "I've got one free ticket to paradise here boys... why not use it while the pickin's good?" Joe hummed.

You screamed as hands grabbed at you before you could even process the cold pavement below or the screams of your family by your side. Swinging with all your might in any direction you could get a good hold on you connected a few good hits. The yelling from your family was nightmarish. You forced yourself to close your eyes Not wanting to witness or watch what could possibly be happening. Daryl had shielded you last time. Alone you felt vulnerable and terrified.

The boot on your head made your head pound and ache. It was crushing your head and it felt as if your brains would spill if they stepped any harder. Your hair was yanked. Your blouse cut down the back. But before anything else could happen. The person on your head. Joe you believed. Stumbled off. A resounding smacking of knuckles to skin echoing through the woods. Sitting up your shirt slid from your shoulders as you stared wide eyed at Daryl. He had gotten one good swing in. Glancing to you was his downfall. He was dogpiled before he had the chance to say otherwise but the others forgot the knife in your boot. They forgot to check Carl or Michonne in their haste.

Blood pooled on the highway. The five of you stood gasping as one family unit once more, covered in blood but victorious above all odds. Gasping and staring down at the ugly hideous creatures below you, tears rolled down your cheeks. Daryl once again refused to look at you. Instead he offered his vest to you to cover you up with. Instead he turned and glanced to Rick a heartbroken boy staring at a man looking for forgiveness.

You were enveloped by Michonne and Carl before you could say other wise. Not that you would ever pull away ever again. Pulling them close you watched the makeshift brothers share a silent conversation. One guarded and afraid.

The other loving and accepting willing to forgive.

Rick held Daryl tight as he cried and the three of you migrated to them. Hugging them tight you rested your head on Daryl's shoulder, closing your eyes. For the first time since the fall... there was a small flicker of hope.

[wejustvibing]

Yea, it wasn't fun (tyre strategy).

Well, we sat in our meeting in the morning of the race, actually the night before they already mentioned that they'd like to split the cars and I, for me, I was a bit perplexed by it because in the past when we've been in that position, normally, like george has qualified like he normally does and I'm out of the top 10 or something then we will split the strategies. But when we were so close, it didn't make sense to me and so, I battled as hard as I could to fight to go on the medium tyre but the team continued to suggest that I start on the soft. And then when they took the tyre blankets off, everyone was on mediums, I was like... so angry! And already from that moment I'm frustrated and then I tried my best to keep up with the guys ahead, they were too fast and then I just tried to make that tyre last as long as I could. And I had to stop on lap 17 and I knew from that moment that the race was done for me because the hard tyre was gonna be a struggle in that heat. - Lewis Hamilton

[phykoha]

me when big youtuber says that DID isn't real and something thats for "kids who watch too much tiktok who start to think they're anime characters in real life"

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Ok do the thousands of Bethyl shippers realize it means they're headcanoning Daryl as a pedophile or

[cloudyvulpine]

Is it just me or is Stolas the most controversial Helluva Boss character nowadays?

i'm the wrong person to ask tbh, i never see antis i only hear shit through the grapevine but from what i can tell it's a tie between him and Blitzø

[talkethtothehandeth]

*vague posts a fake claim about particular people in mind*

*turns around to say they would “never” want to fake claim someone because they know how it feels*

Gaslighting IS fake claiming, it is literally denying the extent of which a disorder/condition affects a person, and replaces it with “it’s all in your head, you’re doing it for attention”

And it pisses me off so much because the comment section is FULL of people who you know would be sobbing and throwing up and claiming ableism if someone even thinks about doubting the severity of their disabilities.

Get over the Sick Olympics already, no one fucking wins that. You get no trophy for being the sickest, no one automatically cares about you more when your body gets worse, doctors don’t suddenly give a shit if you’re dying from complex conditions. You’re not special, you don’t get a crown. You’re not better than anyone at all if your body is breaking down the most. Why is it so important to you to be The Worst? Ass pats? No one gets that and the worse you are the less people care about you, genuinely.

Get over yourself, you don’t know shit about what anyone else on the internet goes through, and fake claiming anyone is fucked up, regardless if the person is shitty or not. I hate that the internet learned the term Münchausen Syndrome because if someone doesn’t present exactly how they think they should be if they’re “truly” sick, then they’re faking the way their current symptoms present because it must not be “that bad”.

Wait until people start turning against you, then you’ll realize exactly how shitty it is to have people who are supposed to be on your side act against you because you’re not “sick enough” to them to actually be suffering— you’re not “sick enough” to receive sympathy. Imagine how isolating that is, to have so many people against you because they think you’re not as bad as you know you are. People have their own websites and never ending threads dedicated to “proving” that someone is faking, some of my mutuals are on those threads and have posted about it— without them I wouldn’t have even known these threads existed. Imagine how many you’re on, how many people are talking about you behind your back, even in your own circle.

By the way, I would rather believe 400 (“undiscovered”) fakers than deny support to one person who is actually disabled. And you should too, because one day, you will be that one person who is actually sick, and you will be considered a liar, or dramatic— and in some people’s opinion, you’ll deserve that treatment after what you did and continue to do all in an attempt to feel superior to someone. One day you won’t have the sympathy you’re looking for.

[c0smic-horrorwerewolf]

How social media looks sometimes

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Marjorie Davenport - Out of Darkness - Dell - 1974

[rotting-brains]

a lot of people dont understand that symptom holders arent the only ones who show symptoms of whatever disorder the system might have, they simply show them more frequently and/or more strongly/obviously, often because when symptoms are showing, they get pushed in front automatically to act their part.

[stunt-lads]

Hey look at my dog

Thanks

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mental health struggles; Injuries; Sexual dialogue

You are just like him. 

You sat all the way on the other side of the camp, as far away from Daryl as you could possibly get. Your knees were pulled to your chest, your insides twisting and coiling in disgust. Why had you claimed him? You wished you could blame it on the boys but that wasn’t it. Not at all. You wanted to have him, wanted to break him. He kept asking what was wrong with you, but could you even begin to explain?

You are him. 

“I’m not.” You whimpered, covering your ears as if it could block out a voice that lived inside your head. The woman was so loud for one bound and gagged. She was also very inconsistent. “I’m not him.”

Look what you did. 

Shaking your head against your knees, you tried to stifle the sobs, the constriction in your chest making each attempt so much more than painful. 

Look at him!

Hands still over your ears, you raised your head partway, swallowing hard before seeking out Daryl. He was right where you had left him, glaring at you so intensely that you thought for a split second about just giving him your gun so he could set you free from what you had become.

Maybe you should let him go, ask for a black eye so it looked like he had taken you by surprise. But you knew the Claimers. They wouldn’t stop until they hunted him down and taught him all the way, killed him after a hefty dose of torture. 

You had damned him. Either way, he was dead. He would have been dead no matter what once he had been unfortunate enough to be in the boys’ path. Maybe you could coerce him into staying, prove him to be an asset, but something told you he’d rather face that inevitable end. You’d need to be the one to pull the trigger. It had to be you. 

Would you really show him that mercy?

“Of course, I would.” You whispered, lowering your forehead to your knees. 

You wanted him. 

“I did. I do, but I can still do the right thing.” You countered, not realizing you were rocking back and forth. 

The right thing by killing him?

“What else can I do?” You sat up straight and threw your arms out to the sides, staring ahead of you to find no one there—not that you expected anyone to be, not really. With Daryl still watching you, unreadable eyes narrowed, you waited, but the voice remained blessedly silent. Blowing out a calming breath, you scrubbed both hands over your face.

“S’goin’ on with you?”

The question was asked in a gruff tone that was oddly laced with a hint of concern. With an indignant sniff, you schooled your expression and met his gaze as he studied you, visually picking apart your pieces like a puzzle. 

“Nothing.” You answered coolly. “Just your average, run of the mill batshit crazy. Why? Turn you on?”

Daryl curled his lip and scoffed. “Ya gonna kill me or what?”

“Or what.” You shrugged. 

I thought you were going to do the right thing. 

“Look, I got places to be. If ya ain’t gonna kill me, —”

“Late for a crossbow convention or something, Sir Hops Along?” You teased, pushing to your feet and dusting off the back of your jeans. Crossing the distance between you took seconds. You crouched in front of him, away from his legs, and only then did you realize that you hadn’t restrained him to the tree. Still, he made no move. He was a smart one. 

“None’a your business where m’goin’.”

You narrowed your eyes. 

Do the right thing. 

“You could stay.” You blurted, the voice in your head prompting you before you could spare any coherent thought toward the words. Daryl pulled a face. 

“Don’t seem like I got much of a choice right now.”

“No, I mean, you could stay.” You tried, thumbing at your nose with a sniff. You had no right to cry for him. “Be a Claimer.”

“Y’should just shoot me.” He snapped without a single heartbeat in between. You reared back onto your heels, incredulous. 

“It’s the only way you’re gonna stay alive, you fucking idiot!”

“Why do you care if m’alive or not?” His intense gaze flipped your stomach, made your chest hurt. Why did he have to be so stubborn? And why did he have to be so hot? 

Do the right thing. 

“Shut up!” You shrieked, watching Daryl’s expression shift to an annoyed twist of confusion. 

“You came over here an’ talked to me.” 

Fuck. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head. “Not you.” Even worse, idiot. “I mean, yes, you, but not you. Fuck. Just—are you gonna stay or what?”

His eyes gave you a once-over, scrutinizing behind a scowl that you wondered if he just naturally carried around those with which he allied himself. 

“Or what.” He turned his head then, looking straight ahead while drawing up his knees to drape his bound hands across them. God, you wanted to climb him like a tree. 

“Suit yourself.” You muttered, standing and traipsing back over to your own perch. 

He won’t stay. 

“Yeah, I know.” You made sure to mumble under your breath, hoping he couldn’t hear you. From the way he angled his head, you were sure he could. 

Then do the right thing. 

“I’m not killing him.” You growled. “I’ll think of something.” When you found him still staring, your shoulders slumped. “Mind your own business.” You barked, feigning anger in the face of his perusal. 

This was going to be a long day. 

“Slow down.” You grumbled for the millionth time, yanking on the rope that was tied to Daryl’s wrists. He pinned you with a glare over his shoulder, his lip curling slightly. Not in the mood for his bullshit, you fixed him with a hard stare of your own. How he was moving so fast on a bum leg was beyond you. 

“Walk faster.” 

“What’d you say to her?” You weren’t quick enough to stop Len from driving the stock of Daryl’s own crossbow into his face, sending the man flat onto his back, his bound hands covering his face. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.” Your comrade spat—literally—onto your captive’s chest.

“Cool it, Len!” You hissed, kneeling next to Daryl. With a gentleness you thought you had lost long ago, you wrapped your fingers around his hands and pulled them away from his face, barely spying the bright blood before he roughly shoved you away. 

“Get off’a me!” He roared while struggling to sit up. Good, the blow hadn’t knocked him unconscious. 

“I was just trying to help.” You pouted, shuffling on your knees towards him once again. “Let me see.” You reached forward, drawing back only slightly when he jerked his head away from you. Still, you persisted. When your fingers grazed his chin, he didn’t resist, allowing you to turn his head. His face was a mess. “Ouch. That’s broken.”

“Know it is.” He brought up both hands and wiped the back of one though the blood. Before you could even fully remove your hold on his chin, he grasped his nose with both hands and jerked, grunting beneath the sharp crack.

Your jaw gaped, your ears tuning out the ooh, thinks he’s a tough guy behind you while you stayed on your knees as Daryl levered to his feet. When he managed to make it upright, he limped forward while drawing up the rope to toss the end across your lap. 

“We goin’ or what?” He obviously knew better than to try and run. 

Clearing your throat, you gathered yourself enough to fix him with a sultry grin. “I need a second to bounce back after cumming that hard, stud.”

“Y’need—what?” He stammered, the cogs of his brain working overtime. There was something so attractive about the cluelessness adorning that handsome face. Maybe you had embellished the phrasing but you couldn’t deny the distinct tingle between your thighs. 

“Phew, you really know how to make a girl fall in love.” Getting to your feet, you dusted off your jeans and picked up the rope, biting your lip as you passed him. “Just one time, Daryl. Just one ride and you’ll never want anyone else.” You challenged.

The man scoffed. “Keep dreamin’.”

“Oh I will.” You retorted, placing the rope across your shoulder to guide him along behind you. 

[benjamin-benny-ben]

Immmm gonna bite the bullet and post this even though I’m Scared to but um

Hi my name is Benny I’m and very likely the host of a system. My partner has been helping me realize alot of stuff and talk it though and uh. Yeah. I’ll probably post stuff here about it.

[doeeyeddyke]

Everytime someone says Jay isn't developed they're telling on themselves

You can dislike Jon and Jay in a relationship, nothing wrong with being a hater about fictional characters of all things, but let's not make a fool of ourselves

[phykoha]

Can i stop getting fake claiming videos in my recommended now, thanks